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“I saw that kid again today.”
Helen looks up from the book she’s reading. It’s late: the kids are tucked up tight in bed ready for school in the morning. She’s waiting for Bob to finish his nightly routine so they can turn off the lamps and sleep away the chaos of the day.
She doesn’t need to ask which kid her husband is referring to.
His name is Jeremy, she’s learned, and he is the vocal leader of her group of fans.
Or groupie, as Bob calls him, with a touch of humour and cynicism.
He’s the kid she saw on her first ride out on the Elasticycle, who had whooped and hollered along with the rest of his friends. He seems to like popping up wherever she is on a publicity drive for Winston.
Bob pulls his shirt over his head, his voice muffled for a moment as he continues to speak. “I’m surprised you didn’t see him. He was wearing a shirt with your face on.”
“There were a lot of people in the crowd,” she shrugs. “And he’s not the only person with a shirt with my face on, is he?”
Bob wrinkles his nose at that. The bed groans under his weight as he sinks down onto it.
“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” she teases.
“Don’t be silly,” he grumbles. “Of course I’m not!”
Helen smirks. There’s something distinctly defensive about his tone, and she can’t help goading him further. “Remember the glory days? You couldn’t go anywhere without a legion of female fans screeching behind you. I didn’t care about that.”
“No, you just made fun of me.”
Which, if she’s completely honest with herself, had been her own tactic of stubbornly deflecting any thought that she might be jealous because she hadn’t wanted to dwell on what that would mean.
“Some of it was pretty funny. Do you remember the woman who wanted you to sign her—”
“Anyway,” Bob says loudly, talking over her with a dignified haughtiness, “this kid is taking his support to a whole new level. I swear he’s there every time we have a conference.”
“Can’t say I’ve noticed,” she says airily. She has. In their line of work it’s been engrained in them to remember faces. Then, with mock thoughtfulness, she muses, “He did ask me to marry me once.”
The bed wobbles alarmingly as Bob whips around with shock, eyes wide. “What?”
Helen snuggles down in the warm bedsheets, stretching across to turn the lamp off. “Oh, it was ages ago, right when I first started working with Winston and Evelyn. The first night, actually. I’m sure the poor kid wouldn’t have said a word if he’d known I was a happily married woman.”
The light snaps back on with decisive authority.
“Don’t snap the cord,” Helen scolds her husband. “Turn it back off. I want to sleep.”
“You can’t drop a bombshell like that and then go straight to sleep!” Bob protests.
“It’s hardly a bombshell. It’s not like I accepted, is it?”
“I should hope not!”
Helen laughs. “So you are jealous. You can admit it, y’know. It’s kinda sweet, in the most pathetically ridiculous way.”
“Gee, thanks,” Bob says sarcastically. He shifts his position, coming to a rest against the headboard. Helen wriggles into a sitting position too, taking shelter against his massive bulk.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Incredible, you don’t have a thing to worry about,” she winks. “My heart was taken a long time ago.”
“What can I say? Incredible by name, incredible by nature.”
“By ego, you mean.”
“Low blow, Elastigirl,” he pouts. It’s something she would have said to him back in the old days, when they were in that delicious limbo of flirting and fighting. She can’t deny that she’s greatly enjoyed the revival of that dynamic now that the pressure that had dogged them for over fifteen years has eased.
“So what happened?” he wants to know. “How did that come about?”
She shrugs. “It happened so fast there was barely time to process it. He was on the highway with his friends and I pulled up alongside him on my Elasticycle. He sort of screamed it after me. It was quite funny, actually.”
“That explains why he’s following you around like a puppy, then. You never gave him your answer.”
Helen grins. “I thought he should have got the hint. I’m old enough to be his mother. I’ve got three wonderful children with the man I love, who just happens to be the superhero Mr. Incredible. If that doesn’t give him the indication that I’m very happily married, I don’t know what will.”
Bob raises an eyebrow at her, smirking. “Very happily married?”
“Very,” she emphasises. She rests her chin against his forearm, hoping he can read her sultry look. The kids are all asleep; it’s the perfect time to steal some time for themselves…
But Bob, despite his innate ability to sense when danger is around, sadly does not possess the same talent when it comes to matters of romance. “Well, good. I wouldn’t want to have to pull the poor kid aside and have stern words with him about making moves on someone else’s wife.”
“Especially Mr. Incredible’s,” she teases. “That might tarnish your heroic image somewhat.”
Bob rolls his eyes, ignoring her dig. “I’ve got to hand it to the kid. He’s got guts. I remember the way you socked Gamma Jack when he came on to you.”
“I couldn’t smack a member of the public,” she snorts. “We’d be back underground in record time. Besides, I don’t need to take that kind of direct action anymore.”
“Why not?”
“I have my own muscle man now, don’t I?” she smirks. “And I don’t think too many people would be stupid enough to challenge Mr. Incredible.”
“That’s not very feminist, is it, wanting a man to do it for you?”
“More selfish,” she concedes. “Means I get to enjoy the view of those muscles in action.”
At that, Bob raises an eyebrow, catching her cue. They’ve spent too much time tonight discussing a poor kid who will only ever have his fantasies. None of that matters. The only thing that does is them—their family, their friends—and as long as everyone is safe and happy, the rest is a footnote.
“I see,” he says now, his voice a low growl. “Well, Elastigirl, how would you like to have a private preview?”
Helen grins, reaching out to click the lamp off once more. “Y’know what? I think that’s the best idea you’ve had all day.”
“Even better than my idea to catch Bomb Voyage?”
“Much better than that,” she says, then bites back a hum of appreciation as he throws his pyjama shirt over the side of the bed, said muscles rippling. “Much, much better.”
He comes up with several more before the end of the night.