[ Peter has pretty much always been a slob. It definitely doesn't help that during his formative years, he had been picked up by space pirates whose idea of manners was not barfing up the shit you ate and whose idea of cleanliness was fluid at best. They didn't care if his bunk was a disaster zone, so long as the important parts of the ship were clear.
It's a habit that he's carried over to the Milano. So while Peter tends to leave shit lying around in his shared quarters with Maya, the helm is surprisingly bare. While he has a habit of leaving his coat or guns or whatever random thing he happens to pick up just sitting around on the table in the common area, the walkways from the helm to the engines are mostly free of obstacles.
But Peter is and always has been the worst when it came to leaving his shit everywhere. Sure, everyone else would leave a thing or two behind, but for everyone one thing someone left out of its place, Peter would leave four or five. Despite his shipmates' insistence that he keep his mess contained to his own bunk, he would stick to a routine for about a week before going, "Fuck it," and reverting to his old habits. Eventually they all learned to take what they could get, and learned to live with Peter's upswings and downswings when it came to the ship's cleanliness.
When Maya stays behind the first time to clean the common areas, Peter has to admit he's a little relieved -- mostly because he doesn't want to do it himself. The second time, guilt started to gnaw away at him. And all the times after that, the guilt kept building and building until they've finally come to this: Peter decides he's being a prick about this, pays his tab (a surprisingly short one, with only two beers), and heads back to the ship.
Naturally, he grumbles to himself the entire way, but it's messed up to have Maya do all the work on her own. And, hey, maybe he'll get some brownie points for helping out? Yeah, good, his mind says encouragingly. Think of the outcome, not of the grueling, tedious, boring-as-hell process to get there.
He punches in the access code with a sigh, climbs the ladder from the airlock to the ship proper, and as he's pushing aside the hatch, he calls out. ]
Lucy, I'm home.
[ It occurs to him after the fact that Maya probably wouldn't get that reference, and he sighs a little again as he's hauling himself up and shutting the hatch behind him. When he doesn't get an immediate response, he frowns-- then hears her voice from the galley and wanders over, thumbs hooked in his belt.
... The sight that greets him is amazing, and there's no way in hell he wants to interrupt, so he just leans against the bulkhead, grinning as he watches her dance and sing. ]
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It's a habit that he's carried over to the Milano. So while Peter tends to leave shit lying around in his shared quarters with Maya, the helm is surprisingly bare. While he has a habit of leaving his coat or guns or whatever random thing he happens to pick up just sitting around on the table in the common area, the walkways from the helm to the engines are mostly free of obstacles.
But Peter is and always has been the worst when it came to leaving his shit everywhere. Sure, everyone else would leave a thing or two behind, but for everyone one thing someone left out of its place, Peter would leave four or five. Despite his shipmates' insistence that he keep his mess contained to his own bunk, he would stick to a routine for about a week before going, "Fuck it," and reverting to his old habits. Eventually they all learned to take what they could get, and learned to live with Peter's upswings and downswings when it came to the ship's cleanliness.
When Maya stays behind the first time to clean the common areas, Peter has to admit he's a little relieved -- mostly because he doesn't want to do it himself. The second time, guilt started to gnaw away at him. And all the times after that, the guilt kept building and building until they've finally come to this: Peter decides he's being a prick about this, pays his tab (a surprisingly short one, with only two beers), and heads back to the ship.
Naturally, he grumbles to himself the entire way, but it's messed up to have Maya do all the work on her own. And, hey, maybe he'll get some brownie points for helping out? Yeah, good, his mind says encouragingly. Think of the outcome, not of the grueling, tedious, boring-as-hell process to get there.
He punches in the access code with a sigh, climbs the ladder from the airlock to the ship proper, and as he's pushing aside the hatch, he calls out. ]
Lucy, I'm home.
[ It occurs to him after the fact that Maya probably wouldn't get that reference, and he sighs a little again as he's hauling himself up and shutting the hatch behind him. When he doesn't get an immediate response, he frowns-- then hears her voice from the galley and wanders over, thumbs hooked in his belt.
... The sight that greets him is amazing, and there's no way in hell he wants to interrupt, so he just leans against the bulkhead, grinning as he watches her dance and sing. ]