adarkflash (adarkflash) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-10-10 02:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | flash thompson, gwen stacy |
Who: Adam and Olive
Where: At Olive's place
When: Recently!
Why: Meeting neighbors
Warnings: Just cute awkwardness
Adam had been hesitant to go back to the space he and Ain had set up for vigilante purposes, but avoiding something due to sentimentality wasn’t something he could justify for very long. There was no reason to pine over someone he never had and in fact rejected because of his own affections towards another woman. It didn’t seem fair, but allowing people into his life meant accepting everything would not go his way. So, he opened the place up and worked on different medical kits, organized supplies and contacted his various crime fighters to see if they needed anything. The hours flew by, as they always did when he was working on something. Finally, it was mid morning and all he wanted to do was go home, read and then fall asleep to MK telling him a story about something she saw on television.
As he was leaving the space, he noticed that the lights were on in the dance studio. Curious, he decided it wouldn’t hurt to introduce himself to the newcomer. Perhaps it would even help soothe the pain of Ain being gone. Or make it worse, dummy. Flash yawned in the back of his head after checking out for hours. Maybe so, but curiosity always trumped cautiousness.So, dressed in slacks and a blue button down shirt that made him look a little older than he was, Adam carefully knocked on the studio door and waited, hands behind his back.
Olive, after a night of good intentions that included a solid plan to find herself asleep before sunrise, had spent the entire evening awake. She'd never understand why all the interesting things seemed to happen after dusk. Interesting things, in this case, being things on the computer and telly. First, there had been an Alfred Hitchcock marathon, and she'd simply needed to watch Rear Window once again. Then, her guild had decided to try one of the new challenges that had been released for Mists of Pandaria, and she'd lost blocks of hours as a death knight with rather prodigiously pointy ears. Lastly, Tumblr had bloody exploded over a new theory about how Sherlock survived his fall, and there went loads more hours lost to the point and click of her mouse (called Clark Gable). By the time the sun rose, it seemed rather pointless, sleeping, and she'd found Sleepless in Seattle on Netflix and made some bangers, in her small kitchen, which she ate with her fingers while having very sweet coffee that was sure to be a detriment to her non-existent love life and her hips.
The knock at the door came as a surprise, as she'd not reopened the studio yet. But, curious as Alice through her looking glass, Olive had abandoned Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, and she'd padded out to the front of the studio in bright pink, fuzzy socks, very loose tan overalls, and a long-sleeved blue shirt underneath. She was a woman caught precisely between twenty-five and thirty, but who had lived a great deal less than even that. Her hair was a mousy dark brown, long and to the middle of her back, and she bore a rather telling pin with a very famous Vulcan finger gesture on one of the straps of her overalls. She pulled open the door without looking to see who was there, as if she expected no one to be interested in harming her. Well, no one other than the door, which stubbed her toe rather rudely. She hopped about, clinging to the end of one pink, fuzzy sock, and she looked up at the dark-haired man standing there and smiled. "Oh. I didn't realize you'd come so soon. Do come in- Do- I don't normally jump around in greeting," she assured him, returning her foot to the ground and making it clear that she knew who he was, even if he'd no idea who she was.
“Oh- were you expecting someone? I-” He turned around to look as if there was a person behind him she was actually talking to. When he turned back around his expression went from lost to knowing like figuring out a puzzle in a magazine or hearing the answer of some trivia. “Right. She must have told you. I’m Adam.” The doctor managed a small smile. She reminded him of most of the women in his classes back in college. Especially the ones interested in medicine rather than surgery. That sort of game was all numbers and testing. “Curious how much she told you about me. Didn’t say anything about you.”
She pulled the door open wide enough that it banged against the wall behind it, and she laughed a quiet laugh at herself, one that said she'd done quite a bit of laughing like that over the years. "I don't think you actually require all that room to come in," she pointed out, now that the door was wide open, "but make use of it? I can put some tea on," she offered very Britishly and, then, letting the door drop, she walked inside, expecting him to catch said door and follow her. This was obvious because she talked as she went, jabbered really, the habit of a child long accustomed to her own voice for company. "She wouldnt' have said anything about me. My parents were servants to her grandmother, and I'd not seen the little heiress since she was just a tiny thing. I was currently in service to her new husband's family, and we only met again when she arrived in Chicago." She stopped abruptly at the door of her room, which she'd already cluttered quite impressively. She turned, unmindful of how close he was following, and she shoved out a hand. "I'm Olive. Rather unfortunate, I know."
“Yes, unfortunate. Appropriate name for a pet or possibly a host of a children’s television program.” He mused, silently checking off all the staggering differences between them. He was a lonely child as well, but he enjoyed the quiet and honed his sentences down to only the necessary information. Children at his clinic accused of him being a robot, but he was okay with that. “I always forgot she came from a rich family. Had the manners and social grace, yes, but none of the pride or selfishness.” Adam waved his hand like that didn’t matter anymore. In truth he didn’t really want to talk about her. The wound of her leaving was still fresh and dwelling on her grace or personality would be a little too much for him.
It occurred to him that he’d have to make small talk to fish out how much she knew, how careful he’d have to be with the vigilante shop next door and how much she’d sympathize if she did catch on. Becoming friends with her, slowly but surely, would give him the answers he needed. “What do you plan to do now that you’re in Vegas? Strange place for a woman across the pond.”
She stepped back after her quick turn, and then she moved inside the space and began the process of setting tea on, complete with a fumble of the sugar spoon, a topple of the tea tin, and an overfill of the pot. "Most people assure me it's a lovely or classic name," she said, rubbing a pink-socked foot against the inside of her leg as she looked back at him from the stove. "Utter bollocks. I much prefer the truth," she informed him, leaning back against the counter rather awkwardly as she decided the pot had been drained sufficiently not to overboil. "She was a rather wild thing when she was small," she said of Ainslie, her smile fond as she remembered the red-haired hellion running about the estate. "She told me quite a bit about you, you know," she said, wondering how much she should share. "I've been instructed to ensure you're well, and to ensure you've an outlet for any relationship issues you might encounter. That was very vague, by the way. There was rather a lot of concern, but not a lot of information." Her expression softened. "I think she was quite sorry to leave you."
The kettle whistled, and the water overboiled and splattered all over the small stove, which resulted in a flurry of movement, before things were calmed. A few minutes later, she held out a cup of English tea, which seemed precariously determined to end up on the floor. "She asked me to run the place for her. She didn't want to give it up. Oh," she walked to the counter, where she pulled out a folder, " in case you've need of a copy. It's the ownership papers for next door, where you apparently do wonderful things that are important to society," she said, holding the folder out.
Adam swiftly and carefully took the cup from her, his movements precise and simple. Her chaos tumbled and tilted like a leaning tower of books that he had some sort of instinct to sweep up and categorize away. It was actually starting to make him feel nervous, and he had to hold back any inclination towards making tea or tidying her kitchen for her. Luckily, the conversation led him away from such impulses. “Ownership.” Adam took the folder, juggling it with the tea before finding a place to set it down. “Yes, that makes sense.” He seemed a little sad about it, like this was a finalization of Ainslie walking out on his life for good. For good. That didn’t seem like the right phrase for it.
“Yes, well. She was overly concerned. Might have relied a little too heavily on her in the past. Not something I intend to put you through.” Adam smiled softly, an attempt at a joke. “I think tea in the morning after work is really all I will ask for.”
She could tell she made him nervous, but that was rather a normal reaction to her presence. There was only one man in her life that had truly been entirely nonplussed by her awkwardness, and it had calmed her considerably, but Vegas was full of new people and a rather terrifying new job as an FBI informant, which was not helped at all by the appearance of one Dylan Thomas. Her thoughts strayed and she turned her own cup in her hand in a distracted manner, all awkward and without the realization that she should say something to close the gap between what he'd said for a moment. But sadness, sadness was very familiar, and she blurted out thoughtlessly. "She was in love with you, you realize? Which is neither here nor there now, but maybe it helps somewhat. I lost someone I loved very much, and it helped to know he valued me as well." It was, for her, fairly simple and articulate.
"Tea in the morning," she added a moment later in agreement, "and perhaps a console game or two when you've worked too hard," she said, pegging the nerd inside him, even without Ainslie's advanced notice. "I've terribly old ones. Atari," she said, as if owning some so antiquated was a matter of geekian pride.
“Ah.” Adam took a sip of his tea and pushed back any reaction to the news because even the slightest expression would show his hand. He felt guilty, more than anything else, and they both knew if she stuck around it would drive MK and himself apart. Maybe he’d love her back or maybe he was already in love with her. These were thoughts he tried to erase with a good long sip of tea. “Well, the important thing is that she finds happiness.”Another smile, this one unsure, but grateful. Olive, despite the awkwardness, was kind to him so far. He appreciated that.
“Yes, a game or two would be a nice break. Haven’t played them in a long time. Busy being an adult. Or at least pretending to be.” Adam relaxed in his seat, moving the folder she handed him earlier over to the side to fuss over later. “Was always a good student, but my grades had the tendency to drop the second a new game came out. Like clockwork.”
"Or that you find your happiness, so her sacrifice isn't for nothing," Olive added, and she didn't need to be a voracious reader to understand the book that had been set before her now. "I feel rather protective of you, which is silly, as I couldn't protect a lizard from a cat. It's as if I've been entrusted with something, like a guardian angel, and I've clearly been watching too much sappy telly," she said, laughing as the cup almost tipped and she caught it between her hands. "Sorry. This is rather the longest conversation I've had with a non-mop in quite a few years, at least beyond a computer screen. Which should come as no great surprise."
"Being an adult must always be undertaken in very small intervals," she added sagely. "It's dangerous otherwise." His admission about games made her brown eyes light up. "I'm rather voracious about games. I'm playing Mists of Pandaria now, the new WoW release, but I've a guilty addiction to very old games that came before I was born. I'm fiddling with an old Commodore 64, which makes me likely the biggest geek you've ever met. It's that and comics these days," she said, motioning to a stack that reached halfway to the ceiling.
Adam chuckled at the guardian angel part, ironically so, since he was usually the one being protective of others. “Think I can stand someone looking out for me even if they haven’t earned their wings yet.” The warmness of the tea in both his throat and fingertips making him more willing to smile though he seemed out of practice. Coffee or a late night Red Bull couldn’t compare with a cup of tea. They were reserved for paper cups and standing up in the break room while children cried from earaches in the next room. A cup of tea was more suited towards reflection, thoughtfulness and even quiet in all the chaos she brought to the table. “This is the longest conversation I’ve had that didn’t involve trying to make someone else feel better. Doctor’s life is superficially social. Small talk only gets in the way of finding out what’s wrong.”
His face visibly perked up on the mention of comic books and he looked amazed that he hadn’t even noticed the damn things when he walked in. He even grinned a little, the kind that needed to be hidden the second he was aware of it. “What are you reading? If you need to borrow any I’ve got a much larger...better organized collection.” Yes, Adam was bragging.
"I'd only sully my wings by running them into a wall or some other such thing," Olive admitted, and she smiled over her teacup when he smiled. She liked his smile. It was nothing like Vicente's, all bashful boy gone rusty and out of practice. She crinkled her nose when he mentioned making others feel better, and the gesture was too young for her, as were the pink socks and oversized overalls. "I'm rather shit at making others feel better, as I'm too apt to speak my mind, which no one likes to hear unless I'm typing it on the internet. You've been warned that your new guardian angel is terribly flawed." She lifted the teacup in a mock toast.
His grin at the comic books was unexpected, as it was seldom that she found someone who wanted to talk about anything of the things that interested her in the real world. She moved away from the counter, and she sat on the arm of the couch, on the far end from where he was. "I've only begun reading them. I've taken my housing money for everything but housing, you see, it's why I've moved my things in here," she said, explaining her reason for being in the studio. "But I digress. I've been sticking with Marvel mostly, though it's rather daunting to find a place to begin in main continuity. Spider-Man, specifically, as of late, though I've an unfortunate fondness for X-Men." She sighed. "I'd quite like being a mutant." She reached behind her and pulled out a clone-saga Spider-Man comic and held it out to him. "I'm not liking this very much, and I'm considering switching to Ultimate, though I feel I should be informed."
“Had a fondness for X-Men, too.” Adam took the Spider-Man comic and heard Flash grumble something grumpy in the back of his head. “Too much interpersonal conflict, though. The issues spent on Scott messing something up with Jean alone are too many to count.” He never thought he’d feel a kinship to Scott since Adam was more of a McCoy, but his experience with MK alone made him understand the fury of a red head.
He smoothed his hand over the comic book and started to flip through it. “The true enemy of any Spider-Man fan.” Adam looked amused like watching a dog chase its own tail. In fact, that was probably the best explanation he could give about this saga. “You know if Mary Jane and Gwen Stacy didn’t exist, we may not have this problem. Gwen Stacy started the mess and Mary Jane just made it worse.”
"Why am I not surprised that you don't care for the interpersonal conflict? I rather love it. It gives me chills at times, though Jean does become rather taxing once she becomes Phoenix. I liked her much better before," she admitted. "I'd much rather read about Erik though, and Charles is much less likable on the page than the screen," she informed him. "With the mutants, I adore the conflict. It's bigger than with the Spider-Man kids, though they have their own appeal. I'm warming to Avengers, though Asgard is not my favorite thing in all the world. It's rather too not-human for me. Like Wonder Woman." She made a face, indicating her dislike of the Amazonian.
"If Gwen and Mary Jane didn't exist, then Spider-Man would be forced to spend all his time on Felicia, and he's not Batman. He'd make one terrible joke too many, and his cat would ignore his childish self for eternity." She reached out and touched the cover. "Gwen wouldn't sleep with Norman. None of this bloody mess would happen in the first place," she said, as if she was rather an expert on the subject. "I'll tell you what's problematic, if you have both girls around at once, and both interested in Peter at once. Shall I tell you what a nightmare that would be?"
He gave a little hum of agreement on the Wonder Woman thing. It had nothing to do with her strength, but rather how unflappable she was about everything. How she didn’t seem to have a shred of weakness, even for men like Batman and Superman. He liked his heroes flawed. Like Pym or Flash. Neither of them wasted any time lecturing him because their mistakes were much bigger. “Well, there are other fish in the sea, Olive.” Adam said with a rise of his eyebrows. “Peter doesn’t have to be the only interesting bachelor in the comics.”
“Certainly in the older issues Flash Thompson was a brute and blindly patriotic, but if we’re talking about a theoretical, modern Marvel universe he wouldn’t have to be so one-dimensional. Not Gwen’s type, but there’s room for improvement.” Adam couldn’t help but be a little protective of the high school bully. Sure, he was pushed around by guys like that as a teenager, but Flash had potential.
"Oh, I know," she said of there being other fish in the sea, and she leaned forward, elbows on her knees and feet on the cushions of the couch. "Gwen rather likes Harry I think, in this dramatically conflicted way that only a teenager can manage, while still being certain Peter's the one she should be with. How much of that is envy, though, I can't quite tell. It gets difficult with girls, I think, when there's one bloke they're fighting over. It becomes more about winning the fight, than about the actual bloke himself, but they can't see that at the time. That's what it is for Gwen and Mary Jane. I'm sure of it," she said, sounding very certain indeed. "Well, Flash was rather more likable in the recent movie. He at least seemed redeemable in the end, and I think there's more to him than you see on the page," she said, also with a telling certainty.
“He gets better.” Adam said quietly, sort of fondly. “He loses his legs in a war and when he comes back the only thing he wants to do is make Spider-Man proud. How terrible is that? So much of comic books are about proving yourself. Doing what someone else would want you to because you admire them.” He handed her back the comic book. “Shouldn’t read this. I think you’d really like Blue. Illustrated by favorite comic book artist besides the great Jack Kirby. About Gwen and Spider-Man. Mary Jane, too, but with a more mature reflection on it. Will bring it for you next time. Promise.”
He finished his tea and yawned. “Need to get home. Take small nap before going to actual job. Tried to hold appointments on no sleep and prescribed a girl with eye problems some ear drops. Nearly lost medical license.” A bright smile that matched one of a scientist in one of those old films about time machines or monsters.
She took the comic back, and she gave him an honest smile that was devoid of awkwardness for moment. "I'd like that. And I insist on tea in the afternoons, either a break or once your shift is done with. I've to make sure you're faring well, after all. It's a guardian olive's responsibility." She almost laughed at the mis-prescription. "I'm certain she'll be hearing wonderfully out of her eyes in no time," she teased, though there was a hint of seriousness in her expression. "Good thing I've come to make sure you rest on occasion. Go on. You know the way out, I think. It was lovely meeting you Adam." Another smile. "It's rather odd to say your name with the M at the end."
Adam never really got to say goodbye, but acknowledging that he’d never hear anyone call him Ada again in such a loving and knowing tone was as close as he’d get. He fumbled another smile. “Yes, though I promise I won’t make you call me Waterhouse. Too formal. Meant to intimidate interns.” He gave a wave and navigated his way out of the house. As he walked through the thin Vegas air, he thought about how he’d like to read Blue again himself, even if it would annoy the teenager in his head.