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Oliver’s not even sure whose party this is.
The house is big, looming over him like a haunted mansion—although that might be because of the cobwebs and plastic bats covering the entire outside. The front lawn is decorated with faux gravestones and chicken wire ghosts, with orange and white streamers dangling from the bare trees on either side of the cobblestone path leading up to the door. There’s even some sort of projector shining green and purple lights up at the house, swirling and shifting, casting weird shadows on the windows. It’s the sort of place that Oliver thought only existed in movies—because high school parties in movies are always so much better than they are in reality—but, apparently, this is his life now.
Technically, this is his dream rather than his actual life, but he and Benjamin had a whole conversation about how thinking about it that way would prevent them from fully enjoying their corresponding realities. They tend not to think about things like dreaming or ageing or falling in love, at least as it pertains to their double lives. Sometimes, in Oliver’s reality, he thinks it’s fantastic that they get two entire, individual lives together. In his dream, it’s harder to be as certain about things.
“Oliver! Are you coming inside?”
He looks away from the house to see Isabelle’s smiling face standing in the doorway. Oh, so it’s Belle’s party. It makes sense, really; she’s a charming, popular girl who seems to get along with everyone. Of course she would be the sort to throw a teen move style Halloween party, complete with a bass-heavy but seasonally appropriate playlist that he can hear more clearly now that the door is open. He forces a smile and nods, making his way up the path.
The trouble is that he really likes Belle. He always has. Even in the other world, they were all friends in high school. In this version, Oliver just has to hope that they all stay friends. Just friends. Benjamin and Belle are close here, and this time Oliver is closer to them both as well, but that doesn’t mean that’s how things will stay. Sure, in their other life, Oliver and Benjamin are together (married, actually), but Oliver also knows just how desperately Benjamin had wanted another chance with Isabelle at the beginning of all this. Maybe, what with the growing differences between this world and that one, Benjamin will realise that they don’t have to be together in both places. Maybe Benjamin will start to think that he can have it both ways, and who would Oliver be to even try to stop him? Things don’t have to be the same between worlds. Even if Benjamin did promise that they would be, eventually.
Oliver can’t even be jealous, of course, because Belle really is the best, and nothing has even happened , and also she’s his friend just as much as she’s Benjamin’s. When he finally gets up to the door, she wraps him in a tight squeeze of a hug, beaming at him. “Nice costume,” she says as she pulls back, still holding his upper arms in her hands as she looks at him. “Oh, your ears are crooked. Here, let me…”
She reaches up to straighten his cat ear headband, grinning as she finally steps away. His costume is pretty simple, really: black skinny jeans (coated in faux leather, so they’re a little shiny), a black v-neck long sleeve, fuzzy cat ears, and a black domino mask. He’d meant to get some sort of white fur to line the neck of his shirt, but he’d run out of time and also wanted the plausible deniability if Benjamin hated it.
“Thanks, Belle,” Oliver says, smiling a little bashfully. “You look great too!”
She’s dressed as a very classic looking vampire, with coal-lined eyes and a little fake blood dripping from the corner of her mouth, but is, in true Belle fashion, also completely covered in body glitter. Oliver still doesn’t know enough about Twilight to know if she’s dressed as a specific character, but he knows enough to catch the reference. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and beams, revealing two white fangs. “Thanks! Getting this glitter off will probably ruin my shower, but, you know. Worth it!”
“Obviously,” he agrees, nodding profusely. “Halloween’s only once a year! We’ve gotta make it count.”
“Yep! Okay, there’re loads of people here already, so I should probably go play host—drinks are in the kitchen, there’s a whiteboard in the living room for song requests, and last time I saw Benjamin he was upstairs with Charles.” Belle reels this information off so quickly that it takes Oliver a second to react to the final point. When he does startle and look back at her, she just grins. “I figured you’d want to find him. Am I wrong, or are you the Felicity Hardy to his Peter Parker?”
“Felicia,” Oliver corrects, and then immediately feels his face heat up. “And no, I’m just... a black cat. Not proper-noun, Marvel trademarked Black Cat.”
“Uh-huh,” Belle says, clearly not buying it. Which is fair enough. Oliver wouldn’t buy it either, roles reversed. “And I’m just a vampire.”
Oliver takes that to mean that she is dressed as a specific vampire but decides against asking which one. He makes another weak protest, but Belle just shoves his arm lightly and points to the stairs. He sticks his tongue out at her and heads to the kitchen. She shouts something after him that sounded something like ‘coward’, but he doesn’t even give her the satisfaction of flipping her off.
Maybe this was a terrible idea. It’s just that...He knew Benjamin was going to go as Spider-Man (hyphen included; Benjamin was very particular about that) and Oliver is under no illusions that he could pull of MJ ‘hey tiger’ Watson. Even aside from his distinct lack of red hair and unwillingness to wear a wig, it seemed like that was too bold of a move. So he’d done his research into other Spider-Man love interests and discovered Felicia Hardy, a.k.a. Black Cat, and figured it was a perfect compromise. People who didn’t know wouldn’t think anything of his choice of costume but, should all go well, Benjamin would pick up on it, they could exchange some witty and possibly flirty banter, and then they’d get to make out by the giant inflatable pumpkin in the corner.
That last part of the plan was only just pencilled in; the decorations inside are just as impressive as the ones outside, and Oliver has a fondness for kitschy inflatables. It seems as good a place as any to lose his kiss-virginity, which he absolutely hasn’t been saving for Benjamin, no way.
(Yes way.)
Technically, Oliver’s first kiss was with a girl named Imogen when he was thirteen, but that was in a different universe. In this one, he’s been holding out for Benjamin. In his defence, when they were thirteen here , they were also getting married in their other life, so Oliver thinks he’s within his rights to be a little bit hopelessly romantic. Of course, that was before they started high school here and the differences between their two lives became somehow more apparent. Oliver had figured that puberty and teenage angst would be easier to manage when going through it a second time, but he was sorely mistaken. When he’s dreaming, he feels painfully seventeen, awkward and uncomfortable and somehow pining for a boy who’s his husband in their other reality. The whole logic of dreamscapes seems designed to screw him over—in one life, he’s an adult with a good job, fantastic friends, and a wonderful husband. In the other, he’s an anxious, overwhelmed teenager who’s pretty sure that his best friend doesn’t want to date him here.
It would probably be easier to just talk to Benjamin about it, but that’s the other way that dreamscape logic sucks. When he’s here, in his dream, the idea of talking about his feelings is mortifying, and when he’s in his reality, where he’s nearly thirty-four years old, the idea of turning to Benjamin and asking “hey, do you still like me in our other reality?” is so ridiculous it makes him laugh. The difference in emotional maturity and ability between the two worlds is madness-inducing. So instead Oliver has to suck it up and deal with whatever his second teenagehood throws at him.
Including dressing up as proper-noun, Marvel trademarked Black Cat on the off chance that his best-friend-slash-crush-slash-husband maybe wants to hook up.
This whole situation is ridiculous.
His whole life is ridiculous.
Thankfully, somehow, this party does have alcohol. Red solo cups and everything. Really, Belle’s house does seem to be straight out of a movie. How does she do it?
Oliver gives a cool-guy upwards nod to a group gathered around the table, and they return his greeting with smiles and compliments on his costume as he grabs a drink and downs it in practically one go. Probably not a super smart idea, but whatever. Oliver isn’t exactly known for smart ideas. He grabs a second drink and starts to sip at it, joining the conversation a little and laughing at their jokes. Oliver might not be the coolest person around, but his proximity to Belle and Benjamin, who both are pretty popular in their own ways, means that most people know of him and he’s able to flit between groups for an hour or so, grabbing drinks at varying intervals, putting off going upstairs.
He probably should’ve anticipated Benjamin coming downstairs , but somehow he didn’t.
“Oooooliver!” Benjamin’s voice calls, and Oliver would worry that he’s drunk, except that when he turns around, Benjamin’s eyes are bright and his smile wide, and it’s clear that the extension of his name was meant to be playful. That’s not to say that Benjamin hasn’t been drinking too—like Oliver, he’s holding a red solo cup in his gloved hand. Benjamin’s ditched the mask, if he was ever wearing one, but his Spider-Man costume is otherwise picture-perfect. And, honestly, the way the neckline crawls up Benjamin’s skin and stops just shy of his Adam’s apple is kind of ridiculously hot and Oliver has to tear his eyes away from it before Benjamin notices.
“Bennyyyyy,” he replies, grinning. “Look at you!”
“Look at you ,” Benjamin returns, laughing a little as he reaches up to fiddle with Oliver’s cat ears. Oliver gets the impression that, unlike Belle, Benjamin is making them more off-kilter. He can’t find it in his to care, because Benjamin has stepped closer to him and is smiling brightly. “Did you know that Spider-Man dates someone called Black Cat on and off?”
This is the part where Oliver should say ‘yes, actually, which is why I chose the costume because I would very much like to be dating you, minus the on and off part’. Instead, he flushes and says, “Really? What a fun coincidence.”
In his mind, a voice that sounds distinctly like Belle says, ‘Coward!’
Benjamin doesn’t seem to react, though, his hand still playing with Oliver’s cat ears and maybe a little bit of his hair. “Yep,” he says. “I could’ve sworn I told you about this—maybe not here , though…” Benjamin’s eyes go unfocused for a second as he tries to remember, but then he shrugs and pulls his hand away. “Anyway, it’s a good costume.”
“Thanks,” Oliver says, swallowing hard and trying not to whine at the removal of contact. “Yours is fantastic! I mean, honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if you could actually shoot webs!”
On impulse, and maybe because Oliver has had a bit more to drink than he thought, he grabs Benjamin’s wrist and runs his thumb over the bit of exposed skin between his costume sleeve and his palm. Benjamin shakes his head and twists their hands to interlace their fingers.
“As cool as that would be,” Benjamin says mildly, “I don’t think superpowers are real in this reality.”
Oliver’s pretty sure that his brain had stopped working completely because Benjamin is holding his hand. Repeat: Benjamin. Is. Holding. His. Hand. This sort of affection probably shouldn’t send his heart racing, especially considering that they’ve done a whole lot more than this in their other life, but, as previously discussed, Oliver is very much emotionally and mentally a never-been-kissed teenager here. So Benjamin casually holding his hand is sending him into orbit.
“Uh,” he says, after a beat too long, “does Lucidity count as a superpower? Are we superheroes?”
Benjamin tilts his head slightly, and Oliver’s gratified to see that he’s a little pick around his nose. Maybe the hand-holding thing is affecting him, too. “Huh. Maybe, I guess? We’ll have to ask Quinn when you wake up.”
“I’m pretty sure we’ve asked him that before,” Oliver points out, but sometimes it’s hard to remember what exactly has happened in their other life when they’re in this one, and vice versa. It’s a lot of memories to keep track of. “I think he told us not to be stupid.”
“Which isn’t an answer,” Benjamin says, rolling his eyes. “Typical Quinn.”
“Yeah, typical Quinn ,” Oliver agrees, nodding firmly. “I think we should get to decide. I mean, we’re dressed as superheroes, so I think we should get to be them too.”
Benjamin’s smile grows slowly. “So you did know about Black Cat?”
Uh-oh. Abort, abort. Oliver can feel himself turning tomato red at being found out, but at least Benjamin doesn’t seem offended or scared off. Laughing awkwardly, Oliver says, “You know, I do pay attention when you talk, and, well, the internet helps too—not that I looked up Spider-Man lov-characters or anything, but….you know.”
“Yeah,” Benjamin says, and his eyes go soft and he steps a little closer to him, leaving only a few inches between their chests, “I know.”
And then Benjamin tilts his chin down ever-so-slightly to kiss Oliver.
Oliver lets out a startled little gasp and squeezes their still-joined hands. They’ve both been drinking, but they’re sober enough that Oliver lets himself enjoy it. This was, after all, his ideal outcome for the evening. He just hadn’t let himself believe that it could actually happen. But here Benjamin is, holding Oliver’s hand and kissing him and resting his spare hand on Oliver’s hip. This is really happening and Oliver is about three seconds away from spontaneously combusting out of pure elation. Maybe this reality is going to work out the same as their other one, and maybe he needs to stop worrying so much.
Benjamin pulls away slightly, tapping his forehead against Oliver’s before straightening up. Oliver licks his lips and nods sideways to the inflatable pumpkin. “That, uh. That looks like a good corner, if you wanted to...continue. Doing that.”
Benjamin beams.