"The Wisdom to Know the Difference," Chapter 8/11
Continuing "The Wisdom to Know the Difference," a Spider-Man/X-Men/Daredevil crossover novella.
[ Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Notes ]
"The Wisdom to Know the Difference"
Chapter 8: Yo-Ho-Hold the Onions
"Thanks," Matt said, once they had stepped outside. "You're good."
"Me? You didn't miss a beat!"
Matt shrugged and reached into his coat pocket. "Unfortunately, I've had a lot of practice," he said as he took out his baton and shook it. Peter was puzzled until it extended, turning into a long, white cane that Matt used to feel around with for the top of the stairs.
"Man, that has got to suck," Peter said a few moments later. He shook his head, watching Matt move the cane from side to side as they made their way down the sidewalk. And so easily, too! He looked completely natural.
"What?"
"The whole thing," Peter replied, still staring, amazed at the way Matt's face was sort of tilted upwards, clearly not watching where he was going. "You have it down. I swear, if I didn't know better... How long did you have to practice, anyway, to be so convincing as a blind guy?"
Matt stopped short. "Wait," He said slowly, sounding incredulous, "you think--"
Then he cut himself off, gave a nonchalant shrug, and started walking again. "It took awhile. The cane wasn't too bad, but learning Braille was a real bitch."
"You even learned to read Braille? Jeez!"
"Oh, yeah," Matt replied with a nod. "I went all out."
"I guess!" And here Peter had thought wearing clear-lens glasses to class once in awhile and being clumsy on purpose sometimes was a really terrific, super-sneaky disguise.
"Of course," Matt added after a minute, "actually, y'know, being blind helps, some."
Peter nearly tripped. "Wait. What?"
Matt grinned, looking smug.
"I--you--" Peter shook his head and opened his mouth a few times, struggling to put words into sentences. Or even complete thoughts. "How? And oh, my God, you were totally messing with me!"
"Yep." Matt laughed. "But hey, you deserved it. Assuming like that, making an ass out of…well. Just you."
"Ho-ly crap," was all Peter could manage.
Matt laughed again and led the way into a bistro on the corner, leaving Peter to scrape his jaw up off the pavement and follow.
"So," Peter said, after they'd been shown to a table by the back wall, "are you going to tell me how?"
Matt finished telescoping his cane back up into what Peter now recognized as Daredevil's billy club. He gave Peter a mysterious smile, obviously enjoying this. "What are you thinking?" He asked. "I've been hungry for a burger with Swiss all day. And maybe some onion rings. They're excellent here, but the orders are huge. Want to share some?"
Peter resigned himself to not getting answers yet and tried to remember how much cash was in his wallet. "That sounds good," he said, hardly able to believe he was sitting with Daredevil--blind Daredevil!--in street clothes and talking about food. "I like onion rings."
"The beer on tap's good, too."
Peter coughed. "I'm, uh, not actually old enough to drink," he admitted. He was sort of glad Matt couldn't see right now, if that meant he didn't know he was blushing.
Blind or not, Matt turned to him and seemed to be staring, behind the shades, and just about had to pick his jaw up, this time. "You're bullshitting me! I knew you were young, but--Christ! How old are you?"
"I'll be twenty-one in April."
"Whoa." Matt shook his head. "And you've been in the papers--doing pirate stuff--for, what, two years?"
"Three."
"Now I want to buy you a beer."
Peter laughed. "Hey, whatever floats your boat."
Matt didn't, though, when their waiter came. In fact, he just ordered an iced tea himself. Once they'd gotten their drinks and ordered their food, he took a drink of his tea and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the table. "So, you were what, seventeen?"
"Yeah. My senior year of high school."
"How'd it happen?"
"No fair," Peter protested, after he'd swallowed a swig of Coke. "I asked you first. Though I think I sort of get it, a little," he added.
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yep. The other night." Peter lowered his voice to a whisper, though he wasn't really concerned about other people hearing. There was nobody at the next table over, and between the background music and people talking, it wasn't exactly quiet. Mostly, he just wanted to test his hypothesis. "You heard me talking, several buildings over."
Matt smiled and nodded. "That's part of it, yeah."
"Cool. How--you know. How good?"
"Heartbeats. From a distance."
"Whoa. Wow. What else?"
Matt was quiet a minute, with his eyebrows drawn together, like he was trying to figure out how to explain without saying anything incriminating. "Well…same thing with touch, enough to read print. Sort of a sixth sense, like echolocation. Taste, though that's usually not very useful. And smell."
Peter's eyes widened. "Oh, so that's why you believed me when I…said I was Bluebeard. I wondered."
"I knew I knew you when you came in. Took a minute to place you, though."
"Wow," Peter said again. Then he snorted. "Never in a million years would I have recognized you. You know, I didn't even know for sure when I told you?"
Matt chuckled. "I figured. You sounded like you were about to piss your pants."
"I sort of was afraid of that."
"So, what about you?" Matt asked after a minute. "I think I understand how you, well, go about the business of pirating. But…how'd you get started? What happened?"
"Um. I got bitten."
"By--? Oh! A normal one?"
"Genetically modified."
"Huh. I got a faceful of biohazardous chemicals when I was a kid."
"Ouch," Peter said. "And is that how you--"
"Went blind?" Matt nodded. "Yeah."
"Oh, hey, our waiter's coming back," Peter said quietly.
Matt swallowed another drink of iced tea, then smiled. "I know. And by the way, your burger's a little overdone."
After they'd salted and ketchuped and started eating--and Peter had gotten over being startled that Matt was right about his cheeseburger--Peter took a bite of an admittedly-awesome onion ring and promptly almost choked on it.
"Oh, rats! I forgot to tell you. I think your secretary might think you're gay and into bondage, and it's kind of my fault. So, um, sorry about that."
"Excuse me?"
By the time Peter had finished explaining, Matt's face was even redder than his hair. Or it had been, before he'd buried his face in his hand. "Oh, man," he gasped. "That is just priceless. My S&M buddy! Foggy would die."
Peter groaned, though he was trying not to crack up, too. Somehow, it was a lot funnier now that he had a few hours' distance. "No! We tell no one about this! It's the pirate code!"
Matt looked up, his smile fading. "It's kind of a moot point. He doesn't know, so I couldn't explain."
"Ohh, right." Peter nodded slowly. "Um, does anyone know?"
"My ex-girlfriend, but she found out by accident. And a guy who's sort of a friend, who figured it out on his own. But Foggy…no. And he's my best friend. Maybe that's why."
Peter nodded again, around a bite of burger, then glanced up sharply as something occurred to him. "Hey, I think we have a mutual friend! Think Daily Bugle?"
Matt looked surprised. "Yeah, actually. How'd you know?"
"I work there. I'm a photographer."
"He didn't say anything, did he?" Matt asked suspiciously.
"Nope. You can trust him, I think," Peter said. "But that reminds me, you have a rumor problem. I found you in less than 24 hours. And you're good--I was thinking I had the wrong guy--but, well, it's bad. I might be able to help with that, though," he added. "Find the guy who told me, rough him up a little, tell him he wasted my time on a wild goose chase…"
"I'd appreciate that." Matt ate a couple of onion rings, then wiped the grease off his fingers onto his napkin with a wince, as if it really bugged him. "So," he said, "what about you, Peter? Just two people?"
"Well, sort of. Two people when it mattered."
"And the other one, he's your friend with the problem?" Matt guessed.
"Yeah," Peter said. "And actually, this is why I wanted to talk to you in the first place. You know how we were talking the other night, about how it was weird--but I thought pretty cool--to have a conversation like that?"
Matt nodded.
"Okay. Well. That friend of mine? He's also a pirate. In fact, he introduced me to his, um, whole pirate crew."
Matt's eyebrows climbed. "You mean--wait, is your friend, uh, fantastic?"
"Nope," Peter said. "Different pirate ship. They're sort of…ex-cellent."
"Who?"
"Nevermind. Anyway, I started thinking. He introduced me to his friends, so... You know how they have, like, groups? Narcotics Anonymous, PFLAG, stuff like that?" Peter took a breath, then a drink. "What if we did something like that? Like us right now, but with a few more people? Might be kind of cool."
Matt frowned as he drained his glass. "I don't know," he said slowly. "It's a nice idea, but the potential ramifications… Surely you can see why I'm a little reluctant."
"It wouldn't have to be huge," Peter pointed out. "I've thought about it, and what if we started out slowly? You, me, my best friend, and another guy who's sort of the pirate captain of my friend's crew. They're both great."
Matt was quiet while their waiter came and took their plates and brought the bill. After a minute, Peter realized that Matt couldn't very well read it in public, so he picked it up and saw, to his surprise, that he could afford to pay the whole thing.
"Hey, I'll treat," he offered, reaching for his wallet. "It's the least I can do, after barging in on you and all."
"You sure? Thanks," Matt said. "I'll leave the tip."
"So," Peter said, once they were outside, "about the thing…?"
Matt sighed through his nose. "Honestly, the idea makes me a little uncomfortable."
"So, no?" Peter tried not to let himself sound too disappointed, though he probably failed miserably.
"I didn't say that," Matt said, then startled Peter by reaching over and touching Peter's elbow as they started to thread their way through a bunch of people crowded in front of a bookstore. He let his hand drop after they'd crossed the street. "I just don't know. I will admit, lunch was fun. I hadn't thought about it, but I do like the idea of being able to talk about this. But…you're sure I could trust them?"
"Definitely! I mean, it's sort of a thing. You wouldn't tell about me, because then I could turn around and tell about you. Same with them. Trust based on everyone wanting to cover their own butt, if nothing else."
Matt nodded and went quiet again, then flinched as they passed a hot dog cart. Peter stuck his hands into his jacket pockets and looked down at the pavement.
"Well," Matt said after a minute, "how did you envision this working? When do you want this big meeting to take place?"
Peter's heart jumped. "Um…I hadn't really thought that far," he admitted. "They live in Westchester County, and I have to return my friend's car anyway, so, maybe we could drive there, then get a ride back? If that works for you?"
"Sure."
"How about tomorrow?"
Matt shook his head. "Can't, sorry. I'm swamped this weekend. Research."
"Oh." Peter tried not to be disappointed again. "Well--"
"What about this afternoon?" Matt asked. "I need to go back to the office for an hour or so--forgot I'm expecting a call--but after that, if you want to pick me up…"
"Wow. Um. Okay," Peter replied, reeling a little.
"Do you have a pen? I'll give you my cell number, and then you can just call on your way over."
"Um. I sort of don't have a cell phone." Or even a cordless phone, for that matter, but Matt probably didn't need to know that.
"I can wait outside, then. How does a quarter to three sound?"
"Sounds great," Peter said, more enthusiastically than he felt. "Spiffy."
After they'd parted ways, it started to sink in. Spider-Man was about to introduce Daredevil to Cyclops and Beast. It sounded like the beginning of a bad joke. It was also sort of starting to sound like a bad idea again. What was he thinking? Peter wondered as he headed back to his apartment. Was he nuts?
By the time he'd closed the door behind him and tossed his jacket on the foot of the bed, Peter's stomach was in knots. This was all happening so fast! The fact that it was going as planned was great, and all, but he'd thought he'd have more time.
There was only one thing to do. With jittery fingers, Peter picked up the telephone and dialed the main number for Xavier's that Hank had given him, then perched on the edge of the bed as it rang.
"Good afternoon, Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters," a woman said pleasantly. Peter didn't recognize her voice but could tell she wasn't a student. He guessed she was that other teacher--Roh, or something--he'd heard everyone mention but hadn't met.
"Um, hi," Peter said. "Is Professor Xavier there, please?"
"May I tell him who's calling?"
"Sure, my name's Peter Parker."
A short pause, and then, "Oh, Hank's friend! I'll put you right through, Peter. Hold on."
Peter waited, wondering if absolutely everyone over there knew who he was. After a minute, he heard an extension being picked up. "Hello?" said the Professor's deep voice. "Mr. Parker?"
"Hi, Professor Xavier. How are you?"
"I'm very well, thank you. And you?"
"I'm…" Peter tapped his thumb against his knee, still nervous. "Um, not great? Well, sort of good. It depends how this call goes."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I--well. You know I'm Spider-Man, right?"
"I do."
"Well, I know Daredevil," Peter said. "Do you know about Daredevil? He's another--"
"I've heard of him. In fact, I believe I read a piece about him in the Daily Bugle recently."
"Oh, okay. Turns out, he's a really decent guy," Peter continued. "And with some of the stuff that's been going on lately, I was thinking. What about a sort of support group, for people like us?"
The Professor didn't say anything.
Peter winced and babbled on. "It just seems to make sense, you know? We could all hang out as ourselves, talk about the stuff we can't talk about with other people, help each other get through issues or whatever... We wouldn't be so isolated, with everyone--or every group--doing their own thing. And then, we could be allies too, in costume. We could handle bigger problems if we all worked together. And--"
He stopped when the Professor started to chuckle. "Peter, do you realize that you've just outlined many of the reasons why I formed this school in the first place?"
Peter felt his shoulders droop. "In other words, you don't see a need? At least, not for the X-Men?"
"On the contrary, I think it's a wonderful idea," the Professor replied. "In fact, I will admit, you've given me a great deal to think about. Before we met, I hadn't given much thought to people like you, who were not born mutants but then developed mutant-like abilities later. I've been focused for so long on the relations between groups of mutants, and mutants and humans, that I have neglected to consider if and how we should interact with others who possess superhuman abilities."
A grin had slowly spread across Peter's face as Professor X spoke, and he clenched his fist in silent victory. "So, if I bring Daredevil over this afternoon, would it be okay with you? I was thinking it would be good to start small. Just me, Matt--that's Daredevil--Hank, and Scott. And you, if you want to," he added.
"I think that would be fine," said the Professor. "In fact, your timing is excellent. Jean and Ororo are leaving in a few moments to take most of the students to the mall and to a movie."
"Really? Perfect. Thanks!" Peter said, meaning it.
"You're most welcome, my boy."
Note: It amuses me to no end that, given the nature of fandom, I feel the need to add this note. While I am aware that S&M does not necessarily involve bondage, Peter hasn't spent years in the Harry Potter fandom, so, he doesn't know that. No offense whatsoever was intended to people who like their S&M without the B. Or the D. Or who like B but not D, S, or M. In the spirit of the chapter...whatever floats yer boat, matey! ;)
[Chapter 9 is here.]
[ Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Notes ]
"The Wisdom to Know the Difference"
Chapter 8: Yo-Ho-Hold the Onions
"Me? You didn't miss a beat!"
Matt shrugged and reached into his coat pocket. "Unfortunately, I've had a lot of practice," he said as he took out his baton and shook it. Peter was puzzled until it extended, turning into a long, white cane that Matt used to feel around with for the top of the stairs.
"Man, that has got to suck," Peter said a few moments later. He shook his head, watching Matt move the cane from side to side as they made their way down the sidewalk. And so easily, too! He looked completely natural.
"What?"
"The whole thing," Peter replied, still staring, amazed at the way Matt's face was sort of tilted upwards, clearly not watching where he was going. "You have it down. I swear, if I didn't know better... How long did you have to practice, anyway, to be so convincing as a blind guy?"
Matt stopped short. "Wait," He said slowly, sounding incredulous, "you think--"
Then he cut himself off, gave a nonchalant shrug, and started walking again. "It took awhile. The cane wasn't too bad, but learning Braille was a real bitch."
"You even learned to read Braille? Jeez!"
"Oh, yeah," Matt replied with a nod. "I went all out."
"I guess!" And here Peter had thought wearing clear-lens glasses to class once in awhile and being clumsy on purpose sometimes was a really terrific, super-sneaky disguise.
"Of course," Matt added after a minute, "actually, y'know, being blind helps, some."
Peter nearly tripped. "Wait. What?"
Matt grinned, looking smug.
"I--you--" Peter shook his head and opened his mouth a few times, struggling to put words into sentences. Or even complete thoughts. "How? And oh, my God, you were totally messing with me!"
"Yep." Matt laughed. "But hey, you deserved it. Assuming like that, making an ass out of…well. Just you."
"Ho-ly crap," was all Peter could manage.
Matt laughed again and led the way into a bistro on the corner, leaving Peter to scrape his jaw up off the pavement and follow.
"So," Peter said, after they'd been shown to a table by the back wall, "are you going to tell me how?"
Matt finished telescoping his cane back up into what Peter now recognized as Daredevil's billy club. He gave Peter a mysterious smile, obviously enjoying this. "What are you thinking?" He asked. "I've been hungry for a burger with Swiss all day. And maybe some onion rings. They're excellent here, but the orders are huge. Want to share some?"
Peter resigned himself to not getting answers yet and tried to remember how much cash was in his wallet. "That sounds good," he said, hardly able to believe he was sitting with Daredevil--blind Daredevil!--in street clothes and talking about food. "I like onion rings."
"The beer on tap's good, too."
Peter coughed. "I'm, uh, not actually old enough to drink," he admitted. He was sort of glad Matt couldn't see right now, if that meant he didn't know he was blushing.
Blind or not, Matt turned to him and seemed to be staring, behind the shades, and just about had to pick his jaw up, this time. "You're bullshitting me! I knew you were young, but--Christ! How old are you?"
"I'll be twenty-one in April."
"Whoa." Matt shook his head. "And you've been in the papers--doing pirate stuff--for, what, two years?"
"Three."
"Now I want to buy you a beer."
Peter laughed. "Hey, whatever floats your boat."
Matt didn't, though, when their waiter came. In fact, he just ordered an iced tea himself. Once they'd gotten their drinks and ordered their food, he took a drink of his tea and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the table. "So, you were what, seventeen?"
"Yeah. My senior year of high school."
"How'd it happen?"
"No fair," Peter protested, after he'd swallowed a swig of Coke. "I asked you first. Though I think I sort of get it, a little," he added.
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yep. The other night." Peter lowered his voice to a whisper, though he wasn't really concerned about other people hearing. There was nobody at the next table over, and between the background music and people talking, it wasn't exactly quiet. Mostly, he just wanted to test his hypothesis. "You heard me talking, several buildings over."
Matt smiled and nodded. "That's part of it, yeah."
"Cool. How--you know. How good?"
"Heartbeats. From a distance."
"Whoa. Wow. What else?"
Matt was quiet a minute, with his eyebrows drawn together, like he was trying to figure out how to explain without saying anything incriminating. "Well…same thing with touch, enough to read print. Sort of a sixth sense, like echolocation. Taste, though that's usually not very useful. And smell."
Peter's eyes widened. "Oh, so that's why you believed me when I…said I was Bluebeard. I wondered."
"I knew I knew you when you came in. Took a minute to place you, though."
"Wow," Peter said again. Then he snorted. "Never in a million years would I have recognized you. You know, I didn't even know for sure when I told you?"
Matt chuckled. "I figured. You sounded like you were about to piss your pants."
"I sort of was afraid of that."
"So, what about you?" Matt asked after a minute. "I think I understand how you, well, go about the business of pirating. But…how'd you get started? What happened?"
"Um. I got bitten."
"By--? Oh! A normal one?"
"Genetically modified."
"Huh. I got a faceful of biohazardous chemicals when I was a kid."
"Ouch," Peter said. "And is that how you--"
"Went blind?" Matt nodded. "Yeah."
"Oh, hey, our waiter's coming back," Peter said quietly.
Matt swallowed another drink of iced tea, then smiled. "I know. And by the way, your burger's a little overdone."
"Oh, rats! I forgot to tell you. I think your secretary might think you're gay and into bondage, and it's kind of my fault. So, um, sorry about that."
"Excuse me?"
By the time Peter had finished explaining, Matt's face was even redder than his hair. Or it had been, before he'd buried his face in his hand. "Oh, man," he gasped. "That is just priceless. My S&M buddy! Foggy would die."
Peter groaned, though he was trying not to crack up, too. Somehow, it was a lot funnier now that he had a few hours' distance. "No! We tell no one about this! It's the pirate code!"
Matt looked up, his smile fading. "It's kind of a moot point. He doesn't know, so I couldn't explain."
"Ohh, right." Peter nodded slowly. "Um, does anyone know?"
"My ex-girlfriend, but she found out by accident. And a guy who's sort of a friend, who figured it out on his own. But Foggy…no. And he's my best friend. Maybe that's why."
Peter nodded again, around a bite of burger, then glanced up sharply as something occurred to him. "Hey, I think we have a mutual friend! Think Daily Bugle?"
Matt looked surprised. "Yeah, actually. How'd you know?"
"I work there. I'm a photographer."
"He didn't say anything, did he?" Matt asked suspiciously.
"Nope. You can trust him, I think," Peter said. "But that reminds me, you have a rumor problem. I found you in less than 24 hours. And you're good--I was thinking I had the wrong guy--but, well, it's bad. I might be able to help with that, though," he added. "Find the guy who told me, rough him up a little, tell him he wasted my time on a wild goose chase…"
"I'd appreciate that." Matt ate a couple of onion rings, then wiped the grease off his fingers onto his napkin with a wince, as if it really bugged him. "So," he said, "what about you, Peter? Just two people?"
"Well, sort of. Two people when it mattered."
"And the other one, he's your friend with the problem?" Matt guessed.
"Yeah," Peter said. "And actually, this is why I wanted to talk to you in the first place. You know how we were talking the other night, about how it was weird--but I thought pretty cool--to have a conversation like that?"
Matt nodded.
"Okay. Well. That friend of mine? He's also a pirate. In fact, he introduced me to his, um, whole pirate crew."
Matt's eyebrows climbed. "You mean--wait, is your friend, uh, fantastic?"
"Nope," Peter said. "Different pirate ship. They're sort of…ex-cellent."
"Who?"
"Nevermind. Anyway, I started thinking. He introduced me to his friends, so... You know how they have, like, groups? Narcotics Anonymous, PFLAG, stuff like that?" Peter took a breath, then a drink. "What if we did something like that? Like us right now, but with a few more people? Might be kind of cool."
Matt frowned as he drained his glass. "I don't know," he said slowly. "It's a nice idea, but the potential ramifications… Surely you can see why I'm a little reluctant."
"It wouldn't have to be huge," Peter pointed out. "I've thought about it, and what if we started out slowly? You, me, my best friend, and another guy who's sort of the pirate captain of my friend's crew. They're both great."
Matt was quiet while their waiter came and took their plates and brought the bill. After a minute, Peter realized that Matt couldn't very well read it in public, so he picked it up and saw, to his surprise, that he could afford to pay the whole thing.
"Hey, I'll treat," he offered, reaching for his wallet. "It's the least I can do, after barging in on you and all."
"You sure? Thanks," Matt said. "I'll leave the tip."
"So," Peter said, once they were outside, "about the thing…?"
Matt sighed through his nose. "Honestly, the idea makes me a little uncomfortable."
"So, no?" Peter tried not to let himself sound too disappointed, though he probably failed miserably.
"I didn't say that," Matt said, then startled Peter by reaching over and touching Peter's elbow as they started to thread their way through a bunch of people crowded in front of a bookstore. He let his hand drop after they'd crossed the street. "I just don't know. I will admit, lunch was fun. I hadn't thought about it, but I do like the idea of being able to talk about this. But…you're sure I could trust them?"
"Definitely! I mean, it's sort of a thing. You wouldn't tell about me, because then I could turn around and tell about you. Same with them. Trust based on everyone wanting to cover their own butt, if nothing else."
Matt nodded and went quiet again, then flinched as they passed a hot dog cart. Peter stuck his hands into his jacket pockets and looked down at the pavement.
"Well," Matt said after a minute, "how did you envision this working? When do you want this big meeting to take place?"
Peter's heart jumped. "Um…I hadn't really thought that far," he admitted. "They live in Westchester County, and I have to return my friend's car anyway, so, maybe we could drive there, then get a ride back? If that works for you?"
"Sure."
"How about tomorrow?"
Matt shook his head. "Can't, sorry. I'm swamped this weekend. Research."
"Oh." Peter tried not to be disappointed again. "Well--"
"What about this afternoon?" Matt asked. "I need to go back to the office for an hour or so--forgot I'm expecting a call--but after that, if you want to pick me up…"
"Wow. Um. Okay," Peter replied, reeling a little.
"Do you have a pen? I'll give you my cell number, and then you can just call on your way over."
"Um. I sort of don't have a cell phone." Or even a cordless phone, for that matter, but Matt probably didn't need to know that.
"I can wait outside, then. How does a quarter to three sound?"
"Sounds great," Peter said, more enthusiastically than he felt. "Spiffy."
After they'd parted ways, it started to sink in. Spider-Man was about to introduce Daredevil to Cyclops and Beast. It sounded like the beginning of a bad joke. It was also sort of starting to sound like a bad idea again. What was he thinking? Peter wondered as he headed back to his apartment. Was he nuts?
By the time he'd closed the door behind him and tossed his jacket on the foot of the bed, Peter's stomach was in knots. This was all happening so fast! The fact that it was going as planned was great, and all, but he'd thought he'd have more time.
There was only one thing to do. With jittery fingers, Peter picked up the telephone and dialed the main number for Xavier's that Hank had given him, then perched on the edge of the bed as it rang.
"Good afternoon, Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters," a woman said pleasantly. Peter didn't recognize her voice but could tell she wasn't a student. He guessed she was that other teacher--Roh, or something--he'd heard everyone mention but hadn't met.
"Um, hi," Peter said. "Is Professor Xavier there, please?"
"May I tell him who's calling?"
"Sure, my name's Peter Parker."
A short pause, and then, "Oh, Hank's friend! I'll put you right through, Peter. Hold on."
Peter waited, wondering if absolutely everyone over there knew who he was. After a minute, he heard an extension being picked up. "Hello?" said the Professor's deep voice. "Mr. Parker?"
"Hi, Professor Xavier. How are you?"
"I'm very well, thank you. And you?"
"I'm…" Peter tapped his thumb against his knee, still nervous. "Um, not great? Well, sort of good. It depends how this call goes."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I--well. You know I'm Spider-Man, right?"
"I do."
"Well, I know Daredevil," Peter said. "Do you know about Daredevil? He's another--"
"I've heard of him. In fact, I believe I read a piece about him in the Daily Bugle recently."
"Oh, okay. Turns out, he's a really decent guy," Peter continued. "And with some of the stuff that's been going on lately, I was thinking. What about a sort of support group, for people like us?"
The Professor didn't say anything.
Peter winced and babbled on. "It just seems to make sense, you know? We could all hang out as ourselves, talk about the stuff we can't talk about with other people, help each other get through issues or whatever... We wouldn't be so isolated, with everyone--or every group--doing their own thing. And then, we could be allies too, in costume. We could handle bigger problems if we all worked together. And--"
He stopped when the Professor started to chuckle. "Peter, do you realize that you've just outlined many of the reasons why I formed this school in the first place?"
Peter felt his shoulders droop. "In other words, you don't see a need? At least, not for the X-Men?"
"On the contrary, I think it's a wonderful idea," the Professor replied. "In fact, I will admit, you've given me a great deal to think about. Before we met, I hadn't given much thought to people like you, who were not born mutants but then developed mutant-like abilities later. I've been focused for so long on the relations between groups of mutants, and mutants and humans, that I have neglected to consider if and how we should interact with others who possess superhuman abilities."
A grin had slowly spread across Peter's face as Professor X spoke, and he clenched his fist in silent victory. "So, if I bring Daredevil over this afternoon, would it be okay with you? I was thinking it would be good to start small. Just me, Matt--that's Daredevil--Hank, and Scott. And you, if you want to," he added.
"I think that would be fine," said the Professor. "In fact, your timing is excellent. Jean and Ororo are leaving in a few moments to take most of the students to the mall and to a movie."
"Really? Perfect. Thanks!" Peter said, meaning it.
"You're most welcome, my boy."
Note: It amuses me to no end that, given the nature of fandom, I feel the need to add this note. While I am aware that S&M does not necessarily involve bondage, Peter hasn't spent years in the Harry Potter fandom, so, he doesn't know that. No offense whatsoever was intended to people who like their S&M without the B. Or the D. Or who like B but not D, S, or M. In the spirit of the chapter...whatever floats yer boat, matey! ;)
[Chapter 9 is here.]
