Flash Thompson | Agent Venom (thevenomchoseme) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2015-01-02 19:49:00 |
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“Okay, so, it’s really just making sure numbers add up. If you have three unknown variables, then you need three equations. And that’s where the fun kicks in!” Peter slapped the open book in front of him. “Deriving equations!” he announced with a sort of genuine glee that only came with years of living between the pages of math and science books. And with that came an expectant look at Flash, for some semblance of understanding. Somewhere in one of the side bedrooms, Verne gave a yowl. A squeak followed soon after, as the dog probably found his favorite toy to chew on. It wasn’t the world’s most enthused reception, but Peter barely wilted. His resolve shone true as he shoved the textbook back over to Flash and tapped on one of the example problems. “Here, work on this one. I’m gonna go see if there’s eats around here. Pro adult tip, by the way: if and when you get married, never clean out the pantry without restocking it before your other half gets home. One time I ate her last Mallomar, and I felt guilty for a month.” Flash tried. He really did. Peter’s enthusiasm on the matter helped a little, but one equation was bad enough. Needing three of them made him want to bang his head against the counter instead of offering up a pretty weak attempt at a nod of understanding. He couldn’t help the groan though as the book was pushed back in front of him. Man, things had been so much easier when he could just rough the nerd up a bit and get finished homework in return. Easier, yeah, but definitely not better. He puffed out a sigh as he leaned his elbow on the counter, hunched over the book. He twirled his pencil absently between his fingers as he tried to make sense of the appointed problem. “If you’re gonna give advice, y’should change the punishment to having to sleep on the sofa for a month. Totally sounds like you were more upset ‘bout it than she was.” Peter shoved his head into the pantry, mostly because picking out snacks just tended to be a fully-immersive task. He prodded at a box of Cheez-Its, but then moved to rustle around where the potato chips were stored. Over his shoulder he called back, “I’ve been told I have a guilt sponge problem. Something I also… feel guilty about. Hey, you like pita chips? There’s these ones with cinnamon on that taste like crunchy french toast.” He held the bag up behind him, blindly, and gave it shake. Of course, that was signal enough for Verne, who heard the bag crumpling and assumed (as most animals do) that he was about to be fed. The sound of nails clicking rang out as he skidded past Flash, mouth clenched around a metallic bracelet that he’d pulled off his master’s nightstand. There wasn’t any point in letting that go until the promise of food was fulfilled, after all. A frown creased his brow, a combination of the textbook and Peter’s rambling. Flash looked up at the bag rustling. “Don’t they stop being chips when they go all sweet?” Not that he wouldn’t eat them. Hey, food was food. Don’t look a gift pita chip bag in the mouth. Or put it in your mouth. Whatever. His head turned to follow the skitter of claws. Any distraction was a good distraction considering the alternative was, ugh, math. His eyebrows went up and he leaned back on his seat to keep an eye on the dog. “So, how many months of guilt do you get for drool and teeth marks on the wivey’s bling?” “You mean ‘do they go from good to great when they go all sweet?’ Yes. Yes, they do, Flash,” Peter replied, tucking the bag under his arm and starting for the fridge. Roughly about then did four paws and a mop of tawny fur collide with his leg, which wasn’t anything new. Verne was no master of the concept of friction or lack thereof. The world was his bumper. But something about what Flash said made Peter look downwards to that excited little Ewok face, only to be greeted with his webshooter getting gummed up and drooled on. “Whoa, that -- hey, Verne, no. No, drop it.” Things swiftly became a pleading contest with the dog, whose brain switched tracks from treats to a game of keep-away. The small dog bolted underneath Flash’s chair, eyes alit with a wild glee. “Oh, come on. How did you even get that? You’re, like, 1 foot tall.” Verne, undiscouraged, placed the shooter down and eyed his owner with all the silent intent of a dare. Flash teetered in his chair slightly, his weight shifting back and forth as he watched the dog’s antics. Ok, important piece of jewelry considering Parker’s reaction. Maybe more of an actual banishment to the couch than just the guilt sponge routine. Alright, time to start operation catch the dog. Shouldn’t be too hard, right? He was kind of football sized anyways, right? Couldn’t be any tougher than catching a rival team’s mascot. It should’ve been easy. Slip off his perch. Use this pooch and master stare off as a distraction to get a good tackle going. Except that, well, sneaking quietly didn’t work nearly as well when he wasn’t creeping around a dark alley and was instead a giant in a kitchen. He managed three steps and then the floppy head of fur swung around. The dog crouched with a butt wiggle, his mouth back on the… very weird bracelet. Like super weird. But girls were into weird fashiony stuff, right? And this MJ mentioned modeling and actressing. Ok, so, this’d be a harder grab then. Flash leaned forward to go for the lunge when- CHOMP. CHOMP. THWIP His eyes went wide and he let out a yelp of surprise as his balance shifted back quickly to avoid the string of… very familiar webbing. He didn’t even really register landing hard on his ass on the floor as he just kept staring at the… yeah, that was webbing. Definitely webbing… There wasn’t a ping of Spider-Sense; this wasn’t a dangerous situation and it wasn’t like anyone was walking in on Peter Parker wearing a Spider-Man suit. Still, the instinct was to cringe. There wasn’t time to race in and stop the weblines from exploding outward and snaring just about everything in a 5-foot radius. All Peter could do was clutch the bag of pita chips in front of the open fridge, cringing from the moment those nefarious little teeth sunk their hold. “...Happy New Year! So much for the confetti act being a surprise,” Peter attempted, feeling it was just the right amount of humor to diffuse this seriously awkward and exposing moment. There were other excuses to default back on, but he was keeping those in his back pocket for now. And, thankfully, now the pup was cooperative enough to drop the webshooter and let his master swoop him off the floor. A thread dangled from the Shih Tzu’s rear, swishing with each tail wag. Peter could only tuck the small dog beneath an arm as he reached to hold the thread between two hands to snap it. That took care of one thing. The rest of the kitchen, however, was another story. As was Flash on the floor, looking like his brain had malfunctioned. It took a few slow blinks before the Peter’s words even registered. A few more moments after that to actually process what the words meant considering that his brain just kept circling around the whole webbing thing. Webbing. Like actual webbing. Similar enough to the stuff the symbiote made which meant… He closed his eyes and shook his head before turning his attention to Peter. “This-” His hand waved around at the webbed up area. “-ain’t confetti.” His eyes narrowed. “Ain’t silly string neither.” Peter looked between Flash and the webbing, then he glanced down at Verne, who was hanging like a wet noodle in his hands. More than being backed into a corner, the exclusion of Flash from being in on the secret had just sat wrong with Peter. The guy clearly needed some guidance and help, and even though there were ways to give that on both sides of the coin, it just wasn’t the same as the other teenagers from Flash’s world. The others knew. There wasn’t any song and dance with them like he had to keep up with Flash, and that… was unfair. It was just that a simple lack of fairness hadn’t really pushed him to throw off his mask before -- literally or metaphorically. “Okay, you got me,” Peter finally admitted in the same breath as an exhale. He held up Verne. “This is Spider-Dog. He didn’t actually make me swear to keep his secret because he can’t talk, so I figure this is completely legit for a conversation right now.” Verne snorted. “Point taken, Verne.” Flash’s eyes squinted narrower and his jaw tensed in a scowl. Only full blast for a moment though before the edge was taken off when he eyed Verne with a mix of wariness and uncertainty. It was a joke. It had to be a joke. But then the world was super weird sometimes and even more weird now that there were multiple universes around too. Plus his head was seriously getting a headache trying to figure out what this actually meant. Because webbing. All over the kitchen. What? Pushing himself up from the floor, he absently tugged a webline down as he glanced warily between Peter and the dog. He took a step towards the duo. “Uh huh…” he managed to get out before stooping to scoop up the ‘bracelet’ from the floor. He turned it over in his hands a few times curiously before holding it up to Peter and raising his eyebrow. “So, how does Spider-Dog use this for real? ‘Cause that-” He jerked his thumb at the webs. “-ain’t very effective.” Peter scratched at the back of his neck. “Well,” he started, but then was seized by the thought that this was really just another side-step despite the decision cast to let Flash in. It was force of habit. The truth never came out easily. So many people knew who he was in this world, and that should have made it all old hat as far as having the lines down, but it still gunked up in the pipes and refused to budge when he opened the tap. “Well,” Peter repeated, as if it would help to come at the sentence again with a renewed resolve. He plucked the shooter from Flash’s hands, and wiped some of the dog slobber off one side. Verne was placed atop one of the kitchen chairs for the moment. “I guess, in theory, it would go on like this…” Peter popped the locking mechanism to open the device up, then fitted his own wrist inside. “And then he’d, y’know… thwip.” Peter’s middle and ring finger bent towards the palm, without actually triggering the pressure button there. He turned his attention to Flash, brows lifted as he watched the teenager’s face for some hint that he understood what was happening. Flash just stared at the ‘bracelet’ on Peter’s wrist, his frown growing by the second. He’d never thought about how the webs happened. It was just something Spidey did. Although if this was actually what he thought it was, this would explain why when Spidey first showed up that he kept fiddling with his wrists whenever he was sitting in one place for a long time. If this is what he thought it was. And was the same back home. Although had White Tiger used webs when they were fighting that evil gym teacher dude? Whatever, ok, so, that’s maybe where the webs came from. But the rest… His mind kept trying to follow the hints, the easiest explanation, but each time he got to the answer, it felt like his brain just hit a brick wall. Maybe if it was someone else, this’d be easier. But this was Parker. There’s no way Parker could be Spider-Man… He shook his head slightly as he reached out to ruffle Verne’s fur. “No offense, but the Spider-Dog story’s got more oomph to it.” The discomfort of admission momentarily fizzled, and Peter tilted his head at Flash, his expression bearing down hard on something that might be closer to disbelief and personal injury than anything frightened or nervous. He’d put this on a silver platter, and all he got back was that Spider-Dog made a way better story. A dog was more plausible as Spider-Man to Flash. He retracted his hand to put his pointer over his mouth as he tried to figure out what to say to that. “Y’know, I didn’t plan this, but in the two seconds after that party trick, I made a judgement call… and I’m pretty sure I didn’t consider rejection. Especially not against the stealth bomber over there.” Peter gave Verne a look. Verne yawned. That was about right. “This is your fault,” he told the canine. “Okay. Okay. So, two options. I can give you a story that you could probably make sense out of if you really wanted to -- a better one than Spider-Dog. Or, I can tell you to think about this. Like, really think about it…” His focused drifted to the webbing strewn around the kitchen. “Good thing that only lasts a few hours tops,” Peter mumbled. Flash couldn’t help the short laugh, edged with just a bit of nervousness. “Aw, come on, the whole thing is…” Ridiculous. Unbelievable. A great joke. Yup, a really good prank. He wouldn’t be surprised if a bunch of people jumped out with a big old ‘ha, we got you’. Except that look on Peter’s face had him holding his tongue and pressing his lips together in a tight line. Truth be told, he didn’t want to really think about it. While he could think of plenty of moments that’d prove how ridiculous this was, it was the things that started to make sense that had his stomach twisting uncomfortably. Probably a good thing that they hadn’t gotten to actually eating those snacks first… He nodded slowly, puffing out a long sigh as he did. “Ok, yeah, story time,” he muttered as he leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. He glanced around, making a face at the mess. “I could clean it up. If you don’t wanna wait.” “Nah, it’ll dissolve on its own. Trust me, MJ won’t know what happened by the time she’s back.” Peter gave a dismissive wave at the admittedly large mess that was the tangle of weblines. Verne, for his part, had sat down on the chair, with his head hanging over the side and brows hoisted just in case food somehow reentered the picture. “Uh…” This was pretty comical. Peter leaned back against the opposite counter from Flash, and for a moment he merely worked his jaw without one single word coming out. “So, the really interesting thing is that I know a guy who shoots webbing out of his wrists. Crazy, right? And there was someone else -- this woman I know back home -- shoots it out of her fingertips. In a long line of freaky things, you have not lived until you see someone shoot webbing out of their fingertips.” That wasn’t the story, but with the way Flash looked, maybe a smaller trinket of information beforehand would avoid inverting his world. Flash kept with the slow nodding, wondering where on (or maybe not on considering space goo, still ew) Earth Peter was going with his rambling. Which wasn’t helping with the not thinking as, well, not everything was lining up. Because the first guy sounded like Spider-Man, but if he was Spider-Man then where was this conversation going? Ok, probably somewhere better and less brain hurty than the unbelievable first theory, but still… And what did this have to do with… He rubbed the heel of his hand against his temple. “Wait, like Spidey or… with stuff like that?” He waved his hand at the webshooter. “Or…” His face wrinkled up. Ok, yeah, that’d be a good reason not to actually think about the how of it all. “Ugh, like actually out of his wrists? Ok, gross.” And people did it from their fingertips too? His brow furrowed as he looked at his own fingers. He hadn’t thought about that. Spidey always shot his webs from his wrist, so he just went on autopilot with that. He hadn’t even considered other options… “Kinda cool, but still gross.” “Yeah, it -- I mean, organic shooters get finicky, anyway. You don’t eat enough starch, and suddenly it’s like dia--” Peter stopped himself, both mid-sentence and mid-fidget with the webshooter on his wrist. This was getting really abstract, and it was probably not helping Flash one bit as far as grasping what this was all about. “There was a field trip I took back in high school. They had one of their radioactive spiders do a jailbreak, and… look, I know you keep secrets. I’ve had enough time to see you do your thing, and I trust you. So I’m gonna keep trusting you with all of this. You understand what I’m saying, right?” Flash snapped his hands down and crossed his arms back over his chest to stop himself from inspecting them at the word ‘secrets’, a knee jerk reaction at feeling like he’d gotten caught in the act. Not that looking at his fingers was super suspicious or anything, but considering the conversation… The nod was a bit firmer this time. “I… I still don’t get this. It’s not making sense to me, but… I got your back. I won’t go blabbing to anyone. Not ‘bout important stuff like this.” A frown. “Whatever this is. Yeah, you can trust me. I won’t tell.” A shake of his head this time as he made a face. “I… don’t wanna know how you know ‘bout the webs really out of the wrists, ‘cause that just made it ten times grosser.” He paused a moment, shifting his weight against the counter. “So… freshman year?” “The story that goes with the wrist shooters is pretty gross, too, so hey! Dodged a bullet. And, yeah, I was fifteen.” Peter gave Flash a quick once-over. “Something tells me you know how this goes. Something also tells me you’re having some extreme inner turmoil, there.” Peter reached around his back and grabbed the bag of pita chips. “Chips? Chips might help.” He held them out to Flash, maintaining his best attempt at a consoling smile. “Look, I probably would’ve told you sooner, and with a way better presentation, but was trying to be mindful of other people around here. Thing is, can’t see any use in keeping you in the dark. And, I gotta be honest, acting like the go-between between anyone and Spidey is only amusing the first few times. After that, I kinda feel like a horse’s patoot.” Fifteen… His mind still boggled at this all. Flash wasn’t sure if that anchor point helped or not. He remembered it well. Spider-Man showing up for the first time during his freshman year. Fighting crimes, beating up muggers and bank robbers and then the growing levels of super powered villains. It’d been a bright spot at that time. Watching for video on the news, reading the equally biased stories from the Daily Bugle. Starting the fan club. And meanwhile, everyday at school… He took a bag of chips, but didn’t really open it. Just twisting and untwisting the top of the bag. “I… Ok, so, all of this… Kinda just fighting the autoresponse of wanting to threaten ya and maybe push you ‘round to stop ya fuckin’ ‘round with me ‘cause… still having a hard time believing this.” He frowned. “Weren’t you a photographer at the Bugle?” At that, Peter couldn’t help a grin. “I was a photog for them for years. Specialized in getting pictures of Spider-Man, yeah. I had an agreement with JJJ. If he never asked how I got the pix, I’d keep ‘em coming.” There was a shrug, though Peter narrowed his eyes at Flash crumpling the bag. The poor kid was probably swimming in a sea of confusion and shock. “Listen, I know this is a lot. I never exactly had a test run with the Flash I know back home, so…” A loose gesture around the kitchen, at the drooping strands of webbing. “If you need to let that simmer for a bit, we don’t gotta talk through the last half of my li -- VERNE, NO.” It took a quick bolt forward to stop the dog from trying to bite into a webline. “Dude, how did your kind ever start as wild and self-sufficient canines? Don’t make me put you in your house,” he told the dog, who was now dangling in his hands. Apparently, the word ‘house’ registered because there was a droop of the tail. Flash shook his head as he plopped the bag of chips on the counter and pushed himself off the counter. “Come on, ya can’t go doing that when you’ve got a chew toy obstacle course in here.” Yeah, Pete had said it would dissolve soon enough, but cleaning up the webbing mess was something productive to do. And something he had plenty of experience with. He gave a webline a practiced tug, rolling the strand into a ball once it was free and looking around for the trash can. ‘Y’know, the photog thing isn’t helping your case. How can you be the Spider-Man picture guy when…” He gestured at the webbing before taking hold of another strand. “You say obstacle course, Verne says, ‘Is it food? And if it isn’t, can I still eat it?’” With a shot sigh, Peter put the dog down again, this time on the floor. He grabbed a swatch of webbing and plucked it off the furniture and floor with care. Of course this would happen when he was down on the fluid that dissolved the stuff. Somewhere, Otto Octavius was snickering at how ill-prepared Peter Parker always was. It prompted a barely audible groan. But Otto was pushed to the side, almost as easily as the wad of webs in Peter’s hands was dropped into the trash can. “You really don’t wanna take my word on this, do you? Next time I get cornered before I’m ready to spill, I should tap you in. Bet you could convince anyone that they need their eyes checked.” “It’s not… I trust ya and all, it’s just…” Flash blew out a heavy breath as he tossed the ball of webbing into the trash. “You’re… you’re puny Parker!” He cringed as soon as the words were out. He was trying to move past that and being better, but it summed up where his brain kept stalling. The confused scowl was back full force as he threw his hands out to the side in frustration. “He can’t even get over the wall in gym! Come on. And every time there’s trouble, he goes running away and hides ‘til-” He pressed his lips together in a tight line. Until the trouble was all over. After Spider-Man had come and gone. His scowl edged into pout territory considering that last argument wasn’t helping his case any. Plus there was the part of this that really bugged him. That just kept twisting his stomach uncomfortably. His jaw worked a moment, his arms crossing back over his chest. “He never fought back…” Puny Parker. Peter let out a snort. The last of the webbing was plucked off where it had anchored, and the remnant wisps let behind would take care of themselves. He swiveled around and hopping up to sit atop the counter. “I might not be a great liar, but I’m a good actor if I gotta be,” he answered, leaning forward to notch his elbows on his knees. “And it’s not like I learned control overnight, so don’t give me credit for never taking a swing back. Just ended up regretting those moments after, and eventually… you figure out how to not have a temper at everyone. Then, you meet people who keep you grounded and pull you back when you start lapsing,” Peter continued. “I never met the Peter from your world, but I’m guessin’ he’s not that far off from me. And no one’s at their best in high school. Nobody.” Flash shook his head. “It’s not just throwing a punch. I know how Spidey moves. He could’ve just side stepped or something. He didn’t have to end up in the lockers. He could’ve put me in my place easy.” He frowned, his mind going over all the things that supported this crazy idea. He blew out a sigh as he leaned back on the counter, inspecting his fingers again. “Spidey did tell me the safest place for me to be was in a locker…” he mumbled. “Sometimes protecting a secret identity comes with a price tag. Look, it’s water under the bridge. I know, I know -- you’re not the same Flash and I’m not the same Peter that we both went to school with, but that applies even back home.” Peter stretched out his back, arching it until something gave a satisfying pop. “S’all part of growing up. And I’ve never taken a punch that I couldn’t brush off, so don’t look so gloomy.” There was a nod towards the abandoned book on the kitchen counter. “That problem’s still waiting, y’know,” Peter told Flash. Flash nodded, his body straightening up and his jaw taking on a determined set. “I’m not that guy anymore either.” Ok, more like trying not to be, but making a statement sounded better than the would’ves and could’ves and should’ves. “If your Flash shows up, you better tell him. I mean, I got only 3 years of this shit to go through and you two got like fifty.” He glanced over at the book, his nose wrinkling in obvious distaste. Only for a second though before an impish grin quirked his lips and his eyebrows raised. “Or…” His pointer and middle finger extended out, as if he was making a pretend gun. The black goo oozed out from his sleeve to cover his hand with barely a thought, but then it was easier to go back to ‘default’ mode. He concentrated on what Peter had said about that girl, picturing what it must be like to webshoot that way. He couldn’t help the huge grin when the symbiote got the idea and a strand of web shot from his two outstretched fingertips and sped towards Peter. “Hey! It worked!” The raised finger pointed at him had made Peter narrow his eyes, but if Flash was hoping to land a hit this time, then he had another thing coming. It was a graceful flip -- not down, but up -- onto a bare patch of wall adjacent to where he’d been sitting. “Not gonna work on me, Flash,” he called back with a grin. Then, another flip deposited Peter right back on the ground, where he lifted his own webshooter and fired a reply webline back. “And, yeah, I’m sure if my Flash turns up he’ll wanna go over those fifty years, too.” There was a sigh, then a much quieter mumble of, “Just gotta convince him to talk to me again first.” Flash stared, wide-eyed. Ok, yeah, so Parker wasn’t just messing with him… There really was no way for him to just fudge that sort of thing, not on such short notice. Not even if he said he was a great actor and maybe had actually planned this all. And there he was. Flipping around and sticking to walls. And not freaking out about webbing getting shot at him. Huh. Go figure… The incoming webline jolted him out of the gaping goldfish routine. His hand on the counter boosted him up and away out of the webbing’s grasp to land in a crouch on the counter. A wide grin spread across his face as the black goo engulfed his other hand too. “Oh, it’s on now, Parker.” He took aim before launching himself off the counter. |