Mike (ghost_writer) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-03-07 00:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, gwen stacy (ghost spider), tenth doctor |
Who: Tenth Doctor and Gwen Stacy
When: 3/3
Where: Their apartment
What: Chatting. Not being awkward.
Rating: Low
Status: Complete
After all that Wonderland fiasco, John really felt like it was only fair that he took a few days off of work. Not that work was really all that work-ish to him. Still, he felt he could benefit greatly from a distinct lack of writing: even more so by doing an awful lot of just laying around on his couch and doing whatever he wanted to do.
It was nearly evening, and Tara was still probably at work -- he wasn’t sure if if the girl was coming over tonight, anyway. He never really was.
Staring up at the ceiling, John perked up a little when he heard a set of keys in the front door. Gwen, it would be, home from work. Brilliant. He was bored.
“Flatmate!” He called out -- even as he lazily stretched his fingers up toward the ceiling.
Gwen had been shopping. She bought some baking supplies to try her hand at making some cookies. She had her arms full of shopping bags, and had to kick the door open and closed again behind her. “John!?” She called back, grinning, as she came into the kitchen and put the bags down. “Where are you?”
“Living room,” John called back -- although at the sound of her voice he practically rolled off of the couch and into a stand. He made his way toward the kitchen and immediately started poking through the bags. Flour? Huh. “How’s the day, then?”
“Good! Done already. In for the night. I’m thinking wine and cookies.” She said, grinning, as she unloaded one of the bags. She bought stuff for dinner, and to replenish supplies for breakfasts, and the cookie making supplies, of course. She pulled those out last. “Do you like chocolate chip cookies as much as I do?”
“At the same time?” The Doctor John needed to know. Because that sounded curiously amazing. Like something he could make a habit of. Wine and cookies. “Do I like chocolate chips?” He feigned some exaggeration. “Does a bear shit in the woods?”
“Well, yeah.” Gwen said, giving him a ‘duh’ look. Of course at the same time. What did he think she was, a heathen? A little laugh escaped her, though. “I dunno, where do bears keep their toilets?” She folded up the bags she’d used to bring the shopping in, and shoved them in her purse. “I’ll get to work making cookie dough if you pour the wine.”
“That seems like a fair sharing of the work,” John said with a saintly sort of expression. He was not going to think about where bears kept toilets. He just wasn’t.
Grabbing glasses from the cupboard, John wiggled his way around the kitchen with his usual air of high-energy. “Box or bottle?” He wondered, peering into the fridge.
Gwen snorted. Like that was a real question. “Come on. Really? You have to ask?” She went back to preparing to make the cookie dough; getting out bowls and spoons and measuring cups. It was a good thing they had these things in their cupboards, so Gwen could cook when the desire struck.
“I’m going to make Thousand Dollar cookies. They’re oatmeal chocolate chip.” She said, motioning to a bag of rolled oats. “You’re gonna love ‘em.”
Sometimes, John was certain that women responded that way in order to trick all the lesser men. He went with the box, because clearly they needed a little more classiness in their lives. He stuck her glass on the counter next to all her measuring things, and then boosted himself on top of the counter opposite where she was working.
Crossing his feet at his ankles, he sipped his wine. “Why do they call them that?”
John was probably right about that.
“Honestly? I have no idea.” Gwen said, shaking her head. “Maybe because calling them million dollar cookies feels pretentious? They’re pretty amazing, though.” She said, measuring out the rolled oats, then the flour, brown sugar, all in turn.
A laugh bubbled out of him, and John looked absolutely tickled at that; not that he didn’t usually. He was beyond chipper. “And thousand is far more humble,” he said -- more than content with just watching her work.
Gwen couldn’t help but notice the happiness in her flatmate, and she filed that away to pester him about it later. When she wasn’t busy focusing on melted butter and white versus brown sugar.
“Far more.” She said, giving him a grin. Then she reached for her glass and gave him a quick, “cheers,” before sipping.
“Allons-y,” John returned, raising his glass up high in mock toasting. He wasn’t exactly sure where the word he’d used came from, (well, he knew it was french, and it meant “lets go”, obviously, he just didn’t know why he’d said it) but it seemed vaguely familiar in a good way.
“How long?” He asked, impatient.
“It’ll take me a couple more minutes to get the dough put together, then they take ten minutes to bake.” She said, then glanced at the recipe that was sitting on the counter. “Can you preheat the oven to 350?”
Cookies apparently just took a lifetime. Still, at least there was wine in this lifetime. He sipped from his glass even as he leaned over from his perch on the counter and turned the oven on. Then he watched in silence for a few minutes.
Gwen stirred and mixed, then grabbed a cookie sheet. There was enough butter in these that she didn’t need to grease the sheet. She started to gently spoon the dough out, humming as she worked. They were going to be amazing cookies.
“Soooo?” John asked, kicking his feet in the air like a little boy. He was bored. Taking a day off might have been a mistake. “How’s it goinggg?”
“Oh, goodness. What a loaded question.” Gwen said, finishing the first batch of cookies on the cookie sheet. She moved to put them in the oven and set the timer for ten minutes. She could dole out dough for the next set while the first baked.
“Well, I’m working with my ex-boyfriend, who I haven’t seen in a few years but think I might still have feelings for, I’ve gone out on a few dates with a boy trapped in a man’s body, and oh, I’m dreaming that I’m the girlfriend of a masked vigilante called Spider-Man, who swings around New York on spider webs.”
John blinked widely at that one, taking a second to digest it, and then taking another second to sip at his wine. “Is that so?” he said finally, not sure which one to focus on. He was sure that prompting would let her choose which one she found more chat worthy.
Gwen laughed, still carefully spooning the dough onto the second cookie sheet. “Yeah. Sorry. Didn’t mean to just let it all out like that.”
“Oh no,” John replied, chipper as always. “Please do -- continue. Talk about whichever you want.” He was a bit of a gossip in his own right -- not that he gave away secrets, but that he liked very much to hear about things people thought. Their problems. He liked the human condition, he supposed.
“Where do I even start?” Gwen said, giving a sigh. She finished doling out the cookie dough, and started to drop things into the sink. The mixing bowl, measuring cups and spoons... then she set about putting away the baking stuff. “Working with Peter is... awkward.” She admitted. It felt nice to say it out loud.
“Where did you date before?” John asked, looking for clarification, because he’d been pretty sure Gwen hadn’t lived in this city much longer than him.
“We were at Stanford together. Well, he was a few years ahead of me.” She pulled the apron off that she’d put on to make the cookies. The messy parts were done. “He was my TA until I seduced him.” She added, going a little pink. The memory made her happy. “We fell in love, moved in, we were really serious. But I left. I went to Grad School at MIT and didn’t look back. It was the most painful thing I’ve ever done, and I regret it to this day.”
“Does he not forgive you?” John wanted to know, because. He knew Gwen was still single. Why not just -- patch it all up there? Or.. whatever. He wasn’t exactly a dating expert. Gwen should know that just from the way he hung out with Tara.
“I don’t know. I haven’t asked for his forgiveness.” Gwen said, shrugging her shoulders. “He’s dating someone else now. Some brunette. Pansy something-or-other. She seems... nice.” Gwen didn’t really care. “I thought I’d moved on past that part of my life, but those damn dreams brought it all back.”
The Doctor sipped his wine thoughtfully for a moment, and then gave a half nod about it. Forgiveness, he’d found, was kind of a two way street anyway. She wouldn’t ask Peter for it if she didn’t ask herself for it first. Leaving people behind -- well. Wasn’t that something he was good at too? In his past - dream - other life, anyway? He only had one constant in his life, and it wasn’t a person.
“And what about the other guy you’re dating?” John had seen him around -- coming to the door now and then. A ginger. He was oddly jealous. Only of the hair, though.
“Fred? He’s...” Gwen thought for a moment to find the right words. “He’s a great guy. He’s funny, and charming. He makes me laugh.” She added, going slightly pink.
“But?” Prompted The Doct-- John, even as he hopped off the counter to pour himself another glass of wine.
Gwen glanced over at him. “But?” She repeated after him. “...there wasn’t a but there. That’s just it.” She said, shrugging. “I don’t know. Is it fair to date someone else while I’ve still got feelings for Peter? Even though I know they’re unrequited, that nothing will ever come from them?”
John considered that for a moment. He supposed he didn’t exactly know the proper answer to that. “I guess it depends,” he said finally, although did not explain further. Because, well, it all did depend. Every person was different.
“Depends on what?” Gwen asked, reaching over to refill her glass from the box of wine in the fridge.
“If -- well. If he’s worth waiting for, I suppose. But then you’d also have to factor in if he’d ever leave the other girl. And how long you’d be willing to be lonely if he didn’t.” He shrugged a bit helplessly.
Gwen paused for a moment, considering that. “I don’t think I’m going to wait for him. I don’t think I want to... I don’t want to hurt him again like I did before.” She said. “I think it’s best for both of us if I move on. He has.”
“Then there you are,” John said, and it was clear he thought he’d just done a wonder as far as advice went.
Maybe he had done a wonder. DIdn’t he always? Gwen thought about that for a moment, then the timer went off, and she moved to take the first batch of cookies out, and put the next batch in. “Let these cool for a couple minutes,” she said, then set the timer for the second batch, “before you try to eat them. They’re hot.”
John gave an impatient sort of sigh. They smelled good. Ah well. He supposed he’d have to just keep drinking wine until Gwen gave him the go ahead!