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The night air was cold, colder than it had been in a while. Rex felt the goosebumps paint themselves against his tan skin, hair standing on end as he took a breath to try and calm his nerves. He didn’t know why he was nervous, he had been here hundreds, maybe thousands of times before.
He shifted slightly, ass digging into the coarse shilling of the roof before he found a more comfortable position. He grimaced, idly wondering why Mark always chose to sit on the roof instead of inside. Where it was warm, and there was a bed, and there was a much higher chance he’d do more than sit here and stare at the same stars he’d seen for the last nineteen years. Nothing changed, and maybe he was just bitter, but he was tired of things never changing, no matter what he did.
“Rex, can I ask you something,” Mark’s figure didn’t move, only his lips, the words barely a whisper, and if Rex’s body wasn’t almost constantly waiting for Mark to notice him, to want him, maybe he’d have missed the question altogether.
“I mean, yea? The way you’re building up to it though you have me wondering if I should be nervous.” He laughed awkwardly, quickly jumping from thinking Mark would ask him to leave to if maybe he’d ask to bring him inside. They’d spent so many of their nights on this rooftop, finger tips grazing, and stolen glances, at least on Rex’s part. Rex knew, integrally, his feelings for the other had changed , maybe he didn’t know how to handle it, but he knew it was there. Together, on this rooftop they weren’t Invincible and Rex Splode, they were Mark and Rex, and every time Rex remembered that, it scared him more than he could put into words.
“Do you think things will ever change? That one day the world won’t need saving, and that one day we will just,” his voice tampered out gently, an unformed thought that Rex matched easily. Mark knew what he was asking, and Rex knew the implications of the questions. The world never changed, no matter how much they wanted it to, no matter how tired they were of chasing a hopeless dream, it was their job.
“Well, if either of us is gonna live long enough to see it it’ll be you,” the words felt harsh, “I mean, look dude I don’t know. I’ve been Rex Splode my entire life. It’s who I am, it’s what I’m good at. And if I’m gonna be honest man, I don’t really know what I’d do if one day the world just stopped needing heroes. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’d love it if a bunch of dick heads stopped trying to blow shit up every 30 seconds, but some days I don’t know where Rex Sloan begins and Rex Splode ends. Hell, I don't even know if there’s a difference.”
His next breath was harsher than he expected, as if he had forgotten to breathe, and maybe he had. He hadn’t meant to say all that, hadn’t meant to turn Mark’s question into some little bitch fest. Sure they’d talked about a lot, gotten to know more about each other than Rex had ever known about anyone his whole life, but all that was too much. He shifted uncomfortably, twisting away from Mark as he felt the others' eyes. He didn’t want to see the pity, maybe even disgust as Mark realized he was barely a man and even less of an excuse for a hero. He didn’t think he could handle that right now.
“What’re you talking about Rex,” Rex felt Mark’s fingers curl around his arm, a practiced gentleness showing the underlying strength the Viltrumite had grown so used to now. It should have scared him, but the warmth of his palm, the incessant press of his fingers as if he was going to slip out of his hands, he felt wanted.
“You’re not just Rex Splode, you’re Rex, and you’re an amazing hero sure, but you’re funny. You’re passionate, and stubborn which might not sound good but everyone loves you for it because even when we give up you haven’t. You’re amazing, you realize that don’t you?” As Mark continued, Rex heard the words begin to jumble together, as if Mark had so much to say and only so little time.
His words felt sharp, digging into his skin and leaving a wound he wasn’t sure would ever heal. It left him raw, the urge to run itching and pulling against his skin as he was exposed to the intensity of Mark Grayson. But, this wasn't a battle, this wasn’t a war, and there was nobody here to save, no one to focus on but each other, and that scared him.
“Well fuck, what’re you gonna tell me you’re in love with me or something?” Rex tried to smile, but he didn’t have time. As soon as the words left his mouth Mark flew forwards, a flash of pale skin and dark hair before their lips met.
The hand on his arm grew desperate, Mark’s fingers now digging into the spots where he once held him as if he were made of glass, while his other hand found the side of Rex’s face as he deepened the kiss. It took moments for the surprise to wear off before he was kissing Mark in earnest. Allowing himself to get lost in the earthy scent invading every ounce of his mind and body. Mark was warm against him, a stark contrast to the rapidly cooling night surrounding them. His free hand found purchase in Mark’s hair, and if Rex believed in God he would have thanked him for the fact Cecil grew his hand back if only so he could experience this moment.
Every breath was Mark, Rex inhaled his scent like it was the last thing he’d ever feel again. The dull throb of his arm under Mark’s hand, the warmth of his palm against his cheek as Mark pressed into his chest as closely as possible. The feeling of Mark’s hair in his hand, soft, but thick, sliding through his fingers easily as if his hand was meant to be there. They fit together like they were made for each other, and for the first time, this didn’t scare him. He wasn’t scared Mark would ask him to leave, wasn’t scared Mark would leave first, right now, he just fit.
When they both finally pulled away, Rex drew in a ragged breath, chest heaving as he stared at Mark, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even if it did it didn’t matter, Mark was a sight to see, cheeks flushed and lips swollen, eyes glassy as he caught his breath. If the world ended right now he might smile knowing this was the last thing he’d ever see. It was an image Rex would take to the grave, a memory he prayed no one but him would ever see again.
“I’m so sorry Rex, I don’t even know if you wanted that, I literally just forced myself against you. Fuck I’m so sorry,” Rex felt dizzy with the shifts in moods, Mark went from, well absolutely rocking his world with a kiss, to apologizing, and Rex couldn’t believe it.
“If you don’t think I wanted that kiss just as much as you, maybe Cecil’s implant did a lot more damage than you think. Don’t apologize for probably the best kiss of my life. Sorry to Kate and Eve but if I didn’t want to kiss you I could have just blown you up or something.” Rex shook his head in disbelief, still trying to come down from the kiss and everything Mark had said. He’d never felt this way before, but he was ruined, one kiss had turned him into an addict and he wasn’t going to lose it because Mark was even more of a self deprecating asshole than him.
“I didn’t think you were into me like that, might have done that sooner if I wasn’t worried you’d punch me in the face,” Mark seemed to relax a bit, lips twitching into a small smile before running a hand through his freshly ruined hair. A sight Rex reserved for much later.
“And break my fresh hand? Yea no thanks, I’ll let someone else punch you.” Rex barked out a laugh, a different type of warmth spreading in his chest as he really took Mark in. This was perfect, he hadn’t expected Mark to share the same feelings as him, hadn’t expected to kiss him. And if that’s all he got for the rest of his life, he’d go out happy. Happier than he could have ever imagined.
Everything about this Mark was off. Eyes once full of emotion were now filled with desperate anger and hate, pouring out nothing but venom as they burned their way across his skin. They left him vulnerable and exposed, but this Mark didn’t know anything about him, didn’t know what those eyes could do and had done. This wasn’t his Mark, not his Invincible, no matter how much he wanted it to be. Yet even the reminder didn’t chase away his musings, the memories. He just couldn’t help himself.
Rex couldn’t help but remember that this wasn’t Mark’s scent, this sharp, bloodied aroma wasn’t the soft earthy musk laced with fading cologne and mint toothpaste. These hands, which dug up flowering bruises weren’t Mark’s. Weren’t calloused but gentle, full of nervous anticipation and control as he moved throughout the world with the strength of the universe hidden behind a carefully constructed gentleness. Those weren’t Mark’s lips, drawn in a cruel smile, spitting insults and threats. Mark’s lips were soft, sometimes chapped after a long flight, and always smiling, at least when he was around Rex. He’d kill to see the smile again, kill to feel the press of Mark’s lips against his own, a reminder that they were alive, that there was more than just Rex Splode and Invincible, but not anymore.
In front of him was a twisted mirage of the truth. And maybe it was selfish, but he couldn’t stand to experience it anymore. Not the feeling of this imposter, or the memories of the actual Mark. They were so close, but so different, and Rex decided he would rather die than allow Mark’s image to be tainted. He wouldn’t let this sorry excuse mar the memories he had created. They were all he had left.
“My entire goddamn skeleton.”