Mr. Terrific (Superhero BoyxBoy)

Issue #11 "Kiss Me, Kiss Me"

Mary Jane: Come with us. 
Peter Parker: No thanks. How's it going with... 
[Mary Jane looks down] 
Peter Parker: Never mind, it's none of my business. 
Mary Jane: It's not? Why so interested? 
Peter Parker: I'm not. 
Mary Jane: You're not? 
Peter Parker: Well... Why would I be? 
Mary Jane: [playfully] I dunno. Why would you be? 
Peter Parker: [smiles, not knowing what to say] I dunno. 

Mary Jane: Sorry you won't come with us. I better run, Tiger.  

- Spider-Man (2002) 

Issue# 11 “Kiss Me, Kiss Me”

I was in Superboy’s room and it was as colorful as you’d expect. The walls were purple with band posters taking up about a quarter of it. There was a huge Dean Winchester poster hanging above his bed. It was also a sty; bottles strewn all over the room, clothes everywhere. Then there was the dirty smell.

“So, what do we do now?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he answered, preoccupied with what was ever on his phone.  Half his tongue was out of his mouth, which led me to believe that he was playing some game. “Alexa is gathering intelligence. When she gets back, we all get together and come up with a plan.”

I nodded. He probably didn’t see that either. “John?”

“Mhm?”

“Why don’t you have a superhero name?”

His jaw clenched; he looked up from his phone for a moment, looked back down, sighed and then put it in his lap. He was leaning against the backboard of his bed, while I sat at the foot of it. “You really want to know who I am, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” I said softy. “I want to know who you are so I can trust you.” I went to speak but he stopped me when someone shuffled passed his door. Sounded like Racer. When he was gone, I continued. “You know who I am, and I’ve proven to be trustworthy…why don’t you tell me who you are?”

He readjusted his mask; probably conscious that I was trying to see passed it. “I think I’m more comfortable answering your first question.”

“Tough shit,” I said with a scoff. “Your attempts to divert the conversation got us here, so why don’t you answer this one.”

He stared. His eyes were green. The constant color changes were starting to irk me.

“Hey,” he shot, “leave my eyes out of your thoughts!”

I blinked. “How long have you been reading my thoughts?” I shook my head. “Oh no. You won’t turn this into a little fight!”

He laughed. “I’m sorry, it’s just so easy to sidetrack you.” He stopped and hummed. “I’m kind of impressed that you’ve figured that tactic out.”

I folded my hands over my chest. “A-plus for me, now answer the question, will you?”

“Fine,” he grunted. “It’s because…well, it’s sort of because…Okay. I kind of like this mysterious-guy thing I’ve got going on with you.”

I leaned in, possibly with a baffled look. “What does that mean?”

He looked to the sky and sighed, wistfully. “What does anything mean?”

“Don’t even try it, John.”

He laughed again, lightly, childishly, so I kicked his feet. He peered back down. “I like that you find me mysterious; I’m kind of enigma to you. Like Spiderman to Mary Jane.”

“So, you enjoy playing with my emotions is what you’re saying,” I retorted.

“No,” he giggled, “well, yes.” He said, after some thought. “But my way is far less douchey sounding.” He paused to stare at me. “What’s your favorite band?”

“John,” I sighed. There was no winning. “My favorite group isn't a group. It’s a duo.”

“Who?”

“She & Him,” I answered and waited for him to mock me, but he never did.

“I like Zooey,” he commented. He cleared his throat. “I like Ellie Goulding.”

I stared. “That’s…not what I was expecting,” I snorted. “You seem like either a very rock and roll oriented guy or a very hip-hop guy.”

“Hey,” he grumbled, “Let’s not judge any books by their covers. Because you seem like you’re into a lot of sad indie pop music.”

I blinked. “I am.”

“I know.” He smirked and laughed when I threw a pillow at him. He ducked it of course. “Oh, Keegan…where have you been all my life?”

“I don’t know,” I chuckled.

After some time after things got back quiet, I moved to the floor. He was moving around way too much on his bed, and it was starting to annoy me.

Not one to not like having eyes on him, Superboy scrambled to me, hanging his head, upside out of the bed so I could still see him.

A moment passed.

“You know what I like most about you, Keegan?” he said, barely above it being a whisper. His lips were really pink, I noticed.

“I…don’t know, what?” I queried and sat there waiting for him to elaborate, but it was becoming clear that Superboy seemed to lived in a world where questions didn’t have to be answered.

My attention shifted to his room again. It’s amazing how messy he is, even compared myself. Then again, the only thing stopping my room from being categorized as a dump was the fact that my mom hosed it down a lot.

“Keegan?”

I turned back to him. “Yeah?”

He was looking me directly in my eyes when he said what he said next.

 “Keegan, can I kiss you?”

I didn’t really know how to respond to that. Or if he was serious. Or if I was imagining any of this. Maybe it was a test; maybe it wasn’t.

“Do…you think that’s a very smart idea?”

“No,” he barked.” It’s a horrible idea. But, I swear to Batman, that the only thing I’ve been thinking about for the past few days is kissing you and if I don’t fucking do it, at least once, I’m going to explode.”

He brought down one of his hands to touch my face, but decided against it, instead putting it back up on the bed. “I’m asking you because I respect you enough not to jump you.” He scooted down a bit so his lips leveled off with mine. “So, Keegan Paul Junior, can I kiss you?”

How do I answer that?

Or more so, what was the correct way to correct way to.

“I, uh.....iIf we do where does that,” I started but I was immediately cut off by a scoff and eye roll and a, “You know what, fuck you and your overthinking.”

He brought both his hands down, grabbed my face and pushed mine forward. And then we were kissing.