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Pizza: the backbone of society. Vegetarian, carnivore, alfredo, barbecue; onions and anchovies or spinach and bacon: no matter who you were, pizza was always there for you. That was why Gino’s never bothered to close up during Yuletide alien invasions: not only did passers by take the opportunity to order a pie while holed up, clearing the streets for what and whoever showed up to save the day; Superheroes recognized the glories of pizza best of all. Two speedsters, two atomic young men, and a living whirlwind? That meant five people of wildly different dietary needs and preferences, united in their need for immediate calories in the afterglow of tentacle robot battle.
“Now, don’t load up on pizza pie, Cyclone.” The years meant Jay had no problem avoiding names in front of the civilians, clasping a hand on the girl’s shoulder with a wry smile. “I imagine Ma will be stuffing her famous strawberry pie down your throat tonight.”
In a few hours, after all, it would be Christmas Day. Grant was more concerned with picking a hostess gift for Terri; Hanukkah tended to be a far less stressful affair, he’d found. It was nice.
“Ugh, making me think about actual pie when pizza is still minutes away? cruel.”
At the head of their little group, Jesse hummed thoughtfully as she ran her fingers through the mess of her blond mane. “Speaking of - classic pepperoni, margarita, carnivore and pineapple, right? 10, 1, 4 and 5?”
At this point, most JSA members knew each other’s order by heart. Grant finding out his godbrother liked pineapple on his pizza had been a low point in their relationship.
Guess Jesse and I haven’t gotten takeout in a while. Small mercies.
“Nah- just double up on the Italian sausage. Erm, that’s beef, right?”
“Nope.”
“…it’s pork, isn’t it? Why does everything- chicken. Chicken and uh, onion.”
Fuck. Grant could feel eyes on him as the bored cashier took down their order. Even Jesse kept an eye on him as she leaned forward to hand over the JSA debit card. Despite the giant’s best efforts, Grant pointedly refused to make eye contact with his vibrating brother. He hadn’t told Al for a reason, dammit.
“Sooo…” If he pretended Al wasn’t there, he could avoid this conversation. “You decided to cut out pork? Uncle Al rubbing off on you?”
Grant cringed at the audible, slightly suppressed enthusiasm. Mumbled in response through his mask, at the realization Al wouldn’t be dropping this.
“What was that?”
“…I may. Or may not. Have been talkingtoaRabbi-“
“YOU'VE BEEN TALKING TO A RABBI?!”
Spinning around, Grant pointed an accusatory finger at Al’s grinning face. “I knew you’d be weird about this!”
“I think it’s great! I bet everyone else will too!”
“You aren’t telling them! The old man will be worse about it than you are - I’m still not doing his stupid ‘belated bar mitzva’ idea!”
“It might be a little late to keep that a secret.”
“Cyclone, what- Flash!”
A bit bashful, Jay looked up from his phone, fingers pausing in their lightning fast dance across the screen. “I already hit ‘send’ when you mentioned not wanting people to know.”
“Fuck all of ypu!”
“Language.” Ding. “Atom wants to know your Rabbi’s name.”
Ding. Jay paused, visibly attempting to smother a smile once he caught sight of Damage’s infamous glower. “Wildcat wants to know if that means you want a traditional wedding.”
“WE AREN'T EVEN DATING—“