Note: This is an Across the Spiderverse Fic, there just isn't a fandom tag for it :)
Hobie has a band poster on his wall.
There's spikes of hair, and a brush of red, white and blue. And Gwen counts the cigarettes scattered across the figures in the image with a dull sort of expression before Hobie cuts the room in half in a swift pace. A to B.
"Gotta light round 'here, somewhere," he says. As if he doesn't carry many lighters in many patchwork pockets.
"Just do it without one." Too quick. He doesn't even look up.
"Then what sort of influence would I be? What you take me for, girl?"
The jest isn't lost. Pfft, influence.
Gwen draws her knees up to her chest and squeezes them in her arms. It feels right so she does it again. It's not comfortable or comforting.
"Ah!" Hobie plucks something from somewhere. An ugly Zippo with the Union Jack on the face. Older than her, no doubt.
He squats in front of her and then shuts one eye, acting as if there's any particular method to the way he measures where the piercing is going to go. Looks at her eyebrows and then her eyes. And she doesn't look away but almost wants to. Not discomfort, but exposure. Like he's seeing a whole load of things she doesn't quite want him to.
"Right," he says, and that easy smirks back as he flicks the lighter open and drags the needle through the flame once, twice.
"This is gonna look badass."
"As long as it's not crooked, Hobie."
"If its crooked, it's crooked, Gwendy."
"Ah, yeah. Don't conform, and all that."
He pinches the skin around her eyebrow and the air leaves her lungs. Like she had something to say, but it's too late now. She's pierced and she is new. A purpose. A name on a bundle of shapes. She thinks of Dad and the World and Miles. Then exhales, winces.
"Done. Looks sweet, fam."
Hobie pulls up a mirror with a crack down the center. Wiggles it in his hands until Gwen grabs it with a laugh. Looks at the eyebrow piercing, sure, but mostly at herself.
"Still you," Hobie says.
It's not comfort. Or grounding. Or even supportive. Just a statement. Out there. A band aid on the shatter in her everything. Cracked like the mirror she stares into.
"Right."