Work Text:
Jean sat on a bench in the park. It was her usual bench, the one not too far from the ice cream truck, the one where she can see the whole area. It was the one she and her sister used to sit on, actually.
She was waiting for Peter Parker. Spider-Man. Yeah, that guy. They met a few months ago, when she was in a… much darker place. It was a more violent place, too, and yet she'd still saved him. He took up the mantle of her older brother after that, and things were good. Things were really good, actually, the best they've been since Sara was taken.
Jean found herself thinking about Sara less often now, but of course she still did. She was her sister and she was gone and she missed her a lot.
Then, Jean saw a girl standing in line at the ice cream truck. From behind, she was identical to Sara: same height, same build, same long blonde hair. It wasn't her, of course. It couldn't be her.
That didn't stop Jean from making a split-moment decision, though. Before she knew it, she was jumping into the tall young man next to the girl. She didn't pay much attention to what was in his head—images of a woman in her fifties, Tony Stark, and a girl with long blonde hair and shining blue eyes. Instead, she turned to the girl, and her—his—shoulders deflated with disappointment.
It wasn't Sara.
She shouldn't have thought it would be.
She knew that, so why was she so sad about it?
The girl didn't notice for a few seconds, busy reading the menu board. "What're you getting, H—?" When she finally turned to the person Jean was puppeting, she raised an eyebrow and asked, "are you okay? I'm ninety-nine percent sure you weren't rocking the 'cold and brooding' style a minute ago." Her voice was lilted in an accent that definitely wasn't New York. She laughed, thinly masking her concern.
The man's eyes widened sharply, and because Jean didn't want to make a cover story, she pulled her conscience back out. Then she was the girl on the bench again, watching the blonde stare at the man. He said something, and then they hugged. God, the things Jean would do for one more hug from Sara.
A couple minutes later, the two of them got their ice cream and sat down on a bench a couple yards away from Jean's. The redhead forced herself to stop watching them, setting her gaze straight to the front. Luckily, she saw Peter coming up to her with a big smile on his face.
Unluckily for her, she saw his gaze drift to the man on the other bench. His eyes rounded, something lovesick forming on his face. He made himself look back to Jean, forcing himself to walk up to her. "Um, hi. I—." He glanced over his shoulder at the guy. "I'll be right back, okay?"
Jean didn't have time to finish saying "okay" back before he was hurrying over to the tall man. Flighty Parker. She sighed, watching him speak. He was nervous, really nervous. He said something, smiled sheepishly, mumbled something else, and pointed over to a group of trees. The man furrowed his eyebrows, then stood up and followed Peter away.
That was… strange. Peter was strange, though, so she didn't think much of it. She just leaned back on the bench and tilted her head back to wait for him. She shut her eyes, her breathing slowing down a bit. Then, unexpectedly, she felt someone sit down next to her. "Brothers, right?"
Jean cracked an eye open, then shot fully upright. It was the girl. "Uh, Peter? He's not my—," she started nervously, then unexpectedly cut herself off with a nod and a laugh that actually surprised her. "Yeah, you're right." She glanced towards the copse. "That one's yours, then?"
"Unfortunately." The girl laughed brightly. It was beautiful to Jean's ears. She smiled. "I'm Abby, by the way. He's Harley." She glanced at the path the boys had taken, then pulled her gaze to Jean again. "I love your jacket."
"Hm?" Jean glanced down at the jacket, a soft, worn one, then smiled. "Oh, thanks. Uh, I'm Jean."
"Ab— right, I said that already." The blonde laughed. Her cheeks were tinged pink, and so were Jean's.
"You did. I'll remember it, Abby."
Abby wiped her hands on her skirt. "Sounds good, Jean."
Jean swallowed, then started digging for more conversation. Peter was taking a much longer time then he should've been. "Uh, I like your accent. Where's it from?"
"Tennessee," Abby answered quickly. "Rose Hill, to be specific. Harley just let me come here to live with him a couple weeks ago, but he's been here for… what, five years? Around that long. He's supposed to show me around today. I'm gonna go to that fashion school in Queens in the fall."
Jean found herself smiling even wider at that. "You like fashion?"
"Of course I do!" Abby gestured to her outfit, a put-together ensemble despite the low-quality fabric. "I call it thrift store chique. You like?"
"I love. And I like fashion, too. Like, really like it," Jean gushed, scanning the other girl's outfit with rapt attention. "I really like the layering, with your skirt and jacket."
Abby smiled, and it was like the sun to Jean's eyes, beaming and raw and real. "Thanks." She was clearly proud of it.
Jean found herself staring at Abby's face, studying it with more attention than she should've been. How could she have mistaken her for Sara? Her hair was different beyond its length and color for one, cascading down her shoulders in waves. Besides that, she has blue eyes that shimmer in the light, nothing like Sara's leaf-green ones. Her voice was different, and so was her laugh. Her sense of style was a thousand times better. Plus, Jean would never feel this way about her sister. That'd be wildly inappropriate.
Abby was observing her, too— the way her fiery hair settled around her shoulders in wavy curls, the speckles in the green of her eyes. Wow, she was pretty. The butterflies fluttering in Abby's chest just beat their wings faster.
They stared at each other for a time that bordered on excessive, and Jean was the one that eventually noticed that. Trying not to be embarrassed—why would she be?—, she forced her gaze away, making it settle on the trees. "So… what do you think they're up to?" she asked, referring to Peter and Harley.
"Uh…" Abby snapped out of her daze, taking a few seconds too long to process Jean's words before dramatically making a face. "There's only one thing Harley does in the woods." She made a brief kissing noise, then laughed.
Jean wrinkled her nose. "Oh… ew. That's gonna suck for Harley."
Abby shrugged, leaning against the bench until her shoulder met it. They didn't really speak after that, just waiting. Eventually, their respective siblings came out of the woods, neither of them looking away from each other for more than a few seconds and each of them practically talking over one another. They had a lot to catch up on. It was really sappy, actually. Abby was definitely going to make fun of Harley about this later.
The metaphorical bubble finally popped when Harley managed to trip over a root, nearly smacking his head on the bench the girls were sitting on. "Ow— hi."
Peter reached out to pull him up, stifling a laugh as he did so. "You okay?"
Harley hummed an affirmative as he stood up, not letting go of Peter's hand. He didn't seem to remember the girls were there until Abby cleared her throat. He looked at her with a slightly dazed expression, then straightened. "Oh, right, Abby, this is—."
"Peter," Abby filled in. She elbowed Jean. "We had time for introductions." Her tone was teasing, but just a little bit irritated.
Harley seemed to notice that immediately. "Oh, right, sorry. But… we can go now." He shot an apologetic look at Peter. "And you can get back to whatever you were doing with..." He pointed at Jean.
"I'm Jean," she said, lamely raising a hand in a half-wave.
"Right, Jean. Got it. Um, nice meeting you." Harley reluctantly pulled his hand out of Peter's.
Jean nodded, standing up and brushing herself off. "You, too. And you, Abby."
Abby smiled, and an idea popped in her head. "Could we, um, trade phone numbers? For fashion stuff."
Jean raised her eyebrows in surprise, then nodded, trying not to act awkward. "Uh, yeah." She pulled her phone out and passed it over, and Abby typed her number in. "I'll call you."
Abby smiled, something small and soft. "Great." She tugged on Harley's sleeve and started to pull him away, back down the park's winding path. "C'ya."
Jean waved goodbye, a slight pinkishness to her cheeks, before turning to Peter, who was still watching Harley go. "So… you want to talk about that?"
Peter licked his lips, which were chapped and bitten. "Uh… how about we do what we were gonna do first? Sorry, by the way, I just… had to."
"It's fine," Jean answered with a shrug. "Now we can get on with it." With that, she started walking towards the park gate, sure that Peter would follow. She looked over her shoulder not to see him, but to get one last look at the blonde girl. She was definitely calling her later.