We could be in another universe, and Gwen Stacy would still be queen

                                    

                                          
"Gwen Stacy."
"Mary Jane," Darkwood snapped instantly. "Why would you like Gwen Stacy?"
"Obviously because Gwen Stacy is fabulous and she was Peter Parker's first love," I scoffed, as if it were the most obvious statement in the world. Which, you know, it was. Of course there were countless more reasons I could list but Darkwood was much too narrow-minded to comprehend them all. It would be a waste of air. 
"Mary Jane is spunkier than Gwen," Darkwood argued. "Plus, she's a red-head."
"MJ fell for Spider-Man, but Gwen fell for Peter, and in the end, they're the better couple. We could be in another universe, and Gwen Stacy would still be queen."
"That's it," puffed Darkwood, who stood up abruptly and pointed an accusatory finger at me. "I refuse to be housed under the same roof as someone who likes Gwen Stacy more than Mary Jane. Leave!"
"I live here! You leave!"
"Will you two just shut up?" a voice complained from the doorway. Darkwood and I turned to the entrance of the music wing and saw Logan standing there, an extremely annoyed expression on his features. "There are people trying to sleep."
"It is nine-thirty, Grandpa," I pointed out while Darkwood got off the piano bench to come stand over by Logan, wrapping his arm around my bodyguard's shoulders. 
"Logan, my blood brother, tell me you think Mary Jane is better than Gwen Stacy," said Darkwood.
"Sorry," Logan grinned, his voice absolutely void of sounding apologetic, "but I'm team Gwen."
Darkwood took a dramatic step away from Logan, gasping loudly. "Brethren before wenches, Cross!" he grumbled, throwing his arms into the air. "I can't deal with you people.  Alec is out!"
"Admit it, Darkwood! Gwen Stacy" I shouted after him as he stormed out of the wing. I had on a smug grin, a victorious sensation pumping through my body and I spun around on the piano bench. 
"Park Sparrow is always right," I sang. My fingers landed on the ivory keys and began playing a happy jingle. "Park Sparrow is always right, Park Sparrow is number one because she's just so amazing."
Logan had come over to lean against the piano, watching me play random notes as I sang as badly as I could. He had a smile on his face, laughing at my failed attempt at improvisation. 
I stopped playing, letting my hands rest on a different set of chords to try another song when Logan asked, "Did you stick with your lessons when you left Cimeria?"
My eyes snapped over to Logan, hardening my gaze. "How is that you know about all about my childhood when I've barely told you anything?"
"Sparrow, you sat at the piano once and told me you started lessons when you were six."
"Oh." How embarrassing. "That still doesn't explain all the other times," I pointed out, saving myself a public embarrassment. 
Logan ignored my comment. "Goodnight, Sparrow," he said, turning away. All of a sudden, as he took a step, my mouth just blurted out, "Stay."
Shit. Park, dammit, why did you just say that out loud? 
Logan paused, and then turned around, his eyes narrowed while he raised an eyebrow in questioning. I did anything to avert my gaze from his. I noticed his hair was darker and damper, indicating that he took a shower, but the strands still stuck upwards as though he had continuously run his fingers through his hair. He had changed out of his suit and into a pair of slim fitting jeans that hung low on his hips while his dark grey t-shirt clung to his lean torso.