Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’d been a very long time since Grian had woken up with a hangover quite as bad as the morning after his night with Mumbo. He wasn’t blackout drunk — remembered everything quite well, actually — but the effects certainly tried to make him feel as though he was. 

Immediately, he was aware of his own drunken forgetfulness in the form of his blinds not being drawn. Sunlight poured in, burning his eyes and churning in his skull. He couldn’t think through the pounding agitation there, made worse by a wave of dizziness when he attempted to sit up.

His whole body felt heavy, like something was sitting on his chest. Grian hadn’t been quite so weighed down since the time a Great Dane had gotten loose and barreled into him full-force two months prior. He wasn’t exactly pleased to experience the sensation again. 

It took a few minutes for him to work up the motivation to get out of bed, and longer still to hobble into the bathroom to pop some painkillers. His reflection looked dejectedly back at him as he swallowed around the pills and grimaced at the taste in his mouth. 

Grian sighed, resigning himself to a few more minutes of pain while he tried to tame his bedhead. He really should’ve chugged a whole lot more water the night before. Maybe he would’ve if he hadn’t been… distracted.

The vet paused, taking a deep breath in.

Ringmaster’s name, a kiss upon the shoulder, fingers intertwined with his own.

He was mortified. Grian was going to crawl into a hole and die, or change his name and move to another city. At the very least, he was never going to drink like that again. Grian had only ever seriously allowed himself to let go that much around Mumbo before.

What a horrifying way to find out that he was a touchy drunk.

Kissing his friend’s shoulder and invading his personal space was a new low for him. There was no way he was going to recover. The nightmarish mental picture of Ringmaster – Scar – staring at him in abject horror as he’d done such stupid things would be haunting the vet until the sun died. 

God, Scar’s face had been so red, his eyes so wide, his jaw dropped to the floor. He had really, truly been shocked at that. Grian couldn’t even blame him if he never wanted to be near the vet while he was drunk again. It would be a completely reasonable reaction, and one he would probably have to.

Imagining their positions flipped, if he were taking care of Scar while he was drunk – unlikely as that was with their individual identities in play – that stuff would’ve shocked him too. Without a doubt. If Scar leaned in without telling him, pressed lips to his skin, whispered comments that could easily be misconstrued into his ears, then Grian would…

Grian would…

Well, he most certainly wouldn’t be calm about the situation at all.

And, in fact, even the picture playing behind his eyes now had a strange effect on him. Not unpleasant, per say, but definitely strange. Inexplicably so.

Grian slumped against the sink, something new blooming in his chest. It reminded him of nausea, worked to heighten the symptoms of his dizziness, but burned like nothing else. The feeling sparked along his fingertips, ran through his lips, found an end behind his ribs, and refused to stop. 

“What–?”

His hand drifted up to rest over his heart. It was hammering furiously, almost like it was trying to break free, though he wasn’t sure what was causing it. 

Grian was scared, he realized suddenly. That had to be it. His racing pulse, sweaty palms, and quickened breathing were explained easily by an emotion of that variety. Although, for the life of him, Grian couldn’t figure out why.  

Was it because of the name he’d learned? 

Honestly, the vet wasn’t worried about getting his head lopped off this time around, since his standings with the Bamboozlers were all relatively positive. Maybe it was still possible that he was having some twisted version of a pavlovian response to the information?

Last time, when he’d accidentally stumbled across Jimmy’s real name, he’d nearly died. It was only due to the trio’s generosity and his own unthreatening nature that it hadn’t amounted to anything. Perhaps his self preservation instincts – few and far between as they were – had kicked in for this scenario specifically. There was nothing else, with his limited cognizant ability, it really could be besides a delayed fear response. 

Regardless of the emotions ailing him, Grian forced himself to focus on the present. He made himself breakfast, fed the cats, and then got himself ready for work. The painkillers did kick in somewhere in the middle of that, which was a huge relief. Not all of his grogginess and grossness had faded, but the worst was over. 

After he was dressed in his scrubs, he collected his bag and left. Grian had slept in late enough that his shift was nearly upon him, giving the vet little time to truly recover from his night out. Not that it was horrendously necessary. He’d operated on less fumes in the past and been alright. 

The walk was peaceful, uninterrupted. There were no villain attacks or people crowding the sidewalks to speak to heroes. Grian got to his job without any problems. 

Mumbo was not present – but Grian had expected as much. His friend wouldn’t have agreed to go out if he had a shift anytime before the early evening the next day. He was more practical than Grian in that regard, certainly kinder to himself. 

Skizz was there, though, friendly and talkative as ever. Grian barely had time to situate himself when he’d been engaged in conversation. He could not, however, keep track of it in the slightest. Skizz wasn’t talking particularly fast or about anything confusing, but the hangover was still clinging onto life in Grian’s skull, slowing his reaction time down significantly. 

“G-man,” Skizz tutted eventually, raising a brow. “I feel like I’m not getting to you.”

“Sorry, sorry. I zoned out,” Grian replied, doing his best impression of someone who had been actively listening. “You were saying something about your friend?”

Fortunately, it was easy to get Skizz to dive into his topic again, even if it wasn’t easy to follow along. Since they weren’t busy at the moment either, the other vet was happy to just trail behind Grian while he went about his business, yapping away. Several things were checked off his to-do list with his friend at his side and a lingering bad taste in his mouth.

Skizz didn’t seem to notice that his contributions were shallow at best and nonsensical at worst. As terrible as it was, Grian couldn’t give more. If he weren’t so dreadfully occupied with the heaviness in his own shoulders, he definitely would’ve done his best to be adequate company. As it was, he wouldn’t be able to make himself focus on much outside of his own inner turmoil for long enough to genuinely reply.

“Doctor,” one of the techs called as they came around the corner. They seemed surprised to see Grian there, having obviously not realized Skizz was talking to someone, given how quiet the other end of the conversation had been. Grian received a wave, and then their attention was away again. “The dog in exam room four is ready for you.”

“Oh, perfect, perfect,” Skizz chirped, clapping his hands together. He gave Grian a firm smack on the back, nearly knocking him over in the process, and then skipped away to do his job. “Bye, G!”

Grian was left alone to wander to the lobby again, ready to check over the schedule for the day. He was not expecting to step behind the desk right as the bell on the door chimed. A man stepped inside, a carrier crate under one arm and a hood pulled over his head. Grian watched him approach the desk, neck bent to keep his face out of view. There were no other people in their waiting room, though, so the vet couldn’t understand why he was acting this way.

“Excuse me, sir,” Grian called, causing the man to flinch hard and for the crate in his arms to give an irritated hiss. A cat, then. “May I help you with anything? Do you have an appointment or is this an emergency visit?”

“Um,” the man started. “No appointment, but it’s not, uh… not an emergency either.”

Grian frowned. Something about the guy’s voice was familiar to him. Not quite the sound of it, though — higher pitched and bashful. It was more the cadence and the tonality of the words, the way his sentence was strung together, that drew Grian’s attention. He got the strangest inkling in the back of his mind, even through the lingering weariness of the night prior’s activities.

The vet straightened, almost certain that a good look would put all of his fears to rest. “Wait a minute… Lift your head.”

The man took a deep breath in, and did as he was told.

Grian slammed his hands down on the desk, leaning forward fast enough to send a couple of papers flying. “Timmy?”

“Oh, gosh, Grian,” Jimmy groaned through his fabric mask. His brown eyes were unmistakable, and his nose scrunched with annoyance in a way that Grian knew by heart, because he’d seen it a million times. The voice was a surprise, though. “You have to use that name even here?”

“You mean, your name?” Grian nodded. “Obviously. And who is this little guy?”

The vet turned his attention down to the carrier, where a fluffy face was lingering by the door. In truth, he didn’t need to be introduced. He had seen pictures of Jimmy’s cats before enough times to recognize the little guy instantly.

“Hello, Norman,” Grian cooed. “Are you not feeling well, buddy?”

“It’s the same stuff as I mentioned the other day,” Jimmy sighed. “I wanted to bring him in sooner, but our, uh, mutual friend told me not to bother you. I’m not sure I’m even allowed to be here right now.”

“Hm? Oh, Scar?” Grian reached a finger through the bars of the door to let Norman sniff him. He wasn’t really thinking about what he was saying. “It’s fine. We got it sorted. That was all one big misunderstanding.”

“What did you just say?”

Grian paused, glancing up. Jimmy had gone very still, eyes widened in disbelief and face pale. The vet hadn’t seen him wear an expression like that since…

Oh God.

Scar hadn’t told the other Bamboozlers that Grian knew his name.

“How did you—? Why do you—?” Jimmy stammered, raising a quivering hand to point at him. “You called him—!”

 “Scar, yes, I did,” Grian confirmed quickly. He made a placating motion, coming around the desk to be face to face with Jimmy. The other was horrified, white as snow. “Listen, Tim. It’s no big deal. He told me last night and—“

“Last night?” Jimmy practically shouted now. Grian shushed him, looking around. There were no vet techs checking in on their conversation yet, but that probably wouldn’t be the case for long. “He saw you last night? After he practically threatened us with a swift end if we bothered you unnecessarily again?”

Grian frowned. “He did what?”

Jimmy didn’t answer him, much too preoccupied. “He saw you behind our backs, and then he told you his name? Oh, Eclipse is going to eat this up.”

“Well,” Grian fumbled, suddenly feeling flustered. The odd sensation from that morning came back without explanation, fluttering in his gut. His face felt hot. “He was taking care of me while I was drunk, and one thing led to another—“

“One thing led to another?” Jimmy’s eyes bulged wider. “Did he finally—?”

“Don’t cut me off, Tim,” Grian groaned, though this reaction was weird, even for him. 

Grian hadn’t noticed anything abnormal until Scar was mentioned, and then, all at once, a cacophony of things he couldn’t digest was being thrown at him. Though he couldn’t diagnose the reason, his temper got a lot shorter, mind racing to overanalyze everything the other was saying, and another bout of rapid pounding starting up in his heart. 

He must just be scared that Jimmy was jumping to conclusions about him — that was a reasonable line of thinking. Jimmy was friendly towards him recently, but he was once the Bamboozler most likely to end his life. To witness him have such a bad reaction towards Grian’s new knowledge was bound to stir up loads of unpleasantness. 

“Scar told me his name because we’ve known each other for a while, and it was frustrating to him that I didn’t know it,” Grian clarified. “Nothing nefarious or whatever you were thinking.”

Jimmy’s furrowed brows certainly implied a level of continued terror. “Nothing nefarious… Yeah, I’m sure. Not on your end, at least. You’re far too dense.”

“Dense?” Grian’s jaw dropped. “What in the world—“

“Not that I blame you,” Jimmy interrupted, putting his free hand on his hip and tutting. “I bet it hasn’t even registered as a possibility in your mind when it comes to him. Anyone else acting so painfully stupid around you, and you would’ve noticed for sure.” 

“Noticed?” Grian blinked, thoroughly out of his depth. “Noticed what? Is someone hurt again or something?”

“Ah, there it is. You only think about work around us,” Jimmy said, snapping his fingers as though he’d realized an important detail. “We’re just a job to you, probably barely your friends.”

Grian opened and closed his mouth over and over again. The swirling in his gut was climbing up his throat, bringing with it a new wave of almost-dizziness. Clearly, he was more than a little overwhelmed to suddenly be called a friend to the Bamboozlers. “What are you talking about, Timmy? We’re… friends.”

“Mhm, sure. You hesitated, though,” Jimmy pointed out. “Means you take longer to reach conclusions about us. Which, for a civilian, makes sense, but it also, y’know, explains quite a lot. That’s all I’m saying, dude.”

The blond man raised his brows at Grian, and the vet sputtered, beyond confused. He was relatively sure his ability to understand social cues was being judged, and yet it sounded like an entirely different conversation at the same time. Jimmy wasn’t the best at getting his point across when he had one hip cocked to support the weight of his cat and a smug glint in his eyes. 

“Oh, can it, Tim,” Grian eventually huffed. He rounded the desk again to check over some basic scheduling things. 

“Fine, fine. Process this at your own speed,” Jimmy relented, shrugging. “He’ll take anything you give him, even if you don’t know what he’s trying to communicate.”

“Either tell me straight to my face, or stop with your nonsense,” the vet shot back. “I don’t have time for puzzles.”

“If I said anything more, I’d be stuffed and hung from the ceiling like a really gangly chandelier,” Jimmy replied, which was a horrible mental picture that worked to sufficiently scare Grian away from pursuing their topic. “Anyway, can you check Norman for worms?”

“Yeah, yeah, I can,” Grian muttered. “Room two is open right now, and the other staff are busy with their chores, so they shouldn’t ask questions. Come on.”

“Wait, don’t I need to fill out paperwork? For your files?”

“No, Tim,” Grian scoffed. “I still value my life, thank you.”

“Oh, it wouldn’t kill us to fill out one sheet,” Jimmy told him. “We do tons of paperwork when we go anywhere else that requires it, and no one there has to die.”

“Yeah, but they just think you’re regular civilians, so it doesn’t matter if you’re in their database.” Grian gathered up his stuff and started towards the exam room, trusting Jimmy to trail behind him. “I bet you don’t even wear masks to those appointments.”

“Why would we? They don’t know anything about us,” Jimmy said, doing exactly as expected. “Actually, Scar only just made us start carrying these fabric ones around with us, since that day he ran into you in public by accident. Before that, we didn’t have to worry about some random civilian spoiling our identity.”

They ducked into a small room with an exam table in the center and a couple of cabinets and a sink off to one side. There were chairs too, though Grian wouldn’t take long enough for those to be necessary. “Why would I be the only person that would recognize you guys? Wouldn’t the heroes also be able to spot you while they’re out and about?”

“Technically, yes, but it’s less likely. You’ve seen us up close for hours at a time,” Jimmy explained. “They see us in fights only, and those don’t usually last for long if we can help it. It doesn’t give them time to get to know our mannerisms. Like how you could tell it was me just now, despite never having heard my voice before. A hero couldn’t do that.”

“Really? I mean, I guess that makes sense.” The vet showed him where to set the carrier down, and they began the process of coaxing Norman out onto the table. “Still, aren’t there pictures and stuff out there? Couldn’t they memorize what the upper half of your face looks like?”

Luckily, the little guy was fairly friendly. The furball emerged, and sat politely while Grian did a basic examination of his physical state. Norman was healthy – a good weight, with an alertness in his eyes that was pleasing to see. 

“Pictures don’t do as much as the heroes would need them to. Tons of people are born with similar enough features that it’s hard to distinguish,” Jimmy said. “Besides, the bottom halves of our faces are too exquisite for anyone to notice the top halves when we’re out on the town.”

“You three are all the same,” Grian grumbled, remembering the similar way Scar had bragged about the Bamboozlers’ beauty during one of their first meetings. He’d brushed it off back then, but hearing it again now, he couldn’t help wondering how true the statement was. Grian’s chest gave yet another lurch, so he forced himself to focus on his job.

Figuring Jimmy wouldn’t have thought to collect a stool sample before coming, he went ahead and raised the cat’s tail and checked underneath. Grian furrowed his brows as he spotted something amiss — little white bits, like grains of rice. He’d seen them hundreds of times in the past.

“Tapeworms,” Grian said. “We can collect a stool sample too if you’d like, but I already know the result.”

“You’re certain?”

Grian nodded.

Jimmy straightened. “Is that, like, bad?”

“Not if it’s treated properly,” Grian reassured him. “I’ll prescribe him some medication. Won’t take long to clear up.”

“Oh, okay,” Jimmy sighed, relaxing. “Thanks, Grian.”

They chatted for a bit longer about the necessary steps, how to prevent this in the future, and whether or not his other cat would have to worry about getting worms as well. The vet found it easy to get lost in his job — in these discussions he had every day. It was normal, routine. Compared to the subtle twisting of his insides throughout the day, which was slowly driving him insane, he appreciated the familiarity. 

Eventually, it came time for Grian to bid him farewell. There were no other clients or staff waiting for them in the lobby, so they were safe to talk openly. No one would know that he’d completed a whole examination for a Bamboozler when they weren’t looking. The idea of getting away with something like that was oddly thrilling.

In all honesty, he’d forgotten his promise to make Jimmy pay full-price. So, he was a little shocked when he was offered a goodbye handshake, and several bills were slipped into his palm.

“Four hundred should cover it, right?” Jimmy shot him a smile via his crinkled eyes, and then ducked out the door. “Bye, Grian!”

“Should cover it?” Grian blinked. “This is way more than I would’ve charged.”

But his companion was already gone. He pursed his lips, watching through the glass as Jimmy’s form retreated further down the sidewalks. 

“Wait, don’t go,” he muttered under his breath, words barely audible. “You overpaid. Come back.”

Jimmy, predictably, did not acknowledge him or come back. It was unlikely such a quiet exclamation had even reached him.

“Oh no, he can’t hear me! That sucks.” Grian pocketed the money, not feeling nearly as guilty as he probably should have. “Nothing I can do now.”

He returned to his tasks, a whole shift left to complete. Skizz waved him over, and he promptly forgot about the tightness in his heart.

A scream, blood-curdling and overflowing with the fear of death echoed through the small room. It came to a deafening end, and then restarted once more, like a broken record of unbearable pain. 

Grian sighed, his focus interrupted by the sound. “Do you mind?”

“C’mon, Grian! Lighten up,” Eclipse snorted from where she was perched at the end of the bed. “It’s funny. You’ve seen the clip, right?”

Grian looked up from the makeshift cast he’d only just finished putting on Jimmy’s ring finger. It wasn’t his best work, but having pulled it together from what he could find at the clinic after the text telling him about the situation, it could’ve been a lot worse. 

The clip in question was the source of the screaming being emitted from Eclipse’s phone. It showed the blurry drone footage of their most recent heist at a warehouse on the edge of town, said to be holding quite a few valuable artifacts from a museum. There was nothing intense or impressive about that footage, though. Just pure stupidity.

In the video, Jimmy was pictured slipping cartoonishly off a crate, limbs flailing out around him, and eventually, his whole body weight landing hard atop his hand on the concrete ground. The result was the shrill screech now circulating through the entire city’s social media feed. 

Honestly, the cause of the injury was so unbelievably stupid that Grian couldn’t even be fully mad that he was doing work on his day off from the clinic. He’d actually needed to take a minute to calm down from his fits of laughter when he’d been filled in on the situation at hand. A broken bone was bad, but it was such a Jimmy way for the whole ordeal to go down that he struggled to think of it as anything beyond pure comedy. 

No hero was involved, no massive fight, no crazy clash with a weapon had brought this upon him. It was just his own clumsiness and gravity. 

Perhaps the only genuinely frustrating part of it all was the fact that it was a widely-known injury, meaning the city’s hospitals would collectively be keeping an eye out for patients coming in to get broken hands or fingers treated over the course of the next few days.  

The city always sent out alerts to the local hospitals whenever they were aware that a villain had sustained an injury that might be identifiable. Grian hadn’t known that when starting this little hobby of his, but it was officially divulged to him not long ago — explaining why he remained as their primary medical aide, even for problems that should’ve been taken to a human physician. 

“Of course, I’ve seen it,” Grian replied, but he let Eclipse shove the phone in his direction once more. Jimmy made a noise of complaint, which was quickly covered by that same familiar shrieking. The vet smiled at the goofy way the video version of Jimmy collapsed, falling after being a bit too cocky about his ability to hold something heavy. A brilliant consequence. “You’re kind of dumb, Tim.”

“Hey!” Jimmy scoffed, crossing his arms. “It really hurt, you know! Not funny!”

“Yes, breaking one singular finger and screaming like you were being stabbed repeatedly is not funny in the slightest,” a new voice said, the door opening behind them. “I bet five hundred dollars that if I got the same injury, I wouldn’t scream at all.”

“That’s hardly fair. Your pain tolerance is inhuman, Scar,” Grian said, rolling his eyes. He glanced back at the other man. “But I’ll take that bet, so long as I’m the one that gets to break your finger.”

“If that’s what you want, Doctor,” Scar laughed from behind the cotton mask adorning his face. He was dressed in casual attire – a white shirt that hugged his frame just right, and some regular jeans. Grian was still getting used to seeing him like that, but it was hardly his biggest adjustment as of late.

For the last three visits Grian had with the trio, whether in their base or elsewhere, they’d taken to wearing these types of medical masks instead of their usual gas masks. Two of the three had been heard on various occasions, but Eclipse was a new addition to that mix, and it was freaking his mind out. Luckily, she was too preoccupied with the video to speak often.

Scar’s voice was, as always, an anchor of familiarity, something he knew by heart already. It was nice, honestly, to hear it so often recently without the robotic twinge. He preferred this sound much better — the rumble of it in his chest, the way it pitched from high to low, the extravagant tone it took on when he was being dramatic. Grian loved it.

His stomach flipped, threatening to knock him over and steal the breath from his lungs. The vet was barely able to shock himself out of his daze before he could be consumed by heat with a firm pinch to his own arm. 

He cleared his throat, averting his eyes from the other man’s face. Staring wasn’t polite, especially not with his new tendency of going a little red every time he did it. 

He still hadn’t found the root of that problem, but it was especially prevalent around the Bamboozlers. The vet just couldn’t think of a single emotion that made sense with the scenario. A civilian surrounded by villains capable of ruining his life should have a pretty clear set of options laid out for him ahead of time. 

Yet, none of the guesses he’d explored quite suited this miraculous sensation, and he was running low on options. It wasn’t fear, like he’d originally hypothesized, nor was it paranoia, sadness, nausea, anger, irritation, or anything of the sort. Nervousness was the closest he’d gotten, actually. But it also made very little logical sense. Why would he feel nervous around someone like Scar, who put in extra effort to keep him as comfortable as possible?

Grian gave one thorough smack to his chest, willing his heart to stop skipping beats at inconvenient times, and turned his attention back to Jimmy. The cast kept his finger straight, taped to the one beside it, as was the usual procedure. It’d work fairly well for the time being, but the vet would keep an eye out in case things went south. If Jimmy’s finger seemed to be healing wrong, he’d take him to the hospital. 

He wasn’t worried, though. Breaks were similar enough between humans and animals. He double-checked his handiwork, then decided it was good enough.

“Alright, Tim,” Grian started. “You know the rules of a break, I’m sure. I’ll check up on it constantly, but until I say it’s fully healed, don’t do anything to push yourself. No pick-pocketing or punching or taking the cast off without my permission. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Jimmy replied, giving him a mock salute. “I’ll only pick-pocket a little bit.”

“Good luck,” Eclipse said, tone rife with amusement. Her voice was a smooth thing, almost melodic without the distortion of her modulator or the rasp of an oxygen mask. “Invisible or not, no one’s gonna be able to miss you stealing from them with that bulky thing on your hand.”

“Oh yeah?” 

Jimmy crossed his arms over his chest, and then, in the blink of an eye, disappeared. Grian blinked, staring at the spot on the bed where he had been. The mattress remained weighed down as if someone were seated there, but not even a sliver of the man could be seen. It decompressed a second later, indicating Jimmy standing, and eliminating the last clue as to where the guy might be.

Grian glanced at his surroundings, trying to decipher what was happening. Jimmy’s room wasn’t particularly remarkable. 

Compared to Eclipse’s bright pink aesthetic, and Scar’s homely vibes, Jimmy seemed like a regular bachelor without much passion for decorating. His bedsheets were plaid, matching his pillows, there was a regular wooden desk against one wall, some lamps in each corner of the room, a plush chair, a cowboy hat hung up like it was on display, and not much else.

Despite his observations, he still wasn’t able to narrow down Jimmy’s location. He couldn’t hear steps, heavy breaths, the ruffle of clothes, or anything of the sort. It was unnerving, actually, to lose track of someone otherwise known for their noisy presence. 

Grian glanced at Scar and Eclipse, intending on gauging their reactions, but both of them had let their eyes fall shut. He supposed they were listening. Though, for what he wasn’t sure. Grian couldn’t hear a thing. 

Suddenly, Eclipse reached out, grabbing onto something and twisting. 

“Ow, ow, let go!” Jimmy’s voice screeched. He became visible with the contact, the room’s light distorting to bring him back into view. Eclipse had latched onto the man’s wrist with impressive precision. “Geez, alright, let me at least get to the pick-pocketing attempt before you snatch me out of thin air!”

Eclipse released him and rolled her eyes. Jimmy shimmered out of visibility once more. Not a second later, Grian felt something in his back pocket.

“Timmy,” he spat. “Get your hand off my wallet this instant!”

The sensation fell away, replaced with a disgruntled grumbling somewhere behind him. “Aw, man,” Jimmy said, fading into view. “That’s the first time Grian’s ever caught me.”

Grian’s jaw dropped open.

Scar beat him to the punch. “The first time?” 

He looked just as baffled as Grian felt. 

“Chill, dude! Just took small bills, nothing he’d notice!” Jimmy raised his arms defensively, a nervous smile on his face as his gaze bounced between his teammate and the vet. “Right, G? You never noticed?”

“You decided to steal,” Scar hissed. “From the one civilian who freely helps us with problems we can’t solve ourselves?”

“It’s fine, Scar,” Grian sighed. “No, Tim, I didn’t notice.”

It was the truth, at least. No matter what amount had been stolen from his wallet, Grian didn’t tend to carry much money around with him, so he knew it couldn’t be anything genuinely devastating. 

Besides, Jimmy’s four hundred bucks – with the assistance of his most recent paycheck – kept his bank account very warm for the past two weeks. He’d used it to purchase an unhealthy amount of takeout. It felt good. 

“Right. Go easy on him, Scar,” Eclipse chimed. “It’s not like he’s taking enough to cancel out the cash we’ve all seen you smuggling into Grian’s wallet.”

“You,” Grian started, whirling around to face the other man. “What?”

This was the first he was hearing of such things. Probably for good reason, too.

They had talked about this after the incident with the watch. He allowed the gift to be a rare exception, but anything more was against his wishes. Grian didn’t want dirty money, didn’t want to be paid for his services, and he especially didn’t want to receive that sort of thing after explicitly making it clear that he didn’t want it.

Scar shrunk back as Grian stepped closer, jamming a pointer finger into his chest. “You…”

“Oh, now Scar’s in trouble,” Jimmy snickered. “Good thinking, Eclipse.”

“Yeah, good thinking, Eclipse,” Scar muttered, pale. His hands felt around blindly behind him, obviously searching for an escape. Unfortunately for Grian, he found one in the form of the doorknob. “You know what? I’m just realizing that I left something in the oven. Let me go take care of that.”

“Don’t you dare–!” 

Grian started forward, reaching out like he was going to grab the other, but he was forced to stop by a sudden red glow. The thick sensation of Scar’s powers surrounded his arms, slowing them nearly to a stop. Green eyes shot him a wink, and then he was gone. 

Instantly, once the door shut, the glow faded, and momentum returned. Grian stumbled forward, just barely stopping himself from hitting his head on the wall. Vengeance thwarted, he spun on his heels, turning to his only other options.

“I need one of you to go make him regret not listening to me,” he told Eclipse and Jimmy. “Drop an ice cube down the back of his shirt or something.”

Jimmy crossed his arms over his chest. “What would we get in exchange?” 

“Never mind that! Grian’s giving us an excuse to mess with Scar,” Eclipse exclaimed, jumping to her feet and throwing her phone back onto Jimmy’s bed. She rushed to the door, almost knocking the vet over in the process of yanking it open. “I’m not passing it up.”

“Hey, wait,” Jimmy stammered. He also got to his feet, hurrying after her. “Wait for me!”

Grian was left alone in Jimmy’s room suddenly, all three Bamboozlers elsewhere. He took the moment to dig through his wallet, grumbling to himself all the while. It wasn’t hard to figure out what didn’t belong there, given his aforementioned personal philosophy of never carrying around a certain amount at a time. 

The excess was dropped on Jimmy’s desk. It was accompanied by a sticky note containing a list of things he could buy for the future, when they’d inevitably have to do minor amounts of physical therapy to get his finger back to working order. Grian didn’t know the most about stuff like this, but he had time to learn the basics before the other was healed enough to need it.

Distantly, there was a screaming from down the hallway. He was about to leave the room to check on the three when there came several dinging sounds. Grian frowned, glancing towards where Eclipse had dropped her phone. 

The screen was on, and it looked as though a text message had come through. Not thinking much of it, Grian picked up the phone, intending on carrying it to its owner. He hadn’t really thought about what might accidentally be waiting on the screen for him when he got there.

Car Guy

Hey Lizzie! We still on for today?

Car Guy

Slayer’s giving me some trouble, so I might be running a little late, but I’ll be there!  

Car Guy

Unless we’re not on for today… haha… in which case… I won’t be there! Love you and all that!

Grian frowned at the assortment of messages. His eyes scanned them over and over again, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He shouldn’t have looked at all — some muted part of his brain repeated this over and over again — but now, he’d seen something he absolutely shouldn’t have.

“Oh, great,” he muttered, wincing. It would be just his luck that something as classified as a villain’s name would be waiting out in the open for him to find. Grian forced himself to look away, clearing his throat. The world was distant around him, made unimportant by the new information he’d just learned. He straightened, clearing his throat. “Okay, just play it cool. Play it cool. She doesn’t have to know.”

She doesn’t have to know how horribly her personal space was just invaded, the nasty little voice in his head added, guilt welling in his throat. Play it cool.  

He stepped out into the hall, where the sound of voices had gotten significantly louder. The phone weighed heavily in his hands, buzzing again as that contact obviously sent another message. He forced a neutral expression, but his knees shook as he rounded the corner into the main area. 

It wasn’t hard to find the Bamboozlers once he was there. They were all crowded around the middle of the room. Jimmy had jumped on Scar’s back, and was screeching as the other man was attempting to throw him off. Eclipse — not Lizzie, just Eclipse, because he wasn’t supposed to know that yet — had wrapped herself around one of Scar’s legs in an attempt to trip him. They made a ridiculous picture, one that certainly would’ve brought a smile to his face if he weren’t so mortified.

“Um, Eclipse,” Grian spoke up, willing the shaking in his voice to lessen. All three of them froze, the whole of the room's attention shifting in his direction. He held out the phone, screen down. “I think… someone’s texting you.”

Eclipse’s brows furrowed. She untangled herself from the others and trotted over to him. 

Grian swallowed hard as she took the phone — bad move. She was keen as ever, gaze catching the involuntary tell instantly. Her eyes narrowed. “You okay, Grian?” 

“Yeah,” Grian lied. He could feel himself paling, barely restraining his outward fear. Guilt gnawed at his chest, churned in his gut, and shot pangs of cold terror through him. He’d screwed up, and now, Eclipse was looking at him with a scarily calculating awareness. 

His heart jumped into his chest as she flipped over her phone and the screen came on, revealing the recently sent messages. He watched her read them, watched her realize what had happened, watched her look back up at him. Her blue eyes hardened, not a shred of doubt hidden within them.

“Grian,” Eclipse whispered. “You saw these, didn’t you?”

Grian swallowed again, forcing a tight smile. He couldn’t make himself form the words, so he settled for a smaller admittance. “Maybe? Who… Um, who is that guy? Do you, uh, have a date later or something?”

“A date?” Both Scar and Jimmy’s attention had been caught by that. They stopped their fighting to scramble over to the two of them. Eclipse’s attention did not stray away from Grian for a single second, not even to close her phone or hide the screen from her teammates. The damage was done the second their heads peered over her shoulder. 

Scar spoke up first, “Car Guy? Who’s Car Guy?”

“Love you?” Jimmy’s jaw dropped. “Why’s there a guy saying that he loves you in your messages?”

 “Wait a minute,” Scar trailed off, growing quiet and confusion turning into something else. “Is that your… real name?”

“Grian,” Eclipse gritted out, lips pulling up into a sneer. “I’m going to kill you.”

Grian knew she wasn’t joking.

He stumbled back a few steps and she lunged forward. Scar was faster, catching her arm and yanking her back. Jimmy attempted to grab her too, but she elbowed him in the gut, causing him to double over. Eclipse was genuinely fighting against them, genuinely straining to get away, genuinely trying to kill him.

Grian didn’t know what to do, didn’t know where he could run, didn’t know if he could run even if he did. His legs were shaking too hard, fear catapulting through his veins. Rooted to the floor, all he could do was hope that Scar’s hold on her was enough. 

It was not.

Eclipse changed her stance. 

Scar saw it before Grian did, squeezing tighter, but nothing was able to stop her once she’d made up her mind. The three in the room could only look on in horror as shadows encapsulated her body, her eyes changing from blue to an inky black. Suddenly, without warning, it was exploding outwards. Grian saw a wave of black raging towards him, and then, he saw nothing at all.

It hit with a force that sent him stumbling back, tripping over his own shoes, and falling to the ground. Grian thought he’d closed his eyes in the commotion, but when he went to open them, he found that they already were. He tried to look down at his hands, but he couldn’t find them. It made his mind spin, and nausea well up in his gut. Grian tried again and again, blinking rapidly, but his eyes wouldn’t open, his vision wouldn’t clear.

Every ounce of his sight was lost, not a drop of light or shape remaining. The expanse of nothingness stretching out before him wasn’t due to shut eyelids or a blindfold or some other cause. He was actually, genuinely blind.

In a matter of moments, he’d come to understand why other civilians caught within this shadowy veil often sought psychological help. It was like losing a piece of himself, and all over some stupid text message.

The vet heard a grunt a little distance away, then hurried footsteps. 

“Grian!” Scar sounded winded, not too far off, but not within range either. Grian didn’t know where he was, how much he’d moved, what the rest of the room looked like. “Lizzie, leave him alone!” 

A hand latched onto the front of his shirt, and he was yanked up. He stumbled as he was dragged, everything a blur, his whole body disoriented. Finally, he was shoved forward. His knee bumped into a wooden post, sending pain rocketing up his body. There was a slamming noise behind him, followed by the click of a lock, and the metallic shing of something being unsheathed.

“What did you see?”

Eclipse was close, maybe a foot or two away — or maybe not? Grian couldn’t get a read on the room’s depth, or the distance between them at all. He was lost like this. 

Figuring it best not to leave an already-angered villain hanging, he forced himself to choke out a small, “What… do you mean?” 

He felt something cold against his throat. Sight wasn’t necessary to deduce exactly what that was. Eclipse’s voice was low and growling as she repeated, “What did you see, Grian?”

“Everything,” Grian admitted. He couldn’t even begin to form a lie. It wouldn’t be fair to her to try, anyway. It was Eclipse’s classified information that he’d accidentally seen, and to pretend like he hadn’t disrespected her that way would be cruel. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to.”

There was a loud sigh, and the tip of her spear retreated. Grian felt a hand on his shoulder, and then a palm covered his eyes. “Release.”

Instantly, Grian was blinded by an onslaught of lights. He hissed, scrambling to rub at his eyes. Color and brightness and sensation returned to him at a shockingly fast rate, burning his brain. 

“Ow, man,” Grian complained. “Were you always able to do that on command?”

“Only sometimes. It eats up a lot of energy, so I don’t do it often,” Eclipse replied. 

When Grian’s surprise had subsided enough for him to make out his surroundings, he realized they were in her bedroom. She was leaning against the door, spinning her spear – which had been retracted into its knife form – between her fingers. Though she looked relaxed and wasn’t poised to slit his throat anymore, the vet didn’t lower his guard. 

Eclipse was, after all, still blocking the only exit. 

Judging by the sounds of muffled curses and furniture scuffing, he guessed the other two would be blind for a while longer, unable to come to his aid. He was stuck in the room with a villain he’d wronged and no guarantee he would make it out alive. 

“I can’t believe you,” Eclipse muttered, scowling. Her eyes, which were now used to glare holes into his head, had returned to their usual blue color. “What a stupid way to have my identity exposed. I’d been hoping to last significantly longer than those other two idiots.”

Grian smiled nervously. “My bad.”

He remembered how shocked Jimmy had been to learn Scar had revealed his name so easily, but that was apparently nothing in comparison to Eclipse’s reaction. Scar told him later that she’d yelled at her teammates for hours about their inability to keep themselves safe. The only thing that had stopped her was being reminded that she was, actually, the one responsible for revealing Jimmy’s name.

“If you’d like, I can pretend I never saw anything,” Grian offered. 

“Don’t bother. It’s too late,” she huffed. Eclipse pushed herself off the door and stepped forward. Begrudgingly, she extended a hand in his direction. “My name is Lizzie. Nice to meet you, or whatever.”

Grian stared at her open palm for several seconds, as if trying to deduce if she was going to use the handshake to pull him in and kill him, but eventually went through with it. Her grip was firm – too firm – almost as though she was attempting to break his fingers. Sucking in a breath, he chuckled, “Um, Lizzie?”

She didn’t seem to hear him, simply glaring down at their hands and squeezing tighter. Grian clenched his teeth to keep from appearing too distressed, but sirens were going off in his head. The only thing that cut through the room’s tense silence was the sound of a ding, like another text message had come in.

“Lizzie, your phone,” he choked out. “I think… Car Guy texted you again!”

Lizzie’s eyes went wide, and she released him with a gasp. Grian panted for air, stretching his fingers to test if they were broken. Meanwhile, Lizzie fumbled for her phone. As soon as she’d pulled it out of her pocket, it began to ring. He saw that same contact name from earlier flash on the screen.

She became visibly worried, glancing between the phone and Grian. He shrugged and gestured for her to answer. Nodding, she picked up, and then resumed a rushed version of her previous nonchalant lean against the door. Clearing her throat, she said, “Hey.”

A muffled voice replied to her, but Grian couldn’t hear that part. Lizzie’s furthering furrowed brows were his only clue. She straightened, reaching up to nervously fidget with her hair.

“No, babe,” Lizzie hastily blurted. “No, I wasn’t wanting to call off our…”

She stared at Grian, visibly uncomfortable.

“Our date at all,” she finished. “I meant to answer you. Just like Slayer’s messing with you, my Bamboozlers were distracting me.”

Grian frowned. 

Babe? Date? Slayer? Bamboozlers?

None of those words made sense in this already confusing context. The first two implied romantic interest, which was crazy in and of itself, because he was pretty sure her teammates would’ve told Grian if they knew she was seeing someone. It was the last two outstanding words that threw him off balance, though. 

He’d been too preoccupied earlier to fully process all the text messages he’d read. Now that he had time to think about it though, he did vaguely remember seeing Slayer mentioned – capitalized and everything, like it was specifically referring to the hero. And just a second ago, she’d casually mentioned the Bamboozlers, as if the person on the other end knew very well that she was part of that group.

But that couldn’t be the case, right? He had to have misheard her or misunderstood something, because if he was guessing correctly, then that meant Lizzie was dating someone who was associated with the heroes and knew about her status as a Bamboozler.

It clicked in his head.

The vet’s jaw dropped. “You’re dating Furioso?”

Lizzie whirled around to face him, eyes wide and brows raised. She practically tackled him in an attempt to shove a hand over his mouth. Notably, though, she wasn’t denying it. He was exactly right.

While he absorbed this new discovery, Lizzie finished up her phone call. “Listen, babe, I have to go. Pick me up at my place tonight?”

There was a buzzing answer on the other end, and her face flushed.

“Right, love you too,” she replied, tone almost sheepish. “Bye.”

She hung up, and Grian felt the blade return to his neck. He gasped through the hand that still covered his mouth. The vet expected to be threatened again, to have his every fear displayed before him, to be cursed by the woman until he crumpled into dust.

“You can’t tell the others,” she said instead, desperation bleeding out of her. Her eyes were wide, pleading, and he could feel her hand shaking. “You can’t.”

Grian’s brows furrowed, but he nodded. She released him, stepping back and falling onto her bed. Pink hair splayed out behind her, and an arm tossed over her eyes, she looked nothing like the terrifying villain that had dragged him into the room to begin with. 

Unsure of how to begin, he chose to simply sit next to her and say, “They don’t know?”

“No,” she groaned. “I’ve been trying to find a way to tell them, but it’s just… this isn’t really a topic you can bring up at the drop of a hat, you know?”

Grian didn’t know, but he could make some assumptions. A villain dating a hero was a scandal like no other. A few months prior, simply the idea of Furioso crushing on Lizzie was absurd to him. Dating was on an entirely different level from that. 

“How long have you been seeing him?”

Lizzie shrugged. “A year.”

Grian dug his nails into the mattress to keep from freaking out. He didn’t think she needed that kind of energy at the moment. “Oh? A… whole year?”

“In my defense,” Lizzie sighed. She sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. “Six of those months were spent trying to figure out if a relationship like ours could even work. It also took me a while to realize he wasn’t just doing this to get information out of me.”

There was a glint to her eyes that Grian had never seen before, something soft and secretive. It was as if the mere mention of her partner made her happy. The vet had little experience with romance himself, but he knew this was what it was supposed to look like. 

As unconventional, difficult, dangerous as a relationship between a hero and a villain was bound to be, the two were obviously getting through it together. He had no room to impose on them. Lizzie was content, no doubt having already considered all the downsides long before she’d ever met Grian. If she had her heart set on it, he knew she could achieve anything.

“You should tell Scar and Jimmy soon,” Grian said. She glanced over at him, visibly unsure. “It’ll only be worse to keep putting it off. Besides, those guys are both giant softies. I’m sure they’ll understand that the heart wants what it wants.”

Lizzie considered him carefully, mulling over his advice. “Yeah,” she whispered finally. “Yeah, they probably will.”

“I’m on your side, at least,” Grian assured her. “But there’s nothing to worry about. They care about you a lot.”

A loud banging on the door startled both of them out of their moment. 

“Lizzie!” Jimmy’s voice echoed through the base, fists falling hard against the wood. “Scar’s got an axe. Release Grian, or we’re breaking in ourselves!”

“Oh my God,” Grian groaned. He stood and stormed across the room, irritated. The door was thrown open to reveal Jimmy, with his hand still raised to knock, and Scar a few paces behind him with an axe held above his head. “You’re both ridiculous. Lower that this instant!”

Scar did as he was told, hiding the weapon behind his back. “Doctor! You’re alright!”

“Of course he’s alright,” Lizzie declared, joining him at the threshold to glare at her teammates. “We were just having an… enlightening conversation. I was never actually going to kill him.”

“Good,” Jimmy chirped, clapping his hands together. “Now that this whole thing’s cleared up… Who’s the guy on your phone, Liz?”

Lizzie’s brow twitched. She shot a look at Grian, worried and panicking. He patted her back, and stepped over to the man with the axe. “I should get going. You can have these deeply personal conversations without me. Come on, Scar.”

Scar nodded, abandoning the weapon to escort Grian out the usual way. The vet donned his blindfold, and allowed himself to be directed up and out to the car. It was a little disconcerting to be unable to see again, but he was kept calm by the knowledge that this was only temporary, just a cloth over his eyes and nothing more. 

The drive was mostly silent. They were nearing the end of it when his companion piped up. “Sorry that Lizzie scared you today.”

“It’s alright,” Grian said. “I deserved it for prying.”

He was, for the most part, already over the terror. The Bamboozlers rarely scared him these days, and it wasn’t often his life actually felt like it was at risk. He bounced back a lot faster when it did occasionally occur. Maybe that should’ve been concerning, but he had quite a bit more on his mind.

The car pulled over, meaning they’d arrived, but Grian didn’t pull the blindfold off yet. “Hey, Scar?”

Scar hummed in acknowledgement. Grian blindly reached out and took him by the hand, squeezing it.

“Promise me that you’ll listen to everything Lizzie has to say to you when you get back,” he said. “It’s important to her that you and Jimmy understand.”

There were a few beats of silence, and then Scar laughed slightly. “Well, if you asked it of me, Doctor, then I’ll be sure to do that.”

His hand was brought up, and a chaste kiss was pressed to his knuckles. 

Grian flushed, that same unfamiliar sensation of heat and buzzing returning to his gut. He could feel the imprint of Scar’s lips against his skin for ages after his hand was released. The world became such an immediate daze that he didn’t even realize he’d gotten out of the car until all that was left of it was its retreating tail lights.

The vet forced himself to focus on walking the rest of the way home, putting the odd sensation behind him. Maybe he’d figure out what this meant for him eventually, but for now, he couldn’t wrap his head around it. There was still time. No reason to rush.

The television buzzed with melancholic music as the expected third-act breakup began in Grian’s mindless movie. 

A trashy script combined with a cacophony of clichés made for a rather boring display. Misunderstandings always got resolved quickly enough that he didn’t understand why they bothered including them in the plot, and the two characters that actually had chemistry didn’t even end up together.

He could already tell that this movie wouldn’t occupy his thoughts for a single moment once it was done. It wasn’t even worth leaving a scathing online review for it, as he was wont to do on occasion.

He’d put it on out of curiosity, and stayed because he had nothing better to do. The evening air was chilly, so walking around was out of the question, and Mumbo was on shift, meaning plans weren’t possible either. Grian had already gone through his usual list of activities to do when alone for the day, but it was rare he actually ended up resorting to terrible movies.

His shift at the clinic wasn’t bad that morning. He’d worked early hours, and after taking a nap once he got home, Grian made food, played with his cats, read up on new medical journals, watched the latest episodes of a show he was binging, and then fell into silence. 

Embarrassingly, without a fight on the news or the promise of his favorite trio paying him a visit, he was bored. Were it not for the nap taken earlier, he would’ve just called it and gone to bed, but the hours ticked into midnight and he still wasn’t tired.

The movie was supposed to fix that. Maybe he couldn’t get genuine enjoyment out of it, but Grian had hoped the sheer stupidity of its content would be a little funny. Still, as it echoed the same oversaturated plot made a million times before, he found that it didn’t quite hit the spot. 

So, when his phone vibrated on the coffee table beside him, he nearly threw out his back trying to jump to his feet. The screen lit up with a text message from a contact that made his heart thump against his ribs and his stomach twist. 

Your Favorite Guy 💍

Hey, G! Are you busy? I might need help with something.

Your Favorite Guy 💍

Might be a big ask though.

Grian didn’t hesitate to send his response.

Grian

I’m free! What can I do?

The other man took a minute to get back to him. In that time, Grian grew anxious. He could already tell by the tone of the message that it had something to do with Scar’s work as a villain. It didn’t explicitly describe an injury though, as his texts regarding that measure usually aimed to do, so what exactly this could be about was up in the air.

To ease some of his concerns, he switched channels over to the news. Unsurprisingly, there was a report of villainous activity. However, the specific situation caught his attention. 

“A bank robbery,” Grian whispered, scanning the words that ran along the bottom of the screen. “My old bank… They finally did it.”

After weeks of misdirection through the medium of various little other crimes, the Bamboozlers had, at last, pulled off their big heist. Judging by the worried look on the reporter’s face, it’d gone off exactly as planned too. Grian listened intently for several minutes, growing more and more excited as he learned new details.

Allegedly, if the police were to be believed, the vault containing the passcodes and account information of one of the city’s richest men had been infiltrated in the dead of night. A currently unknown amount of cash had been stolen alongside the USB drive containing those important records. Should the heroes fail to apprehend the criminals soon, it was set to be one of the most infamous bank robberies the city had ever seen.

And, to make things that much more interesting, the Bamboozlers apparently were only barely spotted that evening. If not for an emergency call made by a shop owner closing up across the street from the bank calling in some suspicious activity, the trio would’ve escaped without so much as a whisper to indicate their presence. 

They’d broken in precisely above where the vault was hidden in the floor, and cut into the metal from the top, making it a scarily quick endeavor. Their positioning was so precise that the police were apparently planning to investigate the employees, claiming it could be an inside job. 

Without really thinking, Grian’s chest swelled with an unbelievable sense of pride. It made him hesitate, reevaluate. This was strange. Cheering for a team of villains to succeed was strange. He should’ve been terrified, appalled, concerned for the state of the city’s security, as every other civilian surely was at that moment. 

Instead, however, all he could feel was extreme joy — a jittery sensation, like the kind that might take over one’s body after their favorite sports team wins a championship game. He’d watched them map this night out, accounting for each second of time, and picked up details of their plan throughout. Grian now knew exactly how much effort went into a heist at this level of perfection, and he was completely enthralled. 

His excitement would’ve continued further, but a sudden ringing jolted him into the present. To his surprise, Scar was calling him. He picked up as fast as he could. “Hello?”

“Hey, Doctor. Sorry for calling without warning,” Scar started. Immediately, Grian noted how his modulator wasn’t on. He was speaking in his civilian voice. “Just thought it’d be easier to explain out loud.”

“Right, that’s fine,” Grian replied. “What’s going on, man? Great job on the heist, by the way. I saw the news.”

“Oh? Are they saying good things about us? That’s perfect,” Scar said, sounding relieved. “Means Jimmy and Lizzie haven’t been caught.”

“Caught?” Grian frowned. “What do you mean? Aren’t you with them?”

“No, we got separated. Listen, G, there’s a bit of a problem,” Scar continued, sucking in a sharp breath. “The Agency has deployed every single hero in the city to try and find us. They’re one step short of putting the entire place on lockdown to make it easier to corner us. The billionaire we stole from tonight apparently had some tight connections.”

“What? Really?” Grian stood up, worry building in his gut. “Is there a chance you’ll be caught?”

Scar let out a nervous laugh, and a second of silence passed. It served only to worsen the vet’s mood. 

“What can I do, Scar?”

“Well, uh, I was wondering if I could borrow some clothes? Civilian clothes, specifically,” the other man replied sheepishly. “And then, I was also wondering if maybe you could… bring them to me?”

Grian paused. 

It sounded like Scar wanted to escape from the heroes by disguising himself as a civilian. That was fine on its own, not that big of an ask, but he could see why the guy might be nervous requesting Grian specifically bring them to him. 

An innocent person seeking out a villain currently on the run from every hero in the city was the fastest way to get implicated in a crime. If caught, Grian could be thrown in jail for months, and lose his job. 

But, if caught, Scar would never see the outside of a prison cell again. They’d make sure of that. Ringmaster and his Bamboozlers were an undeniable threat. The city would not risk them escaping once in custody. 

And that thought scared Grian even more than being implicated. 

Without another word, he stood and began searching through his closet. Luckily for Scar, Grian had a phase during which he was a frequent thrifter, so the sizing and style of his clothing varied heavily. He found a large t-shirt with some lame movie quote plastered on his front, and a pair of too-big jeans he’d intended to cut up and remake into something new. It’d fit the other man fairly well, if he had to guess. 

He also added a medical mask to the mix just in case. Once his packing was complete, he told the man on the other end of the phone, and Scar gave him another suggestion – particularly, he asked Grian to change into his scrubs, just in case his presence at that hour of night was cause for concern to those patrolling. After that was done, he relayed his location.

“You know that park a few blocks away from your apartment? I’m there,” Scar specified. When Grian confirmed he knew of the place, he continued, “I’ve locked myself in the public bathroom. No one saw me enter, but I don’t think it’ll be long until they decide to check here. Knock four times on the door, and I’ll let you in.”

Grian agreed, and Scar hung up. 

The vet threw on a jacket to keep out the cold air, leaving his apartment in a rush. He was immediately struck by how empty the streets were. It was late at night, of course, but his apartment wasn’t exactly in the middle of nowhere. There were typically at least one or two cars passing by, and civilians on the street. However, as Grian walked, he saw limited signs of life. 

Scar wasn’t lying when he said they were getting ready to shut the city down. Though his neighborhood probably wasn’t close enough to the crime scene to get an official alert advising him to stay inside, he suspected many were taking those precautions anyway. It’d make his presence even more obvious to the thrall of patrolling heroes. His bag weighed heavier and heavier upon his shoulders.

Luckily, he got to the park without incident. It was only once he’d entered the slew of trees and grassy knolls that Grian caught sight of something he didn’t like. 

Someone, actually.

In the distance, on one of the rooftops that overlooked the park, he spotted a figure. They were draped in flowing clothing that was difficult to make out, and had their back to Grian, but it wasn’t hard to tell that the individual was a hero. Encountering them this close to his goal had the potential to ruin everything. 

Grian picked up the pace, the public bathroom in sight. It was a small building — the kind of place that might have a concession stand during the daylight hours, and had two bathrooms around the back. He hurried to find the door, knocking four times as instructed.

The vet had expected to simply hand the bag of clothes off and be done. He was not anticipating Scar pulling him inside and pressing him against the wall. Grian would’ve shrieked with surprise if not for the hand that quickly slapped itself over his mouth. 

He came face to face with his friend, who hovered mere inches away, eyes wide with crazed fear. Grian could smell his cologne, and feel the rapid fire beating of his pulse where their chests touched. The proximity stole his breath, his fight, his fear all at once. He could only see, hear, care about Scar directly in front of him. 

Grian raised a hand, gently tapping at his friend’s arm. 

Scar seemed to register the situation, and pulled away, releasing the vet. 

“Shoot! Sorry,” he gasped, vocal modulator fluctuating. “I couldn’t remember if I told you four knocks or five, and I kinda lost count when you started, so I thought I’d take my chances—“

“Scar,” Grian interrupted, a small smile on his face. “It’s fine. I get it.”

It was, to be clear, a bit of a foolish mistake on Scar’s part. Giving set instructions and then forgetting them moments later was the opposite of what a person in his situation was supposed to be doing. But honestly, he couldn’t hold something like that against the guy. 

Scar looked frazzled. He was almost closer to a spooked wild animal than a human. His hair was a mess, pupils blown wide, face flushed, and his chest heaving. No doubt the circumstances had him on edge. His flawless plan had been disrupted, and now an entire city’s worth of heroes were hunting down him and his friends. One slip up could send all three of them to jail. Little details were bound to be forgotten in such a chaotic mental state. 

Grian would just have to fill in for the other man’s temporary loss of common sense himself. He could do that. 

The vet went ahead and gestured for Scar to lean up against the wall. Once he was steadied, Grian locked the main door to the bathroom, then began digging out the clothes he’d brought. The handful of medical supplies stopped him. He glanced up at the other man, surveying quickly for visible damage. “Are you hurt at all?”

“Um, no,” Scar replied. “No, I don’t think so.”

True to his word, his friend didn’t look wounded. His Ringmaster costume was unharmed, no scratches or rips to be seen, and his skin was unblemished, aside from the old healed wounds that usually decorated his body. 

On a similar note, Grian didn’t hear any wheezing in his speech or stuttering in his breath that could indicate internal injuries to the ribs. Just to be sure, the vet leaned forward a little, surveying his pupils for signs of a concussion. Scar did him the favor of remaining perfectly still while he swayed closer. 

Ultimately, though, there was nothing to be found. Obviously, if he’d fought anyone during his escape they hadn’t been able to land a significant blow.

“Alright, here,” Grian said, leaning back and passing over the clothes. “Hurry and change. It won’t be long before the heroes come around.”

The bathroom was one of two single-stalled rooms in the little building where they were sheltering, so Grian had to turn to give Scar privacy. He counted the tiles on the wall as he listened to the rustling of fabric. Ringmaster’s costume had a lot of little facets, meaning it was no quick process.

“So,” he started, keeping his mind away from the precarious situation. “You brought your phone with you on your mission today, right? I thought you didn’t typically do that.”

“Hm? Oh, no,” Scar said, and his vocal modulator wasn’t there to distort the sound. “I just added your phone number as a contact on my watch. I can call you or use voice commands to send short texts with it. It’s safer than carrying a phone.”

“Ah, I see,” Grian hummed, intrigued. He hadn’t really thought to ask about the Bamboozlers’ communications before. Something warm opened up in his chest at the thought of being included in that. “I’m your emergency contact, then?”

Scar did him the honor of laughing a bit. The lovely noise made the bathroom feel brighter for its brief duration. Grian wished he would do it again, and again, and again. It reverberated in his heart, softening his edges. Despite the reality of danger lurking just beyond the building’s dingy walls, he found himself completely at ease with Scar nearby. 

“Grian?”

“Yeah?” Grian perked up, realizing the rustling had stopped. “Are you done?”

“Um, yes, for the most part. There’s just… a tiny problem,” Scar replied, and Grian’s heart dropped. Before he could inquire further, though, Scar cleared his throat and said, “You can turn around now, I guess.”

The vet’s mind spun with worries. Were his mental measurements wrong? Did it not fit? Did something rip? Was Scar bleeding from a wound he hadn’t noticed and now the clothes were ruined? Had a hero somehow teleported into the room while he wasn’t looking?

Grian turned around, eyes finding Scar instantly. 

And then, his gaze lowered. He sucked in a sharp breath, blood running cold.

Scar wasn’t wearing a mask.

Grian whirled around again, panic soaring through him at record speed. An apology tumbled out, “God, Scar, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you weren’t wearing a mask, but I swear, I didn’t see anything—!”

His voice cracked and he cut himself off, immediately struck with guilt over lying. Grian couldn’t help it, though. It was impossible not to see when the guy was standing just a few feet away, blatantly maskless. 

Even now, as he stared at the blank wall, his mind flashed with visions of everything he’d seen in that brief moment. There was a strong jawline, pink lips, a solid nose, and new scars that Grian had not previously been able to spot. 

A dangerous part of himself declared that one brief look hadn’t been enough, urging him to steal another peak and drink in the reality that was his friend’s uncovered face. He fought it back, mortified.

“Grian, it’s okay,” Scar said, a sick sort of fondness in his tone. “I’m not wearing a mask on purpose.”

“But,” Grian stammered. “But why not? I brought a fabric one. Did you not see me pull them out of the bag?”

“I did, and I really appreciate it,” Scar replied. “I just can’t afford to wear anything over my face right now. If a hero spots us, it’ll make me look even more suspicious.”

Grian supposed that made sense. The upper half of Scar’s face was well-known to the heroes, even when he donned civilian clothes. His enemies would be looking for a man like him — same build and hair color — and a random guy walking around with a face covering in the middle of the night would draw their attention immediately. It served to reason that the best way to subvert those expectations would be to remove the mask entirely from the equation. 

However, that logic had completely disoriented Grian. He was dizzy, out of breath, filled to the brim with adrenaline from the shock. Scar might’ve been ready and willing to use his secret identity to his advantage, but the vet was clearly not on the same page.

“I said it was fine, G. You can turn around,” Scar called. “I’m okay with you looking.”

When Grian still didn’t move, he heard the other man sigh. Two steps echoed off the walls, and then a hand landed on his shoulder. Grian flinched as he was gently spun around. The moment a sliver of Scar’s face came into view, he squeezed his eyes shut, breath catching. 

“Are you sure it’s fine?” He was certain he was being ridiculous, but every second of this felt taboo, like he was breaking a rule that never should be broken. Grian couldn’t make himself react differently, couldn’t make his brain accept the situation at hand. This felt like something of untold importance – the last step in a sequence they’d been playing out for months.

“Grian,” Scar whispered. “I told you it was fine. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to see your face just because you have no other choice,” Grian blurted, and the room fell silent. 

Until the words were out, Grian hadn’t realized how much he meant them. However, now that he’d admitted it, he knew that was his real worry. He wasn’t concerned that Scar might hurt him for discovering his true identity, or that this would shatter their friendship into pieces. They were past such a fragile point. 

The reality of the matter lay in the intention behind the action. It was embarrassing, but it was the truth. Quietly, as if he might scare the other man away, Grian added, “I want you to want me to see.”

“Oh,” Scar replied, equally as soft. Grian felt his hands come up, and sucked in a breath as they ghosted along his jaw. “Oh, Grian.”

Grian felt unbelievably stupid. He was making a big deal out of nothing, and he was fully aware of that. Scar gave him explicit consent multiple times, but he was still holding on to some nonexistent boundary between them. 

“You’re too sweet. This really isn’t good for my heart.”

The hands settled, cupping his face. Scar’s palms were warm and anchoring, callused but not uncomfortable. The anxiety left him all at once.

“Grian,” Scar continued, smile audible. “There is no one else in the entire world that I want to see my face more than you. Please, look at me.”

At last, Grian listened. 

He opened his eyes, and took in the sight that waited for him a few inches away. His breath left his lungs, and his cheeks heated. Never before had another person stolen his words so immediately, filled his brain with static so instantly. 

Scar was smiling at him with those usual crinkled green eyes of his, sparkling and bright. Except, this time, it was possible to witness the full extent of that most lovely expression. Grian saw the way his lips parted, and his cheeks indented with dimples. He got to watch as Scar let out the smallest laugh, and the sound matched the movement of his mouth. 

His face was covered in markings from old battles, long healed wounds and barely-there blemishes. They helped to emphasize the line of his jaw, and the rosy hue in his cheeks, adding character to someone who already overflowed with vibrance. Grian wanted to trace those patterns until the sun rose on the horizon, and then stare more at the way the daylight added to his friend’s endless shine. 

The longer Grian looked, the deeper his blush grew. Redness crept along his cheeks, to his ears, down his neck, and dissolved into sparks of electricity as it reached the tips of his fingers. The feeling that he’d been refusing to name for ages surfaced with a fury.

He was a weak man before, when all he knew was an alias and a few of the guy’s most infamous crimes. Now, though, Grian had to force his body weight to lean him further against the wall, fearing he might tip forward into dangerous territory. 

“Unfair,” he croaked out, hoarse and barely registering his own words. “You can’t be charming and handsome.”

As soon as he said it, Grian slapped a hand over his mouth. 

The palms cupping his cheeks fell away, and it was Scar’s turn to become a blushing mess. His voice came abruptly and slightly strained, “Really? You… think I’m handsome?”

Grian scoffed, partly at his own slip up, and partly at the absurdity of the situation he’d gotten himself into. Still, he answered, “Yeah… Not what I was expecting.”

If he thought Scar’s smiling face was a knock-out, Grian’s heart practically caved in on itself when those lips tipped into a smug grin. With a brow raised, and his eyes shining, the mischief in his expression was stunning and treacherous. It sang with a kind of trouble that Grian couldn’t resist.

“What were you expecting, Doctor?”

“I don’t know,” Grian replied honestly. He had to think about each breath he took. “The face of a hardened criminal, I guess? Less teeth, a crooked nose, maybe a half-grown out beard. It’d suit your terrible personality.”

“Right, you wish,” Scar huffed, rolling his eyes. “Luckily, I don’t match the average expectation for a hardened criminal, do I? Y’know, since you said I’m handsome.”

“Yeah, luckily,” the vet echoed. He forced himself to regain some amount of composure, urging the critical part of his brain to the forefront. “If you looked any different, the heroes would be more likely to pull us aside.”

Now that he was able to observe clearly, Grian took in the sight of Scar in his clothes. The shirt was a little tight around the shoulders, but other than that, everything seemed to fit alright. Scar could absolutely pass as a regular civilian. 

Well, almost.

“Come here,” Grian said, extending a hand. Scar frowned, but leaned down anyway. Immediately, the vet began to drag his fingers through his friend’s hair, which was disheveled beyond belief. 

Grian wasn’t surprised by the mess. He’d seen the way the heroes and villains ran across rooftops and jumped from jaw-dropping heights for the fun of it. Their hair was likely always tangled to some degree – slicked back according to Ringmaster’s usual style or not.

Scar was, to his credit, patient while Grian fixed the visible strays. If he minded that he was being fretted over like a kid without the ability to care for himself, he didn’t say anything. 

“There we go! Much better,” Grian declared after a minute. He scanned his friend for more details out of place, but found none. Scar looked as sweet and innocent as ever. “Okay. Go ahead and put your costume in my bag, and let’s go.”

Grian glanced past Scar, then paused.

“Scar, where is your costume?”

The floor of the bathroom was devoid of fabric, and his bag was deflated, meaning it was still mostly empty. The gas mask and Ringmaster costume seemed to have disappeared into thin air. 

“I hid it.” Scar jerked a hand up, pointing towards the ceiling. Grian raised his gaze, finding one of the overhead tiles was displaced slightly. “I’ll come back and pick it up in the morning, but if, on some off chance, they search your bag, we’ll be in trouble.”

“Yeah, alright, makes sense,” Grian replied. “So, are you ready to go, then?”

Scar nodded. 

Grian took a deep breath, gathered his stuff, and together, they opened the bathroom door. 

The chilly night air hit them at the same time. Grian was prepared, but Scar was significantly underdressed without his costume to keep out the wind. He shivered, and the vet’s eyes lingered on the way the other man sucked in air through clenched teeth. 

Before it could become embarrassing, he turned away, focusing entirely on walking forward. Grian took in the sight of the trees, cast in the soft glow of street lamps, the movement of shadowed leaves, the shivering of bushes as little critters darted between them. He did not think about Scar’s warm palms cupping his jaw earlier, did not think about his pretty face, did not think about the fact that he’d trusted him enough to show those features off in the first place.

In fact, he was so focused that he nearly ran into another person stopped just ahead. Grian wasn’t expecting anybody to enter his view, so he was startled, not able to catch himself in time. Scar grabbed his hand at the last second, tugging him backwards right before they were set to collide. Grian was already halfway through an apology when he got his first good look at the newcomer.

A man draped in sparkling black robes stood before them, a head of bright blue hair on his shoulders and a mask over his eyes. There was a staff in his hands, which crackled with electricity. His stance was wide, purposely strong, as if preparing to move at the slightest suggestion from them.

Definitely not a civilian, then.

Grian’s mouth fell open, apology melting into something mangled and impossible. Shakily, he raised a hand, pointing at the stranger.

“You’re a hero,” he gasped, awestruck. “No way.”

And not just any hero. Grian actually recognized this man from the front of countless magazines, as well as the headlining pictures of truly baffling amounts of news articles. 

It was Morphling, the city’s sweetheart, and a member of the notorious Gs. 

He was known for his ability to shapeshift into any animal. While that on its own didn’t seem like much, watching him fight was terrifying. The guy could switch between a bear to strike with sharp claws, a shark to lunge with ripping teeth, and a bird to escape out of sight before his opponent could even recover. 

“Very good observation,” came an amused, slightly mocking tone from the hero. Morphling raised a brow, lips tipping up into a slight smile. His head tilted, and Grian felt as though, suddenly, he was being heavily scrutinized. “And you… seem to be entirely nondescript.”

It took that sensation of being judged for Grian to remember his position.  

He blinked, straightening his posture and squeezing Scar’s hand tighter in his grasp. Grian needed to think clearly, needed to get them out of this unharmed. Between the two of them, he was the only one completely innocent here. Lies would be easier, more believable, if they came from his lips. 

Grian started off by doing his best to seem borderline offended. “Excuse me? Nondescript?”

“I apologize,” Morphling hummed, though there wasn’t an ounce of sincerity in his voice. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

His modulator was off-putting. Instead of coming from a mask over his mouth, it was the result of a small device attached to a choker around his neck, directly manipulating the tone of his words as they left his voice box. The noise that came from his mouth was tinged into something almost robotic, and vaguely musical at the same time — like autotune, if autotune had an estranged, haunting cousin. 

Combined with his too-relaxed posture, the guy unnerved Grian beyond belief. He felt as though he was being watched by a predator, just waiting to jump out at its prey. It was an odd vibe to be picking up so soon into their interaction, because Grian could’ve sworn there was nothing suspicious about them. They hadn’t even been given a chance to speak. Why were they already being observed this closely?

“Then, how did you mean it?” Grian put one hand on his hip, the other remaining firmly intertwined with Scar’s own. It was comforting to know that his friend was so nearby during such a peculiar encounter. 

“I’m sure you’ve seen the alerts, right?” Morphling gestured to the phone sticking halfway out of Grian’s pocket. “There are dangerous criminals on the loose tonight. You’ll have to pardon my blunt approach, but I can’t help but be a little surprised to see you lovely men outside under these circumstances.”

“Oh, so you’re here to escort us home? Enforcing a curfew, are you?” Grian scoffed, rolling his eyes. His legs were shaking slightly. He wished he were allowed to move along, walk it out. However, since that wasn’t an option, he forced himself to double down on his approach. “Look, there’s no need for that. I’m a vet at Spanner’s Emergency Clinic. I only recently got off shift, and I’m on my way home.”

He was glad, at that point, for Scar’s quick thinking when it came to Grian changing outfits. This could save them.

“An emergency vet, you say? I suppose that would make sense.” Morphling’s brows raised. Unfortunately, he wasn’t fully buying the alibi yet. He prodded further, “Could I see some identification?”

“Identification? Sure, yeah,” Grian replied. “Not a problem.”

He relaxed a bit — this part was easy for him. As long as they were talking about him, focusing on him, buying his stories, he could go on forever. Anything to keep the heroes off Scar’s back for a moment longer. 

Grian pulled out his wallet, and flashed his veterinary ID. It wasn’t anything fancy, nothing more than a little card he’d clip onto his lanyard whenever he came into work, but it was official enough. Whether it looked faked or cheaply made, the hero probably wouldn’t care. Morphling would undoubtedly recognize how unlikely it would be for a villain to be carrying around a false veterinary identification for the rare occasion in which he’s stopped at night. 

As expected, after a quick look, the hero leaned back with a sigh. 

“Alright. I believe it,” he said. Grian almost felt relieved, but then the hero’s head tipped towards Scar, and any semblance of happiness drained away. “And who are you? Another vet?”

Grian sucked in a breath, looking back at Scar. The other man appeared, at first glance, calm and composed. But Grian knew him — knew how to actually read him — even if he hadn’t been able to see the guy’s full facial expressions until a few minutes prior. 

Scar’s fingers were tightening their hold, and his free hand had to be shoved in his pocket to avoid revealing his nervous tendency to fidget. His eyes shone with a glassy sort of light, meaning he was trying too hard to stay subtly alert. 

Not to mention, Scar had been tired when Grian first met him in the bathroom, and that hadn’t really changed. His shoulders were slumped, posture heavy. With such little energy, concealing tells in front of an opponent would be extra difficult.

Suddenly, the panic in Grian’s heart spiked into his throat. If Scar said something wrong here, both of them would be in serious trouble. If he hesitated too long, talked too much, or stayed too quiet, they’d get revealed. Morphling was perceptive, and actively looking for evidence to prove their guilt. A hero like that wouldn’t miss the signs for long.

Grian was jumping in before he could stop himself.

“This is my boyfriend,” he blurted, forcing a tight smile onto his face. Scar’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and Morphling made a noise of surprise. “He’s walking me home. Came all the way to my work to do that because he was worried about the bank robbery. Isn’t he sweet?”

“Oh? Your boyfriend?” The hero’s gaze darted down to their connected hands. “I see. That is sweet.”

Grian ignored the mental images that came to him when he imagined Scar as his partner. Those were not relevant to the task at hand, and only served to put them in further danger. It didn’t matter that a pretty pink flush had come to Scar’s face as soon as the idea was introduced, and it didn’t matter that Grian’s skin tingled along every point of contact between them. 

Morphling whirled around to Grian again, lips pursed. “Where do you live, exactly?” 

“Third street,” Grian answered easily. He figured lying as little as possible was going to be the way out of this, and wavering would add more suspicion to their name. 

But he definitely should’ve considered the validity of that response before saying it, because something in his response caused Morphling to frown.

“Third street? Interesting.” Morphling tutted, “I know where both that and the Spanner’s clinic are, but if you’re commuting from work, this park is awfully out of the way for you.”

“He’s coming back to my place,” Scar said. It startled Grian, as it was the first time he’d opened his mouth since the hero arrived. “I live near Mountain Street. It’s through this park and two blocks down.”

Maybe it was the amount of practice he had as an established villain, but even while his nervous tells were still plain as day, Scar spoke clearly. His voice didn’t shake, and his tongue didn’t trip over its words. He was the picture of confidence to any outside perspective. Honestly, Scar was so convincing, Grian almost believed he’d told the hero his actual home address.

“If I might ask,” Scar continued, stepping closer to Morphling and looking around conspiratorially. “Is there a reason you’re stopping us here, sir? Was there a villain sighting nearby? Should we be concerned?”

Morphling considered him. His eyes drifted between Scar and Grian, then back again. 

It felt like a decision was being made, like this was the final test keeping them from safety. If they could get past the hero, they would be home free. Grian was itching to move, run, disappear into the night. As cool as it was to be speaking to one of the city’s most famous protectors, he could only delight in it so much from the opposing side.

“It’s nothing,” Morphling said, breaking the tension. His head lulled back, and he sighed up at the sky. “Nothing that a civilian should need to worry about, at least. The Bamboozlers haven’t been purposely targeting innocents recently. They don’t even take hostages anymore. I doubt they plan on changing that tonight.”

Grian blinked, surprised. He chanced a look at Scar. The other appeared unbothered by that tidbit of information, as if he already knew it would be the answer. 

Though the vet hadn’t paid enough attention to past cases, now that he thought about it, Grian couldn’t remember any times in which the Bamboozlers had gone out of their way to go after civilians as of late. But prior to their becoming friends, he definitely could recall hostage situations, innocents caught in the line of fire, and a couple of deaths of cops, exactly as the hero said.

The vet had to hand it to the Agency — they obviously knew the tendencies of their enemies, ever-changing as they apparently were.

Grian did wonder secretly to himself why the trio had changed, though.

“Not the most reassuring,” Scar muttered, drawing the vet from his head. “But I’ll trust you. Are we good to go? Do you need anything else?”

The hero clicked his tongue, eyes drifting. Grian flinched as a finger was pointed at his bag. “Would you mind if I checked that?”

The vet sucked in a breath. Scar squeezed his hand. It’d been a good decision to leave the costume behind after all. 

Grian nodded, holding out the bag. Morphling took it, brows raising at its weight. He checked inside. “Huh. Fairly empty, isn’t it?”

“Most of my personal tools are back at the clinic being sterilized,” Grian replied, not missing a beat even as his heart definitely did. “I wasn’t going to leave my bag overnight.”

Morphling handed it over, putting his hands on his hips. “Okay. I’m going to let you off with a warning,” he concluded. “Ignoring crime alerts can be dangerous for you, while also impeding our ability to catch villains. Keep that in mind in the future.”

Scar gave a solemn nod, though from Grian’s point of view, there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. It was out of place — the kind of look he might wear when watching a prank play out. His visible nerves had also stilled, leaving only that minuscule shine and a general expression of false concern for the hero to read from him. Otherwise, he seemed completely relaxed. 

Weirdo, Grian’s mind whispered. Can’t believe he’s finding this funny.  

Rather than voicing anything genuinely running through his head, Grian replied, “Yes, we’ll be more careful next time. Thank you so much. Have a good evening.”

Before the hero had a chance to speak again, Scar dragged them both away. 

Grian turned over his shoulder to get a final glance at Morphling, and was just in time to see him overtaken by a flash of blue. Something like a small explosion of energy and unnatural glowing occurred around his form. What eventually emerged from the light was not human. 

Grian shrieked as the small, feathered body of a dove zoomed past their heads, soaring up and over the park in a mere moment. Morphling was gone, presumably replaced by the form of that bird, off to do his heroic duties elsewhere.

Scar tugged on Grian’s hand, slowing so they were walking shoulder to shoulder. Quietly, he whispered, “That was too easy. Morphling might follow us all the way back, so try not to lower your guard.”

“Oh, great,” Grian grumbled. “Just what we need.”

His shoulders drooped, and it took everything in him not to just collapse onto the nearest bench. Grian had exhausted all of his energy getting them through that tense interaction. The late night was catching up with him. Yet, he was expected to continue until the hero disguised as a bird decided to stop following them? 

He rubbed his face with his hand and groaned.

“C’mon, it’s not that bad,” Scar chuckled. “What? Do you hate the idea of being my pretend boyfriend that much? You can’t handle a single lovey-dovey walk home with me?”

Grian straightened instantly, head whipping around to face Scar. The other man was grinning at him, wide and gleefully mischievous. Despite it being a beautiful sight, it sent a shiver down Grian’s spine. He wasn’t sure he would like being on the receiving end of this guy’s antics when their overarching topic was being romantic with one another. With the butterflies already stirring in his gut, that could only ever end badly for him.

“No, idiot,” Grian replied, trying to seem far more nonchalant than he felt. “I am a wonderful actor. I was simply… worried that we were going to get caught in our lie. My place is the other way, but we told him we were going to yours.”

“That’s an easy fix,” Scar said, blinking innocently. “We can go to mine. We’re already walking in that direction. I didn’t lie about where it was.”

Grian’s mind went blank.

“What?” 

Scar’s home? He was being taken to Scar’s home? Not the Bam Bunker, but Scar’s civilian home?

“Isn’t that–?”

Scar cut him off with a raised brow.

“It’s not dangerous,” the other man replied, shooting him a playful glare. “It’s not an invasion of my personal space. You’re not risking your life by coming to my place for a change.”

He tightened his grip on Grian’s hand, eyes far brighter than his outward expression.

“You keep jumping to conclusions whenever I try to show you something new,” Scar continued, scoffing and scrunching his nose. “Isn’t it my choice to let you see these things? Do you really still think I’m going to kill you every time I offer you a glimpse into my private life?”

Grian’s jaw dropped and he huffed out a quick, “That’s not what I was implying—!”

He stopped short.

It had been exactly what he was going to imply.

He looked away, defeated. “Sorry. I know you wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Scar hummed, perking back up the instant he got his way. “Now, cheer up, lovely boyfriend of mine. There’s a little birdy on the power line up ahead, and we can’t have you down in the dumps when I’m being so romantic.”

Grian shot him a glare, cheeks heating, but a subtle glance confirmed his friend was telling the truth. Though the bird was hardly visible, when searching with intention, the white feathers of a dove stuck out rather clearly against the night’s dark background. 

Morphling had indeed not given up on his endeavor, exactly as Scar had suspected. Grian supposed it wasn’t just the heroes who knew their enemies well.

“Ugh, this is a lot of pressure,” Grian mumbled under his breath. Unfortunately, the wind wasn’t enough to keep that from reaching Scar, who tilted his head curiously at the vet. “I’ve never had to pretend to have a boyfriend before.”

“Oh, yeah?” Scar smiled, clicking his tongue. “I guess that makes sense. You are quite the catch.” 

Grian stumbled on the sidewalk, nearly tripping if not for Scar’s steadying hand on his shoulder. “I’m what?”

“Quite the catch,” Scar repeated. He made a big show of swinging their arms back and forth over and over again, elaborating as he went. “I bet you never had to find a fake date to your school dances. You probably just got real ones instead.”

“What? School dances?” Grian opened and closed his mouth several times confusedly. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Am I not allowed to talk about my tragic past with my beloved?” Scar had the gall to pretend to be hurt, pressing a hand over his heart and everything. “I’m so disappointed in you, babe. How will I ever recover?”

Grian gagged, reaching over and swatting at Scar’s head. The other dodged, laughing, “What? What’s that for? Why are you being violent?”

“Don’t call me ‘babe’ like we’re teenagers! I’m a grown man,” Grian said. He shuddered. “I pay taxes and rent and I have a doctorate. That’s gross.”

Scar’s laughter tapered off into something gentler. “Resorting to bragging about your degree, are you? I didn’t realize a simple nickname would strike such a nerve, Doctor.”

Around them, the scenery of the park had melded into regular city streets. Lamps lit the way ahead as they made slow progress, in absolutely no hurry to get anywhere. The power line, utilized by one stray dove, passed by overhead. The two ignored it in favor of bickering with each other as they always did. 

“I should be allowed to do that every so often,” Grian decided, nodding to himself. “Bragging, I mean. Don’t I deserve it after working so hard all the time?”

“Sure, sure, yeah,” Scar agreed. “Fine by me. I’ve always liked my men with a bit of an ego.”

“I like mine significantly less obnoxious,” Grian snorted, smacking him gently. “I guess I got the short end of the stick, huh?”

The pink hue on his face was going to become a permanent feature, at this rate. He was alright with that, though, just for now. Scar wasn’t unaffected himself, and that was enough for Grian to put aside his own worries briefly. As long as they were mutually mortified, he could keep himself from feeling completely stupid. 

There was the faintest fluttering of wings, then the dove was disappearing further down the street, beating them to every mark on the way to their destination. Even with the hero confirmed to be out of sight, Scar didn’t waver with his content smile, or the grip he had on Grian’s hand. 

Not that the vet was in a rush to change that fact. Honestly, it was the opposite. He was a little obsessed with how easily their fingers intertwined and remained together. Grian was certain he’d never get tired of the feeling of wholeness this contact brought on. It was unlike any other in the world.

They kept walking at a mild pace, neither in a particularly large rush. 

“Thank you,” Scar said eventually, breaking the stillness. The teasing edge to his tone had evened out into a smooth softness. “I probably wouldn’t have made it this far if you weren’t here.”

“Heroes or not,” Grian sighed. “I’m sure you would’ve gotten home. You’re too smart to get caught that easily.”

“Well, maybe,” Scar replied, nodding. “I meant in general, though. Thanks for everything, Doctor. You never had to do all this stuff. If you decided after my second or third time being injured that you were sick of this illegal work, I would’ve left you alone.”

Grian gave him a funny look, confused as to what had brought this on. He took a deep breath and said, “Scar, you know how I have a tendency to get tense whenever you reveal parts of your identity?” 

“Yes?”

“In the same way, you tend to thank me whenever I do something even vaguely nice for you,” Grian accused. “Calm down a little, man. You’re grateful, I know, but you make it seem like I’m sacrificing my entire life to help you out. I’m doing this willingly.”

He watched Scar process that — his face changing from a confused frown, to a contemplative neutrality, to an almost-smile, and then down again into a defeated slump. 

“Don’t get me wrong. I like hearing it every now and again,” Grian continued. “But in the same way that I’m always tense, you seem to always be worried that I’ll forget how much you need my help.”

Grian tugged him closer, allowing their shoulders to bump into one another. 

“We’re both predictable.”

Scar laughed, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I guess we are.”

Although the vet wasn’t really paying attention to their route anymore, the buildings around them had gradually switched from businesses to townhouses, and the roads had gotten slightly smaller. This district of the city was greener, lined with old trees and uninterrupted beauty. 

They turned the corner, and he saw a nearby sign that indicated they’d reached Mountain Street. Grian scanned his surroundings, and spotted Scar’s car parked in front of one of the homes. The townhouse was similar to those around it, with bricks painted a pale green, and the windows accented with a tasteful white. The shutters were propped open, revealing a darkened interior. 

It hit him, at that moment, harder than it had before. This really was Scar’s house, wasn’t it? Grian was actually going to see his friend’s home, wasn’t he? 

He wanted to get lost in that fact, get lost in the wonder of the idea. Unfortunately, a leering dove had positioned itself in the branch of one of the trees that lined the quaint street. The atmosphere was disrupted by the gnawing feeling of being watched. 

Grian suspected Scar was equally as irritated by it, because his steps suddenly picked up speed. His friend was careful to make it a subtle increase, so as not to tip off the hero, but the vet noticed. House after house passed them by. Some of them emitted golden glows from lamps positioned by windows, shining despite the hour. Others were as dark as Scar’s own home. 

The breeze whistled through the branches, rustling the leaves overhead. The air was sweeter here, permeated by the various flowers decorating the tiny bit of green space at the front of every townhouse. Each bush was in full bloom, every flower unfurled, allowing their petals to take on a layer of dew. 

Finally, they came to a stop in front of a set of steps, leading up to the pale green house he’d seen earlier. Grian was pleased to discover that Scar too had nurtured a small shock of flowers on his plot. From the looks of their purple coloring, and the way the flowers were grouped together, he guessed it was a young lilac bush. 

This one bush wasn’t the only plant life for which Scar cared. As they ascended the steps, and paused at a white wooden door, there were two potted ferns guarding the threshold. Neither they nor the lilac bush seemed to be wasting away, obviously very loved. 

His friend bent down to the pot on the left, and retrieved a tiny silver key from beneath it. Not the most secure place to hide such a thing, but Grian supposed anyone unlucky enough to break into this man’s home was more at risk than Scar possibly could be. 

Instead of immediately unlocking the door, Scar turned to face him. Grian raised a brow. “What’s up? Having second thoughts about letting me in?”

“No,” Scar replied instantly, then winced. “No, I’m just trying to remember if I cleaned before I left today.”

“Wait, really?” Grian snorted, tipping forward a bit to smile up at his friend. “Are you embarrassed that I might see you in a less-than-perfect state? That’s never happened before.”

He was delighted by the way Scar’s cheeks darkened, and his mouth opened and closed uselessly. After a second of gathering his bearings, he grumbled, “Yeah, I guess, but seeing me all bloody and gross is different from seeing my house in shambles.”

“Oh, come on,” Grian scoffed, swaying further into Scar’s personal space. He rubbed circles into the skin of the other man’s hand. A teasing smile spread over his face. “That’s a lame excuse. You don’t get to back out now.”

Scar didn’t respond. His eyes had glazed over, pupils dilating as he was distracted. His gaze didn’t meet Grian’s own, but rather, drifted down lower. There was something intense, both calculating and mindless in his expression. It made Grian want to shiver. 

For the first time since they’d arrived at the house, Grian realized just how close the two of them were. There was an inch of space between their chests, with only the height difference preventing their faces from being the same way. Simultaneously, he was overcome with the urge to pull back, and to draw nearer. 

Scar let out a shaky breath, swallowing. “Grian?”

His voice was a low rumble, quiet but clear. It was like freshly melted chocolate on a cold night, or rays of summer sun cast through a break in a canopy of leaves. Grian wanted to stop and enjoy its sound, let it wash over him, warm him to his core.

“Yes, Scar?”

A hand came up, tentatively ghosting over the small of Grian’s back. 

“Excuse me for what I’m about to do,” Scar whispered.

Grian was pulled in fully at the same time as Scar dipped down and kissed him. 

Instantly, the entire world came to a crashing halt. It was a soft thing, gently brimming with untold potential. Grian’s eyes widened, static rushing up to consume him. Fire licked along his skin where Scar held him close, his heart slamming against his ribs. 

Everything clicked into place right at that exact moment, turning chaos into logic, fear into comfort, the unknown into familiarity. Grian knew the name of the feelings he’d been repressing, the ones he’d failed to acknowledge simply because he was scared of them. He knew the flutter of romance, the blush of intense interest, the pangs of developing affections.

Grian liked Scar. 

For weeks now, whenever his heart gave an involuntary thump, his mind conjured scenarios that no normal person would ever think up, or he allowed the other man to get away with things that he realistically shouldn’t have, it’d all been because he liked Scar.

Grian wanted to be this close, wanted to kiss him, wanted their teasing and bickering to involve into this. He’d wanted Scar long before he’d seen his face, or learned his name. From the moment he had really begun to know the man, he’d started on this treacherous path towards loving him.

But before he could melt into it, let his entire being dissolve into it, the kiss was over. Scar pulled back. His breaths came quickly, and his face was hot to the touch. Grian was frozen in place, completely rapt by the sight of the lips he’d just felt against his own. 

“Sorry,” Scar said, eyes widened with disbelief. “I’m so sorry.”

The words jarred Grian from where he’d fallen silent, like the honking of a horn on a lovely quiet morning. He physically recoiled, confusion furrowing his brows. 

No part of him could understand why the other might be apologizing after such a perfect kiss. It was unexpected, but every bit what he’d always imagined and more. How could anyone second guess that? How could anyone question that? How could anyone look as upset as Scar did now about that?

Grian realized very abruptly that he hadn’t gotten a chance to reciprocate. He’d been so caught up in his realization, in his entire universe beginning to make some sort of cosmic sense, that he hadn’t kissed back or even moved at all. From Scar’s perspective, he’d been stunned, not enjoying the connection in the slightest. 

He didn’t know how much the vet had been craving that, didn’t know how long he’d dreamt of a moment like this one. Scar didn’t know how often Grian thought of doing this exact thing, how often he wanted to grab the other by the collar of his blood-covered costume and pull him in. He was finding it to be a ridiculously frequent occurrence, especially now that he was allowing himself to feel this way. 

Grian opened his mouth to express his intentions, to mend the accidental misunderstanding, but Scar cut him off by blurting, “I just figured that was what couples did after an evening out! A kiss on the porch is cheesy, I know, but I think Morphling is definitely convinced now. No questions in his mind!”

The vet paused. His heart stilled. “What?”

“Morphling’s still watching us,” Scar said, voice cracking. He cleared his throat. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

Grian felt something in him break as the other released him, turning to the door and unlocking it. Without their hands intertwined, and Scar’s touch against his back, he felt unbelievably flimsy. A faint breeze could’ve knocked him over. 

What had Scar just told him? It was an act for Morphling? Was that really what he’d just called the kiss that had solidified Grian’s most tender emotion into definite reality? An act?

He couldn’t believe his own ears. There was nothing stupider in the entire world than that. Grian had felt the kiss, felt the passion, felt the reciprocated yearning.

Or, at least, he thought he’d felt that. 

His legs shook and his chest ached. 

Grian didn’t have the most experience with romance – nothing beyond a few partners here and there. His schedule was odd due to his job, and his youth had been spent studying to get his doctorate. He didn’t know, in truth, what actual mutuality felt like. He’d assumed it was that, but if Scar was declaring that it wasn’t, then how was he to be sure? 

When he moved to follow Scar inside, it was completely on autopilot. There was a ringing in his ears, as well as a new dizziness springing up in his skull. 

A kiss for show. 

Scar had only kissed him to ensure a hero would buy their story. Nothing more, no matter how world-shattering it had been for Grian. 

He should’ve known from the softness of the other’s lips on his, from the chaste way he was given just a taste of what he’d always wanted. It wasn’t everything it could’ve been. It wasn’t layered with real emotion. It wasn’t an expression of actual care. 

Grian had believed, for a second, that it was genuine, and he’d been a fool to do so.

It made sense, looking back, for it not to be, but the mind was cruel in its present perception. He was an idiot for getting thrown off balance so easily. Grian was gullible and stupid, and now he was paying the price for it.

He hardly noticed the interior of the home he’d entered over the throbbing of his chest. Through thick emotions, he noted it was a lot like Scar’s tiny room at his base – all earthy tones and soft edges. Nothing looked out of place. The little bit of visible mess was the expected sink full of dirty dishes and a couple of empty to-go boxes on a table.

Scar talked at him for several minutes, explaining his design choices and home layout in far too much detail, words spilling out faster than they could be processed. Grian’s mind spun, but he listened to every second of it, because his ears were always happy to catch the slightest sliver of the other’s voice. They hadn’t yet taken into account his heartbreak.

The townhouse itself wasn’t large, but it had high ceilings, two floors, and an attic for storage. The downstairs held the kitchen, dining room, and living room, whereas the upstairs had the master bedroom and a guest bedroom. Scar explained all of this to him, pausing when he noticed Grian was struggling to digest the information.

“Sorry again, Doctor,” Scar sighed, a profound sadness glimmering in his eyes. The apology was like a repetitive stab to the chest. It took everything in Grian not to react. He focused only on the other man, not on himself. “I should’ve asked before deciding on a way to solve our issue on my own. I see now that all I did was make you uncomfortable.”

Grian blinked, throat closing at the mere suggestion of being uncomfortable around Scar.

He shook his head frantically. “No, Scar, really,” Grian tripped over himself to say. “It’s fine. I didn’t mind. It was smart. I wasn’t expecting it – that’s all.”

His chest ached. Damn his people-pleasing need to always make sure Scar wasn’t terribly upset. Even in the midst of some of the worst pain he’d ever experienced, he couldn’t stand the thought of his companion viewing him that way.

“Oh, okay. Good.” Scar looked a little relieved. He continued, laughing sheepishly, “I just thought, y’know, a romantic gesture might get him off our tail and solidify our alibis.”

Grian nodded stiffly, full to bursting with unchecked emotional baggage, but stopped when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. 

Scar had begun fidgeting again. 

Subconsciously, he was pulling at the hem of his shirt, chewing on his lips, letting his hands come up and drag through his hair a little too often. It was as if he couldn’t remain still, as if every syllable spoken had to be punctuated by movement, as if his limbs were communicating something his mouth could not. 

Grian knew what those actions meant, especially when combined with the way he wouldn’t fully make eye contact. He’d seen them when they were about to pull a prank, when they were trying to get a rise out of the two other Bamboozlers, and just now, when they were talking to the hero.

Those were nervous tells.

Scar was lying.

Grian’s mind went blank, honing in on every little motion. 

Why would Scar be lying right now? What exactly was there to lie about? Everything he was saying sounded perfectly reasonable, so what was prompting him to behave like he was being interrogated again?

An unwelcome part of the vet’s head whispered an idea to him that set his cheeks alight, and widened his eyes all over again. It brought him back to their kiss on the porch, to the blurted apology, to the nervous rambling about the decor. It sat like a rock in his gut, while simultaneously making his heart feel infinitely lighter. 

Worst of all, it had the potential to be completely true – not just some overstatement by his mind, or a conclusion he’d reached without evidence. 

Grian was so immediately embarrassed by his own almost-discovery that he wasn’t able to get his expression in check before Scar noticed.

“Grian? Are you alright?” 

“Huh? Oh, um,” Grian stammered. Suddenly, being in Scar’s presence again was dangerous. “Yes, yeah, fine. I’m just… suddenly realizing how tired I am. How long do you think we have to wait for Morphling to leave before I can head back to my place?”

“Back to your place? While the heroes are still out?” Scar scrunched up his nose, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. You’re staying in my guest room tonight.”

Grian’s eyes nearly jumped out of his head. “Stay here? With you? No, I couldn’t possibly! Uh, I have no overnight bag. No pajamas or anything.”

“You can borrow some of my clothes,” Scar said easily. “Then, we’ll be even. C’mon, follow me.”

Without another word, he turned and trotted up the stairs. Grian hesitated for a second, short-circuiting, but eventually mustered up the energy required to move. He didn’t have much choice. If he didn’t trail after the other, he could be questioned again, and he really didn’t trust himself not to answer too honestly.

The guest room that Scar showed him to was nice. It had a double bed with a plush, blue comforter, and white pillows neatly propped up against a wicker headboard. The carpet was soft underfoot, and very well-maintained. There was a dresser, a desk, and a decorative shrub in one corner. It wasn’t overly filled, but it felt homely all the same. 

Scar disappeared down the hall and returned with a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie from his closet. Grian accepted them gratefully. As soon as that was out of the way, Scar moved onto another matter, “Do you need to shower or anything? Should I get you a towel?”

“No, uh, this is perfect,” Grian replied, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Could I bother you for maybe a glass of water, though?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Scar said, already turning and leaving the room. “You want ice?”

“Yes, please,” Grian called after him. “Thank you!”

He stepped inside, and collapsed against the closed door. His face flushed, head reeling, and heart thundering away behind his ribs. Grian felt like a child with a crush for the first time, like he was drowning at the same time as he was flying, like every single action taken around him was further proof towards his theory.

Scar was lying earlier, but the exact subject that caused him to do so was up in the air. Grian had a suspicion, one that sent electricity through his veins and heat to his cheeks, but that he desperately wanted to be true. 

He needed more time to prove it, more time to gather evidence, more time to analyze, more time to come to terms with these feelings. Staying over for a single night was a good start, but he needed to take a step back and view the world through this lens for a while, if only to bask in the thrill of it. 

Scar might not have been kissing him for show. He might’ve wanted it just as much as Grian did. And wasn’t that a wonderful possibility? Wasn’t that an experiment worth lifetimes of research? Wasn’t that something he could latch onto while the truth evaded him, at least for now?

With a renewed energy, and an extra pep in his step, he used the remainder of his time alone to get changed. 

As expected, both the pants and the hoodie were big on him. Not by much, since Scar had likely found the smallest selection from his closet, but it was still a little loose. Thankfully, the sweatpants had drawstrings, so they weren’t going to fall off. 

It was good to get into something more comfortable. He did not notice at all the way that everything smelled like Scar, or think about how this meant they were both actively wearing each other’s clothes. 

And of course, those thoughts – which he did not have – had no effect on his heart rate, the butterflies in his gut, the redness of his cheeks, and absolutely didn’t do anything to encourage the whisper in his mind. To imply otherwise would be ridiculous, delusional. 

A knock came at the door, and Grian opened it. Scar held out a glass of water, speaking without missing a beat, “Alright, is there anything else I can–”

His sentence died on his lips as he saw Grian. Scar’s eyes drifted down over him, and then gradually back up. His lips were parted in shock, chest rising and falling quickly. Grian noticed the water was rippling from the white-knuckle grip Scar had on its glass. He rushed to take it before any could spill.

“Scar, what’s the matter with you?” Grian said, raising a brow. “Cat got your tongue or something?”

“Cat?” Scar’s voice was weak, barely audible. He straightened, snapping his fingers. “Cat! Where’s Jellie?”

Without another word, the guy wandered off, leaving Grian alone in the doorway. Baffled and slightly awestruck by his sudden shift in behavior, the vet followed after him. Scar trailed down the hall listlessly. Grian didn’t fully enter his room when he turned in there, but the vet did linger at the threshold.

Scar’s room was a near carbon copy of his one at the Bam Bunker, with the bamboo accents and everything. It was clear he had a favorite decorative choice when it came to his most personal spaces. The only variances were the smattering of framed posters from old bands and classic movies that dotted the walls. In that area too, Grian noticed a pattern of mostly space-adjacent themes. 

“There you are!”

Grian looked over as Scar’s tone tipped up into something he’d heard in the past when the guy was talking to Pearl and Maui. Unsurprisingly, he saw Scar bend and scoop a little grey cat out of an armchair in the corner. She purred loudly, snuggling into his chest as he cooed at her. 

“Hello, Jellie,” he chuckled. “Did you miss me, honey?” 

“Oh, so this is the famous Queen Jellie?” Grian smiled at the sight of the pet he’d heard so much about. Scar brought her over, and Grian let her sniff his hand. Evidently, she was better with guests than his cats, as she didn’t hiss or grow anxious from his presence. “You are just so sweet, aren’t you?”

After weeks of Scar chatting about her, it felt a little like meeting a celebrity. He definitely understood the hype. Jellie was an adorable thing, and clearly well cared for by her owner. Her coat was shiny, her eyes were bright, she moved with energy as she tried to practically climb onto Scar’s shoulder to snuggle in closer. 

“If you leave your door cracked tonight,” Scar told him, voice slightly muffled as Jellie chose that moment to shove her tail in his face. “She’ll probably come to sleep with you. Jellie loves new people.”

“I will absolutely be doing that,” Grian said, smiling so widely that his cheeks had begun to hurt. “I’m sure I’ll get lots of good rest with her by my side.”

Scar rolled his eyes, huffing, “Great, now I’m jealous.”

“Hey, if you’re worried she might like me more, I’ll shut the door,” Grian said, shrugging. “But then, you’ll have to admit that you’re only winning by forfeit.”

“No, no, let’s do this fair and square,” Scar replied. He flashed a smile in the vet’s direction. “I’m going to settle in now, G. You know where to find me if you need anything else.”

Grian’s eyes got stuck on his friend’s expression. His lips burned, remembering suddenly what it’d felt like to have that smile pressed against them. He forced himself from that daydream, replying hastily, “Yes, yeah, of course. Goodnight, Scar! Sleep well!”

“Goodnight,” Scar said, but Grian was escaping into the guest room before the word was even out. 

The door was left slightly ajar, Grian switched off the light, and threw himself onto the bed.

He wanted to say that sleep came to him easily. The mattress was soft, and he was tired. The day had been arduous, packed to the brim with surprises. He wanted nothing more than to let it fade into background noise, to stop thinking about it until he was well rested and capable of critical thought. 

But that just wasn’t what happened. Unconsciousness was hesitant to encroach on his racing thoughts, made worse by the smell of Scar on every aspect of that damned guest room. The second he thought he was finally on the brink of rest, another vision of that pretty face and brilliant kiss would burn itself into his eyelids, and he’d be doomed to focus on it for another half an hour. 

When she did eventually decide to join him, Jellie helped the process by sitting herself directly on his chest, providing a comforting weight while he drifted off. It was the last push he needed to finally fall under. 

Grian slept fitfully through the night, though, awaking to an alarm from his phone far earlier than he wanted. His first thoughts were about their kiss, set to plague him evermore should nothing become of his theory. 

By the time he was dressed, with vague effort put into brushing his bedhead down with his fingers, Scar was also awake. 

He’d made breakfast, and announced that excitedly the second Grian arrived in the kitchen. Bacon, eggs, and fluffy pancakes were put onto a plate in front of him. Grian was able to enjoy Scar’s cooking to the fullest extent, this time while also enjoying the sight of him first thing in the morning, and both were delicious.

Neither of them talked much, aside from idle conversation about the meal and gratitude for the mutual favors they’d exchanged. They were both clearly tired from the night’s events. Scar didn’t apologize again, thankfully, and Grian didn’t pry. 

He wanted time to ensure he was absolutely correct, so he’d allow them to stray away from the awkward topic for the moment. Grian had to get back to his apartment so he could change for work anyway. Scar offered to drive him, and they spent the remainder of their morning together in comfortable silence.

When they went their separate ways, Grian felt strangely whole, like he finally had something to look forward to. Hopefully, if all went well, he would.