Ben Reilly (theotherparker) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2013-05-27 00:22:00 |
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Current mood: | content |
Who: Ben Reilly and Peter Parker
When: backdated like whoa to evening Thursday, May 16 (sick fail omg)
Where: Ben's apartment
What: First weekly Parker bros dinner aka Peter demanded that since Ben can cook he owes him food. So, lots of banter and talk about many different subjects.
Rating: PG for sass
As soon as Ben started to think about what to actually make Pete for dinner, he realized his kitchen wasn’t properly equipped for how he was used to cooking. He could adapt to using a frying pan, but, hey, he had money for once and a pretty steady job, barring any more magical disasters, so the purchase of a griddle had been made. He was ladling out the first pancake onto the griddle when he felt that unique tingle in the back of his brain. Glancing up, his lips quirked at the familiar sight of Peter climbing in the living room window. “Hey there. Man, probably would have been smart to ask this earlier, but I’m going on the assumption that you’re still part of the human garbage disposal club,” he said as he focused back on the pancakes. “Acquire any allergies over your old man years? Because taking Pete to the hospital is still on my dislike list. Breakfast for dinner’s still a thing, right?” It was an easy somersault through the open window, Peter pulling instinctively into his usual low crouch before standing, and, in a fluid gesture, pulling the mask off his head. There was a solid grin already in place as he looked towards the kitchen, then dug around his backpack for his civvies. “Never gonna be able to sneak up on you, huh? Bad, Spider-Sense! Bad.” The last of which was muffled by the shirt Peter was tugging over his head. A pair of pants were unceremoniously half-tripped into as he sauntered closer. “And, yeah, still a card-carrying member. No allergies. Yep, still a thing. Any other questions while we’re at -- oooh, pancakes. Did they come out of a box, or are these legit?” “Well, you could always toss the Rhino in here first. I guarantee, you’ll be able to sneak up on me after that,” Ben teased back with a snort of laughter. “Although with those two left feet, good luck.” Continuing to ladle the sourdough batter onto the griddle, he held out a plate filled with bacon in Peter’s direction. “Y’see, here in the future, there are these little pills that you add water to... Yeah, they’re legit. Unless you’re expecting me to grind the flour myself too. You’re coming for prep if that’s the case.” “Next time,” Peter promised, a singular pointer-finger jab to Ben’s arm. “Rhino next time they have a sale on those. I’ll pick up two for a rainy day.” He swiveled around to the counter space beside the stove top, momentarily enjoying the scent from the griddle. Say what you will about fast food being a quick fix for hunger, but there wasn’t any replacing the memories that came with this sort of a thing. It was just adjacent to Aunt May’s wheatcakes, notched comfortably beside a recollection of home. Maybe that suited given that it was Ben wielding the spatula. “Hey, I’ll even give you a pass if you went up to Canada to get the syrup. How’s that?” Peter added, eyes opening again. “Or if you can make one of those in the shape of Mickey Mouse.” "But then I'd have to pick up beer for Wolverine or he'd reach maximum growl levels and you can't go to Canada and not get poutine and that'd just ruin dinner." Ben smiled over at Peter. "So purposefully misshapen pancakes it is!" Ben hadn't expected this to be so soothing. He'd picked up the skills out of need. Places always needed cooks. Desperate places didn't ask questions or look too closely at details. Some even paid under the table. Plus finding meals became easier. But he didn’t actually cook much at home, let alone for other people at home. People over didn’t happen much anyways. But right now it really made this place feel like home. He wiggled the plate of bacon at Pete as he flipped the pancakes. “If you need something to tide you over, feel free. Otherwise, think you can handle setting the table?” “You’re not legal to buy beer, Ben. Never mind getting it back over the border.” A short hop put Peter perched up on the counter, and he received the plate of bacon with eager hands. There was a glance shot around the apartment for a moment and how it was a weird mix of empty and messy at the same time. A slight frown flitted across Peter’s mouth at that much; Ben didn’t deserve to be alone after everything, but there was an obligation to Mindy that... well, Ben probably understood. “Also, just to check... there is a table under that pile of books and papers, right? I’d set it, but just wanna make sure it’s actually there, and not...” Peter raised his free hand and wriggled the fingers. “WooOooOooOooo, Twilight Zone claimed another piece of the Reilly stronghold.” “Ha ha. Funny thing. This face? Doesn’t get carded. Like ever. Still undecided if it’s the honest or the desperation. Or they can just sense the low tolerance and incoming amusement.” Ben raised an eyebrow as he snatched a piece of bacon and popped it into his mouth. “You mean there was an unclaimed part? I thought the whole Reilly stronghold was a Twilight Zone episode. Plus, pot, kettle. Bet the only reason all your tables aren’t like this is fear of the books fate if Mindy got tired of how they were judging her.” “Probably the last one,” Peter volleyed back, tilting his head as he narrowed his eyes at Ben’s visage -- like it wasn’t uncannily like the one he saw every day in the mirror. “You look like a lightweight, no offense,” was added mid-slip off the counter. Peter pivoted straight into rummaging through the cabinets for plates and forks. Eventually, two of each were snatched and gripped merely by contact of fingertips. Except the lot was set down as something pulled his focus: one of the textbooks on the table. “Biochem? Man, we’re so predictable, aren’t we?” The volume was plucked from its resting place, and Peter flipped it open to where the bookmark was wedged, just to see what Ben had taken an interest in. Before he glanced down to read, though, he flashed the blond across the room a short smile. “One of the first things I did when I got here? Replace my go-to textbooks. Wouldn’t ya know, they even existed in this world.” “You don’t look much better,” Ben shot back easily, the usual note of amusement in his voice. Because the identical looks jokes? Never got old. He made a face as he spatula-ed the pancakes onto a plate and started ladling out the second batch, complete with some ‘Mickey Mouse’ shaped ones. “That’s actually on loan, but boy, do I have a lot to catch up on. Not like they had tons of Scientific American just sitting around truck stops, y’know? Man, that was the great thing about landing those teaching and research assistant jobs. Library access. Plus nerdy science talk. Oh the nerdy science talk. And then, y’know, time jump. Gotta get my bearings straight.” He glanced up with a chuckle. “Let me guess, chemistry set was one of ‘em too. All bought before the clothes. Definitely before the shirts. Because we both know shirts are over-rated.” The book was still in Peter’s hands, although he made progress to one-handedly set the two plates up in the quarter of the table he’d cleared. “Maybe you just picked the wrong truck stops. There’s gotta be some out there where the more scientifically-inclined types hang out because they know the wipes to clean their glasses are always free and there’s always a Popular Mechanics mag that the guy before left in the booth...” He gave a wistful sigh, turned for the kitchen again, and then let his gaze sink down to the Biochem text. “And y’know chemistry was the first. My once and always first love, Ben -- I wouldn’t leave her to fend for herself out in the wor--” The word halted right there in the middle as Peter absorbed exactly what Ben’s makeshift bookmark was. It was clearly a photostrip. Two very familiar faces were grinning facing front in turns. “--ld,” Peter distractedly finished around a puzzled downward quirk of his mouth. “Oh, well now, if we’re just talking Popular Mechanics, that’s easy. As long as you’ll lower your standards for wipes to the free napkins on every table.” Ben shook his head as he flipped the pancakes. “And second and third and fourth. We’ll throw in seventh too. Because really it all comes back to chemistry.” Hrm, that was an odd word break, even for them. Leaning so he could catch sight of Peter, his face mirrored Pete’s a moment because that usually wasn’t the look a normal textbook got. He opened his mouth to make a snappy comment when he remembered exactly what he’d been using as a bookmark. Oh. His eyebrows went up and mouth closed as he focused back on the griddle. And, dammit Pete, there was that small guilty feeling right on schedule. He really did hate that bit of his inheritance considering there wasn’t even anything to feel guilty about. Friends goofed around in photobooths all the time. Ok, so the third picture was a mess of the camera going off at the wrong time and catching him in a very short moment of ‘wow this is Gwen and this is happening and life is great’, but hey, he wasn’t going to think about that and it could always be passed off as bad chili dogs. But it was nothing. Except that Pete had been purposefully avoiding contact and here he was with pictures of him and Gwen together. Ok, yeah, that was guilt worthy... “So, you still going to go to this prom thing?” he asked, probably a little too chipper than he should have. “You know, barring an attack on the city and all our usual luck.” Ben’s words registered, even though Peter was still gazing downward, trying to make some rational sense of what he had in his hands. Gwen and Ben. Smiling. Actually, it was more than that because the soppy, dreamy look on Ben’s face in the third frame was screaming all sorts of warnings. And the silence that filled in the void carried on for a few seconds until Ben shattered it with his next question. “Wha? Oh, yeah. Yeah,” Peter answered, still deliberating how worth it it was to slap the print down on the table and ask what happened. In the middle of dinner. In the middle of bonding. Surely it could wait just a little longer until they were done eating, since broodily chewing on pancakes didn’t factor into the original plan too well. “Yeah,” Peter repeated again. The picture was stuffed back into the book’s binding and the set was placed atop a nearby stack. “Jaina’s all set to go. I usually make an effort to not miss things. Or sleep through them. Or be late for them. Or leave my girl... uhm, who is a friend --” Oh, nice phrasing, Parker. “Stranded.” “Smooth one, Pete,” Ben said with a laugh as he piled the next batch onto the plate. “So what I’m hearing is that if I’m there on time because I haven’t slept through it all and I see your girl who is a friend standing all lonesome, I need to climb on up to your room and drag your butt down to the dancefloor. Is that about right?” He turned off the griddle, dumped the dirty bowl and ladle into the sink, and scooped up the plate of pancakes in one hand while he hooked the maple syrup and strawberry syrup bottles with the other. If he just kept bulldozing, maybe whatever had been on Pete’s mind a few seconds ago would get forgotten. Maybe. Big maybe. Highly unlucky with their luck, but hey, it was always interesting to see whose luck was marginally better any given day. “So whatcha gonna wear?” he asked as he pushed some books aside to put the plate and syrups down. “I’m actually thinking of tuxing it up. I mean, how many times do you actually get to wear a tux? Might as well make the most of it, right?” “Pretty much,” was the agreement, Peter relieving Ben of the syrup bottles and planting himself down in one of the chairs. “And say your prayers for me because Jaina might be saintly with patience, but I kinda am racking up the tics in the needs improvement column.” Peter cleared his throat and pushed the conversation onward in time with reaching for a modest stack of three pancakes: “Anyway! You just wanna be James Bond for a night. Admit it. The new one’s a blond, too, so you’re about, oh... 15% of the way there? But me? I figured casual. Pants that don’t look like the Hulk sat on them, jacket, tie, and sneakers because Doctor Who influences my style more than I wanna admit at times.” A raised eyebrow met Peter’s comment in regards to Jaina as Ben scooped some pancakes onto his plate and smothered them with maple syrup. “Well, gives me an excuse to go ‘Reilly, Ben Reilly’ all night, so that’s always a win. Although, geez, give me some credit. I know I don’t got much to work with here, but at least 25% please. The bullet dodging ability has to count for something.” He took a bite of pancake before point his fork at Peter. “If I wasn’t a little caught up, I’d be laughing at the image of you accessorizing with scarves and celery.” A tilt of the head and a snort. “Nope, still going to laugh at it. Plus the floppy hat. You’d need your old hair back though to really pull it off.” A clear half of Peter’s stack were already gone by the time the break in Ben’s replies clued him in that he was up. Nothing like patrolling to drive a guy straight into would-eat-his-own-foot-if-you-put-ketchu “Nah.” Peter shook his head, stealing the intermittent moment his mouth was full to gesture at the now mostly empty plate and give a thumbs up, before continuing. “20% at best. The guy’s muscles have muscles. Sorry, Ben, you’re part of the aerodynamic, gangly-limbed club. Which, actually, is more like book James Bond, so maybe -- if we go book -- you’re up to 40%. 45% for me since I’m not blond,” Peter explained, waving his fork around as he spoke. He topped it off with a grin that vanished behind another loaded forkful. “Waf finking ‘bout fum brainy fpecs, too.” Ben shook his head in amusement before properly digging into his pancakes. He knew how they were, but that didn't mean he couldn't be amused. Or take it as an ego stroking. Because, yeah, this was adding to the home feeling and getting to take care of his 'little' brother like back in their world. Even if Pete was now the older brother. "Ok, I need to see the new movie because, really Pete? I think we have a lot more muscle than some of those Bonds. So still gonna fight for 25%." Stuffing another mouthful in his mouth, he raised an eyebrow. "Rearry?" he mumbled before swallowing. "We finally get away from the glasses and you wanna wear 'em again? To prom?" “Dude is built. And then to add injury to insult, they stick him in a suit, and it’s all, ‘Look at this classy spy with his style and his crazy physique.’ I’ll give you 25% for beating out Pierce Brosnan, though. That’s gotta be fair.” As if there wasn’t enough syrup already on his plate, Peter dowsed the last of the pile in more. There was a plan to hop back out and patrol again, so might as well fill ‘er up now. “And, sure, we got away from glasses, but those weren’t exactly flattering glasses. Bet you we look sharp in a sleek, plastic model. That way people see me and think how distinguished and mature I look. I mean, if I can keep my mouth shut for the evening, they might even believe that.” “If we’re bringing in Pierce Brosnan, I’m shooting for 31. Because I’m a prime example of how good a tux can look.” Ben snorted as he gave Peter a skeptical look. “Hate to break it to you, Pete, but there aren’t any glasses that’re gonna do that. Unless you’re talking about black-out glasses for everyone else.” He popped another bite into his mouth before pointing at Peter with his fork. “Mmmphf or dofe weird Myfteryo... mmm Mysterio glasses things that make ya hallucinate. That might get everyone convinced and doesn’t depend on us webbing your mouth shut.” The skepticism was mirrored back at Ben in a way only Peter Parker’s near-mirror image could do. “28.5%. You don’t have a British accent. Don’t think hanging out with the Harry Potter contingent’ll get you far, either.” Peter leaned back in his chair, then, pulling a grimace. “Ugh, don’t mention Mysterio. Still hate that guy. Never will stop hating that guy. It’s always some new and annoying gimmick. I’m attacking you! Now I’m attacking you in 3-D! Stay tuned for the made-for-TV special!” And, just as easily, the conversation shifted again. They had a funny way of pinging around topics. “So, you going alone? To prom. Up the odds of getting every woman there to dance with your endearing bachelor self?” “29%. To stay prime. And living in London for a few months has to give me at least .5%.” Ben groaned as he ran a hand over his eyes. “Fishbowl Head is still around? Geez, you’d think he’d get bored by now. Ugh, don’t mention made-for-TV specials. Been there, done that, sure made skipping out on that date easy when everyone’s getting brainwashed into staring at the TV screens, but no thanks to doing that again.” He smirked as he spread his hands out to the side. “Why should I take such a fine specimen off the market? So, yeah, going stag. For maximum mingling. Besides, Jess’d get jealous if she didn’t have someone to innuendo the night up with.” “Fine, fiiiiine,” Peter resigned, hands lifted in apparent defeat. “29% because I couldn’t say no to that face. One day those jokes’ll get old. Today? Today is not that day.” The bacon might have settled to room temperature, but it didn’t stop a reach for another piece and a swift disposal of it as Peter leaned his chair back onto the two hind legs. There never was sitting still for long for him; he rocked back and forth while giving Ben an appraising side glance. “Yeah, again, pretty sure you just want to be James Bond for the night. Just do us all a favor and don’t start in with martinis.” “They’ll never get old,” Ben said with a laugh. “Since, I’m going to prom, I’d actually want to enjoy it, so any martinis’ll be virgin. Which, having virgins all night long, still appropriate with the whole James Bond thing.” He paused to pop a piece of bacon into his mouth, his other arm slung over the back of his chair. The topic had settled well enough in his mind, so time to now steer the conversation back towards- “So, this praying I’m supposed to be doing? Any particular saints or is this just another of the ‘please God, I know we don’t get on well, but could you please put a pause on my luck long enough for me to keep a stable relationship’ usual deal?” “Terrible,” Peter returned through a laugh. He let the chair tip down to the ground again, half stood, and swung the chair around to sit on it backwards. After notching his arms on top of the back, there was a sobering stretch of quiet. He set his head down on his forearms. “Didja really have to pull the conversation there? I thought I did a nice bit of footwork moving around and past that. It’s kinda the usual?” A sigh was released, Peter tipping his head back for a second, as if to adjust to the wave of thoughts cascading within his skull. “Just never really had to navigate a relationship with someone who can completely fend for herself. I... might have slipped out one night ‘cause of an emergency call and forgot to tell her.” "Come on, bro. You should know better than to drop a line like that to a shared mind and not expect it to get picked up," Ben said with a roll of his eyes. "Especially considering our history with dating. And I mean ours for real as opposed to ours shared because man I'm not winning any prizes there either." He snorted. "You should give MJ more credit. Especially when's she's not here to give you a smack. But yeah, I get you." While MJ was awesome, she still needed saving. She didn't have superpowers and was put in the way of pretty bad stuff, so, yeah, she needed protecting. And needed someone else to be by Peter's side to protect him because there was no way she could, no matter how much she worried. But a Jedi... That was a lot of power. "Did she kick your butt for this thing you might have done?" He frowned. "Wait, emergency call? Avengers? Or was it more to do with Osborn?" “I give MJ all the credit, actually,” was partially muffled as Peter ducked his head down into his arms in a nearly restful position. “But Jaina... she’s really independent, y’know? Which is awesome. But I’m over here with the Oscorp thing, and she’s trying to figure out where she fits into this world, and it’s a casual relationship, but then it gets all serious...” Peter made a loose gesture. “Anyway, anyway, wasn’t Avengers or Osborn business. Been sworn to not spill, but let’s just say it was a slightly unconventional mother’s day gift for Aunt May. And I’m only sayin’ it since you’re... y’know, you.” “Does she want in on the Oscorp thing? Or is that on the secrets list too? I mean, she could always help with patrolling right? The whole light-saber thing might attract even more attention than we’re used to, but if that’s what she’s looking for, I don’t mind.” Ben wasn’t sure if that’d really help considering how hard it was to fit into your own world let alone someone else’s, but the Spider-Man thing always seemed to help him. Maybe not with fitting in completely, but it was at least one relatively stable part of his life that had a clear cut purpose. He narrowed his eyes as he turned over Pete’s words in his head. “Unconventional mother’s day gift for Aunt May? If you decided to get her a real gift and left my name off it, I’m going to kick your butt, however considering how awkward that whole gift giving thing is... Mini-us? Yes or no answer is fine, not asking for details. Ok, just one detail of whether he’s alright or not considering if it does involve him and it’s an ‘emergency call’ that had you leaving in the middle of the night, just a little bit worried.” Peter shook his head. “Nah. Said she’d find her direction and that I don’t need to figure anything out for her. I’ve just been keeping a lid on the Osborn thing because I’m trying to spare her from at least a small piece of the whirlwind of bad news that would get unleashed if I had to start explaining it all. I dunno, Ben. Maybe that’s just an excuse for something bigger.” There was relief to flip back to the other subject, though; the whole Jaina thing seemed so straightforward until about two minutes ago, and now it was just a sinkhole of uncertainty. It was so much easier to refocus on a certain other webslinger. “He’s okay. Gotta look out for myself, don’t I? And not a word about this, ‘kay? I think he trusts me, but he’s still hesitant. I don’t want to have him know I blabbed that he doesn’t come to me again if he needs help.” "I do know how to keep a secret, y'know," Ben said as he gave Pete a look. "And I get it. If you ever need back-up, I'm there. No questions asked. Even if it's just lurking in the shadows. But you and him possibly bonding? That's great. 'Cause yeah it's nice to know someone's got your back even when they should be at home." He should let the other topic drop. He should. But Pete was probably over thinking this, so... "How much does she tell you 'bout her life?" “I know, I know. But bet he’d trust you a little more, too, if he realized who you are.” Hands were lifted to cushion that suggestion. Peter quickly amended: “Still no rush to that, but I’m just saying. I’ll still give you a ring if he happens to get in over his head and I know it’s more than the two of us can take, but time’s a-tickin’.” The next question perked Peter up from a half-slumped ragdoll state as he’d taken to semi-morosely draping over the chair. “I... well, not too much. I know her parents. I know she had a brother that went to the dark side, and not in the ironic joke way.” Ben crossed his arm over his chest, his other elbow resting on his hand as he gestured. “Y’think him knowing that you, and by extension he, get cloned is going to make him open up to me? Yeeeeah, that went sooo well last time.” He shook his head. “Yeah, I know it gives some much needed context to everything, but that might open a huge can of worms, y’know?” He frowned as he went over all the information Peter had given him already. “Ok, dumb question, but this whole ‘but then it gets all serious’ thing? Is this a real thing or just something happening in your head because you’re overthinking it all?” “I think it’ll close him up to you if he finds out on his own or from someone else,” Peter replied, brows lifting slightly at Ben. “Damned if ya do, damned it ya don’t, Ben.” But his expression was set with a sympathetic leaning. There was enough that he felt obligated both tell and shield the other Peter and Gwen from. No middle ground. You spilled or you didn’t, and right now? Keeping quiet was still winning. “Don’t I overthink everything? Science brain.” A pointer prodded at Peter’s temple to denote as much. “Thing is that she can sense stuff. In the Force. I guess because we’ve got a bond or something, so maybe I’m just psyching myself out. Or maybe trying to weave around the truth is getting me in trouble with someone who knows when I’m not being honest...” “Yeah, yeah, and with the network and all.” Ben shrugged as he puffed out a deep breath. “I’ll keep thinking about which damned I want to be.” He snorted in amusement. “Ok, yeah, I can see overthinking the Force bond stuff. That seems pretty heavy duty, because, um, well, slight fanboy moment about you being all Force-ified.” He tilted his head to the side curiously. “Other than saving her from pain of having to listen to you ramble on about how crazy your life is and the fact that us and secrets go hand in hand, is there any reason not to stop skittering around the truth?” “There ya go.” A pat-pat was dispensed on Ben’s shoulder by way of brotherly support. “Long as you don’t plug up your ear ands go ‘lalala’ when it does end up being a question Gwen or Mini-Us asks, I mean. That’s a little bit of a giveaway, all told.” A glance to the wall clock was stolen; he’d have to get going soon to meet Carol for another round of patrolling. But in the remaining few moments... “Beats me, Ben. Somedays I think I unconsciously try to sabotage my relationships. I’d hate to split from Jaina, but I sorta know -- we both do -- that it’s coming. The way this place works, maybe I just feel like I have to keep some walls up.” “Only somedays?” Ben shot back with a quirked eyebrow. His shoulders lifted in a shrug and puffed out a long breath. “Ok, seriously, do you ever think something like this is going to last? Considering our luck and lifestyle and everything?” He shifted forward, leaning his elbows against the table as a smirk tugged up the corner of his mouth. “Ok, advice time for all it’s worth. Not sure it really works, but I at least know a thing or two ‘bout unstable situations and not knowing when you’re gonna disappear. Just take it day by day. Don’t overthink it, which I know is really hard. If it makes you happy, hold onto it and enjoy it for what it is. If you reach a time when you two want to talk more about stuff, you can figure it out then. Just remember that the talking and information sharing has to go both ways.” His smirk melted into a small, fond smile. “Go with the flow and you might stumble into something really great.” Peter pushed his mouth to one side, giving the advice a long, hard thought. It wasn’t like it was new information or anything, but the reminder? Yeah, it helped. Nothing was perfect, but things could be good for as long as he had them here. That went for Jaina... and for Ben, really. “You and I both know I can’t promise I won’t overthink, but... ‘preciate the nudge to knock it off. Let me know if I can return the favor one of these days, huh?” A leg was swung up and over the top of the chair, and Peter straightened up to standing. “And speaking of our lifestyle, I kinda promised Carol we’d go find things for her to punch. Not that I just turned up to eat your food and tell you about my dating woes, but you did offer and you didn’t ask.” A grin easily fell into place on Peter’s face. “But this thing? We should do this again, you and me.” “As long as you don’t overthink whether you’re overthinking, we’re ahead of the curve,” Ben said as he stood up and gathered the dishes. “Any excuse to tell you to knock it off is a good excuse. Plus you’ve already given me a few knocks already, so all in a day’s work.” A snort of amusement. “You can steal my food and whine ‘bout dating any time, bro. And don’t worry. Me and Jess were talking ‘bout hitting the streets too.” He matched the easy grin. “Us and scheduling suck, but you up for next Thursday?” Off the civvies went again, but at least Ben wouldn’t care. Nothing he hadn’t seen, nothing weird about a guy kicking his pants off and making his way over the window. There was a brief salute once Peter was situated in the living room space. “Next Thursday, barring alien invasion,” Peter returned with a slight bow. He stuffed his clothes into his backpack and fished out his mask. “And if you and Jess happen to be in the same neighborhood, make sure you say hi.” “Sneak up and web you in your blind spot, great idea, Pete, we’ll definitely do that if we see you,” Ben joked with a wave as he headed towards the kitchen. “Oh, and next time, you get dishes duty. So leave enough time for that, Spider-man.” |