—closed.

[webshoots]

characters: peter parker, eleven
location: the village
date/time: early-mid bury a friend event
content: peter parker feels guilty but hey: when does he not
warnings: TBA

[ peter feels bad.

this isn't exactly new.

as far as these things go, it's an emotion he's well-acquainted with, something he's managed to boil down to shame mixed with regret. logically, he knows he couldn't have known that the conversation was going to take that turn; logically, he also knows he couldn't have anticipated her response, but that doesn't mean he couldn't have chosen his words more carefully, been a little more cautious.

—especially, especially given the circumstances.

he'd waited a little while — officially thirty minutes, but it'd felt like longer, and there are only so many ways to distract oneself in beacon and peter isn't good enough with the ocarina to pick a spirit to talk (quote unquote) at — before deciding that he was going to check on her. he didn't know if she'd be willing to see him, or if—

(ugh, ifs. don't think about those—.)

even here, even though the need for spider-man is really very thin (not ideal, because peter gets antsy), he still wears his suit underneath his clothes. now that it's getting colder, it's not just a sartorial statement — if anyone catches sight of it (who? how? questions for the age) he's wearing long-johns — and functionally speaking, it does help. what that does mean, though, is that he is a bit chilly when he crawls out of the window to his room in the invincible, lantern webbed up in a pseudo-rucksack he carries on his back; he crawls up the outside wall and perches on the roof, just for a moment.

(the village, she'd said.)

when he gets there, it takes him a few minutes to locate castle miners. there's a thought, as he rests on a wall by a window, that he doesn't have any way of knowing which room is hers, and he could just be tapping on steve's window (who is steve, anyway?) or nancy, and that'd—

well, that'd just be really very awkward and not entirely easy to explain. ]

Comments

[webshoots]

[ peter coughs. it's a slightly strangled noise, slightly offended, but not entirely lacking in amusement, and he glances at her sharply as if to say wow, where did that come from? ]

I — don't smell. [ indignantly, although — does he? does he? he washes the suit! he's learnt that it needs washing after, like, every wear otherwise it does smell and new york makes fun of him — not that it needs a reason to make fun of him. he pauses, and he looks away from eleven and back down at himself. man, this is worse than that time tony had said he leaves a residue on windows.

—as he's debating how desperately he needs to go home ("home") and wash the suit, she picks up her own mask, the one that had been dropped amongst the paper. there's a breath of a pause, and peter lifts his hand like he's about to interrupt or interject, but then she says she wants his network id and — uuuugh, he really didn't think this through, did he? the thought of how he'll figure that one out distracts him momentarily, and he almost doesn't catch her saying that ice cream's for her and peter. he catches the name though and looks up; his expression would be startled, if he wasn't wearing the mask, but he is, so instead he just murmurs a noise of acknowledgement that's somewhere between a huh and a hmm. ]

—I need your tablet. [ he holds his hand out expectantly. he'd wanted to, once upon a time, get a second tablet for use with spider-man — he'd had two phones in new york, although admittedly one was almost permanently without credit or data. it hadn't quite worked out that way, so he'd instead figured out a second inbox app, one that would lead to an account not immediately identifiable as peter parker.

unfortunately, he'd have to install it on other tablets for it to work. ]

[savingthrows]

[ Over the beak, it's easy to see how her eyes narrow. Eleven looks at Spider-Man very critically for a moment. The tablet machines are important. Not as important as the lanterns, but still.

Still....

Still.

This is Peter's friend, and he's creepy but okay enough.

So Eleven eyes him, measures him up as critically as a 14 year old can. She already tossed him into a wall once. If he messes with the tablet she can crush him again.

Like an itty, bitty spider.

Eleven hands over the tablet, and scoots closer to see what he's doing. ]

[webshoots]

[ he's quiet as she sizes him up, at least at first. before she hands over the tablet, he sighs and looks up at the sky, gaze lingering on the stars and the moon. it almost makes him feel like he's at college again, desperately trying to keep his identity hidden from gwen and harry and mj; when he'd considered a dozen times or more just telling the truth.

but then captain stacy had been killed, and then gwen, and—.

he pulls his attention away from the sky and back to eleven. ] I don't have an "at". [ he tells her, taking the tablet carefully. after a moment, he clarifies: ] Not one like you do. [ he pauses, looking down at eleven. whenever he'd thought gwen had been about to figure out his identity, or that ridiculous time he'd been sick and had turned up to her house and proclaimed he was spider-man, he'd course-corrected afterwards, finding someone willing to dress up in the suit and appear at a specific time and place where he was as peter parker, or as spider-man he'd acted the very opposite to how anyone expected peter to act.

it worked, but he didn't enjoy it, and he hopes he won't have to do that with eleven.

he opens and closes a few different applications; he doesn't slow down, doesn't check to see if eleven's following because that isn't the priority. the priority is giving her a way to contact him. ] —This is how Peter gets in touch with me. I thought about having a special light, but those are kind of old-fashioned and light doesn't work too well here, so—.

[ wait. ]

—You thought of a name to go with the mask?

[savingthrows]

You have your own... application tool.

[ Statement, not question. She understands what apps are in theory now, after some explanations. She still calls them by the name she thinks Riku taught her, though.

Eleven's mind isn't the sharpest, but... she gets things, too, sometimes, and isn't that slow on the uptake when something makes sense to her.

She doesn't think to question this, though.

At the mention of the mask, she touches her beak. ]

Name? My name is Eleven.

[ Duh. ]

[webshoots]

Yeah, [ he answers, without really specifying if he's replying to her first comment or her second. ]

But we've established I'm not a man-spider, and that I'm definitely way more handsome than the mask implies. My name isn't Mister Man, Mister Spider or even Mister Spider-Man. That wasn't even my father, so—. [ he gestures at the beak. ] If you're telling me we can be buddies because you've got a mask and I've got a mask, I'm gonna have to lay out some ground rules.

[ he puts the tablet down for a moment and leans to one side, taking the time instead to scrutinise elven. ] I can't call you Eleven. That's not how this works. [ even if it ... is, sometimes, but that's beside the point. ] Fledgling? I hear Robin's taken.

[savingthrows]

Lay the rules.

[ Her eyes above the mask are serious, brows drawn together. He knows that expression from her pouring over books and trying to figure out a word she doesn't know. This is Eleven listening and learning. ]

I can be... bird... girl? Spider-Man and... Bird-Girl? Spidey and... Birdy?

[webshoots]

[ oh, boy, he didn't really think this far ahead when he said there were rules — of course, there are rules, rules that peter very much holds himself to and tries to live by, all to varying success, and whilst they're rules (in a sense) that he'd like (again, in a sense) to pass on, he's much more of an advice guy. there's a reason he's never done the whole sidekick thing, even with miles.

his face scrunches up beneath the mask, a mix of thought and sheepishness, and he tilts his head to look up at the sky. ]

—Honestly, it's mostly the name thing. [ he admits, after a moment. ] And the mask thing. [ he pauses again and holds his hands up. ] The rules are kinda something you've got to figure out for yourself. What this [ he waves a hand at his face, ] means to me isn't what it'd mean to you. [ a breath. ] Hey, I guess that's a rule: stay true to yourself, right? Bird-Girl.

[ there's another pause, one where he opens his mouth to speak and seems to change his mind partway between thinking the words and the words coming out of his mouth. ] You wanna know what I'm afraid of? Besides Raid. [ she probably doesn't, peter concedes; still, he doesn't wait for an answer before continuing: ] Needles. [ beat. ] I don't know what you went through, [ a sharp glance at eleven ], and I don't want to know. It's not my place. But I've had some rough experiences with scientists as well. [ there had been a moment when he'd begun to speak where he thought he might have been able to say that he'd been cloned a couple of times; that people close to him had been cloned, but instead he shifts a little uncomfortably. ] So I get it, but the important thing is picking yourself up afterwards, and if you can't? Ask for help. Never be afraid to ask for help.

[savingthrows]

[ When he mentions needles, Eleven goes a little more still immediately. Her face is still turned towards the tablet, but she's watching Spider-Man out of the corner of her eyes.

The stiffness doesn't quite fade, even a moment after the words have stopped hanging heavy in the air. ]

We help each other...here. No one... can carry everything, alone.

[ Peter might recognize her tone. She parrots people and their life lessons to her. She's definitely parroted him like that, whether when repeating life lessons or words he's taught her. ]

But also. Become familiar... with pain. Become strong.

[ Eleven nods.

That is a lesson she's picked up too, said in the same tone of voice. Which means someone told her this - and she's taken it to heart. ]

[webshoots]

[ peter winces when he catches eleven stiffening. how is he so good at putting his foot in his mouth? he's about to apologise before she speaks, and he waits to make sure she's finished before replying. he doesn't want to interrupt, and then whatever he'd been about to say gets cut short by her second remark. ]

What? [ he doesn't think it's a conclusion she'd have come to by herself, so he's got to wonder where she's picked it up from someone else. peter's not sure that he disagrees with the intrinsic sentiment — acknowledging that something hurts and how it hurts is a step in picking yourself up, but familiarity implies frequency and— ]

Being familiar with pain doesn't make you strong. Knowing how to respond to it does. [ he thinks he's become better at that over the years, thinks that he's a little more qualified to comment. once upon a time, mentioning george washington bridge and gwen stacy in the same sentence was enough to give him pause; or the acme warehouse where ben's killer had been cornered and caught. it's not that he no longer feels the weight of those deaths and the guilt, but they don't define him in the same way they once had.

sure, he is who he is because of them; and he won't ever be who he was before he'd lost them, but that pain isn't his everything, not anymore. (he has so many other things to feel guilty over now. why pick just two!) it's practically a cliché at this point: hey, it's spider-man, quick, make fun of his guilt and self-blame problem, that'll stop him in his tracks. (does it come printed in the villain's 101? so you want to cause mayhem in new york, here are faces you need to watch out for — and their weaknesses! $9.99, non-refundable. what would old hornhead's be? "catholic. don't date him, you'll die"?) ]

If you let it consume you, that's when you have problems. I don't want to call it being weak, because it does hurt and not everyone's given the tools to know how to deal with their pain. Not everyone's given the opportunity to process it and heal and move on. [ a beat. ] What is weak is being given all of that and still choosing to let your pain define you. Strength is—

[ strength is aunt may, who'd lost ben and remained in their house for years, who'd carried on. who looked back on her time with her husband with fondness and love, not sorrow. it was mj, who'd held his secret for years without telling anyone; who'd carried her own pain and fears behind a mask without sharing them for so long; who'd chosen not to leave when a sad, angry boy yelled the most hurtful words he could think of at her. ]

—It's being better than your fears and the hurt. Acknowledging that it's a part of you and that's okay. To quote the early nineties: everybody hurts sometimes. You don't need to be familiar with pain in general, just yours. But that also doesn't mean you've got to think about it 24/7, because that's a slippery-slope into letting it be all of who you are.

[ a pause and he exhales; it manages to be a laugh, albeit short-lived and he waves a hand at his face. ] Ask me how I know.