Peter Quill (betterthanhoff) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2019-07-18 17:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, peter parker (spider-man), peter quill (star-lord) |
Who: The Peters (Peter Quill and Peter Parker)
What: Peter Q stares into the face of his potential future. It’s not pretty.
Where: A no-name bar with cheap drinks, sticky floors and no atmosphere
When: Tonight, late.
Rating: Green?
Status: complete
It seemed like days were getting harder, and not easier. Not since those dreams .
When everyone posted about their horrible dreams, Peter kept wondering why they were harping on them. Like get over it already or something -- it’s not like it was here . And then it happened to him and he suddenly felt like he needed to give the universe a big hug and bake cookies or some shit.
Fuck.
It was bad enough learning of his other history, how Yondu kidnapped him but had a change of heart, raised him the best he could ..and then the asshole had to go and fucking DIE for him? What the hell. Who asked him to do that? Peter was already set to sacrifice himself and nope. Yondu just took that choice away from him.
But he wasn’t going to dwell at home on this. Not when Yondu was just there , and he wasn’t going to overload Wanda about it either because obviously that had gone over well (and he couldn't stop thinking how amazing it was to just hold her and kiss her and just be himself). And that was another situation he needed to figure out. Nope, he needed to go and be a man which clearly meant get drunk in a shitty bar, take an even shittier cab home (because he was not going to be classy enough for an uber at this rate), and possibly throw up on his shoes later on. He knew that was going to happen because he’d just spilled his beer on his shoes and the smell was disgusting.
“Jesus christ, Peter,” he exclaimed to himself, staring forlornly at his spilled beer. “Get it together, you sad piece of shit. You are a middle aged loser and you gotta do better. At this rate, you’re not even going to get drunk enough to send texts you’ll regret in the morning.”
He was very disappointed about spilling his beer and apparently taking it very hard.
Peter Parker didn’t often do the drinking alone thing. It seemed sad in a way sitting in the dark watching Netflix on his laptop with a box of pizza in his life didn’t. But. well, he was in a new state, and that meant trying new things. Besides, he’d heard that bars were a good place to meet people, and he didn’t really know anyone in California yet. Not really.
Of course, actually talking to people might help with that, but for now, Peter was content to sit at the bar by himself, staring into a pint of beer - the same one that he’d been nursing for the last hour - and wondering if anyone would approach him. How were people supposed to meet people in bars anyway? How had they gotten such a reputation for that kind of thing anyway? It was probably all those twenty-something year olds.
He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard someone say his name. He flinched at every sentence the man said, and then finally turned toward the man who was sitting a couple of stools down from him. When he had hoped that someone might come talk to him, he hadn’t meant that they’d come at him with quite so much… brutal honesty.
How did he even know his name anyway?
“Uh, excuse me?” Parker asked. “Do I know you?”
Quill looked up from his shoes and squinted at the person talking to him. Did he know him? It was a few beers o’clock though and maybe he did. Did he?
“Uhhhh…..” It was like Schroedinger’s cat -- until he said the words, he simultaneously knew and didn’t know the guy. And holy shit, when did he learn any of this crap anyways? Damnit, his beer...right.
“No? I don’t think? Do I?” He gave Parker a hard stare. “Wait. Did I punch you once? Cause I’m sorry about that if I did. I was kind of a tool before prison but I gotta be honest -- you look punchable. You might have had it coming. Or not. If I didn’t punch you, that is. Anyways. My beer is gone. It’s been a rough night.” He toed his shoe out from under the stool to show the other man. “It’s all gone. All of it. I barely knew it…”
What was with this guy? “Ouch. I’ll have you know, I try to avoid getting punched as often as possible.” He was proud to say he hadn’t been punched in the face once since high school. A couple of other places, but not the face. But this guy really seemed to be keen on heaping the abuse on poor Peter Parker, and Peter was starting to get tired of it. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you’re not supposed to say anything if you can’t say something nice?”
Quill snorted. “Is this some love yourself bull crap? Are you with a cult? I mean, you look kinda homeless so maybe not ….but yeah, I can be as shitty to myself if I wanna. That’s like the ONLY good thing about being an adult. If I wanna say “Peter! You suck!” I can and I will.”
Did he dare stick his tongue out? A 35 year old man?
Yup.
He blew a noisy raspberry in buddy’s direction and motioned to the bartender for another beer.
Peter Parker couldn't care less whether this guy loved himself or not, and it was such a bizarre statement that Peter almost missed the homeless comment, so his offended "Hey!" came a little late.
"You can say whatever you want about yourself whenever you want," Peter said. "It's when you start saying things about me that I have a problem with."
And now Quill was confused.
“Why the fuck would I be talking about you? Or to you? Buddy! YOU started talking to ME.” With his new beer in hand, he took a healthy, long gulp, his eyes not wavering from this weirdo guy who was starting conversations and not owning up to it.
“Just accept you apparently are lonely and wanted someone to talk to, although starting with an argument is a douchey thing to do. You have problems.”
That was Peter’s official diagnosis.
“But that’s okay. We all do. Do you want a beer?”
Parkers’ eyebrows came together a little as he tried to make sense of what this guy was saying. No, it was definitely the other man who had been insulting him first, and then had just continued on for no apparent reason. An answer was starting to form, and then the other man threw it off completely when he asked Peter if he’d like a beer.
“God, it’s like whiplash,” he muttered to himself. “Yeah, I guess so,” he said after a moment. His own beer was warm at this point, though ordering another, colder beer while he had half a pint still in front of him was a waste of money. “Is your name Peter too?” he asked after a moment.
Quill offered, so of course, Quill was paying. Besides, not drinking by yourself meant it was a better thing or something. Not that Quill cared. He actually liked going to bars and clubs by himself, because he made friends everywhere he went. Sometimes friends he could get naked with and not speak to every again. He liked those time limited friendships. Except could he still do that when he was pining away for Wanda? Fuck, life was hard.
The other man’s question threw Quill off and he tilted his head in confusion. “Too? Wait - you’re Peter?” He smacked his forehead and started to laugh. “Holy shit, so you thought I was -- oh I get it now! That’s fucking hilarious! I’m Peter! Yes! Peter Quill.” He stuck his hand out to shake. “I’m the Peter I was yelling at, not you, because I deserve it. I mean, you could too for all I know, but yeah, I was just talking about me. That’s hilarious and now I’m glad I got you a beer because this is almost as good as the time I met my doppleganger and kissed his girlfriend.”
And right on cue, another beer appeared before Peter, which he nudged to the homeless-looking Peter.
“Cheers, bud!”
“Yeah, you can see why I might have been a little insulted,” Parker said, not going into just how much he really had deserved everything that the other Peter had given him. Because he suspected he probably deserved those unkind words more than Peter Quill did.
He picked up the beer, ready to cheers, and then the rest of what Peter said sunk in and he blinked slowly, trying to figure out exactly what he meant. “Wait, doppleganger?” he asked.
Quil shrugged. It wasn’t really much more than a blip in his life. “Yeah, I went to some random bakery, and the girl was dating a guy who looks almost identifcal to me. A few differences, but enough that she thought I was him. She basically demanded a kiss and hey -- who am I to say no to a beautiful woman?”
He’d never turned a woman down. If they wanted a piece of Peter, come at him … which reminded him again why he was there drinking. Yondu. Wanda. Too many conflicting emotions and thoughts. Frick.
“Sorry again if you thought I was insulting you. I promise, if I ever do, it’ll be to your face.”
That was… surprising. He knew that there were people out there who looked similar to one another. Despite the fact that humans had far more diverse features than almost any other animal in the animal kingdom, human genes weren’t that diverse, and there were only so many options available for a combination of features. With billions of people on the earth, it only made sense that some of the looked the same. But for Peter to be similar enough that the other guy’s girlfriend thought they were the same person…
“Interesting,” Parker said, more to himself than anything else. “I mean, I know it’s possible for people, who aren’t genetically twins, I mean, to look similar, but it’s rare, especially since under negative frequency-dependant selection, our phenotypic variation is incredibly diver…” Peter trailed off, glancing over at the other Peter, and cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he said, suddenly very aware of how little his new friend probably cared about the morphological and population genomic evidence about human faces.
Quill shrugged and motioned to other Peter to keep talking. “I have no fucking clue what you’re saying there buddy, but you seem to be having a moment and if you need to keep talking, I’ll just keep drinking and nodding and agreeing.” Quill was good that way especially now that he had someone to talk to. When he was just in his own head, it was going in spirals that no one appreciated, let alone Quill.
“You okay, by the way? I mean, I know I’m not, hence the drinking and name calling but you sure took all this pretty personal.”
“The moment’s over,” Peter assured Peter. It was something he’d probably read up on a little more once he was home for the night, but for now, he was done rambling.
“Me? Oh yeah, I’m fine. Like, really great. Living my best life, here, alone at the bar, with a warm beer.” Okay, that was… less than convincing. “But at least I’m not alone anymore, and my new beer is nice and cold.” Still… not super convincing. “So, you know, things are really looking up. Not that they were looking down before or anything.”
This guy talked in more riddles than anyone Quill had ever met. Peter Q was used to being blunt, and getting things out, even if it was a roundabout way. With this other Peter though, he was up and down and all over.
“Yeah, well, warm beer is gross and should be thrown out,” he answered, wrinkling his nose. “So I’m glad I could save you from that hell. And meeting me is probably the best thing ever. I’m super cool and I mean, it’s a fact that Peters are a special kind of person. We’re easily the most awesome in this entire bar just by that fact alone.” Oh yeah, Quill was drunk but at least he was happy now and not sad anymore.
“Chin up! It’ll only get better from here and you know why? I’ll tell you why! It’s because there’s more beer, and cabs exist and I just got paid and have nothing good to spend my cash on. Drinks on me tonight!”
“I’ll be straight with you, Peter,” Peter said, reaching for his beer with his left hand and taking a sip. “I’m not really much of a drinker. But hey, I’m willing to do my best to help you spend your money.”
“Well, Peter,” Quill responded back. “They say a fool and his money are soon parted. Now, I have no fucking clue who ‘they’ are but I do know I’m a fool, so who the fuck cares?” He grinned and lifted his glass sloppily. It sloshed on his shoes again and he felt his stomach lurch. Right, he was getting pretty close to his limit.
Looking around the bar, he wondered if this was a night where he went home alone, or if he would find someone. A little voice (okay Nine’s voice) was in the back of his mind, reminding him that Wanda would probably not enjoy that very much, but she knew he did this.
Of course, that was before they made out and had a moment and whatever.
And then he realized all these thoughts? Were said outloud. “Anyways, I guess that’s what I’m thinking,” he finally said, shrugging. “Home alone or not. That is the question.”
Parker was … kind of impressed. And here he thought that he was bad for rambling on. “Maybe you don’t want to take the advice of someone who’s been divorced,” Peter prefaced, “but I think if you’re into this Wanda girl, you should probably just call it a night and go home by yourself. Even if she knows that you do this, I doubt it makes her feel very good about herself. You know, assuming that she likes you back.”
“If you’ve been divorced,” Quill responded, “that means you convinced someone to marry you. You’re already doing better than me so cheers.” He finished his drink and gave his head a shake.
“I ….can’t think anymore tonight.” He took out his phone and squinted at the very bright display. It was later than he’d wanted, but that was okay. That meant Yondu would be asleep, and there would be no talking while Peter flopped onto the couch and passed out. And then he’d have to be up by 6 and start the work day again.
Ugh. Prison was easier.
“I need to go home….” He crumpled some bills on the bar and thought for a moment before dropping a few more. “There. If you want another one, knock yourself out, or else the bartender’s just gonna get a great tip.” He stood up hastily and realized quickly that he was far drunker than he thought. “I’m just..” Peter motioned to the door. “Cab. Yeah. Cool. Nice to see you, Future Me. Remember, don’t hate yourself when you can hate me. I’ll take on the Peter problems. You just do you.”
That seemed like good advice.
Parker watched Quill for a second, before he got up and threw Quill’s arm over his shoulders. It turned out that drinking alone wasn’t anywhere near as glamorous as all the movies had made it out to be, and the bartender probably deserved a generous tip, and so he felt pretty good about leaving his second unfinished pint behind.
“I’ll walk you to the cab,” he said. “Make sure you at least get into it safely.” From there, Quill would be on his own, but Peter didn’t feel right watching him stumble out of the bar when he could barely keep his feet under him.