Summary:During a date at Katz's Deli, Jimmy and Darcy are joined by Peter. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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It's early evening, at that point between 'work finishes' and 'arrived at home'. Time for an early-dinner date, and at one of Jimmy and Darcy's significant places — they're lucky they actually managed, too, given it's Friday night at Katz's Deli. But here they are, crowded together at a table, and Jimmy smiles at her as he holds out his pastrami sandwich. "This is amazing, you have got to have some."
With her own roast beef sandwich in front of her, Darcy lowers her partially eaten half down before leaning forward to accept Jimmy's offering straight from his hands. She bites into the sandwich, eyes half closing as they roll back. A happy moan drifts from her throat and into the air.
"Fuck, that's amazing," she moans aloud, making Sally jealous with the suggestive hint in her voice. She straightens, green eyes opening, lips smiling angellically at her blond date.
"Sandwich is good too." The silent laughter makes her eyes dance and her shoulders almost bounce.
Friday night it may be, but a certain chemistry student and sometimes-photographer still needs to eat - and the luck of random navigation has led Peter Parker in the door at Katz's, hanging onto his backpack so it doesn't bump into anyone as he makes his way in. On the plus side, it smells *terrific* as delis go, and it was the closest place he could find to drop in. On the other hand …
Where is he supposed to sit? Every table is occupied, as are most of the available chairs, but he doesn't really want to just get his sandwich to go.
Peter settles for getting in line, looking over the menu like the answers to Monday's pop quiz are hidden among the sandwiches on order. Maybe, by the time he has his food, there'll be a seat that he can purloin while he's eating. (And maybe one of Spider-Man's worst enemies will voluntarily retire from the criminal lifestyle by the time he's done eating. Life never works THAT smoothly.)
The suggestive tone is enough to send a flush over Jimmy's face and down his neck, and probably beyond; his shirt collar makes it hard to tell. "U-Um. Yeah. How's the beef one?" He takes a sip from his drink — plain water — to try to recover. And as he glances about, he spies someone half-familiar, though he hasn't seen him in a while. "Peter!" he calls, waving to him while he's in line. "A friend of mine," he tells Darcy. "A good dude." A quick glance around the place shows a dearth of empty seats. "Okay if he joins us?" he asks Darcy, ready to nudge out the empty chair at their table. Life can work that smoothly, with some aid from others.
All too pleased with herself, Darcy beams at the blush on Jimmy's face. Her smile turns more than a little mischevious.
"Super yummy. Want a taste?" Her tone is innocent. Her movements are innocent: holding out her own sandwich for Jimmy to take a bite from. Her grin? Not even trying to pretend to be innocent.
Of course, then Jimmy saves himself by glancing about, and Darcy's playful antics fade away as she looks over. She smiles as Jimmy waves to his friend, and as an answer to Jimmy's question, she collects her purse from its chair and then promptly plops her feet on it. She tracks her gaze up to the brutish looking guy who had been hunting for a seat and spotted Darcy taking her purse from it. She smiles and very dilerbrately puts her bag on the fourth and final chair, pressed against the wall and the table.
"Fuck off. It's taken," she tells the man ever so sweetly, eyelashes batting until he huffs and stomps away.
See? Like butter!
"Huh?" Peter looks around as his name's called, then grins in relief, waving back. "Hey Jimmy! Lemme get supper, I'll be right over!" he replies in relief. There's *one* problem solved, at least unless Mr. Tall Dark and Burly takes exception to having a seat sniped out from under him.
Fortunately, as busy as the deli is, the service is pretty brisk; a minute or three later, Peter navigates between tables to join Jimmy and Darcy. "Peter Parker," he introduces himself to Darcy as he reaches their table, one hand bracing his backpack while the other balances his sandwich and chips. "Thanks for letting me intrude … ?"
Jimmy coughs at the way Darcy keeps the seat secure. Refreshingly open in her intentions, but somehow, her sheer bluntness always surprises him… even as it also makes him smile. So very Darcy-ish. He squeezes her hand in thanks, nodding to her. And he eyes her less-than-innocent look while she holds out her sandwich, but still takes that bite. And possibly falls into whatever trap she'd had planned.
He settles back in his seat again as Peter joins them, though keeps his hand on hers. "Not a problem. Gives me more chance to introduce, and show off, my girlfriend. Peter, this is Darcy. Darcy, Peter." Names done, he leaves the more detailed introductions for each to handle for themselves.
The trap? Darcy forgot what it was. Jimmy successfully distracted her with waving at Peter, so she just smiles happily as Jimmy takes his bite, and she waits for his reaction to the flavor of her meats.
"Hi. Welcome to the Nut House," she greets and then offers Peter her partially eaten sandwich with one hand, her other busy being held by Jimmy. Her feet are pulled from the chair, letting Peter have it and join their table.
"Ooh, Sweet-cheeks. Put his bag with mine? They can make out while we eat."
"Nut house?" Peter quips good-naturedly. "I thought it was a deli. Pleased to meet you, Darcy -"
Wait what was that about making out? Peter's gaze flicks between the suggestively offered sandwich, the bag on the wall-side chair, the hands being held, his own club sandwich, etc. "I, uh …"
He sinks into the just-liberated seat, seemingly not worried about the feet which had been occupying it before his arrival. The backpack is unslung and placed on the floor next to Jimmy's side of the table. "Sorry to interrupt your date, but thank you for taking mercy on a man with tired legs," Peter says sheepishly. "I'll just get out of your way again once I'm done … So how'd you two meet? Classmates, lab partners … ?" he wonders, trying to keep it innocent, as he unpacks his sandwich and digs in.
Jimmy hums happily with the mouthful of beef sandwich, giving Darcy a thumbs-up rather than speaking aloud before he swallows. The lewd animism of bags, of all things, makes him palm his face and laugh… but when Peter sets his bag down, he does nudge it gently to rest next to where Darcy's placed hers. "There. Now you can make friends." He smiles at Peter, shaking his head. "Oh, no rush at all. We bumped into each other in Central Park. Er, literally. She was skating, I saw a fallen branch in her way, and… well, I tried to warn her about it, and just ended up sort of crashing into her." All in a sheepish tone with a half-grin. "We traded numbers after I made sure she wasn't too injured from the crash." Damage tends to look worse than it is, on Darcy: she bruises easily.
As if to prove that point, Darcy sets her sandwich down and yanks up a sleeve to show off a nice purple bruise on her upper arm. She flexes like Rosie the Riveter, grinning and looking down at her skin.
"Totally not his fault, this one. This was Giganta. Bitch hipped me into the half wall. Landed on my wheels though," Darcy says, oh so very pleased about that fact. She pulls her sleeve where it belongs, as pleased with that as she was with getting Jimmy's confirmation that her sandwich is yummy.
"How did -you- two meet? Strip club?" Darcy asks, the grin preventing it from being innocent.
"Sounds like you run into more excitement than you'd want to," Peter says wryly to Darcy. "Giganta … is that just a nickname, or is she more of an active troublemaker?" he asks.
And then spittakes - or he *would*, but the strip club question happened when he didn't have anything in his mouth, so he just kinda sputters more or less harmlessly. "No, no, just the library! Nothing *that* interesting about it … well, mostly not interesting."
He buries his attention in the first quadrant of his sandwich, tacitly passing the conversational baton to Jimmy.
"Her usual amount of excitement, really," Jimmy says, patting Darcy's arm just below the bruise. "'Giganta' is a derby name. Roller derby, that is." He talks in between bites; having dinner and conversation in equal measure. He whines, wincing when Darcy makes that suggestion. "Yeah. We bumped into each other at the library once, we were each studying. Took it from there." He gives Darcy a wary look. The subject of roller derby has come up. And with her at a table with two blushers, it's only a matter of time before her own derby name comes out.
"Just a nickname. She's like crazy tall.. six-two in flats. Put skates on the bitch and she's like seven fucking feet tall!" Darcy explains, reaching up with her sandwich hand to show the height. She brings the sandwich back just before some of it plops on her head. Another bite is taken.
"Library huh? Fuck, nerds are hot," she comments. For the moment, her derby name isn't mentioned.
"Ohhhh," Peter responds to the explanation of derby names. He doesn't want to think about what *his* derby name would be - and remembering how awkward he used to be when it came to sports helps him bury the subject further. So, for that matter, does Darby's relaxed manner about saying who or what she thinks is hot.
Cue *another* coughing fit, this one exacerbated by a mouthful of potato chips. Nothing fatal, just embarassing - and less-so than some directions the conversation could go in. A careful thump or two on his own chest, and Peter manages to clear his airway, gasping a little. "Roller derby, huh. That's - that takes some experience to get good at, doesn't it? Or some crazy-good reflexes."
Jimmy's cheeks flush at Darcy's comment. He's not that nerdy, or he hasn't been accused of it before. But hey, as long as studying is hot, that's enough for him to count, right? He carefully puts his sandwich down — mostly eaten already — rather than try it under the current conversation. "Yeah. She can tell you more about it; she's damn impressive out on the rink. I just stay off to the sidelines and sometimes help with first aid, when it's needed."
As for Peter's derby name? Well obviously that'd be the same as his old wrestling name, right? He has an alias all figured out already.
But, the ability to stick to walls is useless on the roller rink!
With the two choking and blushing and generally NOT being able to eat their dinner, Darcy giggles and takes pity on them.
"A bit of both I guess. Been playing for a while, and I have gotten a little better about not falling down alot. Mostly. In any case, you should come to a game. Gridiron's taken on Gotham Gals next Saturday, and now that Meth here gets in free for providing medical, I get another free ticket," she offers. Because if he likes it, and tells a friend who then has to buy a ticket and the friend likes it and tells a friend who buys a ticket who likes it and tells a friend who likes it and buys…. Word of mouth. It's awesome.
Whatever Peter's derby name might be, the secret remains sealed and buried beneath 3/4 of a club sandwich and 1/2 a bag of chips, plus Peter's natural inclination not to draw attention. Which is probably a bigger obstacle than the partly-eaten meal.
"Meth?" he echoes, eyebrows raised as he looks at Jimmy. "They seriously call you 'Meth' on the derby rink? I seriously hope that's short for 'methodical' or something, Jimmy …" Peter says, mock-ominously, before biting into the next quarter of his sandwich. It doesn't last much longer than the first portion did - with a good club sandwich, you kind of *have* to eat each section in a hurry, before it has a chance to come apart.
Jimmy laughs behind his hand, his head dropped slightly forward. "No, no, it's as in 'meth amphetamine'. She's been calling me that ever since our first meeting, because…" He pauses, a furrow to his brow as he peers at Darcy. "Actually, I can't remember. How did that get started?" He shakes his head, more amused than confused, though there's a bit of both. "But yes. If you have a free night and can make it, I definitely recommend coming and watching ladies on skates collide with one another. They have a lot of fun, and it's pretty infectious." Though perhaps Jimmy finds such moods more infectious than most. Dang ol' empath.
"Because you're a medical person, and our team medic's name is Myth Anne Phetamine; which is in my opinion a lame pun. So, Meth… Anne Phetamine. Shame ya'll didn't start at the same time, cuz then you'd've been Meth and she'd've been Phetamine and TOGETHER you'd've been Meth and Phetamine," Darcy rambles oh so happily, giggling at the fact that it started with Darcy rambling.
"Plus, you blushed at it," she notes, as if that was the main part of the reason. She cements it with a bite of her sandwich.
"Mmm! And I demand you cheer for me. Jimmy doesn't and I need someone to scream my name at the top of their lungs," she says. And there's the mischeif, the smirking grin that Jimmy knows all too well.
"I see …" Peter grimaces, squelching the impulse to facepalm. "Well. All in good fun, it sounds like. I guess cheering for a friend's friend isn't bad as the price of admission - and if it's as fun to watch as it sounds," he promises, "I'll be happy to tell others about it too."
He still hasn't asked what her derby name is. Maybe he's planning to just cheer for Darcy by *that* name? Or is he actually afraid of what drug-related nickname she might sport on the court?
Jimmy nods to Darcy's reminder, nodding his head. "That was it, that was it. That kind of pairing name could work, but…" He grins. "Guess I'll just stick with 'Meth'. Though—" he nods to Peter. "'Methodical' isn't a bad deflect for it. Might see if I can rebrand it just a little." He does whine deep in the back of his throat when Darcy suggests Peter scream her name, and retaliates just a little, just by pinching her ear while he gives her a blushing Look, his lips pursed. "Y-Yeah. I'm sure it'll be a fun night." He's not volunteering her derby name, either. But then, he tends not to speak it in general.