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“Just your run of the mill sad superhero origin story.”
Robert stares out into the night, eyes dead as his thoughts rot in his head. He's getting too old to go out and drink as much as he had: a headache haunting as his eyes shift, a flare of soreness stapping at the corners of his eyes. His comment is more of a regurgitated line he seems to tell himself than a remark to the heroine beside him. Many superheros now come from a family of strong, brave people… it's become just as important as passing on a family recipe.
Robert sucks on his teeth, feeling over the plaque as he looks down at the buildings below him. “The family tradition— if there is one— is dying in that suit.” It's almost a relief that the suit is gone, but the dread ots destruction left behind still leaves a rot behind. “Which I guess I don't have to worry about anymore.” He adds, finally speaking to Blonde Blazer. As he fully turns to her, he sees the calm smile settled on her lips, eyes focussed just beyond his own. She almost looks downcast, her bright eyes squint with an ache he finds familiar.
Robert squints back, sceptical of her expressions intentions. “What?”
Blonde Blazer quickly shifts her attention to the lively buildings below them, “I'm not drunk enough to share my origin story just yet… but,” The lights feel warm under the cold darkness around the two, “Remind me to tell you someday.” Her voice is just as cozy as the blazing lights under his feet, feeling more alive than either of them have been all night.
Robert casts his eyes back out into the city, “Definitely.” replicating her in earnest. He doesn't yet notice the heroine lift from her seat, her form glowing as she floats closer beside him. He glances her way, leaning just slightly back to regain his personal space. Sparks sizzle behind his eyes as his shoulders tense just slightly, her gloved hand lifting to his face– so much for regaining distance. Her palm stretches smoothly, waiting. He picks up her queue, body relaxing as he prepares himself for– whatever exactly she's planning.
He watches her unmoving smile, nodding slowly to allow her contact. He keeps his eyes on her smile as her burning fingertips graze over the edge of his mask, slipping under to remove it from his head. Her amber eyes are like burning coals, heated to burn as they stare directly into Robert. Her brow furrows just slightly as she lifts the mask above and under, taking her free hand to curl a finger under his chin. That gloved digit lifts his head up, then pinches to shift it from side to side. He felt like a germ under a microscope, rediculed for any imperfection her gaze could spot. her skilled hands press into his skin, eyes focussed as they examine him for… something. He still can't figure that part out.
She was like looking at a statue crafted from maeble, frozen in a warm, adoring stare— lips pulled up as if appreciating him— maybe he's mistaken— Her hand sizzling into his rough cheek as it rests against it. Her eyes peer right into him now, the stare nearly blinding with how she's illuminated. “We can work with this.” She speaks to herself, as if he's not even there— not present in whatever conversation she may be having with herself.
That's when it clicks for Robert. Everything leading up to this moment– He's seen it before. It's practically in every piece of media he's ever digested: This is romantic. Honestly it's humiliating that he hasn't caught on sooner. He'd be lying if he hadn't considered all this a little sensual, but now it's too obvious to miss… it's what normal people do (at least the people on the television).
Something about all of this feels right. This was meant to happen. Finally, something that he wants to happen.
Robert's hand slides just an inch closer, closing the small space between their clothed digits. She stares at him— expectantly?— as he leans into her brightness. Her shoulders hitch up as her hand stills, abandoned behind him. He weaves his fingers between hers, breaking through the barrier of heat to connect with her. Their lips greet; he feels the slightest reciprocation before she, gracefully, lurches away from him. Of course. There must've been something he missed. His lips sizzle slightly, kissing a star must really burn.
She stammers over herself, Robert immediately frozen in place by the air freezing him over. “I'm— sorry if I gave you the wrong impression…” She wrings her hands, squeezing his lingering touch off of them.
“Oh no.”
“I-it's my fault—”
Robert holds up his hand to stop her, “I'm so sorry, I completely misread that—”
“You didn't—” She chokes, “I mean you did! … But I-I definitely…”
Her smile is gone, replaced by a warm face and a sigh on her lips.
“The way I went about things tonight–” Her eyes lock on the city lights, as if they have answers, “I'm sorry.” She decides, picking up her glass. “It was all a little loose—”
Unprofessional.