Work Text:
It’s a boring day at the convenience shop.
You sigh and start doing circles in your spinny chair. Looking up, you smile as the colors of your surroundings start to blend with each other. This is truly the most entertainment you can get at your job.
Working part-time at a convenience store is far from a dream job, but hey, who are you to complain? Between being a full-time student and having an okay social life, this was honestly a pretty solid side gig.
You’ve lived in Brooklyn your entire life and got this job through your dad, who talked to his friend, who talked to his sister, who in turn talked to her neighbor… you know how it goes. One way or another, you now sit here four times a week, eight hours a day. It would be more bearable if there was something, anything to do.
The owner (your father’s friend’s sister’s whatever) didn’t approve of cellphones. Even on breaks. He is the real supper villain of New York, not some Green Goblin or whatever other creatures Spider-Man fights on a daily basis.
You’ve actually met the guy - though you’re pretty sure you should be referring to him as a kid. He doesn’t sound a day over fifteen. Anyway, Spider-Man is kind of a regular at your work. He swings by every so often, grabbing an empanada and leaving a crumpled $1 bill as he goes.
It would be a million times better if he didn’t leave his web all over the place, but whatever, at least there’s something to do.
The bell rings at the door and you stop spinning, eyes zeroing in on your newest customer.
“Good morning, how can I-” You stop. That’s… that’s not a regular customer.
He looks… much more interesting than a regular customer.
He’s clearly not human. Or not human anymore? You’re not sure. He’s dressed in a grey jacket, an ugly brown hat, and black glasses that…
That are doing a terrible job at covering a black hole on his face.
You look down and, sure enough, there are black spots all over his white palms and legs.
Huh.
How peculiar.
You finally shake off your initial surprise. “Sorry, tripped over my words, how can I help you?”
The man stares just stares at you, unmoving as the door closes behind him with a soft click. He tilts his head as if seeing you from a different angle will provide him with an answer. You tilt your head as well, not breaking eye contact.
At least you think you’re looking him in the eye. There are no eyes, per se. Just the black hole.
“You good?” You ask again, a question that seemingly snaps him out of his trance. He finally straightens up (damn, he is tall… and lanky), so fast that his hat almost falls. He quickly catches it before it slips off.
“I’m- yes! Why wouldn’t I be good?” He can’t be older than thirty but he sounds so young, boyish even. Like a kid who just lied to his mother about eating the last cookie from the cookie jar.
Kind of cute.
“I don’t know man, you’re the one that’s still standing in one spot like a dummy. You coming in or not?”
“Yes, I am! Maybe I was just… admiring the atmosphere.” You raise a brow at him and he stutters. “Like, you have a very nice, um, snack display.” He comes up to one of the shelves. “Amazing design, couldn’t organize it better myself.”
“Well thank you.” You chuckle as you lean on the counter with your elbows. “I actually arranged them myself just this morning. Had a delivery around 5 AM. Can you imagine? At five in the morning.” You scoff. “Unbelievable.”
“Yes, haha, that does sound rough.” The man fiddles with the cuffs of his jacket, as if small talk is some kind of foreign concept to him.
You smile. He really is cute.
“Haven’t seen you around here before.” You tell him your name. “And you are?”
“They call me… the Spot.” The man dramatically takes off his hat and glasses, opening up his jacket to reveal, who would have thought, more spots.
“Who’s they?”
“... well, there’s not an exact person, it’s just,” He scratches the back of his neck. “A name I kind of came up with myself, you know. I’m still working on… making it stick.” You smile wider at his silliness.
“It’s certainly fitting.” You say, giving him a once-over. “But what’s your name? No offense, by the way, I genuinely dig the whole ‘The Spot™’ thing.”
He stills and for a few seconds, you worry that you actually broke him. You’re about to ask whether he’s okay when he finally speaks up again, softer this time.
“John. Jonathan. That’s my name.” He gulps. “Sorry, I just… haven’t said it in a while.” Looking at his tense form you can tell that whatever might be the reason for it, he does not want to talk about it.
“It’s okay, no need to tell me your whole backstory during our first meeting. Nice to officially meet you, John.” You stretch out your hand towards him.
He takes it after a few seconds and you feel his cool skin against yours. You don’t know what you were expecting, but despite its ghastly white appearance, his hand is nothing out of the ordinary.
Maybe apart from the weird, tingly sensation you get from brushing your finger against one of his holes.
…
Ok, that sounds so weird.
“So, what do these spots of yours even do, John?” You ask after he lets go of your hand. “Are they only there to look cool? Cause they do, by the way.” Looking into the big splotch of black ink on his face feels like looking into the endless black void of space. It should be scary, but you find it quite soothing, you dare even say they’re “...fascinating.”
“W-what?” He stutters.
“What?”
…Did you actually say that last part out loud?
You can feel the heat as a blush overtakes your whole face.
“You… actually like my holes?” Nevermind.
“Please, call them spots, that sounds so weird.” You whine and John laughs. “But yea, what can I say, they look pretty sick.
“Really?” He’s beaming from the praise and you can’t help but smile too. “Gosh, I have to show you what they do, check this out.” He puts one hand on the counter and sure enough, a black spot materializes under his palm. “Put your hand in there.” …what?
“Excuse me?” You ask, flabbergasted.
“Don’t worry, nothing bad will happen to it! I just want to show you a trick I finally mastered yesterday.” He says it with such excitement and joy that you find it hard not to trust the guy. John seems completely harmless, why should you worry?
“Okay, what’s the worst that can happen.” You say as you observe your hand slowly disappearing into the black void.
You almost jump as a finger touches your face. You look up to scold John for whatever he’s doing, but instead of seeing a pearly white finger, you see your own hand.
Sticking out of his face.
You look back down at where your hand should be, before looking back at his face again. You go in between the two a few more times, just to make sure you’re not hallucinating.
This should be scary. Scratch that, this should be downright terrifying.
You take your hand out of the hole and look back up at John with a wide grin. “This is unironically the coolest superpower I’ve ever seen.” You lean closer to the man. “Can you transport ‘whole’ people with them? How about objects? Is there something in between your spots or are they just literal portals?” You can’t help but let your mouth run. This is the best thing that happened to you at work this week, no this month- who are you kidding, ever.
As you bury him in questions, Spot can’t help but feel… good. It’s been a while since he actually felt good about himself, about his… predicament. He stays silent and watches with fondness as you hold up his arm, ‘testing’ his spots’ abilities by throwing in various produce. An apple falls to the ground out of the spot located on his calf and you giggle.
If Spot could blush, he sure would be doing it now.
“Em, yes, also yes, kind of a black void… I didn’t catch the rest.” He finally answers, gently peeling your hands away from his arms. “But yes, they can do quite a lot.”
“Oh my god that must have been so inappropriate, I’m so sorry.” You scramble with your words and he chuckles.
“No problem! It’s still just… a little surreal that you are not afraid of me.” It’s your turn to chuckle.
“John sweetie, you are many things but scary is not one of them.” You gently pat his cheek. “You look as if you couldn’t hurt a fly.” You let go and he finds himself missing your touch.
“I- I can be scary! I’m not useless!”
“Never said you were.” You soothe him. “You just… seem like a genuinely good guy. Not some, I don’t know, villain.“ You don’t notice how he stiffs at the last word.
“I-” The bell rings, cutting Spot off. You both turn your heads to the source of the noise and-
“Oh, hi Spider-Man!” You wave at your newest customer.
“Spider-Man.” Says Spot, clenching his hands at his sides.
“Hey, how y’all doing?” The boy waves back at you but stops in his tracks as he notices Spot. “...everything alright?”
“Yeah, I’m just chatting with my friend John. He’s such a sweetheart.” Spider-Man just looks away awkwardly, going deeper into the shop as you smirk. Teenagers hate even thinking about feelings.
Spot relaxes his hands. Maybe it’s not worth it. Not today.
He feels a tap on his shoulder and turns back to you.
“Hey John, I need to take care of my super special customer over there.” You vaguely gesture in the direction of Spider-Man. “My shift ends in like four hours, wanna grab a coffee with me when I’m done?”
“Like a date or- I mean, obviously not like a date, just like a friendly outing to get to know each other, right?” He flusters and you can’t help but smile again.
“Like a date you big doofus.” You tell him and even though he doesn’t have a mouth, you know he’s smiling too.
“Then, I do.” He picks up the previously discarded clothing. “I’ll see you later.” You wave each other goodbye and he leaves the shop, making the bell ring out one more time.
You prop your chin up on your hands and sigh dreamily, still looking at the door. What a silly little guy.
“You absolutely sure he wasn’t bothering you?” You turn to the Spider-Man standing at the counter, a can of Pepsi and an empanada in his hands. “He looked a little suspicious.”
“Kid, the only suspicious thing here is how no one figured out your age yet.” He flusters at your comment and you laugh.
Truly, a typical day at work.