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1
The first time Alex actively, purposefully, realized that they fell in love with Morgan was on a dreary Tuesday afternoon. It was drizzling out, and Alex had put up a small force field above them to keep them dry on their walk. Morgan had insisted on the walk, despite Alex wanting to stay inside Morgan’s drab apartment, on the couch that sunk in the cushions a little too much, watching some cooking show that they could yell at together.
But no. Alex could never say no to Morgan.
Morgan suddenly veered down an alleyway, almost stepping out of the little force field and getting wet. Alex grumbled behind them and hurried to catch up. The words of protest died on their tongue when they saw the wet, dark, huddled form next to the dumpster.
“Hey.” Morgan’s voice was the softest that Alex had ever heard. “What are you doing out in the rain?”
The form flinched, huddling closer in on themself.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Morgan crouched down, motioning for Alex to do the same. Scooting a little closer brought the form under the force field. “I’m here to help.”
It didn’t take long for Morgan to charm the young woman—just barely eighteen, newly kicked from her home for being bisexual—to come back to the apartment with them. Kristen, soaked to the bone and shivering and teeth chattering, huddled under Morgan’s jacket between them.
They didn’t speak the entire way back to the apartment complex.
Alex quickly dried them with a snap of their fingers. Kristen’s eyes widened, but Alex gave her their best charming smile and motioned her to follow Morgan. They didn’t dare try to heat the poor girl—they didn’t want to accidentally cook her, after all. Not after the trouble Morgan went to to get her into the apartment complex.
They stopped in front of 3C and with a jangle of Morgan’s keys they were in the sparsely furnished apartment.
Morgan chuckled breathily. “Sorry it’s not much, but everything in here is yours.”
“Mine?” Kristen looked between the two, clearly confused. Alex was just as confused.
“Yeah.” Morgan pulled out another keyring and took off one of the many keys. “Stop by the office tomorrow morning at ten and we’ll set your lease up. Don’t worry about payments right now. Worry about getting your feet under you, first.”
“I don’t—”
“There’s fresh towels in the bathroom,” Morgan said a little louder. “Take a hot shower, change into the clean clothes in the dresser, rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Morgan didn’t wait for a reply before leaving. Alex used long strides to catch up. “What was that about.”
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
“Wasn’t very villainous of you.”
“I’m a landlord. I’m plenty villainous.”
Morgan refused to talk, but Alex knew all they needed to know.
2
“So?” Morgan leaned back in their chair, hands behind their head and feet crossed on the desk as they looked over their few henchmen. “What do you have to report?”
Carla, their oldest and dearest henchman, stepped forward. “That bakery on 15th and Pine?” She shook her head, teal hair splaying out for a moment. “Lied on their posting. They want ten years of experience for minimum wage.”
Morgan hummed as they reached for their notebook. They flipped to the page about the bakery and made a star on each end of the name. “Sounds good. I’ll work on a scheme for two weeks from now. What about that pet store?”
Darla stepped forward as Carla stepped back. They shrugged, black braids swinging as they popped their bright pink gum. “’s far as I can tell, everything is ethical. The pets they sell actually are from the rescue down the street. The pet store just gets more foot traffic.”
“How many cats did you take home?” Jeffry hollered from the back.
Morgan cackled as they made an X on each side of the pet store’s name. Darla’s face darkened as they stammered out excuses.
3
Morgan stood back, a pleased smile on their face as they looked at the warehouse setup. Things were starting to ramp up, for some reason, and their nemesis had started bringing a sidekick with them. For training, maybe? Who knew. Morgan didn’t really care. They always outsmarted the idiot anyway.
Their Rube Goldberg Death Trap machine was immaculate. Possibly the greatest thing ever created, in all honesty. Cheese sauce, swinging axes, glitter bombs, and more filled nearly the entire warehouse.
Too bad it was going to be wasted on the moronic duo.
Whooooo would be showing up in half an hour. Which would give Morgan plenty of time to get to the art auction, steal exactly seven items, and get out of there before their nemesis got out of the trap. By then, the three vans would be on their way to different cities to sell to rich bastards like Rex.
Speaking of Rex... Morgan smirked as they walked back out so they could get to the rendezvous on time. Maybe Alex would let them attend the poker game this year.
4
The bell dinged as her creaky door swung open, revealing the scraggly form of her most favorite customer.
“Morgan,” she said in her voice that felt creakier by the day, ever since her husband died. “How are you, dear?”
Morgan shrugged, faux-fur-lined coat rustling as they shuffled through the narrow aisle. “Same ol’, same ol’, Mrs. P.” Their head swung back and forth, eyes narrowed and scrutinizing. “Where’s Wyatt?”
“Left,” she sighed, getting up from her little stool. “Got a better job elsewhere, I suppose.”
Morgan frowned at the emptying shelves. It was hard on her old bones to restock so many items, so many of her shelves went without some days. “Anyone else applied yet?”
“No, no.” She reached into the secret stash she had just for Morgan and pulled out the bag of items they always bought. Hot chocolate, redbull, and espresso didn’t seem like a great combination, but... That was Morgan’s choice. “Here’s your bag, dear.”
Morgan was still frowning at her, absently taking the bag from her. Then, an odd little smile quirked at their lips. Their phone was at their ear in an instant, and they were telling someone named Kristen how to get to the store.
5
Knock knock knock
Jillian heaved herself from her couch, her girlfriend appearing from the bedroom almost at the same time. They weren’t expecting any visitors, so they merely shrugged at each other and peeped through the little peephole.
Morgan?
Tiffany opened the door, leaning against the jamb and grinning. “Hey, Morgan. What brings you by?”
“Oh good! You’re both here.” Morgan’s smile brightened upon seeing both of them before they went rooting through their laptop bag. Under one arm was a notebook with a pen about to fall from the spirals. “I was going through my books and I realized that some of you overpaid your leases, so I’m giving it back to you.”
“What?” said Jillian. “How’s that’s possible?”
Morgan shrugged. “My mistake. 4E, where are you—ah ha!” They pulled out two envelopes, both labeled 4E and each had their name on it. “One for each of you! Have a good evening, ladies.”
They watched them cross the few feet to the other side of the hall to 4F and knock on their door. It was a small family of four, very cute, always polite, always inviting Jillian and Tiffany over for Sunday dinners. They opened their door, and the two closed theirs as Morgan began the same speech they gave them.
“That was... weird.”
Tiffany nodded, brow scrunched as she opened her envelope. Her eyes nearly popped out of her skull as she pulled the check out.
“This has to be a mistake.”
“What?”
Jillian hurried to pull her own check out. Her heart jumped to her throat as she saw the numbers. So many zeros!
“We haven’t even paid this much in rent!” Tiffany croaked, hands shaking. “We’ve only been here a few months!”
Ten. Thousand. Dollars.
Tiffany’s check said the same.
Jillian hurried back to the peephole to see if Morgan was still in the vicinity. They weren’t across the hall anymore, anyway, and a peek out the door showed them a door down. Without a care, Jillian barged into the Vancey’s apartment.
“Did Morgan just give you an outrageous check?” she asked Adam, who had barely even blinked at the intrusion. The other three must have still been out.
“Uh...”
Adam shrugged and opened the envelope. “They just said we overpaid so—” Adam coughed, eyes bugging as he stared at the check. “No fucking way.”
“What?”
Jillian pressed close, ignoring his spasms.
Forty thousand dollars. Ten thousand dollars for each of them, just like her and Tiffany.
“I don’t think we’ve even paid that much in rent yet. We’ve only been here, like, two years?”
“The moron won three billion dollars from a poker game,” called Darla as they passed by. “They’re just too chicken-shit to admit they’re being nice.”
“So they’re admitting they made a mistake instead?” asked Adam, trying not to laugh.
Darla shrugged and popped their gum. “Like I keep saying—they’re a fucking dumbass. They want you to be able to have a good life, ya idjiots. Stop questioning it.” Their hair was in a tight, neat bun today with a single pink, random hairclip from the kids’ section. They pretended to put a hair back into place. “Just... I dunno. Cash the check or deposit it or put it into savings or whatever. Make them happy, okay? Hey! Moron! Stop lying to your tenants!”
They watched Darla dart off in their stilettoes to the sound of an annoyed Morgan trying to escape.
+1
There wasn’t usually a commotion in the lobby. Their tenants were always respectful and kind and never made a fuss. So it was odd to hear the new (fake) plant vase breaking and voices escalating. With narrowed eyes, Morgan, moved on quiet feet from their desk to the door, inching it open just slightly to get a better view of what was going on.
A hero? In their lobby?
Holding a child hostage.
Fuck no.
Morgan stormed from their office, ignoring the screams and cries and pleas as they made themself known. Head held high, teeth clenched tight, Morgan didn’t even speak. They gave the hero—one they didn’t even know, one they’ve never even seen before, one they didn’t even know the power of—one unimpressed raised eyebrow.
“Are you Morgan?” asked the hero in that stupid, ridiculous voice their brother always used that he thought made him sound impressive.
Morgan sneered, one hand poised and ready to snap. “Let the kid go. Shouldn’t that be beneath you?”
“Surely you’re housing all criminals,” the hero sneered back.
“You discriminatory fuck.” Their stomach churned at the thought—at the desire—to use their power as Alex had when they had accidentally switched months ago. “Let. The kid. Go.”
The kid—Laney, sweet, precious, baby Laney, barely even five years old—cried out in pain. Morgan could already imagine bruising forming around her arm in the shape of his hand and—
The hero cried out in pain next. Morgan hadn’t even realized they had snapped their fingers until the sound. But the hero stumbled away from Laney, holding the stump to his chest and—
Yup. That was—That was a hand. At their feet.
When they came to, it was to a worried Alex above them and a cleared out lobby except for Darla and Jeffry. Morgan was cradled in Alex’s arms, which was—which was nice. Really nice. Alex was warm and comfortable and running their fingers through Morgan’s hair. Maybe Morgan could convince Alex to do that more often...
“Are you okay?” Alex murmured, pressing a kiss to their hair.
“I—I think so...” Morgan smacked their lips, tasting the gross aftertaste of vomit. There wasn’t any evidence of it, so maybe they’d thrown up before passing out and Alex had cleaned it up. “Is Laney—”
“Laney is fine,” Alex assured them. “Scared, but okay. She was worried about you, you know.”
Morgan tried to laugh, but it caught in their throat. “Dumb kid.”
“She said she’ll come visit you tomorrow,” called Darla, ever the eavesdropper. “Her papa said she wasn’t allowed today because she needed a nap.”
“Fine.” Morgan glanced up with their most vulnerable looking expression. They knew Alex would do anything they asked anyway, but they liked it. “Carry me?”
“Spoiled,” Alex teased, standing swiftly. “Let’s get this binder off you and in a shower before we get you to bed.”
“But—”
Alex’s glare had them quieting. “It will make you feel better. Now hush and let me take care of you, for once.”
That... sounded rather nice, actually.
BONUS
BREAKING NEWS
After an emergency Counsel meeting, it has been determined that Villain Morgan will raise to C Tier after using their powers to sever the hand of Hero...