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[thunderproof]

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[thieving]

[ peter can smell the little crackle of sarra's magic in the air. even if she isn't stirring up storms, she smells like she's been embraced by one. he lands on the ground beside her and she dashes for him, hair all static and gold. peter enfolds her in his arms, burying one hand in her hair, the other pressing her close to him in a fast embrace.

he can feel his own heart trying to permanently jackhammer itself against her from his running, from the thrill of the chase, having sprinted out like greased lightning as they'd say back in the day.

when he can pull himself a little free, he drops a quick kiss onto the top of her brow, grinning. ]

Trouble? I'd hardly call this trouble. A minor setback, perhaps, but it all turned out just fine, didn't it?

[thunderproof]

( at least he isn't too proud to submit to the very thorough hug she'd planned for him. she can feel his heartbeat thrumming against her chest, racing like a terrified rabbit, and sarra rubs her hand over his back in comforting circles. )

Your sense of what constitutes as trouble is kind of fucked, Peter, ( she says eventually, leaning her forehead into the kiss and then taking a step back to examine him more thoroughly. )

Any injuries I need to see to?