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WHO: Jessica Jones & YOU(?)
WHERE: The streets of Manhattan.
WHEN: Thursday afternoon.
WARNINGS: Language?
SUMMARY: Jessica Jones goes on an epic quest for coffee, possibly gets distracted.
FORMAT: Tagger's choice, just mention the location (on the street, at the coffee shop, whatever!)

Jessica Jones had cigarettes. Now, she needed caffeine.

Losing Carol (again) hurt more than she thought it would. (Again.) God, she knew deep down she had all these reasons to be fucking angry, but Jessica just felt fuzzy instead. Not fuzzy, like a teddy bear is, the way mom-van detergent commercials are supposed to make you feel. Fuzzy like the whole world was out of focus, just a little. Like nothing was coming through clearly.

Jessica Jones needed caffeine.

So she decided this was something like Manhattan and she could pick a direction and keep going long enough to find a coffee shop, no problem. And that was what she did. She had big clunky sunglasses on, that would keep her from getting too much sun.

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In need of fresh air, or at least a different variety of air conditioning, Peter had packed up his laptop and decamped from the Global Dynamics lab late that morning. Two coffees, a chicken wrap, a slice of banana bread and another coffee later, he was firmly ensconced at a two-person table he'd claimed all for himself, all the detritus of a working lunch spread out across the surface.

He had just typed in another line of code and leaned back to stretch when he glanced up and saw a familiar face.

"Jessica? Jessica Jones?"

"Yeah, what?" said Jessica, not immediately recognizing the voice, immediately full of born-and-raised New Yorker spit.

Then she turned around and saw it was Peter, and immediately her expression became softer. This wasn't some creep. Why did she always think it would be some creep? "Oh, it's you. Hi. I was just— I was getting some coffee."

"I figured," he said, voice bland. "But, um, hi. How're you -- how've you been?" It was just so awkward trying to figure out how to talk to Jessica when she didn't remember anything of their friendship -- especially right now, with the absence of Carol lying between them.

It was just so awkward trying to figure out how to talk to Peter when she was in love with him in high school— especially right now, with the Carol thing.

"I've been. You know." This was off to a terrific start. "I got a job. Doing detective stuff. Jessica Jones, P.I." At least that sounded badass.

"Well, hey, that's pretty cool," Peter said, with possibly more enthusiasm then the news was really due. "Just the usual kind of private eye stuff, or cases that need a little more muscle to them? You know, Heroes for Hire stuff. Er, I mean..."

Wow, a whole thirty seconds before he'd acquired a sudden case of foot-in-mouth-disease.

"No, not… not Heroes for Hire stuff. I'm not going to wear a fucking tiara."

When Jessica felt awkward, she tended to use more four-letter words. She nodded a bit, as if that would make this less strange, less impolite.

Peter kept a straight face with an effort. "Yeah, I, uh ... don't think that'd be your style. You could swing the chain belt, though?" he offered.

"I guess I could, yeah." She smiled, for a second, and suddenly felt the need to clarify.

"I don't really like fighting, though."

"Could've fooled me," Peter said, sounding rather fond about it before he remembered that she didn't remember any of the events on which that fondness was established.

What, was he taking that time she pushed Flash into his locker way too seriously? God, they'd said she had a problem, after that, but Flash was the one with the fucking problem.

"No, I don't. It just… it gets the cops on your case." Why was he being so smiely?

"What, you don't get a license to punch? --Sorry, that was pretty awful," he added after the briefest pause.

"I have a license," she said, out of habit. The cops always asked her that. You needed papers to be a P.I.

"…it's not here, though." She added sheepishly.

He winces sympathetically. "Can you get one here, or is the whole imPort thing 'causing a problem?"

The truth was, she hadn't tried. Really. Because she's lazy. And paperwork is the easiest thing to put off.

"I guess I do know the mayor…"

There was Peter Parker again!

Except this time, "Peter" was sitting at a table with a cup of coffee and an overstuffed briefcase. Also, he had apparently changed into a suit since Jessica had seen him last. And gotten a haircut...?

Maybe it wasn't Peter after all. But the resemblance was uncanny. Aside from the clothes and hair, everything seemed to be the same. Even the sound of his voice as he said (more to himself than to her): "Miss Jones--?"

Jessica had only gone to high school with Peter. Okay, so she'd done her fair bit of staring, back then, but that was a long time ago. A long time ago. High school was always a long time ago, the minute you stepped out of it. The point was, that Jessica Jones was not an expert on Peter Parker, what he looked like now. She was definitely going to fall into this mistaken identity trap.

"Oh, hey." (Again.) Jess was carrying her coffee out of the shop, and now she was squinting at Other Peter. "That was quick."

She didn't know if she was referring to the hair, or the clothes, or the new table. Boys were weird.

It was hard to keep a polite smile on his face when he was so confused.

"Rrrright. That was fast. That thing. That we did...?" Sure, they'd talked briefly before she was 'ported out, but that couldn't be it. Even if this was the same version of Miss Jones, no one cared that much about continuing idle chit-chat.

"Peter— this isn't fucking funny." It was awkward enough trying to talk to people who you knew in high school without the weird jokes.

"Peter? What are you talking about, I'm not—"

His eyes widened as realization dawned on him. Oh, this was going to be fun to explain.

"I- I'm not Parker."

She squinted at him.

"Bullshit."

Then she squinted some more.

He leaned back, as far away from her squinting as he could get.

"I'm serious! M- my name's Reilly. Reilly Tyne. Definitely not Peter Parker, that's not even close. It's just that we. Um. We. You see..."

This face? This face is still squinting.

"Okay. Explain."

It was probably one of those weird alternate universe things. This was one big alternate universe thing, so why not? That did not mean Jessica Jones had to like it.

This face? This face is filled with panic.

"I'm— his, well, see it's kind of a long story but I'm his..."

Deep breath.

"Nephew?"

Apparently not that long.

"I didn't think he had any siblings." Jess could have been wrong, maybe, but this was the kind of thing High School Knowledge was really good for. Then again, Other Peter was really old. Like, his dad had to be sixty-plus old. So maybe Peter had some older sister who was all grown up by the time he got to kindergarten.

Jessica Jones continued her squinting.

Reilly looked down at his cup of coffee like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. "I guess sibling isn't the right word, exactly..."

Gulp. He was not going to say it. Not that dreaded word, the one that started with a C and rhymed with alone. "My dad was a, um. Long lost cousin? On his aunt's side? So I'm not really his nephew, n- not exactly, it's just easier to say that than to give you all this boring family history..."

"One of those… alternate universe things?" She was asking, she didn't know. But it seemed like a good explanation. Jessica was not sufficiently spandexed for the c-l-o-n-e word to drop into her head like that.

"Exactly!" Reilly blurted out, a little too enthusiastic and loud. "Exactly! It's... one of those weird alternate universe things. I wouldn't think about it too much if I were you."

That sounded reasonable. Right?

Jessica's shoulders slumped, exhausted. She'd dealt with too much alternate universe shit to ever want to stand around and sort it out.

"Okay, Other Peter." She probably didn't mean to call him that out loud.

"Reilly. Please don't call me Peter, it's... weird." He frowned.

"Do we— uh, well. Do we look that much alike?"

"Sorry. Shit— I'm sorry." She did mean that, her voice just… it got away from her sometimes.

She twisted her hair around her fingers and glanced to the side. "I don't know Peter that well, I guess. I mean, we went to high school together. But it's been a long time." You could've shown her a picture of anyone with the same vague facial features, told her it was Peter Parker, and she'd believe you. Probably.

"I- It's okay. It's an easy mistake to make– or so I hear? You're not the first person to say we look alike." He tried to give her a smile but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

This wasn't exactly his favorite topic, after all. They'd become friendly here in the City, sure, but the Peter he knew best was judgmental and quick to anger. The thought that he had anything in common with that guy... Reilly shook his head. "But that's cool. I- I don't really know anything about what he was like back then."

Jess didn't, either. She thought she did, you know, when she was dumb and sixteen, but it turned out doodling someone's name in your notebook didn't actually teach you anything about who they really are. It just teaches you stuff about who you want them to be. Not that she was going to say any of that out loud, fuck no.

"Well. He's probably changed a lot. You know, needs to shave now. All of that."

Despite himself, Reilly started laughing.

"Shave?! Oh, you should see his goatee in the future, it's atrocious. The skunk stripe in his hair's all right, I guess, but that thing on his chin... it's just unfortunate."

Oh, Other Pe— Reilly. You are her new favorite person. She didn't care about the weird part of alternate reality weirdness if it meant she could get stories of embarrassing facial hair.

"Tell me more. Would you— would you call it a soul patch?"

The laughs transform into guffaws as he tries, and fails, to cover them his hand.

"Y- Yeah! You could say there's a definite soul patch quality there! It's bad enough seeing that on a guy in his twenties, but when you're pushing fifty it is just sad."

"That's— that's pretty deep. I didn't know he had it in him." It was hard to mental picture someone she mostly knew in high school all grown up and obnoxiously goateed. But it was kind of weirdly comforting, too. Even in an alternate universe.

Her body language relaxed, and she dropped the perpetual squint.

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i saw the peter tag and i couldn't resist, i'm sorry!

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