Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Today was supposed to be a normal day.

 

And for the most part, it was.

You woke up first before your boyfriend. That was probably the first weird thing of the day, typically he would have already beat you to the kitchen… but Simon didn't look all that upset that you were the one cooking breakfast this time. Eggs and some toast, ham on the side. Nothing insane, something quick to hold you both over until your respective lunch breaks. A side of coffee of course, his plain black with no sugars or cream. He was a simple man, and while you never said it out of fear of him taking it as you believing him boring… you cherished that his desires were simple.

"You've outdone yourself," Simon mumbled as his long fingers wrapped loose around the fork you had passed to him. You snicker at the sight of bright yellow yolk stuck at the corner of his mouth.

"It's just eggs, it's hardly anything," You sipped on your coffee. "If I really wanted to be impressive I should have made a quiche,"

Early mornings were always quiet but you'd never trade it for anything.

 

A straighten to his tie before you departed for the day on opposite sides of town to your own places of work. Of course you didn't neglect kissing him on the cheek.

You made it to your building, and tucked yourself away in your cubicle a few stories up from the ground floor. Honestly the day was too normal. Too slow. Too sluggish. You swear at some point the ugly somewhat flickering screen of your supposedly "new computer". Hot tech your ass the thing was clunky and ugly, but it sure did make work a hell of a lot easier. You had to admit that as you clicked away on the massive keys.

Type this input that. The hours passed as slow as a slug.

 

Really, this was the most mundane. Boring. Non eventful day someone could ever experience.

 

The only interruption was around an hour before your break when your coworker knocked on the white wall of your space.

Gritted teeth pulled tight in a smile. You've seen it so many times before and it took everything not to let the groan fall out of your mouth.

"Heeeeeeeey…" Here we go. He slinked into sight fully, presenting a thick and messy stack of papers. He didn't even wait for you to answer before plopping them on the corner of your desk. "You wouldn't mind sifting through these for me, would you? I really hate to just… dump it on you… but…" He trailed off and made some mumbled excuse. A sick kid. You would have bought it had you not caught the same coworker sneaking off with some blond from a different department on one of your lunch runs.

Nonetheless you rolled your teeth against one another and begrudgingly tugged the stack close, flashing what was hopefully your most convincing smile.

"No no it's fine,"

As if. But as unfair as it was, the thought of stirring some work place drama and getting caught in the middle made you want to rip your hair out in chunks. Whispers of Sarah throwing dirty looks to Sally. Rumors of married man Mark gazing longingly at the cute new intern. You were still trying to stamp out the fires the office gossip was trying to stoke when she found out that her grandson- who just so happened to work at Simon's firm- reported back to her that you were seeing the quiet intimidating lawyer he always complained about; insisting that he must've thought Simon was too good for even looking at those "lower than him". You didn't entertain it. Not one bit.

All that to say conversations with your coworkers were limited. Professional to the majority of them. Maybe a tiny handful that were granted some level of warmth.

The second your coworker rushed out of your sight- a little too eagerly- you glared at the stack of papers like it was something offensive. It kind of was. Another load to add to what you were already sifting through.

But you grit your teeth through it. Your lunch break was soon. You'd hide away in the break room like you normally did.

 

So when the time finally rolled around you didn't waste a single second getting to the elevator. You were already day dreaming about brewing another cup of coffee and reheating one of the scones you had packed for yourself. Hardly a proper lunch but it'd been something you've been aching for.

There was no one else in the break room. A rarity that you weren't upset about as you stepped up to the counter and got to work brewing a fresh pot of coffee. The scone was tossed to the microwave a moment later and neatly placed back on a paper towel you had torn from the roll. Cinnamon and spices wafted into the air and mingled with the bitter scent of black coffee as the pot finished- you were sure Simon would lightly scold you for having such a light meal. You'd probably do the same if this was all he ate, but you were made into a hypocrite as you curled your fingers around the slightly warmed handle of the coffee pot.

 

You didn't even get the chance to pour any into the mug before a shock ripped through the building and sent everything into chaos. It all happened so fast you weren't sure what happened first- the scalding of your hand or the flickering of the lights or the chorus of screams and alarms that tore through the air of the building.

Several loud crashes and smaller booms came after, you know that for sure as the building continued to shake with each bang.

You didn't scream because you were scared, but because the burning hot coffee splattered across the back of your hand and forearm. Rushing to the sink to douse it was your first thought, before the feel of the floor rattling underneath your feet forced you to stay rooted in place. So you dash forward to the exit.

 

You tried, at least.

The second hesitation saved you as another roll of motion rocked through the walls- larger than the first. Enough to knock you to your knees and slide across the floor. A crash right in front of you, just a few inches away from the top of your head as something from the floor above crashed through and blocked the exit.

Some old vending machine that hadn't been cleaned in God knows how long based on the thick spindly layer of dust on the side that faced you- and the thing didn't budge no matter how hard you pushed. What gaps remained were too small for you to squeeze through.

But large enough to allow thick black smoke to pour right in.

The scalded skin of your arm bubbled against the heat that still radiated off of the back of the vending machine, still warm where it was once plugged in. Despite the feel of your nerves being boiled you remained rooted to the spot. Only the sound of screams and the footsteps of your coworkers rushing past snapped you back to the moment-

 

"HELP-" You rammed your shoulder against the tough back of the vending machine, and when that didn't work you tried to squeeze yourself through the gap between itself and the door. "I'M STILL IN HERE-"

Maybe they didn't hear you over the alarms and their own footsteps, or maybe they did and they were just more concerned with getting themselves out. Another attempt proved useless as you reeled back. The right side of your head ached from when you had slammed against the floor, a thin trickle of warm blood didn't process against the rising heat of the room as the apparent fire below started to claw their way upwards.

It was like waiting for the oven to finish preheating.

No matter how loud you tried to scream the rush of footsteps that went by didn't stop or slow down. They eventually fell into silence as your closed fists slammed against the vending machine, each impact sending surge after surge of agony up your shoulder through your throbbing skin. One hand stained a deep red, and the other slowly beginning to copy the color along its fingers with each impact. Sticky, almost gritty, clumps of dust and random bits that had curled and packed tight along the back of the vending machine caught on your skin but you couldn't convince yourself to be disgusted at the tacky feel as you continued to scream.

 

And scream.

 

And scream.

 

The coughing betrayed you. Throat ran raw from the shrieks and smoke.

 

What would Simon think?

He was probably still on the other side of town completely unaware of whatever was happening in your building- whatever actually was going on. It was probably time for his lunch break too; you'd check the fallen clock in the room if your eyes could focus on the hands.

Would he find out during his break or would he come home to find the place empty- only then finding out that something had happened?

You thought back to this morning. Everything had been so normal, but as stupid as it sounded maybe you should have taken the anomaly of waking up before him this time as a sign to call in sick.

Chaos drowned out the sound of your knees thumping to the ground as the smoke hung off the ceiling and began to fill the room. No one came. And no one probably knew you were trapped in the second floor break room; your meager lunch forgotten and reduced to soggy crumbs.

Was it not Simon who had made the scone? Would he be upset if he found out it went wasted?

 

It was two days ago that he had decided to try his hand at making them. He was a decent cook, but baking was an entirely different beast that he wanted to try to tame when he had the free time.

They weren't pretty, and they didn't have the best crumb. But they were his and had a charm to them.

"If I didn't know better I'd have thought you wanted to have some sort of proof that I actually ate it," You vaguely remembered what you said as you swiped large crumbs off of your shirt- the thing hardly stayed together even as you wrapped your entire hand around the thing, fingers growing sticky from the glaze he had drizzled over. It wasn't even fully dry. Or was it?

He had laughed, at least you think he did. You recalled he was still wearing the dirtied apron- streaked with flour, brown spots along the top where he had dripped vanilla extract.

"I wouldn't exactly say that," Simon offered a lopsided smile as he watched you take another bite of the scone. For a moment his eyes lingered a little longer than he'd normally let them on your face as your cheek puffed with pastry, before he snapped them away. "How is it?"

You finish the mouthful. "For a first attempt it's great," You flash him a smile to match his own. "It's not too chewy or dense, fragile sure but other than that I think the taste is spot on… I'll have to bring one or two to work if I don't eat them all first,"

Simon never looked more proud of himself. Rarely did he smile wide enough to show off all of his teeth, but he did in that moment and it was so infectious that you had to return it even if it meant making a messy fool of yourself. "I should keep up with the baking then,"

"As long as you don't take my spot in the kitchen,"

"By all means, you're welcome to join me,"

Plans were made this weekend to try your hands at making cookies. You had offered chocolate chip, and he almost shyly asked for the possibility of incorporating peanut butter into the blend, a boyish glint in his eyes when you nodded along. It was such a far cry from the professional and stiff demeanor he had when you first met him- of course he was still cautious in his day to day… but you lived off the knowledge that you alone have gotten Simon- the intimidating, to the point, no nonsense or fooling around lawyer that everyone said was allergic to fun and probably thought he was better than everyone… to smile…

But of course, the scones took priority in the moment- you didn't want his hard work to go to waste, you had promised you'd bring them with you to work.

 

You kept that promise even if you didn't get the chance to eat the one you packed.

Almost dumbly you wondered once more if he would be upset that the thing went to waste. He had spent… so much time on it. You saw the concentrated look on his face when you passed by the kitchen, the way his eyes flicked this way and that between the recipe he had found in the back of some old dusty cookbook, and the dough itself. You were sure he counted each time he folded the dough… did scone dough need to be folded like biscuits? You didn't know, and it didn't matter to you as your head slumped against the wall to your left. The edges of the top of the door lost itself into

 

You kissed him on the cheek and got crumbs all over him but neither of you cared. You wanted so badly to do that again and the fact that you wouldn't made your insides curl in a sick sort of way.

You were going to die here. You did everything you could, didn't you? There were no windows in the break room so it wasn't like you could smash one or signal for help. The vending machine was too heavy, and your fists had left bright red drops along the back. Your shoulder ached and throbbed, and you swear you could feel each vein under your skin throb hard along the burnt skin of your forearm. You could probably see the pulse if you looked closed enough, if your eyes allowed for you to focus.

You were going to die here and Simon would find out second hand that he'd now sleep alone in his bed.

Would he find someone else? It felt selfish but a part of you felt ill at the idea- faces conjured as the smoked veiled room blurred and smeared into the same ugly grayed out color. Someone with kind eyes, someone with nice hair or maybe a smile that could brighten his day. He'd need it after you-

 

The alarms continued to wail on as the fire grew in its greed.

Red light seeped in through the empty cracks of the exit, and you simply… accepted it.

 

But fire doesn't usually come bursting forward in a concentrated beam of light, cutting right through the metal and glass of the vending machine and searing the floor in its path. Fire also didn't force machines to the side or scream. Whatever words were being said were drowned out by the wails and crackles of the building as it screamed in the face of its collapse- warmed slick material wrapped around you as the chest of whoever had burst into the room rumbled and vibrated against you- still, the words were lost on you as his hand swiped ash off of your cheek.

Only then did you actually bring your eyes upward to look at his face- a helmet marked with a silver "GB" held tight in a circle. No one could blame you for taking a moment to connect the letters to a name.

 

Gazerbeam, you think.

You've heard of him.

 

You've also heard of heros who usually kept their faces neutral or offered a reassuring smile in the face of tragedy while saving a civilian. Rumors of Gamma Jack flirting with the women and dismissing the men. Frozone offering an ice related quip that could only thaw some of the tension. Of course, you'd heard of Mr. Incredible's charm.

 

Gazerbeam was neither smiling nor remaining neutral. His lip shook like this was personal, his white teeth grit together as he tucked your head close under his jaw as he dashed back out into the hallway. Each wide stride felt so familiar, and the way his hands perfectly curved around your body felt like crawling into the arms of a long time friend. Like they belonged there- something right, something natural.

For just a moment his gloved hand pressed to your against your cheek. His warmth against your boiling heat as his thumb swiped the wetness away. You don't know when you started crying.

Gazerbeam's jaw certainly had the same structure as Simon's, even down to the same way his skin creased and wrinkled when he focused on some paperwork. It made it easier to keep your eyes on him as he bolted through the burning building. From long strides to gunning it through the sweltering hallways until he came face to face with the shiny hot doors of the elevator- it was then that you got a rough reflection of your current state.

 

You looked like death- tears had stained your cheeks and marked through the soot that slapped itself onto your face. Grime and dust clung like forbidden cotton candy to your hair, caked in with the dried blood of your temple- creating something you could only imagine at a horror attraction.

Compared to Gazerbeam, who only had some smudges on his shiny super suit, you looked like you were dragged from Hell… dragged back in… and then dragged back out like a horrible game of tug of war.

To be fair, the inside of the building looked more and more like classic depictions with every passing minute.

 

He skidded to a halt, but you didn't notice. The elevator wasn't working, even if it was it probably wasn't the safest with the building's current state. So the stairs it was, it was only one flight… he didn't even need to use his powers to blast a hole in the wall, whatever had done all of this damage had beat him to it.

 

They never tell you how sunlight sometimes burned more than fire, and you were unfortunate enough to find that out yourself as Gazerbeam broke out into the street. Dozens of faces were spilled out into the streets- other heros, coworkers, passerby who stopped to watch the chaos- officers and other services trying to tend to the wounded and tame the fires. Men already shoved into police cars and carted away before they had the chance to do more damage, but you were so out of it that none of it mattered to you.

 

You lived. Your lungs burned and felt heavy but you were alive. Your heart beat fast, but Gazerbeam's hit harder as he pulled you even closer like you were a long lost friend. The shake in his lip stilled but his teeth remained gritted as he tilted his visor covered face down at you.

His words failed him. You've never seen a hero get caught on their own words. Or one that continued to try and fail to grind them out.

"You're going to be alright." Firm and deep, forced. False confidence slipped into each short syllable. His red visor, still smoking from when he cut through the vending machine, pulled itself away from you and scanned the line up of help.

 

He took a step.

 

"Simon?" You hardly recognized your voice. Torn up and dried beyond belief. To you confusion spread across his face as he froze on the sidewalk, head snapped right back down to look at you. Something twitched in his cheek.

…

 

It couldn't be him. He would've still been at work, and as much as you looked up to him he didn't exactly scream hero vibes.

Simon J. Paladino was a lawyer, a man who avoided eye contact at every chance and kept his eyes fixed low when his attention wasn't demanded. Even if Simon had already caught wind of what was happening, would he not be standing on the sidelines trying to pick you out of the tight crowd? That's even if he'd already managed to speed over, he could very well still be zipping through the streets trying to make it to you.

No, Simon couldn't be Gazerbeam. Not your Simon.

The hero's fingers twitched against your skin.

You beat him to it, whatever he was going to say- leaving him with his mouth slightly parted.

"No, you're not him… Sorry…" You mumbled softly as you allowed your head to fall back into a rest against his sharp collarbone. Even that felt familiar.

You wanted your partner. Bad. If it weren't for the exhaustion trying to drag your bones into the core of the Earth you would have tried to stumble out of your savior's arms and scrambled to try to see if someway, somehow, Simon had made it to the scene to make sure you were okay. You'd have done the same if it were his firm that caught on fire.

Straining your eyes did nothing to try to pick out the tall man from the crowd.

 

He just hasn't found out yet, you told yourself. You couldn't be upset. You were too tired.

 

"There are paramedics here, they will take care of you," It sounded like he was trying to convince himself. Why would the hero need reassurance over a stranger's life? Even his voice sounded tense as his throat flexed and bobbed under his suit, the shift pressed right against your sooty scalp as he stepped back into motion.

 

At some point, you were passed off to someone else's hold. Reluctantly, you could feel the way his fingers dragged off of you.

The new set of hands that pressed against you were foreign. They weren't rough, but they weren't gentle either. They didn't hold the same comforting feel Gazerbeam's had, as weird as it was to say.

 

And even weirder, the hero lingered near the back of the ambulance as the doors were pulled shut, crammed with you and at least one of your coworkers.

If you weren't so out of it, you would have sworn you caught the rapid heave of his chest as the ambulance started to move.

 

His shoulders were tensed in the exact same way Simon's did when he stayed up too late working, and it seared into your mind as his form turned into a small black blip against your smearing vision.

Chapter Text

Today started off different today.

But Simon tried to convince the nagging voice in his head that it wasn't the case.

Usually Simon was the first to wake up. First to the shower, and the first in the kitchen to get breakfast started. It's not that you slept late or had to scramble in before it was time to leave. No, you always came around by the time he was finishing up the eggs. So call him surprised when he stepped into the bathroom and found the air already damp, and the smell of fresh brewed coffee slipping into the hallway as he made his way to the kitchen.

 

"You've outdone yourself," Simon mumbled as his long fingers wrapped loose around the fork you had passed to him. You snicker at the sight of bright yellow yolk stuck at the corner of his mouth.

"It's just eggs, it's hardly anything," You sipped on your coffee. "If I really wanted to be impressive I should have made a quiche,"

A quiche sounded nice, actually… but Simon was more than happy with the sunny side up eggs you whipped up for him, perfectly cooked with unbroken golden yolks. He never could quite get the method right, he always ended up popping his yolks in the skillet no matter how hard he tried… either that or zapping it with his eyes when he focused too hard. So long runny yolks, hello firm chalkiness.

Breakfast went by without anything out of the ordinary. Simon's coffee was perfect and black, and as usual when one person cooked the other cleaned- and he made sure to do quick work of it as the clock ticked on by. As silly as it was to admit from a man like him, the promise of your morning kiss spurred him to pick up the pace.

A kiss to accompany the straightening of his work tie, that wasn't different. It was your daily routine, and no matter how many times you treated him to it it always left him with a soft fuzzy feeling in his chest that would stretch on well into his work day.

A silent encouragement to keep himself productive through the day, at least until it was time for lunch.

 

That's when everything started to fall apart- Simon sat at his own work desk, one hand gently wrapped around a scone he had baked two days prior; his free hand holding a napkin to catch any loose crumbs. Just outside, his coworkers chatted along with one another about their own days. Simon never was one to eavesdrop, but how could he not when the new hire suddenly exploded into the walkway rattling on about his grandmother's workplace had been under attack by some group- the name completely slipped past Simon; because he was more focused on the fact that he was well aware of where the young man's grandmother worked.

 

He couldn't. You were on the other side of town; even if he hopped into his car and gunned it as fast he could, he'd probably get pulled over at best or stuck in a wreck at worse.

He wouldn't. Not that he didn't want to, he wanted more than anything to get over there and make sure you were okay… but could he slip by without his absence being noticed?

Simon's legs ached deep with the need to start running, and the second the new hire decided trying to make it to the scene was more important than his position, Simon snapped up to his feet. He'd make it there in time, he'd find a way.

The lawyer wasted no time in slipping away just long enough to change into his suit, capitalizing on the new found chatter in the form made that easy as he slipped through the back allies. He'd take his car, and he would drive as fast as he could to make it to you and make sure you- and of course everyone else- were okay.

 

It was almost comical the way Simon fumbled with his keys, jamming them fruitlessly into the door- dropping them, using the wrong one. He was so sucked into the task he didn't notice the caped figure slowly lowering from the sky behind him.

"Take it you're heading down town too?" Gamma Jack's voice suddenly breaking the string of jingling nearly earned him a fresh new hole in his body.

 

He could worry about the long term effects of radiation later. Save for a million thoughts rushing through his mind, Simon was focusing hard on keeping his hands firmly and securely latched around the other super as the two cut through the air.

"Heard its like, real bad- bombs and shit." Jack sounded too casual. Too nonchalant as the sight of your building work place pulled closer into view. Tall and thick black clouds of smoke stained and painted the sky in reds and black, sirens pierced through the air as the pair drew nearer- and as Gazerbeam scanned through the crowd below he couldn't catch any sight of you.

Fresh young faces that couldn't have been older than a fresh college graduates, older faces lined with age. Groups and singular workers slinking away from the blazing inferno the office building had turned into- duos and trios comforting one another as a few stand alones took it upon themselves to count up and track who made it out. Relief was only temporary as more bolted out through the smoke, some sliding down to safety on slick bridges of ice- only then did the melting structures click to Gazerbeam, they'd all melt so fast that the only proof they were there after a minute or two was the rapidly drying water stains on the sidewalk.

Whatever had gone down inside was old news it looked like- old news, usually in scenarios like these the police would only just be pulling up. Even using Gamma Jack as a means of transportation was fast enough as he closed in on the scene.

 

"I can't keep this up-" Frozone shouted over the chaos. Mr Incredible stood nearby, settling an older woman down on the ground who was babbling on about someone being trapped in one of the break rooms- each word becoming clearer as her head cleared of the smoke, even if just by a little bit.

"The second floor- someone's stuck on the second floor- they-" She continued on as Mr Incredible carefully pushed his large hand in front of her before she could even try to rush back inside.

"We'll get them, ma'am-" Mr Incredible's blue eyes flicked to Gazerbeam and Gamma Jack as they lowered to the ground, the radiation hero dropping the other a few feet. It's not like he had a choice, Gazerbeam was practically squirming to get out of the blond's hold- the sight was so out of character for him that it knocked the other three heros into brief stunned silence.

None of them really had the chance to shout at him to get back- even if the woman didn't say your name, he knew you were still in there. You weren't out in the streets, and a half glance showed none of the bodies being stowed away into the back of ambulance's belonged to you.

And how often did you leave the building to go pick up some lunch- besides, he knew you packed something for yourself. Even if it weren't you, there was still someone trapped and that was enough to launch Gazerbeam into action as he barreled through the fires billowing out through the entrance of the building.

 

If the sky outside was painted orange, then the inside of the building was doused in the color. The light alone from the flames drowned out any indicator of where he was even going- if he'd never dropped off your lunch in the past on days where you had forgotten it at home on the rare chance he had a day off he'd be blindly scrambling around just trying to find a way onto the second floor.

An irrational part of him wondered if it would have been faster to ask Mr Incredible to just throw him through one of the windows… he was most definitely strong enough… even if Gazerbeam might not have been durable enough to handle the toss unscathed enough to actually do those trapped inside some good. A helmet could only go so far to protect someone, and his suit was only tear resistant. It did next to nothing for impact.

On top of that, it was heat resistant- in the event that his own lasers went off the rails, not strong enough to withstand the beam if he held it but strong enough to hold out for a quick blast should it be faced with something shiny. It wasn't fire proof though, and it didn't at all block out all of the heat as he ran up the stairs three steps at a time. Four steps. Five. As many as he could skip with his long legs.

 

Up the first half. Sharp turn. Up the second half and onto the second floor- it wasn't as bad as the first floor but it wasn't pretty either. The ceiling had collapsed in several areas where the force of the bombs had rocked through the building- one right above the entrance of the break room had dropped a vending machine from the floor above.

He could only hope that that was the only reason you couldn't escape, and that nothing more had happened to you.

Gazerbeam's gloved hand briefly pressed against the heated front of the vending machine, the glass cracked through… but dirty and clouded. Not at all reflective. He pulled his fingers off of it and took a step back- cutting through it would be faster than trying to move the thing as it was.

"GET BACK-" He shouted, whether or not you responded was drowned out by the cacophony around him and the ring of his ear as he focused hard on the machine in front of him- it only took a second. Not even a full one before a concentrated beam of red light sliced clean through it- Gazerbeam pulled his sight up, and then down to finish the job. A second longer on the floor and he would have burnt right through it. The inside of his visor felt warm but he moved right on as he pushed himself through the red hot cut of the vending machine, prying the two halves apart just enough to slip through.

 

And there you were, slumped in the corner of the room with the blood of a fresh head wound staining the once pristine white wall. The world seemed to slow down then as he took in your state. Skin boiled and red from your knuckles to your elbow, both hands rammed red and covered in aged muck. You had tried to force your way out, judging by the faint drops of red on the vending machines remains.

Your eyes were the worst of all, glazed over. The slowness they carried as he closed the distance and took you up in his arms made his organs tense in total disgust and terror. Gazerbeam couldn't recall the last time it felt like something had such a tight grip on him- maybe the first time he really processed how dangerous his powers could be. Maybe when it cost him so many friendships- not because someone got hurt, but because it made him look stupid or that he had an ego problem.

"I've got you-" He despised the way his molars ground hard against one another as he swiped his thumb across your cheek; smearing your tears into the ash and revealing the flushed skin underneath. He had to get you out of here as soon as he could.

 

And he did, scooping you up close to his chest as he jumped back to his feet and bolted down the hallway.

Going down posed the same issue. He didn't trust the elevators with the building's current state even if it was just one floor. Gazerbeam skidded to a halt in front of the shiny doors, his eyes fixed on the flight of stairs he had used to get up to the second floor in the first place. The floor above had already caved and blocked it.

There had to be another flight somewhere- and as the flames licked at his ankles and searched for more he couldn't waste time just standing around. Not when your ribs creaked and heaved roughly against his own as you fought hard to keep your breathing in check.

He found it after a few precious minutes flew by- each second upping the danger for the both of you. Gazerbeam's fingers tightened against your hot skin, the warmth radiating straight through his gloves as he stared at the smoke filled stair case. It'd have to do, for all he knew it was the only flight left that hadn't crumbled… and if he needed to, could he rely on the others to fish him from the rubble if the building were to collapse, would they even hear him over the crackling walls and flames?

He couldn't keep you here and he wouldn't, even as his ankles screamed in protest as he nearly flew down them- joints creaking against the hours of sitting and sifting, the dull voice of Elastigirl's advice to keep up with stretches- how should he have known that she meant that as general advice and not as something completely unique to her?

It wasn't that Gazerbeam was particularly hold, he still enjoyed the prime of his youth. But no matter how often he ran around stopping crime, he still spent a majority of his time in an uncomfortable chair that was just a little too short for his tall frame; and crime hardly granted the leisure to stop and make sure you wouldn't pull your hamstring.

Gazerbeam's shoulder rammed into the wall as he made it to the halfway landing of the stairs, but he trudged on- muttering a choked apology for the jostle he must've given your head as the smoke thickened the closer the two of you got to the ground floor.

 

Closer, each second plunging you both further into the smoke and heat- before it rapidly died down and ripped itself away from your bodies as hard steps gave way to sidewalk. The sun glared off of his visor as he pulled you further away from the burning building.

Only then did he chance a glance down to your exhausted face as his mouth continued to shake against his desires.

He despised how heavy you felt in his hands, how limp and frail you seemed to be- how long had you been trapped inside?

Every curve and edge of your body was committed perfectly to memory, so how come you didn't feel like yourself- the way your head slumped reminded him of the way the skulls of other civilians he's dragged away from danger. Heavy, as if full of cotton and lead. The glazed look in your eye gave way to mistiness as your lungs finally cracked and hooked to oxygen as best as it could.

He wanted to comfort you. He wanted so badly to sit you down on the pavement and keep you in his arms, but he knew he had to pass you off to the paramedics. Hero or not, he couldn't do anything for you. So he pushed himself back into something akin to heroic professionalism, the effort hissing through his teeth as he forced his skin smooth.

"You're going to be alright." It was just as much a reassurance for you as it was for him. He wanted so badly to convince himself that it were true. Rubble crunched under Gazerbeam's boot as he stepped towards the ambulances.

 

He could do this, he could let go of you. He could let them take you off of his hands. They'd know what to do- after all he was a lawyer in his day to day, not a doctor. He hardly knew how to administer anything beyond basic first aid…!

 

But your tiny voice made his bones scorch hotter than any fire could dream of.

 

"Simon?"

As wobbly as your head was as your half cracked eyes glued to his shiny visor.

 

You couldn't have known. You shouldn't have known. He had been so careful to keep this secret from you for years- and if you knew this whole time it would have slipped by now, wouldn't it?

Had he slipped up? Did his visor ride up, or did you steal a glimpse of his face from your angle? Or did someone manage to snap a picture of him- some people could be persistent in trying to find the true identities of their beloved supers… but it wasn't like Gazerbeam was insanely popular- he was no Gamma Jack or Mr Incredible. In fact he was still quite new to the hero scene- had he slipped on his wording to you?

His fingers sank deeper into the tensed and hot tissue of your body. He was sure if he weren't wearing gloves he'd find just how gritty and rough your work clothes had become. The meat of his cheek caught between his teeth- should he fess up, or should he…

 

"No, you're not him… Sorry…" and your head pressed against his chest just like it had hundreds of time before.

It didn't do a thing to calm the rapid beating of his heart as he stood rooted for a second, processing that he had just narrowly avoided his identity being exposed even if just to you.

 

"There are paramedics here, they will take care of you," Gazerbeam started his stride back up to the ambulances. He couldn't ignore the way your heavy lazily shifted around to look through the crowd that grew- larger than when he had first entered the inferno.

 

He ignored the weird look the paramedic had given him when they saw the way he cradled you and kept his jaw pressed against your scalp.

Gazerbeam was never one for public affections, even as Simon. This was a one time thing, and only his friends would know why this specific worker seemed so important to him. Or why he stood in place as you were taken away, sirens wailing and dying with the distance.

 

He wanted to follow so badly. He wanted more than anything to crawl into the back of the vehicle and stay with you, the others could control the crowd and sort through the mess- was it selfish to shove off the work onto his allies? Maybe, but could he be blamed when his throat felt like it'd been stuffed with barbed wire?

Gazerbeam's throat ached- dried from the hot air he just dragged himself through for you. Not that he wanted it to sound like you were at fault- you weren't. Not at all. It wasn't your fault either that his chest heaved with the effort it took to keep himself steady.

 

Could it be? Gazerbeam, the hero usually seen as one of the most non-emotive, the most put together- the most calm, collected… was this going to be the thing that shattered that reputation and reduce him to something less than courageous?

Something shaking and scared, something vulnerable.

This wasn't the same kind of jitters he got when he decided to finally approach you after noticing your regular visits to the cafe he frequented on the weekend. No, that was nervousness. This was worse.

Simon's palms throbbed and he swore he rocked with each pump of his heart.

He could feel the outlines of his organs, and they were alive and writhing. Each scorched smoke covered alveoli straining to take in the quick gulps of oxygen- before it was ripped away, exhaled as quickly as he inhaled. The super suit tailored just for him boiled against his skin as it clung hard to his spine like a second skin in desperate need to be molted.

 

Gazerbeam nearly set off his laser's when a hard hand clapped on his upper back- firm. Grounding in the way the fingers pressed against his shoulder blades, the calmer pulse a contrast to his wild one.

It was Mr Incredible himself.

His usual focused blue eyes gave way to something soft and filled with understanding, not too different to the way he looked at Simon the day they met.

"Hey-" Stiff and awkward, like he didn't really know how to comfort someone- friend or not. The other man's mouth flexed and curled awkwardly as he tried to come up with the right words to say.

Mr Incredible may have been more charismatic than Gazerbeam, but he was a man who struggled at times to simply… comfort. Vulnerability wasn't his strong suit.

None of them could afford something like that as long as there was crime.

"Me and Frozone have this all under control, Gamma Jack's already hogging the reporters, if you want to go ahead and…" Mr Incredible's eyes darted to a clear alleyway.

He was offering him an out.

Gazerbeam didn't let the chance slip past him- and he made extra sure to stay out of sight, his work clothes had been left behind. If Gamma Jack wasn't tending to the dozens of camera wielding reporters he would have asked if the super could fly him back to where he started.

 

It'd have been easier to just go home.

 

So he did, sneaking in through the back door in hopes that no one who was on their day off didn't see the strange visor wearing man tugging the backdoor open or prowling around for the spare key hidden under one of the heavier potted plants- even in his haste Simon made sure to handle your favorite plant with care as he dragged the key out from under it.

The visor was thrown to the side without a second thought, the same done to his gloves and boots as they scattered across the living room and through the hallway leading to your shared bedroom.

The only time he wasted was to wash his face of the ash that stained his face where the helmet didn't cover him- honestly the cleanness of the line was impressive, but it'd be a dead giveaway that something was afoot if he rolled up to the hospital with his lower face stained in shades of black and gray.

 

It was probably the most underdressed Simon had ever been, if his outside outfits were the only consideration. He hadn't bothered to do the top buttons of his shirt, and he completely skipped grabbing his tie.

Simon paid no mind to his elderly neighbor as he suddenly burst through the front door, his movements not as mechanical as they usually were when he went out for work- not loose. No where near loose, but his limbs were quick and swinging as he made his way to the closest bus stop. He'd get his car tomorrow at the latest. It could wait.

Any stares that were sent his way were simply ignored and unnoticed as his leg bounced against the floor of the bus.

It was maybe the longest thirty minutes of his life. It felt like hours.

If just the ride to the hospital felt like hours, then waiting in the room to see you felt like weeks- made all the worse by the side glances he finally noticed, now that he was forced to sit there with his thoughts. Simon's clean clothing did little to make him look less like a wreck- if anything it made him look worse.

Pristine white button up against sweaty and dirty hair that was swept so wildly around that he looked like he'd just been hit by a leaf blower made him look… unstable. His glasses were still smudged and tilted to the side as his hands rolled against one another.

Once, twice, a third time. The motion continued until he lost count, not that he was keeping track anyway as time blurred together into a loose concept- those eyes, the ones you had looked up at him with burned deep in his mind, slamming hard against the memories of when they practically beamed up at him. Lifeless marbles desecrated what once was and rolled across the smear of his recounting of today's events- including the addition of finally being allowed to see you.

It only stopped blending together when he finally got to see you folded up under the sheets of your hospital bed- bandaged and so so so small.

 

But alive, and aware with slurred words from whatever pain killers they put you on to treat whatever booboos you'd gotten between the first explosion and Gazerbeam rescuing you.

"I should have brought flowers," He mumbled. It wasn't intended as a joke but God the smile you gave him unwrapped some of the tightness in his chest.

"I wouldn't be able to smell them, I think my nose is all seared from the smoke," You mumbled.

Simon hesitated as you opened your unburnt arm for him. "Are you sure?" His voice was quieter than he intended, and rougher than usual from the smoke still staining his insides… not bad enough to warrant help, at least it didn't feel bad. Just dry. But the sound caught you off guard, even in your current state as your good arm lingered in the air.

"It sounds like you need this more than me," Your fingers flexed awkwardly in the air… uncoordinated, and wobbly just like the limb it was attached to.

Was the offer really mostly for him?

If it wasn't, he wasn't going to let you keep you hanging like a monster, not after everything that's happened today. So he stepped forward and settled himself under your hold, and stayed for a minute. It should have lasted longer, and if he wasn't so worried about your wounds he would have stayed there.

He reluctantly pulled himself out from under your arm- long cooled from when he pulled you out of the building… good… that was good…- and settled for holding your hand in his; now his own body heat outmatched yours as he looped his fingers between your digits.

 

Ignoring the circumstances and where you were, it was actually nice sitting together like this. It was quiet. There was no screaming, no sirens, no hot flames licking your bodies.

 

"I saw Gazerbeam today," You suddenly blurted out. "At least I think I did…? He's not… the only hero running around with a visor on-?" A shake of your head quieted you… and it looked like you regretted it as your head sank back on the soft white pillow propped under your skull. "He kind of looked like you actually but I think that might've just been because I bumped my noggin," The burnt hand lazily circled by the patch covering your temple.

Simon pursed his lips.

"I don't see it,"

You only shrug.

"Did you know you sound a lot like him, too? Insane," The burnt hand fell carefully to your side. Simon felt his face twitch as your eye flicked to him. "Before you get jealous I'll have you know he held me a little too tight… not the best cuddle, yours are way better,"

"Even in times like these you can't help but…" Simon's teeth ground together. "toy with me,"

Not that he was angry. He wasn't even upset. It calmed him actually, knowing that after everything you were still yourself. The event hadn't shaken you as horribly as he feared it would. At least for the time being, the aftershocks could very well hit later, but scolding you- in a universe where he had planned on it- in the moment while your head still struggled to keep its weight stable felt cruel. He swiped his thumb against the back of your hand once, twice.

"But I suppose its a sign you're in high spirits,"

Silence.

"You look like you ran here," You stared at his blown around hair, then your tired red eyes slipped town to his own blue ones- the edges still tinged pink from…

"You look like you're about to collapse."

"I dropped my keys." It wasn't entirely a lie, he was sure they were still somewhere next to his car back at his firm. One could only hope that no one could find them and decide to take his car on a joyride. Just another thing to add to the headache building in the front of his skull. He'd worry about it later. Simon took another breath to steady himself. "I didn't want to keep you waiting once I heard what happened," He picked his words carefully.

You were already making comparisons.

 

"I'd still be here either way, I wouldn't mind waiting a little longer for you to turn up," A squeeze against his hand.

He returned it.

"I know," Simon's blue eyes locked onto your stare for a second, before focusing on the bandage on your temple. Then the wrappings around your arm. You'd been cleaned, not a string of dust left in your hair. "I know." Firmer this time.

"I didn't get to eat the scone today- funniest thing, I think I was caught up on that while I was being carried out," You mumbled suddenly. "It's a little silly but I was so stuck on the thought that you'd be upset that I let it go to waste," The grin was lopsided as it stretched across your flushed cheek. Like you had just shared something embarrassing. To you it was, but to Simon it just twisted the knife.

"There's still more at home,"

What else could he say? Had he not known you so well he would have pushed that he wouldn't be angry. But he knew you well enough that this was your attempt to keep him from sinking into his own thoughts, because you knew he was already waist deep.

And he knew that you knew that he wouldn't be angry over something so trivial. Choked out brains and imminent death weren't exactly known for being rational.

"Well… I still haven't ate yet today, and I'd love to have some of your baking again," You batted your eyes at him.

Would they even let him bring in outside food?

He'd ask on his way out- it clicked. You were gently pushing him to go home and rest. You never were the slickest, or the most persuasive. But he'd give in like he always did. For as much of a stickler as he was for things, Simon could never actually say no to you; and how could he in your current state? You could ask him to go prepare a five course meal for you and he'd probably start tying the apron on in a heartbeat.

 

But for now…

 

"I'll see if I can bring you some fresh clothing, too," He muttered as he pulled your knuckled up to his face. To kiss or to simply press… he chose the latter, pushing your knuckles against the sharp edge of his cheekbone. "…how hungry are you?"

He melted against the soft flesh of your palm as you unfurled your loose fist.

Just in the edge of his vision he caught the way your eyes lingered on his half lidded eyes as he lost himself in your smell, still stained with smoke… the tainted scent of ointment and general hospital smells tacking itself on like an afterthought, no where near strong enough to truly drown out the bitter smell of ash.

In that moment, Simon J. Paladino looked like any other man. He looked human. He looked vulnerable.

And who were you to tell him to go when he still needed some time to regain his own peace of mind?

 

"I can wait a little longer,"

And that was that. Simon remained at the side of your bed with your hand still held firm in his own.