The midday sun beat down on the bustling New York City streets, but for Bobby and me, it was a welcome break. No alien invasions, no supervillain schemes, just the simple pleasure of civilian clothes and the sweet, icy relief of a double-scoop Rocky Road cone. Bobby, naturally, had insisted on ice cream.
"Seriously, Pete, you're gonna finish that entire cone before we even hit the next block?" Bobby asked, his voice a playful drawl as he licked a smear of chocolate from his own rapidly melting scoop. He was wearing a bright, if slightly loud, Hawaiian shirt, the kind that screamed 'I'm on vacation, even if I'm just three blocks from my hospital bed.'
I grinned, taking a generous bite. "Gotta fuel up, Drake. You never know when a rogue squirrel might try to steal my nuts."
Bobby snorted, a sound that was more amused than offended. "Rogue squirrel? That's your biggest fear?"
"Hey!" I protested, feigning outrage. "Barely. And besides, my spider-sense is pretty good at detecting imminent nut-related danger." I flicked a bit of ice cream playfully towards him.
He dodged it with practiced ease, a smirk playing on his lips. "Sure, it is. Just like your 'spider-sense' alerted you to that disastrous date you had with Elaine last week? The one where you accidentally webbed her entire appetizer to the table? Seriously how did she not find out you're Spider-Man"
"That was a miscalculation," I retorted, my cheeks warming slightly. "And her date for the night was a total jerk, so it was kind of a public service."
"Uh-huh. A public service that involved sticky, white goo all over a perfectly good plate of calamari." Bobby's eyes twinkled with mischief.
We strolled along, the usual New York cacophony a comforting backdrop to our easy conversation. We talked about classes, about the latest comics, about the sheer absurdity of some of the villains we'd encountered. It was moments like these, just being Peter Parker and Bobby Drake, that made the whole superhero gig feel a lot less overwhelming.
Then, as we passed a street performer juggling flaming torches, Bobby's usual boisterous energy seemed to drain away. He stopped mid-sentence, his gaze drifting to the pavement. He started to fidget, kicking idly at a loose cobblestone.
"Everything okay, man?" I asked, my teasing tone softening into genuine concern. Bobby wasn't usually one for quiet contemplation, especially not in public.
He shrugged, a nervous, jerky movement. He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, still not meeting my eyes. "Yeah, uh… no. Not really."
I raised an eyebrow. "Uh oh. That doesn't sound like you. Spill it."
He finally looked up, his expression a mixture of hopeful excitement and sheer, unadulterated panic. "So, there's this girl."
I waited, letting the words hang in the air.
"And, uh… I kinda like her. Like, really like her." He fidgeted again, running a hand through his damp hair. "And I was thinking… maybe I should ask her out."
A genuine smile spread across my face. "That's great, Bobby! Who is she?"
He ducked his head again, mumbling. "That's the thing. I don't know how to ask her out."
I blinked. Bobby Drake, master of the sarcastic quip and the spontaneous snow flurry, was stumped by a simple question? "What do you mean, 'how'? You just… ask her."
He gave a weak laugh. "Yeah, 'just ask her.' Easy for you to say. You're practically a seasoned pro at charming the ladies."
I scoffed. "Seasoned pro? My love life is a disaster zone, Bobby. You know this. And it's not exactly been 'charming."
He waved a dismissive hand. "Whatever, man. You always bounce back. Me? I'm overthinking this to death. Like, should I make her a heart-shaped ice sculpture? Too much? Or maybe, like, a tiny ice swan that carries a note?" He watched my reaction, his eyes wide with a desperate plea for an idea, any idea.
I couldn't help but chuckle. "Bobby, you're not proposing to build a winter wonderland. Just be yourself."
"Be myself?" he echoed, as if it were a foreign concept. "But what if 'myself' isn't good enough for her? What if she expects… I don't know, someone smoother? Someone less likely to accidentally freeze his own nose off when he's nervous?"
"Come on," I said, stepping closer and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Honesty, man. That's usually the best approach. Don't try to be someone you're not. Just be genuinely you. Tell her that you like her, that you'd like to get to know her better."
"But how do I say that without sounding like a total dork?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly.
"You are a total dork, Bobby," I said with a grin, but I softened my tone immediately. "And that's part of why you're awesome. Look, sometimes, no matter how much you plan or how much you prepare, it just comes down to taking a leap of faith. You gotta just… go for it."
He chewed on his lower lip, his gaze fixed on some distant point in the city skyline. "You make it sound so simple. 'Just take the leap.' But what if I fall? What if she says no?"
"Everyone's been there, Bobby," I reassured him, though the words felt a little hollow even as I said them. I could barely keep my relationship with Elaine stable. "And yeah, sometimes she will say no. And it sucks. It really, really sucks. But at least you tried. At least you didn't spend the rest of your life wondering 'what if'."
He managed a small, genuine smile. "So, you're saying I should just… walk up to her and say, 'Hey, wanna chill with me?'"
I burst out laughing. "Bobby, that's the worst superhero pick-up line I've ever heard!"
"Hey!" he protested, though his eyes crinkled at the corners. "It's on brand!"
"It is," I admitted, wiping a tear of mirth from my eye. "But maybe something a little more… heartfelt? And less likely to make her think you're asking her to freeze-dry her hair."
"Okay, okay," he conceded, still chuckling. "What about you, Mr. 'Seasoned Pro'? What's your secret?"
I shrugged, feeling a familiar pang of inadequacy. "Honestly? I don't really have one. I mess it up more often than I get it right. I overthink, I say the wrong thing, I get distracted by… you know, stuff." The 'stuff' being a city-saving, world-protecting, web-slinging distraction.
"See!" Bobby exclaimed, pointing a finger at me. "You do the same thing! You just hide it better with jokes."
"Maybe," I conceded with a wry smile. "But the advice still stands. Be yourself. The right person will appreciate the real you. The ice sculpture-making, slightly-awkward-but-totally-awesome you. Don't try to be someone else's idea of perfect. Just be the best version of Bobby Drake that you can be."
He thought about that for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face that was rare for him. Then, his usual spark returned, albeit a little more subdued. "Okay. I can do that. Probably. Maybe. But if she ends up with an ice cube stuck to her nose, I'm blaming you."
I laughed. "Deal."
We reached a corner where our paths diverged. Bobby gave me a quick, almost shy nod. "Thanks, Pete. Seriously. I feel… a little better."
"Anytime, man," I said, clapping him on the shoulder. "And hey, if it works out, you owe me another ice cream."
He grinned. "You got it." Then, with a final, determined stride, he headed off down the street, a spring in his step that hadn't been there before.
I watched him go, a warmth spreading through me. It was good to see him so hopeful, so ready to put himself out there.
As I turned to walk the other way, heading towards my own apartment and the latest stack of textbooks, a familiar pang hit me. It was always easier to give advice, to be the steady, supportive friend, than it was to live those words myself. Especially when it came to Elaine. The thought of talking to her, of explaining the constant juggling act, the dangers, the compromises… it felt a lot like Bobby asking his girl out, but amplified a thousand times.
Yeah, I told Bobby to just be himself. But what if 'himself' was too complicated, too dangerous, too broken? What if the real him, the spider-suited him, was the very thing that would push away the person he cared about most?
I sighed, kicking a small pebble. Giving advice was easy. Taking it? That was the hard part. And right now, I had a feeling I was going to need a lot more ice cream and a lot more courage myself.