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[Okay, so. Post-draft, he's given himself a few days of seclusion and bed-rest (apparently being infected with a zombie virus is exhausting), and even Billy can freely admit to himself that he's been pretty depressed lately, a fact for which he feels no shame considering that depression was well and truly earned. One can only spend so much time fretting, moping, and dwelling on one's own misery for so long, however, and today? He's decided that enough is enough. Billy will be going out today, limping around the village and visiting the people who were on the draft whose fate he's still uncertain of. The ones he can't find or has no reason to actually visit, he'll check with a light location spell, and he'll spend a few hours at Seventh Heaven people-watching out the window while he doodles in a book that Teddy had given him containing a series of patterns (much like this) that resemble inkblogs, and bit by bit Billy's turning them into something like this instead. It's been a tiring week, though, so you could always catch him napping on the table, instead.

At some point he'll attempt to find Peter, and when both a location spell and a teleport fails, he tries to teleport to the apartment he'd been staying at instead, finding it almost completely emptied. All he manages to dig up is a small cartridge that, after a moment of scrutiny, he identifies as a web fluid cartridge. His fanboyish glee at the discovery is tempered by the fact that the empty apartment means one more piece of bad news.

After his visits and window-watching is done, he'll return home to make the announcement, along with one more message-]

Hey out there... just wanted to let his friends know that Peter Parker went home. So... sorry. Yeah.

[Locked to Loki]

...We still on for tomorrow, or do you want to take a break? Because... you know. [Draft. Awfulness all around. He wouldn't blame Loki if he wanted to take a week off.

Later on in the evening he'll be over at Ben's barbeque, if anyone wants to bother him while he's there.]

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...'as the word... [His reply is barely intelligible, muffled by his lips on Teddy's neck, his good leg lifting to hook around the other boy's knee. From his position - and with his head buried against skin and blond hair - he can't see the clock, but he'd come home late enough for them not to have that much time.] ...Do we. Um. [Bite.] Do we care if we're...

[Late? Occupied? He figures Teddy will get the idea, since his prerogative is to drag his tongue over the red mark he'd left in Teddy's neck while it lasts.]

Nnnh. [That was supposed to be an intelligent and coherent answer, but with all the wonderful things Billy's doing to his neck, that's about all Teddy can manage. He keeps his eyes shut and takes in a slow breath as the mark on his neck begins to heal, taking about five seconds until it looks as if nothing ever touched it. It's something of a record, though, and the small tingles of pain and pleasure melt away (and it's times like this that Teddy really wishes he didn't have such fast healing factor), enough for him to actually give a good response.]

I don't think we care. [It's said rather bluntly, and it's punctuated by the way Teddy ducks his head to nip against Billy's shoulder. He's pretty sure no one will give them any trouble for being a little late, anyway.]

Ha. Good answer. [It's all the words he has the patience for, one hand brushing knuckles between Teddy's shoulderblades, the other sliding down to sneak a few slim fingers down the back of his pants. it's not like they're going to miss the party, it's just... um.

TLC. He promised Teddy there would be TLC. That shouldn't have a time limit.

...Whatever, he really doesn't care.]

[Well, that's depressing. He'll just. Edge away from that for now.]

Give yourself some time. I'm sure you'll get used to the "team" thing eventually.

I went looking for you yesterday. You were at the dome.

[Fighting zombies. Over and over. It was very confusing.]

I'll try to keep a limit on the pop culture references, in that case.

[Is "pop culture reference" a pop culture reference itself? Baffling.]

[And what had she been doing at the Dome yesterday? Rogue went very, very still. And closed.]

Yeah. I was.

That sentiment, I understand. There is much I have attempted to avoid because I find all of the posturing and pissing quite tiresome.

Mmm....I think this is what I like least- experiments and drafts aside. Being so very far behind. You would not believe it but I was the one most on top of the cultural references in my world.

I'll figure it out. I've dealt with enough SHIELD teams before I can probably adapt.

... I know. [ She sighs, half a laugh, and looks up at the ceiling. ] God, I had this whole plan to come over here and just -- talk to you. About what happened. [ She shakes her head and looks at him again. ] But, just like last time? I can't make you. It's up to you if you want to talk to me. But, just so you know... I got all the details from Tony. Gore and all.

[He mulls that over for a long moment, then reaches out to tug the box open and peer inside. The moment passes once he's considered the cake, and he retrieves his spoon from the mocha he'd been stirring to take a bite.

....

Nice.]

Okay, I feel sufficiently bribed. I don't really know what I could tell you that you haven't heard from him, though- probably just another sob story about how horribly traumatized I am.

[He chews absently on the tip of the spoon; he should probably be alarmed by the levelness of his voice there, or alarmed that he's not alarmed, or... just worried in general. His mother would have a few things to say about this, he knows. Maybe he's just numb to this crap or something.

...No, that's not it either.]

...I don't know what to say. It was a horror movie. Literally. It's not like before, where the battle just... ends and everyone goes home. They were gonna kill us if the virus didn't get cured. Everyone, sick or not. And people were dying. People were... eating each other. And we didn't have our powers, we were just in the way. We should've gone home, but we stayed because that's what Avengers do, and I had this stupid idea to go out for supplies, and we went too far, and then I got bitten, and I- I bit Teddy, and-

[He stops there, eyes lowered, letting his spoon clink against the table. Suddenly he's not very hungry anymore. He can't remember that part, can't remember anything after the first several hours, but sometimes it's like he can taste flesh and blood instead of whatever's really in his mouth.

It seems he'd had quite a lot to say after all.]

[ She watches him, watches the life and the happiness drain out of him, and thinks she ought to feel guilty for ruining his good mood.

But she doesn't, so much. Because she knows this is what hovers beneath the surface for him pretty much all the time.

In fact, she actually smiles a little, crooked and understanding. ]

Actually, you know what? Talking is not what I came here to do. This is.

[ And with that she pulls her chair over to his side of the table, sits down next to him, and pulls him into a hug. She's getting better at this hugs - getting better at making them comforting and solid instead of awkward and unsure. Because god, if anyone needs a hug, it's Billy Kaplan. ]

[Billy opens his mouth as if to protest, but it doesn't last. Why object to a necessity he feels as deeply as breathing itself? Comfort ad coddling and hugs are a temporary solution, but damn if it doesn't help for a while when it's from someone who knows- someone who understands. It's why Teddy's held him together all this time.

He shuts his mouth again, purses his lips, and quietly slumps against her, his head on her shoulder. Maybe he should feel bad about this- that heroes are supposed to be strong and resilient, that they're supposed to fight back this sort of pain and bury it and just be okay. Because as soon as they're not okay, the rest of the world suffers. Needs of the many and all that. That's what heroes do.

But he remembers the draft again: not the blood and the gore and the death, but of a brief encounter outside a hospital room, when he'd hugged the man behind the mask of Iron Man and been held back like a lifeline for that one moment. Shown he was a human, not a machine or a collective of batteries and wealth and science and sarcasm.

Captain America himself had made them Avengers, and he'd died. Avengers get killed. Avengers suffer. Avengers cry. Avengers break down and cling and Avengers need to be held.

It's okay to feel like this.]

[ She'd be glad if she knew he was thinking that. Very glad. Because that's what she's wanted him to know, to figure out, all along. That it's okay to cry. It's okay to hurt. Even if you're a hero.

Because heroes are human, too. ]

God. I still can't believe they unleashed the zombie apocalypse on us. It still sounds like a cheap joke, even though I know it's not. [ She sighs out, presses her cheek to his hair, and tightens her grip a little. ] That's the stuff nightmares are made of. But you know what? God. It's okay. It's okay to have been scared to death, alright? Anyone, anyone in their right minds would have been. Between you and me, if it wasn't already obvious to you? Tony was. Everyone gets scared, Billy. Not being scared in that situation would be -- insane. Literally insane. [ She sighs out of her nose, rubbing his back. ] At least, at the end of the day, we're all still here. We're safe.

...I know.

[His response is quiet, half-muffled, and he's biting his lip so hard that a little more pressure will make it bleed. He closes his eyes, one hand fisted in his pant leg.]

The day we lost our powers, I... kind of lost it. I mean. I just...

[He makes a vague gesture with his free hand, trying to find the words he wants to get out of his head.]

I couldn't do anything. I felt so useless... everyone else is good at something. You've got your physics and Tony's got his machines, Loki knows science and math and whatever else he knows, even Pepper knows how to organize stuff... people can defend themselves with swords or guns, and I'm just...

[He laughs faintly, a weak sound carrying no humour whatsoever.]

I'm the kid that other kids stuff into lockers after school. What am I supposed to do in a war?

Edited (because that was a mess of text) 2012-11-26 08:56 (UTC)

Hey. Hey. [ She takes him by the shoulders and pushes him back so she can look him in the eyes, her expression frank and her tone rather blunt when she speaks. ]

Physics are all well and good, but knowing Newton's laws doesn't help me in a war either. My first draft? I was terrified. And if I'm honest with myself, I should have died. It took a lot of different people to keep me alive out there. I was useless. Completely.

But that's the point of learning. I'm going to change that. I am never going to be in that position again if I can help it. I'm going to learn skills they can't take away from me. And you know what? You could do the same thing. [ A little more gently, encouraging now. ] They can take your powers, but they can't take your mind. Whatever you learn - it's going to stick with you. So if you learn ... self-defense, or medicine... even tactics and strategy. That's how you manage in a war. Even without magic.

[Oof. And he was cozy. He barely looks up, reluctant to meet her gaze; he knows that what she's saying is true enough, but he still feels so... limited. He's not some great leader or battle-seasoned soldier. He's a scrawny kid from the Upper West who can't even draw a bowstring or lift a sword or swing a decent punch to save his life. Viral tried. And he can't look at a wound anymore without bringing back memories he'd rather left buried as much as he can. He's pretty good at dodging attacks and staying balanced while airborne and hey, he knows how to dance, and that's... still useless.

The pessimist in him is very, very stubborn apparently.]

They can take that too, remember? They did it a few months ago. They took our memories... now our powers, too. They can take everything from us and leave us empty, if they want.

[And it's damned depressing to be so helpless. Especially when identity means so, so much.]

[His response is simple, brief, and to the point.]

...Why?

[Why relive that nightmare? Why even consider it, let alone play it out?]

Something about the nobility of heroism and the potential for corruption, is my guess. I'm sure people would think you're out to warp the fragile minds of the youth into your loyal soldiers.

[Just an advanced form of peer pressure. Why do so many adults assume that kids and teenagers have such pathetic free wills?]

[Loki snorts.] I suppose I'm complimented that my powers of persuasion are that vast.

[Well, they really are, or at least nearly. When he wants to convince someone of something.]

I teach evil maths too, apparently.

Edited 2012-11-26 19:32 (UTC)

You're welcome, Billy! I've got a little something in mind that might help cheer people up even more but that ones going to be a total surprise.

Maybe I should be giving you lessons instead?

What, first you cheer me up and then you tease me with something like that? Unfair.

All math is evil. No one can convince me otherwise.

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[action] what were we even talking about

[action] ...I dunno too lazy to scroll up

[action] ... and then you stomped all over my feelings

[action] it's my favourite hobby

[action] can i just rip my heart out and be rid of all these fee-fees

[action] I think that would be kinda problematic

[action] nope nope nope i see nothing wrong with this plan it's great

[action] you should work on getting good feels instead

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