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Stirring the remains of his strawberry milkshake and listening (sort of) to Greg ranting about the deceptive qualities of makeup wasn't how Teddy Altman wanted to spend his Wednesday afternoon. Hey, remember I can change my whole face? he wants to snap, but he doesn't think that would go down very well. With Greg's mood more mercurial than usual, avoiding conflict just seems easier. Good thing he's a pro at reading his best friend. If he doesn't keep up, the other boy will question if Teddy really wants to be there.
But he doesn't, not really. He's selfish. He should be focused on Greg instead of thinking about how late he can pick up his comics and not be late for curfew. He’s just so tired. He wants to go home, read today’s new releases, and destroy some helpless set pieces in Lego Avengers. Keep pretending, keep smiling, don’t yawn, nod at just the right places, watch for any signs that Greg isn’t buying it. Piece of cake, right?
"Earth to Altman, are you even listening?" Unfortunately, yes. Greg's brows pull together in a thunderous expression. Shit, did he say that out loud? He shrinks back into the booth while he waits for Greg to explode at him. "Well? Are you going to answer me?"
Thank God. Teddy nods and parrots some part of Greg's ridiculous diatribe back to him. His friend doesn't smile, but he seems satisfied. Until the next disaster hits.
"There are letters appearing on your face," Greg says flatly, lips drawn into a thin line. Now that the dark-haired boy mentions it, he can feel the pressure of the pen just above his brows. Teddy brings his hand up to his forehead before he remembers that he's not going to be able to feel the soul mark. Then he sees the murderous expression on Greg's face.
Damn. He squeezes his hand into a fist, short nails digging into his palms. His best friend hates it when Teddy's soulmate comes up. Jealous, his brain supplies, but only because he has to share. Avoiding it has always been Teddy’s answer. As long as he doesn’t let himself get close to his other half, his best friend has no reason to worry about it.
Before he makes the conscious decision, Teddy feels himself shifting the words away. It's the right choice, he realizes, when Greg's expression begins to ease. Even a hint of a smile curls up at the corners of his mouth. Teddy feels an answering grin stretch across his face. Crisis averted.
He's glad that Greg knows about his powers, he tells himself. Everything is so much easier when someone tells him what they want him to be instead of making him guess. Easy to read, easy to please, easy to fix when Teddy does something wrong. At least, it used to be. He just has to work harder at it.
Greg stands up. "I'm in the mood for something a little stronger than milkshakes. How about we pick up a six pack on the way to my house?"
Why don't you age yourself up so we can buy beer? That's what his friend really means. After the almost disaster a minute ago, he doesn't really have a choice. All of Teddy's plans centering on hand-drawn Avengers and dialogue bubbles evaporate. "Sure. That'd be great."
Trailing behind Greg, he feels letters begin to form just below his wrist. His friend isn't looking, so Teddy sneaks a peek. He notices the constellations he drew there earlier are scribbled over. Two words are printed below it in a different pen. I'm sorry? What does that mean?
"Hurry up, Altman! How can you be this slow off the court?"
"Coming." With a soft sigh, he shifts the blue scrawl away. He'll ask about it when he gets home, when he gets away from Greg. It's just easier this way.