DOCTOR PALMER

There was a flask in his pocket and a sway to his step. There usually was, at this time of night. Nights, Rictor thought, were so much more difficult to stomach than days. The sun was often too bright and sometimes annoying, but the darkness made it hard to keep his head up, hard to pretend he wasn’t trembling under the weight of something he didn’t quite understand. So… It was easier, he’d found, to fill the nights with an easy buzz. And waffles. Lots of waffles. He shoved another bite into his mouth, freezing mid-chew as someone next to him addressed him. Turning, he furrowed a brow. “Seriously?” The word was spoken around a mouthful of food, and he snorted. “Just a night, dude. Dark and depressing. Pretty sure I saw a guy get stabbed on my way here. What makes it nice?”

.

“Any night can be made nice,” he begins. His pancakes are placed in front of him, and he beams at the waitress in response. The blueberries are doused in maple syrup, and he pops one in his mouth with a tiny noise of appreciation. “What makes it not a nice night?” Ray paused, before seemingly realising, “Getting stabbed, I suppose. But maybe he didn’t get stabbed. Or he’s fine. Was he fine?”

People weren’t usually happy to see him. Miguel tended to inspire a certain level of irritation in most people who’d had the pleasure of meeting him more than once or twice, and he was fine with that. He didn’t much like people any more than they tended to like him, so he rarely lost sleep when someone turned on their heel and crossed to the other side of the street when they saw him in the crowd. And yet…

There was something almost warm in the way Ray grinned at the sight of him, to the point that Miguel only grunted in mild protest at the hug. It felt kind of nice, almost. Not that he’d ever admit as much aloud. He was almost mournful when it ended.

“You — You live here?” His brows shot up, and he glanced up at the building, narrowing his eyes at it as if it had wronged him somehow. It wasn’t quite the shitshow his own apartment complex was — he doubted this one had bloodstains in the carpet, at least — but it was a far cry from luxury. “Why do you live here? I thought… Don’t you have a spaceship? A timeship? A something ship? What are you doing slumming it in New York?” He snorted at the question, because it was funny. Because it was a hell of a thing to ask. “I’m living fifty years before my birth. Your only question is how am I doing?”

You should never underestimate the power of a friendly face. Ray knew many people in the city, through the Legends, through jobs, through his company (Palmer Tech wasn’t quite his company anymore, but the logistics of it all were too confusing to think about until he could talk to his brother properly. He was a scientist, not a lawyer.) but a friend you weren’t expecting to see was always even better. 

“Yeah, man! Not permanently, probably, but I’m on a little bit of a break at the minute.” The reason why was not something he ever felt ready to think about properly. “A timeship, yeah. It’s called the Waverider. It is pretty funky. But NYC isn’t slumming it, it’s the big city!” Ray’s eyebrows narrowed momentarily, but his smile stayed in place. “I spent six months living in the Cretaceous period, and honestly, the first question I felt like answering was ‘how was I doing’. Which- wasn’t great, actually! Are you not good, though?”

The voice was familiar - in a way that made her warm, but one that had been absent in her life for a while now. She looked up from her food, half expecting it to be someone else entirely - after all - when was the last time she had hoped for someone to be there from her past and they were actually there? But he was. She made eye contact with Ray and she grabbed her plate in record speed and then moved to the seat next to him. “Depends on if you got any fries for me or not,” she teased before letting her smile soften. “Is this your first night back?”

.

Somehow, Ray’s smile managed to brighten as he saw Daisy. “Hi!” His greeting, if anything, even brighter. “I didn’t order fries but I can.” The man’s eyes lit up, and he tried to get the waitress’ attention. She was busy with something, ignoring his polite “Oh, excuse me?” A little defeated, he turned back to his friend, still smiling. “Full night back, yes. I meant to stay in an apartment a few days ago but I left some things in my lab. How are you?”

@credullous​

Miguel didn’t have a spider-sense the way the Heroic Age Spider-Man was rumored to. He couldn’t sense danger before it happened, wasn’t able to sniff it out and know when to duck and when to jump. It was something he often thought probably would’ve come in handy, something he’d have if he was lucky but… Well. He’d never exactly been able to boast top-notch luck.

He did have other things to make up for this lack, though. Enhanced senses that bordered on being too intense, fangs and talons to serve as defense if he ever was caught off guard. It was enough to tell him there was someone in the alley, waiting. It was enough to send his guard up to eleven, enough to have his talons out and his fangs at the ready as he pounced around the corner to find —

“Palmer?” His stance relaxed immediately, suspicion giving way to confusion in his expression. “What the shock, man? I almost yanked your guts out. What are you doing in 2021?”

. 

Being back on solid, if sometimes extremely slow, ground is still something Ray’s getting used to. Strolling back to the apartment he’s renting on the far side of town ( Thank you, once again, Sydney, for being ridiculously easy to impersonate ) takes longer than he ever remembered it doing. Though, when your entire life is inside a ship, what you consider long distance changes a little. 

But, thinking back to the Legends, he’s struck by a keen sense of deja vu as he catches sight of someone that seems familiar. He can’t quite tell who it is, eyebrows furrowing as he quickens his pace a little in an attempt to catch up. Coming up the alleyway, he’s about to call out the only name coming to mind, when his assumption is suddenly in front of him. 

Ignoring the momentary danger, his face splits into a grin. “Miguel!” He pulls the other man into what is perhaps an ill-advised hug. “Oh, that’s okay. You didn’t know it was me! I live here! Well, for a little bit, I do. I’m on sabbatical. How are you, buddy?”

John was looking to marry caffeine. Great thing to be discovered. Woke you up nice and good. The diner he was in had some damn strong coffee too and didn’t cut him off regardless of how long he was there or how many he had. ‘Course he tipped well so that helped.

Then this bleeding smiling idiot walks in and just is so happy isn’t he? John could have thrown some coffee on him if he didn’t like the diner as much as he did.

“Sure, man,” John agreed lukewarmly, “Whatever works for you. Are you always this bubbly?”

The usual waitress tripped and John didn’t even think when he flicked out his hand and rewound the dishes and tray back up for her. No need for her to deal with broken stuff this late at night, after all. She blinked and nodded at him which he gave a shrug to. It wasn’t like it was hard. He was probably going to stay until her replacement’s replacement came in working on some stuff anyways.

.

The man’s less than enthusiastic tone does nothing to damper Ray’s spirits. If anything, he brightens, a subconscious attempt to make up for his companion’s lack of zest. “Oh, yes,” he says, tilting his head slightly. “Are you not?” The question is serious; he spends a good chunk of his time with people decidedly less bright than him - bright in the excited way, not the intelligence way, though that is an argument for another day - but he still feels the need to ask.