Ben Reilly (teamclone) wrote in the100, @ 2015-05-12 10:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, !network post, ben reilly / spider-man (94), peter parker / spider-man (616) |
WHO: Peter Parker and Ben Reilly
WHEN: Tuesday, 12 May
WHERE: Ben's room
WHAT: Peter goes to talk about uncomfortable things and tries to bail, but Ben makes him talk.
WARNINGS: Um... none? Some thinky thoughts about character death?
“Okay, we have to talk.”
That was easy. Peter knew Ben was in his room, just across the small housing arrangement that housed them both plus Constantine and Angel. He’d seen Ben go in, and as Ben hadn’t come out? Easy. Ben was inside. That was part one.
Part two was knowing that things were going to gnaw away at him if he didn’t alleviate the pressure a little. Then again, that was lifeblood to a Parker. All the problems of all the world resided within that thick skull, never escaping. And that… that was not as easy -- letting that valve open enough to get back to a healthy state. It was never easy.
Peter stood just inside the confines of the room, the bedroom door about three inches behind him. He let his eyes saunter downward to his well-worn sneakers, then he frowned.
This was a bad idea. Ben didn’t need this. Really, he should’ve just gone with the second option of bottling it all up until an ulcer developed or something. Peter looked up.
“Never mind, bad idea, see you later!” He was already turning for the door before his brother could get one peep in.
‘We have to talk’ was never a good opening statement, but then that was usually the start of the end in 99% of Ben’s dating life. With Pete, well, there was a short list of possibilities considering the topics they’d been dancing around and avoiding. Or it could very well be none of those and some new problem rattling around in his twin’s head that something had set off. Either was a high possibility. So, he stayed quiet for once. Waiting. If he started in, it’d be too easy to go off on a million tangents and never to revisit the original thought that brought Pete into his room. So, waiting. Maybe he should sit down on the bed.
Except there went Pete. Physically tangenting. Ben frowned. Ok, nope, not this time. A quick motion was all it took to grab the webshooter and slip it on his wrist. Another quick motion and the door was webbed shut. “Nope, sorry, exit is closed at this time,” he countered, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I’m all out of windows. So, come on. Spill the bad idea.”
The spider-sense flared up as expected, mostly because it would have been a black eye and a crunched nose if Peter had taken that step into the door swinging shut. Of course Ben knew that would happen, sense and all. Sometimes… sometimes it was really annoying living with siblings. Granted, that probably went the other way because he’d just crashed in without warning, dumped a metaphorical bucket of cold water on Ben, and then tried to skitter off without explaining.
Peter lowered the hand that was raised to the doorknob, then slowy -- slowly -- pivoted around. His expression was midway between an apologetic smile and a wince.
“We really don’t have to do this, Ben. Chalk it up to cabin fever. I’m okay -- I’m… the moment passed. Maybe it was indigestion. I don’t know what dinner was last night, but this city boy’s stomach is taking a little longer to adapt. I had a dream about Cheez-Its last night, too. What’s up with that?”
“I know, right? It’s either too fresh or too stale,” Ben said with a shake of his head. “And the rationing of carbs. Now all I want is just sandwiches and pasta and all the other things you make with grain and flour…”
His face scrunched up at the tangent before he waved his hand to try and dismiss it. Keyword try. Food was too easy a talking point with them. When in doubt, go on about food, although it was much better when they could actually then go out and get the food they were raving over. He shook his head before he took a deep breath.
“Pete, you followed me in here and opened with ‘we gotta talk’. Cabin fever opens with ridiculous ‘what’s the deal with’ statements.” He flopped onto the edge of his bed, patting the spot next to him. He wasn’t sure how long he’d stay sitting or if Pete would even be able to stay that still with whatever was bugging him, but it was a good enough sign of settling in instead of escaping. “Come on. You might have indigestion, but it’s not in your stomach. Give that brain of yours a good burp, bro.”
It almost worked, but Peter knew he’d basically walked into this. Trying to walk back out wasn’t gonna jive. There was nowhere to jump out a window and sling off to. Peter eyed the open spot on the bed, then heaved a sigh and slumped down next to his brother. He squinted at some dust that had collected in the corner. With the way this underground bunker was made, it might have just been rock from above falling down with the general activity of life within. Stability of the whole place was suspect at best.
“I… okay. This is gonna sound about as shallow as it gets, so…” Peter swung one arm out, framing the statement of fact that followed. “I miss her. I guess -- even if she’s right next door. I miss her, and I thought maybe I’d ask about… I don’t know. What he’s like in your world. What he did that I didn’t do. What… what did I mess up that I pushed her away.”
Tension eased from Ben’s shoulders as soon as Pete sat. One step in the supposedly right direction at least. And as soon as Peter’s words sunk in, his face softened. Ah, this thought circling. The path not traveled, kinda sorta. He reached out and placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.
“He’s like you, Pete,” he said in a soothing voice. “He’ll complain about how the Portland food is nothing like the good old hometown food, but then will sneak a box of Voodoo Donuts in his bag as a bribe to take him up on some ledge and pig out. Y’didn’t mess up, it…” He pressed his lips together and puffed out a breath. “I know, talking to a brick wall, but you can’t just blame yourself for the differences. I mean, it’s the world. It’s more than just you. And…” He waved the hand with the webshooter, gesturing at it and then both of them. “It’s this too. It changes things. I haven’t been able to hold down a girlfriend for more than a few months and the last one dumped my butt for not trusting her enough to tell her about this. I’d be lying if I said that everything was always sunshine and rainbows between Pete and MJ. Even without powers, he’ll do something stupid because, hey, someone’s in trouble and how can he just sit and not do anything and there’s yelling and then they make up ‘cause…” He shrugged. “It’s love. Being apart is worse than whatever small aggravations that pop up.”
Ben’s hand at his shoulder was intended to be consoling, and Peter knew that, but somehow -- as always -- his mind contorted it. He was sitting on his to-be-deceased alternate universe brother’s bed, lamenting the woman who (fairly enough) decided that she wanted to have a life of her own. He knew there wasn’t a simple answer or an easy switch to flip in his brain that would make everything okay between him and MJ again. The closest it came to that was exactly what Ben was trying to say. It was one or the other: MJ or Spider-Man. For so long she had balanced those scales and been patient with him, but he couldn’t fault her for finally pleading out of it all.
He could never blame her. If anyone was to blame, it was him.
It just didn’t mean that the feelings dried up and vanished. Anna Maria had been a confidant and a friend lately, but even she was a reminder of a missed connection. Whatever Otto had done or been, the fact remained that he’d fallen for someone so hard that he was courting ideas of marriage. Ben was right. Being Spider-Man was a curse like that. The price was relationships of all sorts. Gwen. MJ. Even Flash -- friendships that had fractured or broke completely.
“She has someone back home, you know. Real great guy. Firefighter, actually. I don’t… It’s… See, I know all of that. I know it’s not just one little step to the right and everything’s back in line. But then we all end up here, and y’start wondering if it’s not some kinda fate,” Peter carried on. His hands were wildly orchestrating along with his words. Clearly the bottling up was forcing more things to open air than could fit at any one moment. “Carol asked me what I thought about her dating the Cap that turned up. Daredevil and Black Cat, for cryin’ out loud. It’s all Survivor up in here, and… and… part of me says to just go talk to her, but it’s so selfish. I don’t want her to get hurt all over, and I’m not expecting anything. I just want my best friend back in my life. That’s… it. That’s all.”
Ben raised an eyebrow. A firefighter. Ok, yeah, job listings weren’t always the first thing exchanged with the dating thing or falling for someone thing. Case in point, the two of them, not that the night job ever came up all that much. But wanting out of Pete’s life and then getting with a firefighter? Out of the frying pan right into the- wait, no, that was a little too easy wordplay. Anyways, it meant that her tolerance of their shenanigans wasn’t completely tapped dry.
This was still strange whenever he thought overly about it. MJ and Pete on the outs. Like out with all of the galaxy between them outs. It didn’t work in his head. Even when they had fights back home, they still always gravitated back. It was only a matter of time really and sometimes a test of stubbornness. He took a deep breath, composing his thoughts.
“My experience with this tends to be that doing the heroic selfless avoidance thing just gets the person you’re trying to make happy even angrier and pissed off at you.” He shifted to face Pete more head-on, pulling a knee up to rest more comfortably on the bed. “So, which would make her happier, Pete? You obviously avoiding her in a very small area and being nobly awkward? Or asking her if maybe you could give the friend thing a try again?” He frowned. “Also, where does dancing to Brass Monkey fit in on that scale?”
Peter hunched forward, bracing his hands on the edge of the bed as he leaned. It was easiest to go for the low-hanging fruit, so to speak. “Brass Monkey is ‘cause I filtered her just to chat. I figured it wasn’t in person, and what harm could it do. Next thing I know, she’s trying to find that song because I promised I’d dance to it if she did.” A grin ghosted across his lips for a second. “It was almost like everything was okay. We talked for a little, and… y’know, I told her about Oscar and Gemma. It’s not like we haven’t talked a few times on the network and once in person. She didn’t run off screaming, either.”
The grin had vanished moments ago, but now a frown settled on the lower portion of Peter’s face. “I thought I was cheering her up, but I don’t know.” He craned his neck to look over at Ben. “The whole Otto thing cost her a lot in life. Do I even have the right to ask her for anything? And yet… here I am. Talking to you. About exactly that.”
Ben shook his head, a fond smile quirking his lips. “Pete, I think things are better than what you think they are. Which isn’t a high bar to jump on a bad day. C’mon, she could’ve not answered at all. Or not asked people to give her an excuse to see you. Because I’m pretty sure that if she’s making you dance, she’d need visual confirmation that it’s actually happening.”
He puffed out a breath, his expression turning a little more serious. “It stinks. And I know no matter how much I tell you that you’re not to blame for Otto’s actions, you’ll still blame yourself, but still putting it out there. And…” He paused, that fond smile back, but smaller and a little sad. “A wise woman used to tell me all the time, ‘Yesterday is dead and buried. Let it go and move on.’” He pursed his lips and shrugged. “Little morbid wording and hard for us, but… it’s a new world here. Yeah, there’s demons and werewolves and weird two headed deer, but as far as I can tell, those aren’t here because they’re our own brand of trouble trying to terrorize us and everyone close to us. The situation’s changed.” Another shrug. “And maybe you don’t got a right to ask, but she always has the right to say no if you do. All you got is awkward overthinking if you don’t ask.”
Abruptly, Peter threw his hands up, laced the fingers together to tuck behind his head, and fell backwards onto Ben’s mattress with a whomphf. The ceiling wasn’t much to look at, but if you were into stucco, maybe it might tickle your fancy. “Yeah,” he exhaled. It was overthinking of the patented Parker variety for sure. He could think himself in circles, get an answer, and then think himself right out of it. The only person who could give him permission to talk to MJ was MJ herself. This? This was venting, pure and simple. And he did feel a little better, all told. Ben had good perspective. Maybe because it was partly influenced by knowing how ridiculous they could both be when it came down to matters of guilt.
“Hey, I don’t remember that line. Was that an MJ line when I was nursing a bad stomach or something? Because as far as wise ladies go, her and Aunt May pretty much cornered the market.”
Ben let the topic slip away. He knew the situation. Sometimes words just needed to come out and, well, at least Pete now had a few extra ideas to mull over on the whole MJ situation and knowing the other man, they could very well do a quick U-turn back if something they said triggered a ‘EUREKA’ moment.
He shook his head as he snapped the webshooter off his wrist and then leaned back on his arms. “For once, nope. Not all of us are lucky enough to have MJ on speed dial for the whole advice thing.” His head tilted up thoughtfully. “Although, started to wonder if the redhead thing helps with the wisdom thing. Or maybe that’s just us…” He waved a hand dismissively. “Right, anyways, Janine. She’d tell me that all the time. Does sound a bit like Aunt May advice though.”
“Janine,” Peter echoed. His brows crinkled inward a bit. It was a name he hadn’t heard in ages. When Ben died, everything that had been Ben’s fell to the wayside -- that included relationships. “So you two never -- I mean, I know there were reasons you two split, but did you ever talk to her again?”
Peter wedged an elbow beneath himself, giving Ben a slightly more direct gaze as he waited for the answer. There was so much more Ben would have done with his life, given that he’d had the time to live it. There had to be some good stuff packed into that, even beyond being a proud uncle to the next generation of Parkers.
Huh, so that transferred over at least. It was always interesting to see what was hit and what was miss between the different universes. Ben puffed out a long breath as he shook his head. “Nah, we never… well..” He shrugged. “We got an understanding, y’know? And I go and visit and talk to her whenever I can, but… You plan a visit and then-” He made a face, his fists raising and then fingers bursting out in a jazzhand explosion. “Pfffffoom, bank robbery. Or newest goon of the week. Or the Avengers call. Or something’s gone wrong at Stark’s labs. Again. Which she gets too, even if I always end up spending the first ten minutes the next time I see her apologizing for it.”
He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up for something to do. “I mean, when she gets out, well, we both know there’s going to be another try, but no pressure, right? She’ll always be my friend, even if we end up being in different places with the dating thing.”
“It’s reliable,” Peter offered. “Being late. We do that very reliably.” He dropped his elbow out from underneath and allowed his vision to land on the ceiling once more. It wasn’t easy skirting around the truth of Ben’s future, but looking at Ben and lying through his teeth was just asking too much. A minimal sigh escaped and the corners of Peter’s mouth tugged downward almost imperceptibly.
“Sounds like a good plan, Ben. Anyone would be lucky to have you around, take it from me.” He knocked his hand against his brother’s side, meaning it to be more of a supportive clap on Ben’s shoulder, but blindly thwapping whatever was nearest instead. “Hey, how ‘bout we go see if the mess hall’s got any eats. I’m starving, said Peter to no one’s surprise.”
“You could set your watch to it,” Ben teased. “Except if everyone else worked on the hour late thing, we’d probably be another hour late after that. I’m so glad that I have an understanding boss.”
He nudged the thwaps away with his elbow before stretching. Up. Then back, his hand landing on Pete’s head in a half hair ruffle, half noogie. “Same goes with you, bro, no matter what you think. Lucky, lucky, both of us.” He gave one last hair muss before launching himself off to bed to standing, his hand still held out to help his brother up. “Me too, said Ben to no one’s shock. Let’s go and make sure you don’t grab any more indigestion inspiration.”
“My hero.” Still, Peter swiped his hand out -- not because he needed Ben to hoist him up, but more because the offer was there. And, it gave the perfect chance to leverage that grip to pull Ben downard and payback the noogie in kind. There would be plenty to mull over as far as the conversation, but, for now, all Peter felt up to was bolting out the bedroom door, turning, and giving Ben an I’ll-race-ya grin before he took off for the hallway.