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Gwen comes in for her shift the day after his conversation with George. He'd gone on a Tuesday, since the shop is closed on Tuesdays. Honestly, fuck Tuesday altogether at this rate.

He looks up as the door jingles, cigarette in his mouth, setting lettering plates on the press. "Mornin'," he says around it. "Had an interesting chat yesterday."

Gwen's stride skips barely a beat, but it does skip. "Slightly ominous start to the morning! A normal interesting conversation or a visitor's centre interesting conversation?"

She's aware Peter's in there, but there's the subtlest tingle in her head that says this is not a Peter conversation.

"The latter," Gerry remarks, taking his cigarette into his fingers. "Got paired with your old man. Didn't go great."

"Oh," comes out before the answer really sinks in. The dawning of realisation is clear as day after that—wide eyes, colour draining out of her face leaving the weird subtle watercolour effect of her skin washed out. "W-Wait seriously? My— my dad's in there? You— oh, god—"

She stalls, now, like she forgets how to cross the rest of the room.

Seeing her freeze, Gerry hops the counter fluidly, not bothering with the little gate. He leans down to her level, hands on her shoulders. His eyes lock onto hers firmly. "Hey. It's alright. No one's buying his bullshit. Least of all me. Alright? And I told him so. Whatever he thinks---- whatever he wants to believe about you, or your friend, or your being Spider-Woman, or whatever, I don't give a fuck. You're the coolest kid I know and I'm proud of you, alright? I'm in your corner."

Hearing what happened with Peter from her dad's mouth is just about the worst way she can imagine someone finding out, and for a flash that's all she can think about, blotting out everything else Gerry says like she's listening to him through cottonwool. He's talked to her dad and now he knows she's a killer and— and—

Get it together, Stacy!

She snaps back to reality.

"—I-I really didn't mean to kill him, I swear."

"I know," Gerry answers plainly. "I know."

Without thinking, Gerry just drops to his knees and hugs her. As tight as he can.

She seems so small.

Surprise locks her muscles, but not for long. She sags and loops her arms around him in turn, head against his shoulder, and breathes with the deliberate unnatural rhythm of someone who's been taught how to avert panic.

"He— he'd changed himself into a big lizard creature, I didn't even know it was him," she mumbles, when she feels steadied. "Dad just— he found us at the exact wrong time and I could never—"

"Hey." Gerry stops her gently. "It's okay. You don't owe me an explanation. I figured it's 'cause you were still learning how to do the whole hero thing and you had an accident. You're a kid. That shit happens sometimes. It's horrible and tragic, but it happens. You are not a murderer, okay? You're a human being who made a mistake. And he should be fucking ashamed of himself for thinking of you that way."

Gerry's never been "family" to anyone but Mary, and maybe, for a time, Gertrude. Never had any siblings, never thought himself the type to start his own family, never considered himself particularly paternal. So when thoughts of if you were my daughter rise to his mind unbidden, it's jarring, but at the same time... if she was his daughter, he would be proud.

Gwen swallows a lump in her throat and nods with a jerky uncertainty. She feels all of a sudden like she's fourteen again, not coming up on seventeen with a few stray months on top.

"...thanks," she says in a small voice, fists flexing a little where they grip at Gerry's clothes. "...apparently it was sort of— destined, to happen, or something, I-I don't know, learning that didn't make it feel any better."

"Fuck no, that doesn't make it better. That sucks ass." Gerry sighs. It feels weird to him, maintaining contact for this long, as someone who's still getting used to things like physical affection. But he doesn't let go until she does. He's not gonna take this away from her if she still needs it. "But it does make it even less your fault, so there's that. ...Hope you're not too mad at me for cussing out your old man, though."

Gwen laughs a little. "Nah, that's— you're not the first person who's wanted to. The other Spider I stayed with for a while after I left my own universe was... he was never happy when I talked about dad. You'd like him. He's cool like you."

Not that it isn't odd for her, thinking of people having that conversation with her dad, but... it's hard to be too mad, these days. Even if she struggles to imagine being able to argue with him herself. Everyone she's ever told seems just as unimpressed with him.

She exhales and after a moment longer her fists loosen, then release. She rubs her face. There's more colour in it again.

ic inbox pumpkin hollow

Mid September

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