daretodo | [for Smashquatch]

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[for Smashquatch]

I swear to God, even with all the wacky changes, I've lived on this island long enough to not have to look where I'm going anymore, every path as familiar as the back of my hand. My focus is more on my book than my surroundings as I take the long way back to my house, hoping to stretch out my alone time before I have to deal with the beast of a dog that's Martha again. She's a good dog, really, I'm just not so sure I'm a great owner. I've never really wanted a pet, but circumstances being what they are, I can't bring myself to hand her over to someone else. She's changed too many hands already.

Doesn't mean I won't sneak an hour or so out of the house just to breathe on my own. Which is all to say I'm not exactly looking for company when I hear a pair of familiar voices up ahead. I got my book and I got my nice, solitary walk to enjoy. Except the pairing has got my attention and when I finally happen upon Wanda and Bruce set up with lunch, I'm honestly too curious to keep walking.

"Hey," I greet, tucking my book back into my pocket.

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I'm about to make some crack that I wasn't expecting to see Bruce actually socialize, but then I bother to take a look at him between mouthfuls and realize he doesn't seem as tense as normal -- less like a tightly wound wire and more of a relaxed spring. Huh. Weird.

"...you guys do this a lot?"

"Define a lot," Wanda said, watching Bruce out of the corner of her eye for a second before leaning back on her hands. "Beats lunch in the Compound, anyway."

"I don't know, what is this? Second time, third?" Bruce asks, glancing back in Wanda's direction with a small quirk at the edge of his mouth.

"Think we're making it a habit yet?"

"Sounds pretty habitual to me," I offer, stuffing my face with a handful of dried fruit. Not my favorite, but it's food.

"So does Wanda here exist in your version of things? Or are you friendly just 'cause you exist in ours?"

"To be fair, most people don't know me right off the bat these days, no matter where they're from," Wanda interjected, smiling slightly in spite of herself.

Friendly. Right.

"Not in the slightest," Bruce answers, completely sincere even as that dry tone slips into his voice and he smiles, almost as if he's sharing a secret with himself.

"But I've definitely run into more than one person who seems to know a different version of me. Or him," he adds, as an afterthought.

"Nature of the beast, right," I say, and then realize my mistake. I freeze a little, glancing between the two of 'em and add, quickly, "Uh. I mean the Island, with all the same face, different place nonsense, not your, ah, alter egos."

Closing her eyes in exasperation for a moment, Wanda shook her head, still smirking. "Smooth, Peter. Really."

"Well, in answer to your question - no. And I looked familiar to her, but resemblances only go so far," he adds, snagging a grape from the fruit bowl.

"Only a couple others have made the connection between my face and the one they know. That's where the similarities end, I guess."

"Go around in green face paint and a pair of purple shorts, I'm sure more folks'll recognize you, then," I say, because heck, I already put my foot in my mouth once, might as well go for the twofer.

Ignoring Peter being Peter for the moment, Wanda instead latched on to something else, leaning in almost conspiratorially. "He is completely different, though, right? It's not just me?" she asked, nodding toward Bruce as if he were a part of the scenery. Distancing him as much as possible from the man she'd known for years had become a very important thing for her to do, but it didn't count if it was all just in her head.

Bruce doesn't start, not really - it takes a lot more than a long studying look to make him flinch, at any rate.

But he does give Wanda a strange glance in return, arching an eyebrow before resuming his lunch as though he's not being examined as if he were under a microscope.

It's a weird question to ask. Or it would be, I guess, if I was anywhere else with anyone else. Beautiful, sunny Tabula Rasa: creating awkward interpersonal conundrums since some completely arbitrary date.

"He's more... sociable?" I say, mulling it over as I follow Wanda's gaze. Truth be told, I never really knew the Bruce Banner of the equation. I'm familiar with his work, of course -- radiation is kind of a pet interest of mine -- but I'm also familiar with his interest in property damage and a little field he pioneered called Smashology.

"I don't know. How's his research compare?"

"Adequately," Wanda replied, in a way that genuinely was meant to be complimentary. Sociable was one way of putting it, she supposed, though she obviously wasn't about to elaborate about all of the things that struck her about Bruce. Not to Peter, anyway, and certainly not right in front of him, since he probably wouldn't appreciate it. "Okay, so it's not just me, good to know."

He squints, briefly, pretending to examine something far off in the distance - the outline of someone else further down the beach, apparently, playing fetch with their dog. It's a mundane activity, to be sure, but it's something he'd never thought to allow himself, and he frowns at the realization.

He turns back to them just in time to pretend as though he's only resumed tuning in, even though their conversation has been playing in the background of his reverie.

"Well, 'adequate' is acceptable, I suppose," he mumbles.

"Hey, think of it this way, pal. I don't even exist in your universe and you said you hadn't heard of Wanda, so chances are she didn't either," I say encouragingly, hitching a thumb towards Wanda. "Adequately's more than we both got."

"That's the spirit," Wanda teased, finally letting her guard start to drop a bit. "I'm saying the comparison's a favourable one, what's not to accept about that?"

"Well, we can sit here and have a conversation without your presence inviting any kind of comparison to begin with," Bruce points out, though it's in a relatively good-natured tone.

He leans back on his elbow again, idly relaxing.

"If it makes you feel any better, I've been on your side of things, too," I say with a shrug. Which means I know how much it can suck, really, but some good's come out of it. Jessica's still around, at least, and while my thoughts on having a teenage girl clone from another universe seem to depend on my mood, I guess I'd count her as more of a positive than a negative at the end of the day.

"I got this cousin... Anyway, point is, I like you better than my guy because I actually kinda know you."

"While I don't even have that excuse," Wanda shrugged, a slightly more knowing look creeping into her gaze for a split second before she turned her attention back to food. She just liked him better.

"Whereas I remain continuously ignorant of any and all other versions," Bruce adds.

"On the bright side, the other guy doesn't seem to want to show his face all too often." Aside from Halloween, which he can only chalk up to being some kind of manipulation.

He doesn't like to think about it.

"Maybe this was the universe's version of anger management."

"Mm, what about Halloween?" I say, almost choking on a grape in the process. Rubbing at my throat, I take a second to swallow and cough a little. "Didn't you two tussle or something?"

"Ugh, ix-nay on the alloween-Hay," Wanda said, making a face and unconsciously rubbing at her side. "Not a fun night."

Not that it had been a picnic for Peter either, granted, so she swiftly shut her mouth after that.

He winces at the memory, especially when he recalls the aftermath of waking up, of finding her bleeding out in the jungle. It's not something he wants to revisit, and he presses his mouth together firmly.

"That particular day notwithstanding," he replies, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah," I say, glancing away. Everyone's biggest nightmares came to life on Halloween and disappeared the next day -- except for mine, which actually happened. It's not a day I really want to dwell on, either, all things considered. Not that that's stopped me the past couple of months, granted, but I've been getting better about not brooding in mixed company.

I plaster on a grin, clapping my hands together. "So. How about that baseball, huh?"

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