Mutual Worry: A TGSC Short

Coffee Shop

Tokyo, Japan

August 2015

“Do you think we’re better friends?”

“I can tolerate you more, if that’s what you’re wondering,” A laughed. She took a long sip from her coffee and exhaled, “What’s with this, Peters? You’ve been weird the entire day,” she said, quirking a brow at him. Across her, the American flashed a grin and stretched. The two of them had chosen to have a small session at the local coffee shop; A had brought her laptop and Peters had his tablet. They would talk and work on their other matters, exchanging ideas back and forth.

On some days, they would talk about work and nothing but work. On other days, one of them would go personal and the other would listen. On the rare few, both of them would end up sharing with each other. It was an odd arrangement, granted that they had started off roughly with each other, but they managed and were able to make their friendship work.

“Don’t assume anything.”

“I’m not. I’m just asking.”

“Well…” Peters cut his cinnamon roll and eventually set down the utensils, “It just came to mind and all. How Squad Alpha was able to come up and all that shit,” he shrugged, “Seeing as it’s been what – three years?”

“…it’s really been a long time.”

Stress Relief: A TGSC Short

HQ – Fitness Floor
Tokyo, Japan
August 2015

“Your form is tenser than usual. Locked around the shoulder area,” Peters noted. He approached A and gently adjusted her figure to the right form, “There. What’s been eating you lately?”

“Work. You know how it gets,” she replied. Peters studied her before asking her to form a punch, which she did. He moved her arm to the right angle, “Too high?”

“Too stiff. You need to relax or you’ll end up splitting your arm and not your opponent’s face,” the other man explained. She gave a huff and nodded, attempting to relax her arm the best way she could. “You never had trouble with simple positioning, A.”

“I know. Shit, right?” she relaxed and stretched, Peters flexing his fingers before starting to stretch his arms in preparation for the next exercise. “When work gets too much, I get tense. Really goddamn tense. Particularly around the shoulder, back, and arm area,” she told him. “Getting massages is a pain in the wallet so I try to calm myself down. But that never really happens.”

“Hence the stiffness.”

“Yeah.” A took a swig from her water bottle, “I thought doing sports would somehow able to lessen the stress.”

“It does if you do it right.” She made a face at him and Peters chuckled, moving into position onto the mat. “Come on. Let’s try that again.”

He attempted to guide her into a quick and easy spar, which A ended up following. Throughout the duration of it, he noticed that she really was tenser than usual – her limbs wouldn’t be as flexible, she’d cringe a little more when throwing a punch – it was like her body wasn’t able to get all the heaviness of work completely out.

They stopped roughly twenty minutes later and A was wiping the sweat off her brow, panting. Peters hardly looked exhausted.

“Tell me something. Is this mental or physical?”

“What?”

“Your stress. Is it mental or physical?”

Personality Tests: Samuel Peters

Inspired by: [x]

Aimlessly: A TGSC Short

HQ
Tokyo, Japan
August 2014

“You’re working supremely hard on this investigation.”

“I’m not just jokes and sarcasm,” Peters snorted. “Despite what A and Touta may tell you sometimes. Or despite what it seems to look like on the outside. I’m as dedicated as the rest of them,” he told Mack. The man nodded thoughtfully, watching as Peters quickly typed words and whatnot onto the open .doc file.

“Were you always this motivated?”

“Maybe?” Peters shrugged, “I don’t know, really. All I remember is my dad being a cop and myself wanting to follow in his footsteps. As I told you guys before, I wanted to be an athlete. But the police calling just maintained a harder pull on me.”

“I can imagine the father and son duo just taking down criminals together,” Mack chuckled. Peters flashed an amused half-smirk.

“You know it. If I didn’t move all the way to Tokyo, I would have been stuck there working alongside him. Not that I’d mind,” he added quickly, “But I’d rather have found what I really want to do here instead of there. Bronx was choking me and I wanted out – I wanted new,” he mused. Peters rubbed his chin, “That’s the thing about moving away, I guess.”

Morality Alignment: Chaotic Good

"The chaotic good character has a "beatific" attitude toward existence."
inspired by: [x]

Priorities: A TGSC Short

HQ
Tokyo, Japan
August 2015
Wednesday Afternoon

  

“So you’ve never really dated someone.”

“No,” Touta looked up at Peters and then back at the report he was busy typing, “Or at least not in a while? I’m not really sure. Ever since I got involved with HQ, I sort of stopped dating for a while. I don’t have time for it like I did back in college, to be honest.”

“So when was the last time you had a relationship?”

“I – shit. Probably while I started out HQ work. It’s been a long time, to be honest.” He laughed a little bit and ran a few fingers through his hair, “It lasted for a few months and we were never really serious. So splitting wasn’t exactly hard on the both of us.”

Peters nodded and rubbed his chin. “Interesting.”

“‘Interesting’?” he repeated, “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Peters?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Peters grinned and waved a hand freely; “Don’t you worry about that and just focus on that. A might get worried if we end up submitting shit late even though the deadline for ours is still next week.”

Character Graphics: Samuel Peters

"I am my own person."
thank god the rest of them can see that

Ordinary: A TGSC Short

The Keiji Bar
Tokyo, Japan

August 2015

  

They were drinking buddies.

As strange as it seemed, Mack and Peters blended well together. Peters was loud, extroverted, and passionate while Mack remained quiet, introverted, and calm. Despite many people saying that Mack was more like A, that wasn’t really the case. Although A was also quite introverted like him, she could get fiery. A had the large potential to be like Peters in some ways – someone just as dedicated, passionate, and wholeheartedly stubborn.

That probably explained why the two tended to clash and butt heads while he and Peters got along more and found each other’s company quite enjoyable.

For Peters, Mack was a breath of fresh air. There was A who sometimes tended to debate with him if she thought something he said was sketchy; and then there was Touta who acted both as a mentor and a parental figure. In the squad, there was a younger sister figure and a father figure. As nice as it was, he never quite rang with someone who was almost at the same familial vibe as he.

That was when Mack stepped in. Peters did his best to analyze the half-awake man who drank from his tea and later shed his mask to turn into the usual Mack – someone snarky and who served as the middle ground. He did his best to match him with any familial archetype. Was he a father, was he a mother, was he an older sibling, or was he a younger sibling?

Peters tried everything, even going towards the ‘vodka aunt’ and ‘sketchy uncle’ options. As much as he tried, he never really saw Mack in any of those. At the same time, it both amused and irritated him, not being able to properly sort the enigmatic forensic scientist into a singular category.

He realized it a little later than usual:

Mack was just like him.

Visiting Hours: A TGSC Short

Hospital
Tokyo, Japan
July 2012

He wasn’t exactly sure what he remembered last.

It was either running in front of the kid or falling back on the floor – either way, there was a lot of adrenaline involved in what he did back at the bank. The remaining memories were like short bursts in his brain; Peters recalled running, recalled yelling, recalled talking in straight Japanese and asking for the people to be calm and for the criminals to surrender.

He then recalled a gun shoved hastily in the direction of a child cowering in a corner. Peters’ mind ticked and before he knew it, he was running and throwing himself in front of the child at the very last second.

Before he knew it, there were lights everywhere, screaming all over, and he swore he could feel some kind of feeling lodged in his stomach or somewhere near his ribs. He couldn’t remember. There was too much pain to even focus properly.

At the brink of falling into black, Peters briefly wondered if the kid was okay.

As his associates went nuts and attempted to rectify the situation, all the way back in HQ did Touta Matsuda receive reports. One of the agents who was a good friend of Peters stammered the news to him before running straight to where A was located. It took him a good amount of seconds to process the information before letting out a large curse, sprinting away and out of the building.

“Peters was shot when they were trying to round up the criminals at the bank. Don’t know how he is, they’re sending him to the hospital nearest – he’s bleeding everywhere, the poor chap, the others were panicking–”

The only thing Touta could process was how the goddamn moron might have forgotten to slide on his bulletproof wear that morning.

Stranded: A Squad Alpha Short

Matt and A’s Home
Tokyo, Japan
July 2015

7:42PM

“Coming out was a terrible idea.”

“Aren’t you comfortable in your own sexuality?”

“Fucking sod off,” Mack groaned. “I didn’t mean it like that. By that, I mean deciding to drive all the way to A’s was a terrible idea. Because look – none of us can go out because of the shite weather.” At that, the twosome’s eyes glanced at the windows. The outside was drenched – the rains suddenly decided to crash hard, and even from the inside they could hear the intense fall of rain. Peters, who was merely messing with the available game console, shrugged.

“Doesn’t really matter to me. It’s not like A’s place is some kind of abandoned warehouse or something, we’ll survive here.” At that, Mack sighed and glanced at his phone. There was still no response from Jian, who chose to overtime at the Keiji on that night.

“If you say so.”

In the kitchen was A and Touta, A talking quietly on her phone while Touta prepared hot drinks for the four of them. He listened her speak to Matt and set the four mugs on a tray, waiting for her to finish before moving back into the living room. “Stay safe, love,” she murmured. “I think it’s best if you stay with Kenichi over there first.”

“I know. What a pain in the ass. Is your squad there?”

“Mhm. They came over since it’s holiday and they didn’t really have anything much to do, but the rains decided to bitch on us,” she explained.

“Ahh. That’s alright – we’ve got enough blankets in case they need to stay the night.” This made her smile and they talked for a minute more until A got off the phone, tucking the mobile device into her pocket. Touta gave a smile.

“Matt stranded, too?”

“Apparently so…he’s got Kenichi as company, though, and they’re still at the office. Kenichi isn’t sure if the rain’s going to let out.” She took her mint green mug and took a sip, the warm coffee making her feel a tinge better. “Thanks, T – you still know how I take my coffee.”

27: A Peters Graphic

belated Happy birthday, Peters!

(June 28, 1988)

Aesthetic Closer: Death Note AU

"Just a bunch of people who want to change the world."

Character Aesthetics: Samuel Peters

"You need to sacrifice a lot in order to make things work."

TFDC: Day Five -- Camaraderie

Matt and A’s Home
Tokyo, Japan
December 2014
Christmas Day

“Are you honestly sure that it’s alright for me to bring her along, Mack?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. A doesn’t mind guests as long as they aren’t serial killers or those wanted by the law,” the man answered lightly. Jian gave a (tight) smile and glanced around him, Mack noticing that the man was often looking around to see if someone had arrived. “Who’s it, anyway?”

“A dear friend of mine – don’t give me that look,” Jian chastised. Mack had made a face and the Taiwanese other had smirked in reply, “She’s someone I met a few months ago. And no, she isn’t as interested in men as to women.”

Mack gave a mildly guilty smile, his eyes softening. “Right. Be here in thirty?”

“I will. See you.” The call ended and Mack looked up, pocketing his phone soon after. The festivities were in full swing in the living room, the scientist hearing the eager chatter of the rest of his friends.

Touta was watching as A tore open his gift, the Englishwoman gasping in surprise. (“Oh my God, you didn’t have to–” “No shut up, you’ve been pining for that for weeks!”) Kenichi and Peters were talking sports while drinking from their beers, laughing and arguing here and there. Away by the window, J and Matt were having a quiet conversation. Matt had been relaying what had happened to him since he left the Wammy’s, and J was listening while giving input here and there.

Mack, at first, thought of their ‘group’ as rather odd. After all, they comprised of four police agents, one forensic scientist, two businessmen, a bartender and an ex-model. And hell, Mack didn’t even know who the ex-model yet except for the fact that she was a (most likely bisexual) female and an old friend of Jian’s.

“Mack, when’s Jian arriving?” A asked. She and Touta had walked up to him, the former wearing the latter’s gift; a cream-colored cardigan with gold-colored buttons. “So I can prepare a few more drinks for him and his guest.”

“Give it thirty minutes. Nice cardigan by the way,” he added, and A gave a twirl. Touta merely smirked. “Was that the one you spent an hour searching for, T?”

“Might have been the one,” he shrugged. “But it was easy to acquire. Can’t blame me, the store was huge.” A made a face at him and walked off to the bar, taking out a few bottles as well as two glasses. The threesome proceeded to talk while A prepared the drinks, Touta retelling his tale in great detail.

In the living room, Kenichi took an easy drink from his beer and listened as Touta told him all about baseball. “So wait a minute – who do you support?”

“New York Yankees. Nearly sobbed when Jeter took his final bow,” the brunette replied, memories of Derek Jeter’s play throughout the years coming to mind. “The family’s been supporting the team since I was young. I’ve got all kinds of merc,” the American laughed.

“Yankees. I think I watched a game of theirs when I was in the States a couple of years back, in the stadium itself. Can’t remember against who. It was a good game,” he said, and Peters nodded enthusiastically. “…huh – so that explains why A’s been asking me if I have connections with those merc sellers in the States.”

“Connections?”

“Mhm. Oh well. You’ll see it in your gift,” Kenichi replied cheerfully, watching in plain amusement as the six footer gaped and scrambled for his gift, which he had left on the other couch.

TFDC: Day Three -- Forgiveness

Peters’ Apartment
Tokyo, Japan
December 2014

God, the idiot was obstinate.

(But could she really blame him? She had been away for months.)

She had told him to get over her and find a new person and move on; besides, who could want a messy-haired, slowly-recovering, sharp-tongued lady? J had been a hundred percent ready to detach from the American, as much as it would hurt. She had prepared herself for coming back to a changed lock and merry laughter from within the apartment; laughter than came from him and laughter that came from an unknown other.

But, no.

J came back to an unchanged lock and an empty apartment which smelled lightly of food and laundry. From that, she could arrive at three conclusions.

1. Peters hadn’t changed the locks at all. He was either too lazy or too stubborn to change them.
2. Peters was still at work, even at this time.
3. The lack of clothes strewn on the floor and the fact that only a single pair of utensils had been discarded told her that he was the only occupant. 

J hadn’t returned her things back to the respective cabinets and such, not really. She definitely wasn’t sure if Peters even wanted her back. Nonetheless, she stayed seated there, on his couch, flipping through the channels and sipping from a cup of coffee she had brewed only moments back.

She was never the type who would be easily surprised. Everyone who knew her knew that this was pure fact; surprising J was nearly an impossible feat. So when she heard the door creak open, she jumped – and felt irritated at herself for jumping at such a simple thing.

“Really, J? You’re jumping at a fucking opening door?” she grumbled to herself, attempting to calm the storm raging in her heart. She felt her heard thud wildly in her chest, threatening to fight its way out due to the intensity it was experiencing.

Deep down, she knew that if it had anything to do with Peters, then she would be jumpy.

Ripped Bandages: A Squad A Short

A’s Home
Tokyo, Japan
2014

Peters had been the one to drive her home.

See, it was supposed to be Touta’s job to take the half-English lady home, to make sure she didn’t throw up all over and got to bed safely. It wasn’t that Peters disliked A, no, not really. The two had better relations after Peters’ accident. Admittedly, it was purely because he wouldn’t know what to do in times wherein a lady was drunk.

Peters knew what to do when his friends back in America were wasted. He knew that to do when Jake would have too much to drink. He would know when to stop a lady he liked from going overboard – after all, he couldn’t sleep with someone drunk. It would go against his personal morals. Although a flirt, Peters still had respect for those he dated and made sure that they were thinking straight.

Due to that, he had no clue on how he could handle a drunk A.

He needed a guide – like those ­Dummies series he frequently saw. As he parked into A’s usual parking space, he took out his phone and hurriedly checked his messages, throwing apprehensive glances to the side to see if she was still out cold.

She was.

‘I’m in A’s driveway now. She’s out cold. WHAT THE FUCK SHOULD I DO?’

‘Calm down, Peters. Can you carry her in? There’s a spare key under the welcome mat.’

“Spare key,” he muttered to himself. “Shouldn’t be too hard.” Peters deftly exited his car, soon checking underneath the soft red mat by the main door. To his surprise, the key was there.

Unlocking the door right after, he went back for A and carefully lifted her, the girl over his shoulder. Peters easily carried her inside, noting that for someone in her early twenties, she was so goddamn light. The American closed the door with a small kick, locking it up and putting the extra key back under the mat.  

A made a small snuffling noise and Peters gave a curse as he navigated his way to her room.

Metamorphosis: Gifset + OCs

"People are never just two-dimensional. You need to look deeper

in order to discover who they are and what they hide."

Periodic Elements: Squad A

"Chemically-engineered human beings designed to bring back justice."
inspiration: x

Mood Boards: Samuel Peters

Fashion Mishaps: A Request Prompt

“No.” Peters’ face fell.

“No? But – why not?”

He didn’t understand, really. Peters thought he was doing well with J. He had the flowers, made sure to not smoke in front of her, opened the doors like he usually did. The man peeked at his armpits. Maybe he was sweating heavily or something. Figures. When you were asking the most amazing lady on a date, the sweat glands would really get down.

“Peters, I refuse to go on a date with someone who wears that,” J snarled.

He spluttered, “But what the fuck’s wrong with wearing ombre?”

That question alone irritated her more. He cringed as she turned a slight red (not quite suitable with her pale complexion) and opened her mouth to speak, spitting venomous words at him a mile a minute.

“Those things are so goddamned ridiculous. You left me in permanent disarray because I wondered if you were stupid enough to wear a shirt that was half-wet to work today. Do you know how distracting that thing is?” she growled, and Peters gulped upon seeing the intensity of her glare. “Dark grey and light grey. You’re such a fucking idiot for even buying that – the thing looks wetter than–”

She stopped upon having him cover her mouth, J realizing that they were outside the offices. But she bit his finger and he yelped, she continuing her rant as if nothing happened.

“Disgusting – wetter than a beer soaked in condensation, you pig-brained shit!” She glared at the American who cradled his finger and folded her arms over her chest. “So, no. I’m not going on a date with you at all.”

“Just because of the shirt!?”

“Figure it out,” she snapped, and retreated back inside. Peters stood in the middle of the area, looking confused (and feeling confused, most definitely) as well as irritated just because of a petty reason like that.

Because of the shirt.