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[HSM+DC Comics] Party of Three
Title: Party of Three
Fandoms: DC Comics + High School Musical crossover (includes mentions of Uncharted)
Characters: Peyton Leverett, Tom Bronson, Bart Allen, Vicki Vale, Sharpay Evans (mention only), Maxine Hunkel (mention only), Nate Drake (mention only), Elena Fisher (mention only), Jake Bronson (mention only), Tigress (mention only), Captain Cold (mention only), Roulette (mention only)
Summary: Takes place ten years after SCA. Peyton and Tom reunite over an old dinner... and both simultaneously deal with the unexpected addition of one Bart Allen to their dinner party. And what's this about Flash and the Wildcat being in town?
Rating: PG (for language)
Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me! I think you know who owns what by now. ♥
The minute you heard that your old friend from college was in town, you planned the best dinner you could afford. Considering you were now one of the up-and-coming directors in Hollywood, with a few good films to your name, this dinner would be nothing short of elaborate. You wanted him to see that you'd been making a name for yourself. Not that he hadn't noticed; you occasionally recieved Facebook messages from him about something you'd been working on, just because he cared for your sanity.
If you hadn't been so aggravated by your actors at that point, you might've been touched by the gestures. Your old friend Tom didn't exactly live within a short train ride anymore, not since you'd moved away from New York City to work in LA. He'd remained in Brooklyn all these years, only swapping his brownstone for a new one in a much nicer part of town, the kind that actually looked nice both inside and out. Life had treated him well too: every now and then, you heard college students rate Professor Tom Bronson as one of the nicest and most genuine Statistics professors they'd had in years.
It swelled your heart up with pride: he taught you Math too, if only unofficially and because he was concerned that you didn't know what the derivative of ex2-5x3 was. (You were a director, for crying out loud! You didn't need to know college calculus anymore!)
So you'd decided, out of the goodness of your heart, to reserve a table at one of the nicer restaurants in the LA area. Not that sushi place, since you'd be hounded by the paps for sure, but one in the suburbs that Hollywood hadn't heard of in a while. You knew Bronson wouldn't appreciate something super fancy; he'd never been the kind of guy to willingly splurge on expensive food.
Everything seemed like it would fit into place. You wrapped up the shoot early today, just so you could meet Bronson at 6:30 PM on the nose, and you were just about to head out the door when your assistant stopped you at the doorframe.
"Mr. Leverett," she says with the utmost urgency, "Don't forget your appointment with Mr. Allen! It's at six thirty!"
Shit.
Was that today? In the midst of reminsicing and packing up, you'd completely forgotten that you'd also promised a colleague of yours a business dinner. You press your lips together, slinging your familiar messenger bag strap across your shoulder, before you slowly ask, "... Do you have Bart's number? I think we'll have a slight change of plans tonight."
Your assistant wryly smiles at you. "Forgot again, didn't you?"
"It tends to happen," You shrug sheepishly. "But let him know that we'll be meeting at Jade Harbor instead---and that I'm bringing a non-work-related friend with me."
She nods, immediately dialing your colleague as you turn to head out the door. Well, you supposed Bart wouldn't mind too much: for someone who showed up to work late, he always had an impeccable sense of time. You were also footing the bill tonight. As long as Bart didn't eat the restaurant whole, with his seemingly bottomless stomach that rivaled Tom's most nights, this dinner should kill two birds with one stone just fine.
Jade Harbor was just as you'd remembered it. The large Thai restaurant was completely surrounded by palm trees, large green lanterns (no relation to the superheroes: you checked), and the occasional stream of Christmas lights wrapped around individual tree trunks. It felt almost mystical, in a way, to come back here and step forward.
You could see Tom sitting on a bench right beside the large double doors. Time had treated him well: you'd seen his Facebook photos with him and his darling wife Maxine, but it'd been about a year since you'd seen him in person. He'd cut his dark brown hair short, and had finally ditched the leather bomber jacket for a crisp black leather jacket and a simple band t-shirt. Tom always knew the obscure bands before you did; he never let you forget about the time you thought Ingrid Michaelson wouldn't become famous.
In his hands, he holds a tightly-wounded string of yarn. He forms patterns with it deftly, every-so-often starting over and forming something new. You recognize the cat's cradle when he creates it twice, and Jacob's Ladder, but everything after that looks unfamiliar. Part of you realizes that you missed him holding a cigarette in his hands; you even swear you could smell the familiar stench of his smoke wafting from his jacket.
"Hey," You say as you approach him . "Did Jake teach you that?"
Tom laughs, grinning widely at you as he stands up and pockets the yarn, "More like Jake's teacher taught me. It seemed interesting... and it keeps my hands busy, so I can't complain."
Without warning, he leans forward and gives you a one-armed hug. You flinch, "Bronson!"
"Lighten up, Leverett," He teases you, sticking his tongue out before straightening his t-shirt. "It's not like I see you every day anymore."
Just this once, you decide to let it slide.
"So how've you been?" You ask, glancing up at him. "Everything in New York going alright? I hear Jake's been walking... and not from your Facebook page, like I thought I would."
Tom rolls his eyes, "Not everyone gives minute-to-minute updates of their kids' lives, Leverett."
You feel like you should be insulted. After all, you didn't even have kids! Sharpay had been so focused on her work that she didn't have time to think about going to the fertility specialist, much less scheduling an appointment in the first place. You wanted to start your family, and you envied Tom for getting a headstart. Maxine seemed like the kind of girl who'd eagerly start adopting kids or having kids or just... wanting something more than a career.
A long time back, you'd asked Maxine out on a date once. She'd accepted, but had to bow out at the last minute because of "unexpected emergencies." You had to wonder what would've happened if she showed up. Would she have been Mrs. Leverett, instead of Mrs. Bronson? The thought's too sickening, even for you, so you immediately toss it aside in time for Tom to finish lecturing about the evils of uploading videos of potty training memories to Youtube.
(Apparently one of Tom's friends, some guy from Keystone City, had been so eager about sharing moments with his friends that he'd half-forgotten that potty training was that one moment in life that shouldn't be shared with anyone.)
"Right, right," You say absent-mindedly, motioning for Tom to follow you inside. "I swear I won't upload those videos to Youtube, if only for my future unnamed son's sanity."
"Thank you," Tom sighs with some relief, though his arched eyebrow indicates that he doesn't really believe you at all.
As you walk inside, a burst of wind immediately pushes you two forwards. You don't remember it being that windy outside. LA weather was never that crazy---maybe the air conditioning in here was worse than usual? You glance over your shoulder at the clear sky outside, before shrugging and asking for 'Leverett, party of three.'
"Three?" Tom sounds even more surprised than usual. "Who's eating with us?"
You sheepishly smile at him. "A friend from work. I promised him we'd talk shop, but it shouldn't take too long---"
"Peyton!"
Your explanation was immediately interrupted by the tightest bear hug you'd ever been given in your life, and you'd had some tight bear hugs from Aunt Elena and Uncle Nate. Gasping for air, you try to push your assisaliant off, only to realize halfway through that you'd just pushed poor Bart towards the brick wall.
"Hey," You say, still trying to catch your breath. "A little warning next time, will you Bart?"
Bart laughs, folding his arms as he inspects you carefully. Like Tom, Bart'd dressed decently for the occasion in dark blue jeans and a crisp blazer, though you half-frowned at the t-shirt underneath. Now that you thought about it, both Tom and Bart seemed to share similar taste in obscure bands (and in Bart's case, television). "But that's half the fun," He insists, sticking his tongue out at you. "If everyone had warning, then the surprise'd go away."
For a minute, Tom stares at Bart with complete and utter surprise. "Uh..."
"Sorry," You say, giving Tom the most apologetic smile. "I swear, this is just how Bart is. Bart Allen, this is the friend from college I've been telling you about--Professor Tom Bronson?"
Bart shoots Tom a confused look and opens his mouth, to start to say something---
"It's nice to meet you," Tom interrupts, hastily extending his hand to Bart.
With much reluctance, Bart takes his own hand out and shakes Tom's with the all the force of a wet noodle. "But we..."
"But we what?" Tom says with as much innocence as he can muster. "We've never met before, right Mr. Allen?"
Was it possible for a meeting to become significantly more awkward in mere seconds? You didn't expect this: Bart's and Tom's outgoing and friendly natures should have made them perfect candidates for friendship. They should've immediately latched onto each other! Became buddies for life! Or at the very least, made small talk about the weather. As it was, the restaurant patrons were currently paying more attention to you than the baseball game on TV.
Considering Tom's past relationships, you wondered if Tom actually knew Bart beforehand. But even you knew that there was no plausible way for your colleague and your old college friend to know each other: Bart hadn't stepped foot in New York long enough to even be six degrees removed from Tom Bronson, save for knowing you---and you prided yourself on finally having friends that didn't know Bronson.
It took a move across the country, but you could finally call these people your own, and not people Professor Bronson had mystically managed to befriend beforehand.
"Riiiiiight," Bart says after a moment of awkward silence. "So uh... you're a college professor. What do you teach?"
"Statistics," Tom responds, stuffing his hands in his pockets as the three of you follow the waitress to your designated booth. "It's an intro-level course, but the students seem receptive enough when they're not hungover."
Bart snorts, "Didn't you make a game out of it once?"
Tom raises an eyebrow as he takes his seat next to Bart and across from you. "I'm..."
"I told Bart," You interrupt, not quite sure why the conversation quickly turned sour. "See, we've had meetings before to talk about plots and we thought we might incorporate that into something later down the road."
"Oh," Tom says with some relief. "For a minute here, I was about to accuse him of being psychic."
Bart simply sticks his tongue out at Tom in response.
Thank god those menus arrived when they did: you didn't know how much more of this awkward silence you could take. So once the waiter took the table's orders for drinks (Coke for Tom, a Arnold Palmer for Bart, and a Thai Iced Tea for you), you sat up straighter and began to babble on and on about the weather. How nice it had been in LA, how much you were looking forward to going to the beach this weekend... Just anything to keep your mind off the fact that you had just made the most awkward descision of your life in a very, very long time.
"Um..." Bart says halfway through your rant. "And I thought I was talkative---OW."
(Was that the sound of Bart's foot being trampled on?) Tom clears his throat, "I'm sure your beach trip'll be relaxing. So how'd you and Bart meet? I'm kind of curious."
"Oh, that..." You smile, incredibly grateful for the subject change, "Remember that animated film I worked on last year? Bart happened to be one of the lead animators on it. We stayed late after work one day to talk about it, and before we knew it, one conversation turned into two, two became four... and here we are."
"Peyton also happens to make really good paninis," Bart adds helpfully. Leaning forward and resting his arms on the table, he elaborates, "I mean, Tom---OW! Tomorrow, I'm gonna try'ta make some paninis, but I don't think they'll be half as good as yours."
That was an odd choice of words. You stare at Bart, but decide not to question him for now. "Yeah? Call me if you have any trouble. I might be in the studio, but I can probably make some time for a friend..."
Tom can't help chuckling, "Oh, I'm sure he'll probably call about something or another."
"So you and Tom're old college friends, right?" Bart asks, resting his head ontop of his arms. "I know you and Tom both went to NYU... so did y'all share any classes together? Or were you in the same clubs?"
"More like his roommate was my mom's best friend's daughter," You say, knowing full well the ridiculousness of that connection. Your eyes still half-wandering to the score of the baseball game, you then explain. "I was asked to look over my friend Sharpay and make sure she was settling into New York okay, but I didn't expect her to be roommates with Tom over here."
"Oh? Why not?"
Tom smirks, "Yeah, Leverett. Why not?"
"Well..."
That's about all you can say before the waitress comes back and gives the table their drinks. Thank god; you didn't think you could worm your way out of that conversation easily. Although Tom was currently an upstanding member of society with a high-paying job, a loving wife, and a young son, he'd been a long way from that when you first met him.
In all honesty, you used to believe that he'd end up in a rough place. To this day, you still aren't sure what inspired Tom to seize his life back. You'd be kidding yourself if you thought Aunt Elena or Sharpay pushed him into shape. They might've wanted the credit, but you had a nagging feeling that something else had triggered the change. Something bigger than just the influence of your family.
The minute the waitress leaves with your orders and menus, you fall back into the hot water.
"Come on," Bart's practically begging. "This sounds like it'll be a good story!"
You hesitate for a minute longer before acquiesing to Bart's request, "Alright. Back in the day, Tom had some interesting habits like... his---"
"Addiction to World of Warcraft," Tom quickly finishes for you. Funny, Tom's normally all for exchanging drunken shenanigans and trying to one-up people, especially if they were younger kids like Bart. "Sharpay thought it was the most ridiculous thing. I'd probably play hours before I realized just what time - or day - it was."
"Uh-huh." Bart scowls, blowing his bangs out of his face as he watches your friend. "Warcraft? Really?"
"Really," You laugh. "It's kind of unfortunate, but Bronson here's a huge nerd. Thankfully, it never extended to Star Trek."
"Though maybe it should have," Tom snorts. "You never did stop giving me hell for it."
"But you like Disney movies, right?" Bart asks. "I mean, I.... OW."
You could've excused one time, or maybe even twice... but three? In fifteen minutes alone? It seemed like too much of a coincidence, even for you. You shoot Tom a Look, the kind that somehow manages to encompass all of your fury and rage upon your old friend, "Are you doing that?"
Bart winces, "It's either him or some supervillain planted something here... ow."
Tom's a terrible actor: he tries his hardest, but you can tell he's very much amused by the conversation at hand. Your Look doesn't even faze him one bit. The worst part? He knows that you know, and he wouldn't be afraid to admit it if it came up later.
"Alright," You sigh. "One of you's not telling me something... so be honest here."
Bart and Tom exchange nervous glances. If you were directing a scene, this would've been the perfect moment for a cricket to chirp or the pin to slowly fall down. The entire restaurant around you might be buzzing with activity, but your booth had effectively been silenced by your sheer audacity.
"We might've done some crazy stuff in college," Tom slowly admits after a while. "But I don't think Bart needs to hear them. Not the weird ones."
"Aww." Bart doesn't seem too disappointed as he leans back in his seat. In fact, he actually seems just as amused as Tom. "So you're not going to tell me about the time you and Peyton got kicked out of Target for your Halloween Costume parade?"
"Wh---HOW----WHEN---BART!"
You snicker. "I guess I must've told him..." You can't remember just when you did, and that concerns you: that story had been an epic for the ages. You think you would've remembered telling Bart a story that over-the-top. "... Unless he saw the video that might've made it onto Youtube?"
Tom snarls, not unlike some fierce feral animal, "Leverett!"
Holy shit, when he stomped on your foot, he stomped much harder than you could've ever imagined. You yelp, "OW! Bronson, what the hell---!"
For not the first time that night, you're incredibly grateful that your food arrives at that precise moment. You've gotta give that waitress a generous tip; if she's not psychic, she might as well have been, judging from how she picks the best moments to swoop in and save you from your fate.
Your foot still numb from that beating, you wince before leaning forward to take a spring roll. "I'll take it down," you say reluctantly, more out of a desire to come out of this dinner alive than any actual desire to appease your friend. "Just remind me once we get back to my place."
Since when did Tom have the ability to trample on people that hard? You don't remember the Great Pacifist learning how to fight dirty. It's possible that he picked the habit up from Uncle Nate, since the two still had the occasional drink at the bar after all these years, but you doubt it. Uncle Nate could never swell your foot like that even when he tried to.
"Thanks," Tom grins. Honestly, you're just happy that he's decided to turn his attention elsewhere. "So while we're on the subject of crazy things... my conference today was interrupted by Roulette."
Bart snickers, "I saw! Didn't she have anything better to do?"
"Didn't seem like it," Tom said in-between bites of curried shrimp. "I mean, she wasn't actually there for the conference - that's be beyond crazy - but I think she had some business at UCLA, so of course everything went haywire."
"Thank god the Flash and Wildcat came to save the day!" Bart cheerfully finishes for Tom.
"No way. The Flash and Wildcat were here? At UCLA?" Regret immediately fills your stomach. What if you'd managed to leave work just a little bit earlier? Then you might've been able to catch two of your favorite superheroes! They'd been everyday instances in New York, since the JSA was headquarted there, but you rarely saw them in person these days. Getting to see them here would've been a dream come true!
Bart stares at you oddly, the same way Tom did the first time he heard about your (perfectly normal) obsession. "Yeah? Um, what's wrong?"
"I just barely missed them," You moan, resting the side of your head on the table. "That would've been the perfect opportunity..."
"So you're a fan." Bart asks, the slightest hint of a smile betraying his confusion. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get to see them again."
"Yeah Leverett," Tom responds just as cheerfully. "Seriously, it's not the end of the world."
"Maybe not to you guys," You pout at them. How could they be so happy about this? They didn't just miss seeing their heroes in person! Now you were stuck having dinner with your friend and your work colleague, who were both perfectly awesome people in their own right, but definitely not the heroes you filmed for class so many years ago. Okay, so maybe the Flash and Wildcat had different people in their mantles, but it was the same principle!
Very awkwardly, Tom leans forward and pokes your shoulder. "Maybe not, but don't beat yourself up over it."
Now he sounded regretful. Damn, were you acting like that much of a brat over a superhero sighting? For god's sake, you were a grown man! You try to recooperate from the blow with a gracious smile as you take another spring roll and eat it. "I'll try not to," You say, attempting a brave face as you look at him (and not the game). "Sorry."
Somehow, Bart's managed to finish four whole appetizers by himself. "Yeah man," He says in-between bowls. "The JSA's everywhere." Sheepishly, he then holds out a finished bowl for you, "Um... sorry, but can we order some more? I didn't exactly get to eat lunch today."
You glance over at Tom, half-wondering if you really needed to apologize. "Sorry, Bart's a big eater."
Tom shakes his head, "Don't worry about it. I know people like him pretty well."
Bart makes another face at your poor friend. "Hey!"
Despite all the awkwardness of earlier, you and Tom can't help laughing at Bart as you flag the waitress over for yet another round of appetizers. You suspect you'll be here for a lot longer than you expected, and although you still regret not seeing Flash and Wildcat, part of you really wants to believe in Tom and Bart. They usually didn't lie about superhero sightings. For people who didn't care much for capes, they certainly seemed to know more about the world than they let on.
You once speculated that Tom was either descended from a cape or dated a cape at some point in time, and Bart... well, you'd seen his girlfriend Cissie King-Jones. She was an Olympic archer who'd been good friends with Wonder Girl back in the day. You wouldn't be surprised if Bart got his information through her or her friends.
Yet you hated thinking about such things, especially now. Bart and Tom were just trying to cheer you up, and you immediately twisted it into something involving capes. God, maybe your obsession wasn't so normal after all.
Now, you'd honestly been half-following the baseball game on the TV behind Tom and Bart. You didn't care much for baseball, but its constant nature had been surprisingly soothing when confronted with Tom and Bart. You hadn't really told your friends the score, since you honestly didn't know who was winning, and frankly, not that many people in the restaurant were paying attention to it either. It was more of an atmospheric piece than something people actually watched.
Without warning, the channel shifted and you recognized Vicki Vale as she stood outside one of the skyscrapers downtown. "We come to you live from the scene of a crime---"
Bart and Tom turn their heads towards the TV in perfect synch. The entire restaurant's silent - for real this time - as Vicki explains that two members of the Injustice Society have their eyes on some technology hidden within the building and that the JSA'd surely be coming at any moment to quell the flames. You want to believe her; the JSA usually arrives within the nick of time.
"Um..." Bart and Tom immediately stand up at the same time. They laugh before Tom awkwardly sits back down and nods at Bart.
"Sorry," Bart says, already halfway out of the booth. "But I've gotta go---I'll be back in like five minutes, I promise."
He runs towards the door ("Bart, the bathroom's the other way!") but you don't think he heard you the first, second, or third time. You sheepishly watch him go---
"The Flash's on the scene!" Vicki cheerfully announces, not that anyone watching could've mistaken that familiar red-yellow blur. "Thank god," she murmurs, clearly not aware the microphone heard that.
Tom's pulling his phone out from his pocket. He makes a face, staring at some text he'd just received, before he gets up and motions towards the door. "I've gotta take this call," He apologizes. "I'll be back soon too..."
Just before heading out, he glances over his shoulder to watch the scene unfold on TV. "... But just in case, I'd recommend getting the check now. And getting everything packed up."
"Huh?"
"See you in a bit!" Tom promises, before hurrying out the door.
You sit there for a little bit longer as you try to process just what'd happened. Did your work friend... who was supposed to talk shop... and your friend who was there to see you.... did they just bail out on you? Not that it hadn't happened before; Bart's work as lead animator often demanded some strange questions at odd hours, and Tom often had to answer crazy emails late at night. But never had it happened to you at once---and part of you wondered if Tom'd really gotten a text. You hadn't heard his phone buzz once throughout the evening.
Still, you do call the waitress over and ask her to bring everything else to go, and if she could please hurry and get the check because you've got somewhere to be.
"And there's Wildcat!" Vicki's cheering as you pack up your takeout order in your car and head downtown. "Looks like this is gonna be a rough one, folks... Wildcat and Flash versus Tigress and Captain Cold. Who'll come out on top?"
That's silly, you want to yell back at her. Wildcat and Flash will always win. They're heroes, it's what they do...
You? Well, you've got a front row seat to catch. And this time? You're not going to miss a second of the action.
Fandoms: DC Comics + High School Musical crossover (includes mentions of Uncharted)
Characters: Peyton Leverett, Tom Bronson, Bart Allen, Vicki Vale, Sharpay Evans (mention only), Maxine Hunkel (mention only), Nate Drake (mention only), Elena Fisher (mention only), Jake Bronson (mention only), Tigress (mention only), Captain Cold (mention only), Roulette (mention only)
Summary: Takes place ten years after SCA. Peyton and Tom reunite over an old dinner... and both simultaneously deal with the unexpected addition of one Bart Allen to their dinner party. And what's this about Flash and the Wildcat being in town?
Rating: PG (for language)
Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me! I think you know who owns what by now. ♥
The minute you heard that your old friend from college was in town, you planned the best dinner you could afford. Considering you were now one of the up-and-coming directors in Hollywood, with a few good films to your name, this dinner would be nothing short of elaborate. You wanted him to see that you'd been making a name for yourself. Not that he hadn't noticed; you occasionally recieved Facebook messages from him about something you'd been working on, just because he cared for your sanity.
If you hadn't been so aggravated by your actors at that point, you might've been touched by the gestures. Your old friend Tom didn't exactly live within a short train ride anymore, not since you'd moved away from New York City to work in LA. He'd remained in Brooklyn all these years, only swapping his brownstone for a new one in a much nicer part of town, the kind that actually looked nice both inside and out. Life had treated him well too: every now and then, you heard college students rate Professor Tom Bronson as one of the nicest and most genuine Statistics professors they'd had in years.
It swelled your heart up with pride: he taught you Math too, if only unofficially and because he was concerned that you didn't know what the derivative of ex2-5x3 was. (You were a director, for crying out loud! You didn't need to know college calculus anymore!)
So you'd decided, out of the goodness of your heart, to reserve a table at one of the nicer restaurants in the LA area. Not that sushi place, since you'd be hounded by the paps for sure, but one in the suburbs that Hollywood hadn't heard of in a while. You knew Bronson wouldn't appreciate something super fancy; he'd never been the kind of guy to willingly splurge on expensive food.
Everything seemed like it would fit into place. You wrapped up the shoot early today, just so you could meet Bronson at 6:30 PM on the nose, and you were just about to head out the door when your assistant stopped you at the doorframe.
"Mr. Leverett," she says with the utmost urgency, "Don't forget your appointment with Mr. Allen! It's at six thirty!"
Shit.
Was that today? In the midst of reminsicing and packing up, you'd completely forgotten that you'd also promised a colleague of yours a business dinner. You press your lips together, slinging your familiar messenger bag strap across your shoulder, before you slowly ask, "... Do you have Bart's number? I think we'll have a slight change of plans tonight."
Your assistant wryly smiles at you. "Forgot again, didn't you?"
"It tends to happen," You shrug sheepishly. "But let him know that we'll be meeting at Jade Harbor instead---and that I'm bringing a non-work-related friend with me."
She nods, immediately dialing your colleague as you turn to head out the door. Well, you supposed Bart wouldn't mind too much: for someone who showed up to work late, he always had an impeccable sense of time. You were also footing the bill tonight. As long as Bart didn't eat the restaurant whole, with his seemingly bottomless stomach that rivaled Tom's most nights, this dinner should kill two birds with one stone just fine.
Jade Harbor was just as you'd remembered it. The large Thai restaurant was completely surrounded by palm trees, large green lanterns (no relation to the superheroes: you checked), and the occasional stream of Christmas lights wrapped around individual tree trunks. It felt almost mystical, in a way, to come back here and step forward.
You could see Tom sitting on a bench right beside the large double doors. Time had treated him well: you'd seen his Facebook photos with him and his darling wife Maxine, but it'd been about a year since you'd seen him in person. He'd cut his dark brown hair short, and had finally ditched the leather bomber jacket for a crisp black leather jacket and a simple band t-shirt. Tom always knew the obscure bands before you did; he never let you forget about the time you thought Ingrid Michaelson wouldn't become famous.
In his hands, he holds a tightly-wounded string of yarn. He forms patterns with it deftly, every-so-often starting over and forming something new. You recognize the cat's cradle when he creates it twice, and Jacob's Ladder, but everything after that looks unfamiliar. Part of you realizes that you missed him holding a cigarette in his hands; you even swear you could smell the familiar stench of his smoke wafting from his jacket.
"Hey," You say as you approach him . "Did Jake teach you that?"
Tom laughs, grinning widely at you as he stands up and pockets the yarn, "More like Jake's teacher taught me. It seemed interesting... and it keeps my hands busy, so I can't complain."
Without warning, he leans forward and gives you a one-armed hug. You flinch, "Bronson!"
"Lighten up, Leverett," He teases you, sticking his tongue out before straightening his t-shirt. "It's not like I see you every day anymore."
Just this once, you decide to let it slide.
"So how've you been?" You ask, glancing up at him. "Everything in New York going alright? I hear Jake's been walking... and not from your Facebook page, like I thought I would."
Tom rolls his eyes, "Not everyone gives minute-to-minute updates of their kids' lives, Leverett."
You feel like you should be insulted. After all, you didn't even have kids! Sharpay had been so focused on her work that she didn't have time to think about going to the fertility specialist, much less scheduling an appointment in the first place. You wanted to start your family, and you envied Tom for getting a headstart. Maxine seemed like the kind of girl who'd eagerly start adopting kids or having kids or just... wanting something more than a career.
A long time back, you'd asked Maxine out on a date once. She'd accepted, but had to bow out at the last minute because of "unexpected emergencies." You had to wonder what would've happened if she showed up. Would she have been Mrs. Leverett, instead of Mrs. Bronson? The thought's too sickening, even for you, so you immediately toss it aside in time for Tom to finish lecturing about the evils of uploading videos of potty training memories to Youtube.
(Apparently one of Tom's friends, some guy from Keystone City, had been so eager about sharing moments with his friends that he'd half-forgotten that potty training was that one moment in life that shouldn't be shared with anyone.)
"Right, right," You say absent-mindedly, motioning for Tom to follow you inside. "I swear I won't upload those videos to Youtube, if only for my future unnamed son's sanity."
"Thank you," Tom sighs with some relief, though his arched eyebrow indicates that he doesn't really believe you at all.
As you walk inside, a burst of wind immediately pushes you two forwards. You don't remember it being that windy outside. LA weather was never that crazy---maybe the air conditioning in here was worse than usual? You glance over your shoulder at the clear sky outside, before shrugging and asking for 'Leverett, party of three.'
"Three?" Tom sounds even more surprised than usual. "Who's eating with us?"
You sheepishly smile at him. "A friend from work. I promised him we'd talk shop, but it shouldn't take too long---"
"Peyton!"
Your explanation was immediately interrupted by the tightest bear hug you'd ever been given in your life, and you'd had some tight bear hugs from Aunt Elena and Uncle Nate. Gasping for air, you try to push your assisaliant off, only to realize halfway through that you'd just pushed poor Bart towards the brick wall.
"Hey," You say, still trying to catch your breath. "A little warning next time, will you Bart?"
Bart laughs, folding his arms as he inspects you carefully. Like Tom, Bart'd dressed decently for the occasion in dark blue jeans and a crisp blazer, though you half-frowned at the t-shirt underneath. Now that you thought about it, both Tom and Bart seemed to share similar taste in obscure bands (and in Bart's case, television). "But that's half the fun," He insists, sticking his tongue out at you. "If everyone had warning, then the surprise'd go away."
For a minute, Tom stares at Bart with complete and utter surprise. "Uh..."
"Sorry," You say, giving Tom the most apologetic smile. "I swear, this is just how Bart is. Bart Allen, this is the friend from college I've been telling you about--Professor Tom Bronson?"
Bart shoots Tom a confused look and opens his mouth, to start to say something---
"It's nice to meet you," Tom interrupts, hastily extending his hand to Bart.
With much reluctance, Bart takes his own hand out and shakes Tom's with the all the force of a wet noodle. "But we..."
"But we what?" Tom says with as much innocence as he can muster. "We've never met before, right Mr. Allen?"
Was it possible for a meeting to become significantly more awkward in mere seconds? You didn't expect this: Bart's and Tom's outgoing and friendly natures should have made them perfect candidates for friendship. They should've immediately latched onto each other! Became buddies for life! Or at the very least, made small talk about the weather. As it was, the restaurant patrons were currently paying more attention to you than the baseball game on TV.
Considering Tom's past relationships, you wondered if Tom actually knew Bart beforehand. But even you knew that there was no plausible way for your colleague and your old college friend to know each other: Bart hadn't stepped foot in New York long enough to even be six degrees removed from Tom Bronson, save for knowing you---and you prided yourself on finally having friends that didn't know Bronson.
It took a move across the country, but you could finally call these people your own, and not people Professor Bronson had mystically managed to befriend beforehand.
"Riiiiiight," Bart says after a moment of awkward silence. "So uh... you're a college professor. What do you teach?"
"Statistics," Tom responds, stuffing his hands in his pockets as the three of you follow the waitress to your designated booth. "It's an intro-level course, but the students seem receptive enough when they're not hungover."
Bart snorts, "Didn't you make a game out of it once?"
Tom raises an eyebrow as he takes his seat next to Bart and across from you. "I'm..."
"I told Bart," You interrupt, not quite sure why the conversation quickly turned sour. "See, we've had meetings before to talk about plots and we thought we might incorporate that into something later down the road."
"Oh," Tom says with some relief. "For a minute here, I was about to accuse him of being psychic."
Bart simply sticks his tongue out at Tom in response.
Thank god those menus arrived when they did: you didn't know how much more of this awkward silence you could take. So once the waiter took the table's orders for drinks (Coke for Tom, a Arnold Palmer for Bart, and a Thai Iced Tea for you), you sat up straighter and began to babble on and on about the weather. How nice it had been in LA, how much you were looking forward to going to the beach this weekend... Just anything to keep your mind off the fact that you had just made the most awkward descision of your life in a very, very long time.
"Um..." Bart says halfway through your rant. "And I thought I was talkative---OW."
(Was that the sound of Bart's foot being trampled on?) Tom clears his throat, "I'm sure your beach trip'll be relaxing. So how'd you and Bart meet? I'm kind of curious."
"Oh, that..." You smile, incredibly grateful for the subject change, "Remember that animated film I worked on last year? Bart happened to be one of the lead animators on it. We stayed late after work one day to talk about it, and before we knew it, one conversation turned into two, two became four... and here we are."
"Peyton also happens to make really good paninis," Bart adds helpfully. Leaning forward and resting his arms on the table, he elaborates, "I mean, Tom---OW! Tomorrow, I'm gonna try'ta make some paninis, but I don't think they'll be half as good as yours."
That was an odd choice of words. You stare at Bart, but decide not to question him for now. "Yeah? Call me if you have any trouble. I might be in the studio, but I can probably make some time for a friend..."
Tom can't help chuckling, "Oh, I'm sure he'll probably call about something or another."
"So you and Tom're old college friends, right?" Bart asks, resting his head ontop of his arms. "I know you and Tom both went to NYU... so did y'all share any classes together? Or were you in the same clubs?"
"More like his roommate was my mom's best friend's daughter," You say, knowing full well the ridiculousness of that connection. Your eyes still half-wandering to the score of the baseball game, you then explain. "I was asked to look over my friend Sharpay and make sure she was settling into New York okay, but I didn't expect her to be roommates with Tom over here."
"Oh? Why not?"
Tom smirks, "Yeah, Leverett. Why not?"
"Well..."
That's about all you can say before the waitress comes back and gives the table their drinks. Thank god; you didn't think you could worm your way out of that conversation easily. Although Tom was currently an upstanding member of society with a high-paying job, a loving wife, and a young son, he'd been a long way from that when you first met him.
In all honesty, you used to believe that he'd end up in a rough place. To this day, you still aren't sure what inspired Tom to seize his life back. You'd be kidding yourself if you thought Aunt Elena or Sharpay pushed him into shape. They might've wanted the credit, but you had a nagging feeling that something else had triggered the change. Something bigger than just the influence of your family.
The minute the waitress leaves with your orders and menus, you fall back into the hot water.
"Come on," Bart's practically begging. "This sounds like it'll be a good story!"
You hesitate for a minute longer before acquiesing to Bart's request, "Alright. Back in the day, Tom had some interesting habits like... his---"
"Addiction to World of Warcraft," Tom quickly finishes for you. Funny, Tom's normally all for exchanging drunken shenanigans and trying to one-up people, especially if they were younger kids like Bart. "Sharpay thought it was the most ridiculous thing. I'd probably play hours before I realized just what time - or day - it was."
"Uh-huh." Bart scowls, blowing his bangs out of his face as he watches your friend. "Warcraft? Really?"
"Really," You laugh. "It's kind of unfortunate, but Bronson here's a huge nerd. Thankfully, it never extended to Star Trek."
"Though maybe it should have," Tom snorts. "You never did stop giving me hell for it."
"But you like Disney movies, right?" Bart asks. "I mean, I.... OW."
You could've excused one time, or maybe even twice... but three? In fifteen minutes alone? It seemed like too much of a coincidence, even for you. You shoot Tom a Look, the kind that somehow manages to encompass all of your fury and rage upon your old friend, "Are you doing that?"
Bart winces, "It's either him or some supervillain planted something here... ow."
Tom's a terrible actor: he tries his hardest, but you can tell he's very much amused by the conversation at hand. Your Look doesn't even faze him one bit. The worst part? He knows that you know, and he wouldn't be afraid to admit it if it came up later.
"Alright," You sigh. "One of you's not telling me something... so be honest here."
Bart and Tom exchange nervous glances. If you were directing a scene, this would've been the perfect moment for a cricket to chirp or the pin to slowly fall down. The entire restaurant around you might be buzzing with activity, but your booth had effectively been silenced by your sheer audacity.
"We might've done some crazy stuff in college," Tom slowly admits after a while. "But I don't think Bart needs to hear them. Not the weird ones."
"Aww." Bart doesn't seem too disappointed as he leans back in his seat. In fact, he actually seems just as amused as Tom. "So you're not going to tell me about the time you and Peyton got kicked out of Target for your Halloween Costume parade?"
"Wh---HOW----WHEN---BART!"
You snicker. "I guess I must've told him..." You can't remember just when you did, and that concerns you: that story had been an epic for the ages. You think you would've remembered telling Bart a story that over-the-top. "... Unless he saw the video that might've made it onto Youtube?"
Tom snarls, not unlike some fierce feral animal, "Leverett!"
Holy shit, when he stomped on your foot, he stomped much harder than you could've ever imagined. You yelp, "OW! Bronson, what the hell---!"
For not the first time that night, you're incredibly grateful that your food arrives at that precise moment. You've gotta give that waitress a generous tip; if she's not psychic, she might as well have been, judging from how she picks the best moments to swoop in and save you from your fate.
Your foot still numb from that beating, you wince before leaning forward to take a spring roll. "I'll take it down," you say reluctantly, more out of a desire to come out of this dinner alive than any actual desire to appease your friend. "Just remind me once we get back to my place."
Since when did Tom have the ability to trample on people that hard? You don't remember the Great Pacifist learning how to fight dirty. It's possible that he picked the habit up from Uncle Nate, since the two still had the occasional drink at the bar after all these years, but you doubt it. Uncle Nate could never swell your foot like that even when he tried to.
"Thanks," Tom grins. Honestly, you're just happy that he's decided to turn his attention elsewhere. "So while we're on the subject of crazy things... my conference today was interrupted by Roulette."
Bart snickers, "I saw! Didn't she have anything better to do?"
"Didn't seem like it," Tom said in-between bites of curried shrimp. "I mean, she wasn't actually there for the conference - that's be beyond crazy - but I think she had some business at UCLA, so of course everything went haywire."
"Thank god the Flash and Wildcat came to save the day!" Bart cheerfully finishes for Tom.
"No way. The Flash and Wildcat were here? At UCLA?" Regret immediately fills your stomach. What if you'd managed to leave work just a little bit earlier? Then you might've been able to catch two of your favorite superheroes! They'd been everyday instances in New York, since the JSA was headquarted there, but you rarely saw them in person these days. Getting to see them here would've been a dream come true!
Bart stares at you oddly, the same way Tom did the first time he heard about your (perfectly normal) obsession. "Yeah? Um, what's wrong?"
"I just barely missed them," You moan, resting the side of your head on the table. "That would've been the perfect opportunity..."
"So you're a fan." Bart asks, the slightest hint of a smile betraying his confusion. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get to see them again."
"Yeah Leverett," Tom responds just as cheerfully. "Seriously, it's not the end of the world."
"Maybe not to you guys," You pout at them. How could they be so happy about this? They didn't just miss seeing their heroes in person! Now you were stuck having dinner with your friend and your work colleague, who were both perfectly awesome people in their own right, but definitely not the heroes you filmed for class so many years ago. Okay, so maybe the Flash and Wildcat had different people in their mantles, but it was the same principle!
Very awkwardly, Tom leans forward and pokes your shoulder. "Maybe not, but don't beat yourself up over it."
Now he sounded regretful. Damn, were you acting like that much of a brat over a superhero sighting? For god's sake, you were a grown man! You try to recooperate from the blow with a gracious smile as you take another spring roll and eat it. "I'll try not to," You say, attempting a brave face as you look at him (and not the game). "Sorry."
Somehow, Bart's managed to finish four whole appetizers by himself. "Yeah man," He says in-between bowls. "The JSA's everywhere." Sheepishly, he then holds out a finished bowl for you, "Um... sorry, but can we order some more? I didn't exactly get to eat lunch today."
You glance over at Tom, half-wondering if you really needed to apologize. "Sorry, Bart's a big eater."
Tom shakes his head, "Don't worry about it. I know people like him pretty well."
Bart makes another face at your poor friend. "Hey!"
Despite all the awkwardness of earlier, you and Tom can't help laughing at Bart as you flag the waitress over for yet another round of appetizers. You suspect you'll be here for a lot longer than you expected, and although you still regret not seeing Flash and Wildcat, part of you really wants to believe in Tom and Bart. They usually didn't lie about superhero sightings. For people who didn't care much for capes, they certainly seemed to know more about the world than they let on.
You once speculated that Tom was either descended from a cape or dated a cape at some point in time, and Bart... well, you'd seen his girlfriend Cissie King-Jones. She was an Olympic archer who'd been good friends with Wonder Girl back in the day. You wouldn't be surprised if Bart got his information through her or her friends.
Yet you hated thinking about such things, especially now. Bart and Tom were just trying to cheer you up, and you immediately twisted it into something involving capes. God, maybe your obsession wasn't so normal after all.
Now, you'd honestly been half-following the baseball game on the TV behind Tom and Bart. You didn't care much for baseball, but its constant nature had been surprisingly soothing when confronted with Tom and Bart. You hadn't really told your friends the score, since you honestly didn't know who was winning, and frankly, not that many people in the restaurant were paying attention to it either. It was more of an atmospheric piece than something people actually watched.
Without warning, the channel shifted and you recognized Vicki Vale as she stood outside one of the skyscrapers downtown. "We come to you live from the scene of a crime---"
Bart and Tom turn their heads towards the TV in perfect synch. The entire restaurant's silent - for real this time - as Vicki explains that two members of the Injustice Society have their eyes on some technology hidden within the building and that the JSA'd surely be coming at any moment to quell the flames. You want to believe her; the JSA usually arrives within the nick of time.
"Um..." Bart and Tom immediately stand up at the same time. They laugh before Tom awkwardly sits back down and nods at Bart.
"Sorry," Bart says, already halfway out of the booth. "But I've gotta go---I'll be back in like five minutes, I promise."
He runs towards the door ("Bart, the bathroom's the other way!") but you don't think he heard you the first, second, or third time. You sheepishly watch him go---
"The Flash's on the scene!" Vicki cheerfully announces, not that anyone watching could've mistaken that familiar red-yellow blur. "Thank god," she murmurs, clearly not aware the microphone heard that.
Tom's pulling his phone out from his pocket. He makes a face, staring at some text he'd just received, before he gets up and motions towards the door. "I've gotta take this call," He apologizes. "I'll be back soon too..."
Just before heading out, he glances over his shoulder to watch the scene unfold on TV. "... But just in case, I'd recommend getting the check now. And getting everything packed up."
"Huh?"
"See you in a bit!" Tom promises, before hurrying out the door.
You sit there for a little bit longer as you try to process just what'd happened. Did your work friend... who was supposed to talk shop... and your friend who was there to see you.... did they just bail out on you? Not that it hadn't happened before; Bart's work as lead animator often demanded some strange questions at odd hours, and Tom often had to answer crazy emails late at night. But never had it happened to you at once---and part of you wondered if Tom'd really gotten a text. You hadn't heard his phone buzz once throughout the evening.
Still, you do call the waitress over and ask her to bring everything else to go, and if she could please hurry and get the check because you've got somewhere to be.
"And there's Wildcat!" Vicki's cheering as you pack up your takeout order in your car and head downtown. "Looks like this is gonna be a rough one, folks... Wildcat and Flash versus Tigress and Captain Cold. Who'll come out on top?"
That's silly, you want to yell back at her. Wildcat and Flash will always win. They're heroes, it's what they do...
You? Well, you've got a front row seat to catch. And this time? You're not going to miss a second of the action.
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Tom always knew the obscure bands before you did
HIPSTER.
I really like Tom's cat's cradling et al ;; it works gorgeously for his quitting smoking and is just a really nice image (sigh my scriptwriting lecturer went on for ages about images yesterday).
And I also really love that some of the stuff both of us talked about on the parenting meme made it into this :D and I do find it hilarious that this was Peypay and Tom/Maxine like we joked about SCA ending.
A long time back, you'd asked Maxine out on a date once. She'd accepted, but had to bow out at the last minute because of "unexpected emergencies." You had to wonder what would've happened if she showed up. Would she have been Mrs. Leverett, instead of Mrs. Bronson? The thought's too sickening, even for you, so you immediately toss it aside
I love that it could have happened.
all the force of a wet noodle
Best. Metaphor.
the students seem receptive enough when they're not hungover."
Bart snorts, "Didn't you make a game out of it once?"
What did this game involve :D
"More like his roommate was my mom's best friend's daughter," You say, knowing full well the ridiculousness of that connection.
It actually is the most ridiculous connection :D
In all honesty, you used to believe that he'd end up in a rough place.
That little detail about their relationship is beautiful.
some supervillain planted something here...
Every once in a while I half-forget that this is a totally valid concern and then I realize it is and crack up.
the time you and Peyton got kicked out of Target for your Halloween Costume parade
Oh my god, I love that they have a noodle incident like that and it's on Youtube.
Regret immediately fills your stomach. What if you'd managed to leave work just a little bit earlier? Then you might've been able to catch two of your favorite superheroes! They'd been everyday instances in New York, since the JSA was headquarted there, but you rarely saw them in person these days. Getting to see them here would've been a dream come true!
Poor guy :D
your (perfectly normal) obsession
Denial's just a river in Egypt, eh Peyton?
You once speculated that Tom was either descended from a cape or dated a cape at some point in time
Little does he know :D
Bart and Tom turn their heads towards the TV in perfect synch.
Oh man, that is a great image, just that instinctive "where am I needed?" that clearly I am only enamored with because the capiest thing I have read is the Bigtime books.
"Bart, the bathroom's the other way!"
HAHAHAHA.
You? Well, you've got a front row seat to catch. And this time? You're not going to miss a second of the action.
Perfect ending :D
So yes, I loved all of this :D Thank you so much for it! I feel like it wouldn't have been nearly as tightly put together or as hilarious if we'd played it (especially as I don't have many thoughts on future!Peyton), so this was awesome.
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re: cat's cradle, I'm glad. :D I know that when Tom quit smoking, he'd have to do something else to keep his hands busy--and I kind of stole it from myself, since I instinctively make cat's cradles IRL all the time when I'm bored, but it fits so well for him because he's a werecat playing with yarn. SO INSTINCTIVE, BRONSON.
As for it being Peypay and Tom/Maxine, it was more for hilarity than sheer it being set in stone. |D Peyton/Maxine is incredibly plausible in its own way, ngl, but it felt funnier to talk about it ending that way.
Um... the game was pretty much something between Tom, Bart, and Kyle (Green Lantern, the other superhero who's their bro). I have no idea what it'd entail, but I'm willing to bet that they DO take bets and pay up.
IE, if a student pukes during class, Tom or Kyle wins two of Bart's "prized sketchbooks," or if a student passes out and falls asleep in the front row, Bart wins a free boxing lesson, etc etc.
also it's Tom and Peyton, all of their noodle incidents are on Youtube. :3
... well, most of the really funny yet kind of appropriate ones. (The sad part is, I stole that noodle incident from my life, I got kicked out of Target because I hung out with people that were insane enough to do this crap.)
so yes, thank you! I'm glad you liked this :D and I definitely do want some Bart and Peyton hilarity, though idk how to go about it since teenage Bart really doesn't hang out in NYC
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And Peyton/Maxine ending with "sorry emergency" is funnier :D
Those are the best bets and the best noodle incident :D I feel like I should be more surprised that that has actually happened to you but I know well how truth can be stranger than fiction...
I would totes be up for Barton lols if we can figure out how to make it work. Where is Bart from?
haha no edit feature
He does?? :O Just because he has a kid now, or??
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I'm sorry that wasn't clearer! It was just another reference that indicated that Tom and Bart are clearly bros. ♥
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