peterpaulwisdom:

@clawinkitten

This was not what he wanted. This was not what he’d planned for the way his day was meant to go or even his week for that matter. Standing there rather awkwardly, a throbbing head and enough irritation to last him the rest of his lifetime from that bloody fairy. But he’d finally been offered a moment to himself, swiftly snapping his cell open before dialling the number for his missus

                        “…Evenin’, Kitten.”    a cough.
                                   “Might be home a lil’ late…”

                                                              she’d know.

      She was only a crackle on the other end but it was unamused in tone, a new sort of static snow that brought punch and cold shoulder through a single bark from the kitten on the other end so loud his guest might hear it: “You stay put until I get there Peter.”

And his guest was the utmost amused at the concept. Her bottom lip was curled inward as she bit down and the corners of a thin smile curled into a sinister smirk, her nails dug into her own palm as her fingers curled in leaving marks in the wake of her own harshness: her amusement was just as sharps as she presented it. The huff that presented itself like a dry laugh was not to imply she took to the idea of waiting kindly. She did not. If one must try to reason with the way to which Tinkerbell operated one must always assume spite. So when she released her lip from the iron grip of her own teeth (surely he knew the feeling) it was only natural she spat venom. “We’ll wait then.” Her head bobbed as she spoke but it was not playful despite the appearance of a cheshire grin, a single hand extending and pulling the chair across from his desk out so she might sit with all the elegance one might expect. Her legs spread wide and her posture dipped she leaned and she smiled and she never once broke eye contact with him, sunglasses always gleaming in the place of her daunting stare on her head so she might properly put the fear of fairies in him. She was patient certainly. The only thing she’d said to him beyond her peeved drawl was not said at all.

She’d taken care to mouth the letters to him, silently, tauntingly: W-H-I-P-P-E-D.

No, she would not say a word but her line of vision did not falter for the fifteen minutes it took his one free call to make her noisy arrival. The door slammed open and Tink’s eyes barely flicked in that direction, not daring to correct her posture or pretend to occupy less room then she was worth. Kitty Pryde on the other hand, the mess she was, was tiny and the up and down heave of her chest made her seem smaller than she was. It was an awfully short trip and one could only imagine how she’d cut those extra five minutes off her journey over, the panting only added to the imagery. On her shoulder her faithful dragon companion lay, causal, slow blinking, unphased by the unruly, wild mess a single phone call had made of his lady. He cared not, this was just another Tuesday for someone as emotionally high strung as Kitty. Perhaps they’d break up because of it. Wouldn’t it be nice?  But she in contrast to the causal gleam of purple scales sprawled over her shoulder like a useless shawl took a single breath in, over exaggerated and dramatic, as her hands found their way to her knees clad in nothing but plaid pajama pants as she lurched over in an attempt to catch her breath. “WHAT-”

“This is the famed Kitty Pryde, innit?” Tinkerbell’s tone is dry and half the amusement on her face drops down, leaving a single side of her grin curled into a well placed dimple. A smirk, an attempt at banter on just how crazed Pete was for the tiny thing that had presented itself.

And in response she was promptly shot down by Kitty herself: “SILENCE MALEFICENT. WHAT THE F-                     “

        “Ｒｏｏ．”

            “-                   PETER.”

Oct 29 0:29 ( ♥ 13 )