[Billy goes still as Teddy begins to talk, confirming a fear that he hadn't known he'd still fretted about- that they weren't done talking about that particular issue. And while it's true they probably won't just dust it under the carpet like Billy wants, not if he keeps having these nightmares, he'd hoped for a bit of an emotional breather. The whole situation has gotten him more stressed than he'd care to acknowledge. And everything else that's happened since he found out hasn't helped, either...
But then he stops fussing and fretting and feeding his own paranoia and listens. When Teddy tugs him up to look him in the eye, he doesn't fight. He stares, worried and wide-eyed, into the calm, patient, loving gaze of his boyfriend, and he takes in every word. And for a moment he finds himself unable to breathe.
Because a lot of the time he doesn't feel like a very good person. He's snarky, snippy, prickly Billy Kaplan, with near-limitless power and a lot of selfish uses for it. Who never seems to care about what other people think of him, which begs the question, is it because he doesn't care about people? And that's... not super hero behaviour. It's hard to believe in yourself when you know yourself so well, and his thoughts have always been somewhat clouded with self-doubt. The sarcasm is a fun little shield that never fails to backfire on him.
And then there's Teddy, who saw past all of that, who's always able to smile at him, who's put up with some of the most callous and badly-timed comments imaginable. Teddy, who knows exactly what to say and when it needs to be said. Teddy, who can look at him like that, and he's not sure whether he wants to kiss him senseless or cry or just hug him forever.
Teddy, who says something like that about him and means it.
There's a lot he could say in response to that, a lot that would either smooth over or exacerbate the conversation. So many options, and nothing seems particularly satisfactory in the wake of what Teddy just said.
[action]
But then he stops fussing and fretting and feeding his own paranoia and listens. When Teddy tugs him up to look him in the eye, he doesn't fight. He stares, worried and wide-eyed, into the calm, patient, loving gaze of his boyfriend, and he takes in every word. And for a moment he finds himself unable to breathe.
Because a lot of the time he doesn't feel like a very good person. He's snarky, snippy, prickly Billy Kaplan, with near-limitless power and a lot of selfish uses for it. Who never seems to care about what other people think of him, which begs the question, is it because he doesn't care about people? And that's... not super hero behaviour. It's hard to believe in yourself when you know yourself so well, and his thoughts have always been somewhat clouded with self-doubt. The sarcasm is a fun little shield that never fails to backfire on him.
And then there's Teddy, who saw past all of that, who's always able to smile at him, who's put up with some of the most callous and badly-timed comments imaginable. Teddy, who knows exactly what to say and when it needs to be said. Teddy, who can look at him like that, and he's not sure whether he wants to kiss him senseless or cry or just hug him forever.
Teddy, who says something like that about him and means it.
There's a lot he could say in response to that, a lot that would either smooth over or exacerbate the conversation. So many options, and nothing seems particularly satisfactory in the wake of what Teddy just said.
So, instead, his reply is this:]
...Galactus? Seriously?