Disclaimer-the characters in this story are owned by Marvel Comics. This is a speculative story.
“What will our jobs think? If, if they find out?” Ben said to Peter. Not catching the irony of his own statement.
“You mean our jobs as web-slinging Spider-Men? Those jobs?” Peter scolded. Peter sat up straight in the bed. He scratched his bare chest and waited for an answer.
“You know what I mean. It’s too bad you didn’t get the funny bits of DNA from the real Peter Parker.” Ben replied. He was already sitting up in bed. He turned to look at his costume. It was lying in a clump on the floor. He wondered why he’d kept that awful blue hoodie for so long.
“Well, some of us live in somewhat progressive dimensions. Once they get past the clone thing, we could survive it. As far as PR goes anyway.”
“Yeah. But, what about, I mean, the clone thing. The moral ramifications.”
Peter leaned in as if to kiss Ben. “I’ll show you a ramification.”
“Peter- we’re clones. And, closeted gay men from different dimensions. But, they’ve got to assume some of us would be gay, right. Just the percentages.”
“Yeah, I got that part. I am a giant moral ramification. Our existence is a cosmic clusterfuck of moral ambiguity, isn’t it?” Peter says angrily. It was something a spiteful Superior Spider-Man would say. Ben lept out of bed, and onto the ceiling. He stands, upside down, and storms off towards the door. THWIP. Peter will have none of it. He webs Ben down by the buttocks to the bed. He catches Ben, and rolls him over on the bed.
“I hate it when you wear those webshooters in bed.” Ben mutters, before Peter can kiss him.
“Do you ever wonder what our kids would look like?” Ben asks, missing the irony entirely.
Peter snorts from laughter. THWIP THWIP. Ben’s hands have been webbed to the bed posts.
“I do, my lovely Ben Reilly. They’d have your heart, and my heart. But they’d have your eyes. Well, and mine too. Now, it’s my turn to be Doc Ock and you escape from my evil clutches.”
“Maybe, we should role-play Black Cat, or Venom. The whole Doc Ock thing is still kind of fresh, ya know?”
Richard Crowsong Davis