❝I wasn’t calling you a badass, I was calling myself a badass. I’d be a totally badass outlaw if I had no morals like the rest of my anodite brethren. Seriously, I’d do a better job than you and who could ever think you’re a badass anyway? Ridiculous, how can you even say that?❞ She was talking a mile a minute, facial expression: comical; ranging from mild annoyance to disbelief to holy hell all in the span of five seconds while she completely missed the fact that Peter hadn’t said anything indicating that she was referring to him at all. Damn it.
Then she stopped, becoming oddly aware that she was a lot closer to Peter now that they had stopped dancing. Her first instinct was to yank herself away but she lingered, intertwining her fingers around his more while resisting the urge to hug him close, tell him she missed having him around; because truthfully Gwen did. Spending time with Peter again after all this time kept dragging a lot of memories she tried very hard to suppress.
❝Puh-lese,❞ she huffed, rather to keep herself talking than remaining silent. Gwen was most dangerous when she was thinking and she’d rather keep the tension between them as light as possible. Dancing long since forgotten. ❝Like you would have known I existed before becoming internet famous. Yet as much as the thought of you punching someone out would have totally upped your cred to my hero status for fifteen year old Gwen, I just can’t picture you wearing the school uniform. Well I can. Just looks dorky.❞
moments tick by with him contemplating a moment of uninhibited honesty. trepidation, however, keeps him warily resisting the urge to spill his heart out right now. quill knows that any romantic revelation would be met with immediate questioning, disbelief & perhaps even anger. sending mixed messages for this long makes all that justified, so he can’t really bide his time in hopes of her abandoning those lingering queries. the possibilities have run through his head: she’d ask why he left her all those years ago, keeping out of contact, never visiting – what compelled him to BETRAY her.
regardless of his attempts at sorting out his decisions & discovering the motivations behind them, he just can’t seem to find an acceptable answer. everything comes back around to him being a real piece of work & gwen deserves a real answer. her fingers tangle with his, he dares to meet her gaze for just a moment. before things have the opportunity to get exceedingly awkward, she breaks the growing tension – that’s supposed to be HIS job.
quill explodes into laughter, trying to imagine his younger self in some uptight little outfit. “ i’d be like a pitbull in a sweater. “ he comments, definitely making himself out to be more threatening with that analogy than he really is. “ or, like … “ he reconsiders, “ just a dog, i guess. a dog that doesn’t really like sweaters. i’d find a way to make it look good, though. show you how it’s done. “
