Chapter Text
"You've got a visitor," the nurse says.
Courtney sits up in the hospital bed, winces with the ginger test of weight on her left arm. Fuck, that's going to be an adjustment.
"Who is it?"
The nurse rummages around in her scrubs for a paper she doesn't have. "Sorry I thought I wrote his name down but I guess I left it at the-"
"What did he look like?" She thinks she knows already. Or, she hopes.
"Uh, well he had bruises all over his face, and he said he was your boss…"
She snorts. "Yeah, let him in."
Courtney runs a hand through her hair, rubs the sleep out of her eyes in a futile effort to look presentable.
"Hey, wait a sec-" the nurse pauses in the doorway, "-how do I look?"
She raises a thick blonde eyebrow. "…like shit warmed over, honey…you got shot, remember?"
Oh, right.
Courtney thinks she's prepared for it, but when Robert walks in the hospital room, all battered cheeks and hopeful smirk, her heart starts hammering like it's a jump scare. It's a miracle it doesn't set off whatever monitor they've got her hooked up to.
"What am I, eight years old?" she asks when he produces a small stuffed dog from a strangely weighted gym bag.
"I hope not. That would take this weeks' events from mildly inappropriate to fucking horrific."
She takes the toy with her good arm. It's clearly from the hospital gift shop- a dalmatian, holding a little heart between its paws: Get Well Soon!
"Is this a bad time to admit I'm more of a cat person?"
Robert hushes her, "Don't let him hear you say that."
"Uh-"
The reason for the weird bag is immediately clear- it starts wriggling side to side before Robert extracts Beef and sets him on the bed between her legs.
Courtney can't help it- she grins and scratches the little guy behind the ears. Beef's tongue pops out on command.
"I shoulda been here earlier, but I had to wait for shift change to sneak back in. The first nurse saw him and kicked us out."
"Good thing, cause I would have kicked you out without him." Beef's back leg paddles automatically as she scratches his belly.
Robert pulls the visitor chair from the corner next to her bed.
The buzzing of a call button and a moan from behind the curtain. Robert glances at it, uneasy.
"You've got a neighbor in here?"
"Believe it or not, but washed-up two-bit villains don't get private rooms at Torrance Memorial."
"Reformed villain," he corrects her.
"Right."
The hospital room neighbor lets out another cry of pain. Beef tips his head curiously.
"What's his deal?" Robert mutters.
Courtney leans forward carefully, twitches her head to indicate he should come closer. He leans in, eyes narrowing, lips turning up like he expects to be yanked into a kiss again. She won't give him the satisfaction- not yet. He'll need to work for it a little harder.
She whispers into his ear, "He won't tell anyone what it is, but he's got something stuck in his ass."
Robert hacks out a surprised cackle that transitions into an unconvincing cough; the warm of his breath puffing on her neck is enough to make everything below the navel tingle.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Maybe it's the drugs making her loopy and sensitive- getting fake coughed on shouldn't be such a turn-on.
Footsteps out in the corridor- Courtney tents her knees and throws the hospital blanket over Beef, covering him just as the nurse strides back into the room. The clearly overworked woman is rolling her eyes as she steps behind the curtain to attend to the neighbor.
"Mr. Godfrey, I'm sorry but we can't give you anything else until after your surgery."
Courtney mutters, "The whole fucking city almost burns to the ground, thousands of patients overcrowding every hospital in the county, and this guy decides it's a good time to try and find his prostate."
Robert nods. "I kinda get it. If I think the world is ending, I gotta cross something off my bucket list."
"The staff are taking bets. What do you think he put up there?" Courtney asks.
"I'm so glad you asked, I obviously have wide experience in this area."
"How wide we talking? Like two fingers-" she waggles them like air quotes, "-or closer to a whole cucumber?"
He grins again, and her stomach flips over. "Good to know there's no brain damage to whatever part produces your constant stream of innuendo."
It wouldn't take much to close the gap, lean forward and mouth the freckle below his ear, or turn her head to meet his lips again, but the nurse chooses that moment to push back from the curtain. She give Robert a disapproving, suspicious look that has him leaning back away from her. Damn.
"I can't believe you told the hospital you're my boss."
"What should I have said? Co-worker? Friend? Guy you tried to murder a couple months ago until-"
"Hey," she interjects. It comes out a little sharper than she meant it. "I took a bullet for you, dude, I think we can call it even."
Robert looks away, guilty again. "I know."
"Fuck, I'm joking, man, don't be like that-"
"So was I, but I shouldn't have…"
They both stop at the same moment. Robert sighs, lips turned in a wry smile. "Should I walk out and we can start this whole interaction over?"
It suddenly occurs to her- why did he come, really? Until this moment, she was running on the high of their recent kiss on the stretcher, assuming whatever psychotic obsession she had with Robert, surely he must return the feeling. At least a little…right?
Well, if she's looking at the facts: she's initiated everything, including both kisses, practically thrown herself at him for weeks before that.
But he kissed you back.
What if he's here because he feels guilty? What if the second she recovers, he pulls her aside, says they need to talk and lets her down so kindly, too gently? He'd do it just like that, she can see it. Bullshit hero ego, pity swimming in those warm brown eyes. Maybe he'd even put a hand on her knee, squeeze it like one kind touch can make up for a yearning he doesn't return.
"You really didn't have to come," She can't look at him as she says it; she pulls the blanket off Beef instead, focuses on patting his dense little body. "They're only keeping me overnight for observation. Make sure I don't bleed out."
A hand on her knee, irritatingly soft. "I didn't want you to be alone."
Pity, then. It stings, a little. Disappointment must be writ on her face, because he moves his hand a hair up her thigh, insistent, grips a little harder to pull her out of her private mental flagellation.
"I meant- I want to. I want to be here. With you."
She looks up at the harsh fluorescent lighting blinking hard. The drugs have to be wearing off, because she's feeling everything right now- the pain in her shoulder feels sharper, and so does the last 48 hours spin cycle of emotions.
His hand pulls away, and she feels the loss of it, despite his small smile. It should be reassuring, but a sliver of doubt still lingers hard in the pit of her stomach.
The call button buzzes next door.
"If I don't get something for the burning in my ass in the next five minutes I'm transferring to fucking Cedars."
"Oh my God, I got shot in the shoulder, not the knee. I can walk myself out of here," Courtney complains as the porter pushes a wheelchair up to the hospital bed the next morning.
"It's just a precaution, you got all them good drugs in your system," the porter says. He pats the seat. "Hop on over."
Courtney sighs, swings her legs over the side of the bed. She tries to push off with her good arm, but immediately plops back down, dizzy and weak. How irritating.
"See? I'm right. I do this every day. Almost like it's my job. Hey- husband, boyfriend, whatever you are- wanna give us a hand?"
Robert slings the duffel hiding Beef to his other shoulder and helps the porter ease her off the bed. She tries to gauge his reaction to boyfriend and husband, but he's unreadable, too preoccupied with lowering her safely into the wheelchair.
Boyfriend…Courtney had ruminated over their relationship the whole night. She'd fallen asleep quickly from sheer exhaustion, but the slowly fading medication meant growing pain in her arm woke her a couple hours later, and she never drifted off again. The only upside of this near sleepless night were the hours she got to spend staring at Robert slumped in the uncomfortable hospital chair, open-mouthed and snoring slightly.
Creepy behavior? Yes. But when has she ever pretended to be anything but obsessed?
You chose to be here, Rob. Fair game to ogle.
She'd studied his peaceful slack expression, wiry muscles under the thin t-shirt, trying to read the answer to one question in the lines of his body:
Do you really want to be with me?
It's not something she can ever ask out loud. Instead:
"They're really trying to punt people out of this place, huh?" Courtney comments as the porter pushes her down the hall.
"If you're not actively dying, you gotta go home. Every hospital in a hundred miles is gonna be at max capacity for a while, thanks to those super freaks," the porter complains.
"Oh yeah, I hear you. One of those costumed assholes actually shot me." She turns in the chair to see his reaction- surprised.
"No way."
A pace behind, Robert is all eyes glued to the ceiling in a continuous roll.
His irritation is delicious. She keeps going.
"Oh yeah- he was trying to kill Mecha Man. Hit me instead," Courtney says.
"That's crazy," the porter says, shaking his head.
"No lie," she chirps. Robert sighs, exasperated. She wonders if someday, if they keep this fragile thing up, for months, years, if she'll ever stop getting a thrill from pissing him off. Hopefully never.
Robert cuts in, "I can take it from here, I'm sure you've got other patients to help. Thanks man." The porter disappears, and it's just him pushing her down the hall.
"You're no fun," Courtney complains.
"Let's save the feedback for performance review cycle."
At the discharge desk, he finds another reason to be furious with her.
"The fuck do you mean you don't have health insurance?"
The medical assistant checking her out glances uneasily between Courtney and Robert, hands hovering over her keyboard.
"I haven't been to the doctor in years. What would I need insurance for?"
This, is apparently the wrong thing to say, because Robert groans.
Courtney shrugs without thinking, wincing as pain from the sharp movement spikes her shoulder. "It didn't seem worth it. Those monthly premiums are a bitch."
Robert drags a hand down his face. She shouldn't find the frustrated movement so hot. It's another item on the list of things deeply wrong with her.
"You know SDN pays for you to have cheaper insurance, right? Why didn't you opt in?"
"Can't hit what you can't see. Never been hurt bad enough for the hospital."
"Wait, you've never been shot?"
"Nope."
This seems to throw Robert for a loop, because he doesn't have a reply.
"I think we have all the information we need for your discharge," the medical assistant says tentatively, wringing her hands. Desperate to get out of the awkward moment they've trapped her in. "If you could let me help the next patient…"
Robert is silent as he wheels her through the parking lot. She's still a little high, can't see anything play out on his face. No chance of reading what he's actually thinking. It's frustrating to be in the dark for once. Usually she can hide until people think they're alone, then see how they really feel.
It's so deeply inconvenient to be visible- in more ways than one.
What if he's still furious with her? Fuck.
Courtney clears her throat, then, "Hey, if you want to just call me an Uber, I'd understand-"
"Was that really the first time you got shot?" he interrupts, soft and serious.
Oh. "Yeah."
"Huh."
A car passes by as they make their slow progress down the lot.
"Was there, like, a follow up to that, or-"
Robert sighs again. "It's just- impressive. I can't imagine most heroes or villains can say the same. Especially when you were working for someone like Shroud- not exactly a safe gig."
This bristles that raw and prickly part of her past. The one he keeps insisting they've both moved past.
Courtney knows old habits die hard.
She turns in the chair to glare at him- even as it sends another shot of agony down her arm. "Fuck, man, I didn't work for Shroud for that long. Also, remember I can-" she sucks in air and goes invisible.
Robert lets out a long breath. "Okay, don't strain yourself, I get the point."
She stays hidden.
"Congratulations, you're very sneaky and hard to shoot. You can come back now."
She doesn't budge, until he stops walking, says "Visi?" with concern. He pokes at her good shoulder, to make sure she's still in the chair.
She comes back, and relishes his little flicker of relief at her reappearance. It's almost as satisfying as sneaking up on him to watch him flinch.
"I'm guessing you've been shot before," she says, breathless. It's been a day without her inhaler- too long. Too long without a cigarette, too.
"Of course," Robert replies instantly. "You've seen most of the bullet holes."
"How many times?"
They've reached his car, and he gets out of answering during the struggle to lower her painlessly into the passenger seat. Robert puts Beef safely in his carrier, then disappears as he returns the wheelchair.
She must nod off while he's gone because the sound of the door opening jerks her awake.
"God, you're such a boy scout. You could've just left it here," she complains. "No one cares."
"And there's the difference between you and me," he says, turns, an arm slung around her seat as he backs out of the spot. "I always return my shopping carts, like a good functioning member of society. I'm gonna guess you just kick yours out in the parking lot?"
"I've literally never used a shopping cart."
He glances at her, confused. Courtney catalogs it in the rolodex favorite bewildered Robert faces, a rapidly growing list.
"All my groceries usually fit underneath my jacket."
"Of course," he mutters. She can't tell if it's fond, or exasperated, or both.
He pulls the car out of the lot, into the street. It's busy, blurry figures of people going about their day. Too much like being in a fishbowl. She needs to hide, and she can't go invisible again, not right now. Because above all else, she doesn't want to upset him again. As much as she insists she's fine on her own, she'll die if he actually listens to her.
Courtney fumbles with the levers under the seat. "How do I make this thing lean back?"
"It's on the side."
She pulls at the handle, pouting. "It won't work."
"Oh my God, hold on." When they're stopped at a red light he leans over, grabs her hand and puts it on the correct lever. Pulls up. She's too distracted by the warmth of his body brushing against her chest to prepare for the drop. It hurts a little.
"Fuck," she coughs, cradling her shoulder.
"You okay?"
"Oh, yeah. Thanks."
Beef is panting from the back seat, licking her face through the mesh in his carrier now she's close enough to access.
"Sit still for one fucking second. Those stitches'll pop if you don't. Ask me how I know."
"Ah, yeah, all those times you've been shot. Which is…how many?"
He sighs again. "Four times."
She whistles, low and shaky. "That's a lot for a guy who spent years in a walking tank."
"That's the most common misconception about Mecha Man, actually," he explains. There's a little light in his voice- passion. He's excited to info dump about his peak crime-fighting days, and there's nothing she'd rather do right now than close her eyes and listen to him ramble.
She eggs him on. "Wha d'you mean?" Fuck, she's so tired. Eyes closed, she can tell they're on the freeway now, miraculously free of the usual horrific Southern California weekend traffic.
"I can't do it all inside the suit. Everyone thinks I did, but I spent probably 75% of my time just doing recon. The suit won't go everywhere, it can't fit into tight spaces-" he pauses to let her chuckle at the innuendo, "-and heroes can't just bust through a wall every time they need to fuck shit up. That's not hero behavior."
"No, that's Kool-Aid Man behavior," she slurs. Her head slumps, turns over to lie on her uninjured shoulder.
"Yeah, Kool-Aid Man," he says softly. It's the last thing she hears before she drifts off.
"Get up, Visi. We're here."
Reluctantly, she opens her eyes to Robert leaning over her, gently urging her out of the car.
The shitty elevator in her shitty apartment building is out (again), so it's a long, slow walk up the stairs. She needs to lean on Robert heavily for the first staircase, and it's a shame she's too groggy and tired to properly enjoy it.
"I got it," she mutters at the second story landing, and he moves away, cautious, keeping close behind her as she heaves up. Beef sprints ahead, panting as he bounces his rotund mass up one stair at a time.
"If he's in better shape than me, I'm in trouble," she pants.
"He's all enthusiasm. He'll tire himself out before we get to the third floor."
"You're lucky my roommate bailed after Red Ring attacked the city," she says suggestively. "Got the place to ourselves, for, you know…"
Robert sighs. "Sex?"
"Yeah, that."
"Oh yeah, no, we're definitely going to go at it like rabbits like a day after I got the shit kicked out of me, and you got fucking shot. So hot."
One step, then another. A lingering thought, nebulous and niggling at her since they left the hospital. It comes into focus: "Hey- how do you know where I live?"
"I saw your chart in the hospital," he says easily. She stumbles slightly, and his hand is at her elbow in an instant to steady her.
"Holy HIPAA violation, Mecha Man."
"Be mad at me later, just focus on not falling down the stairs right now."
Courtney trudges on, feeling more solid and awake with every step. The medication is starting to ebb again, and with the mental clarity the pain comes back.
"Speaking of…that wasn't even the most interesting thing on your chart."
She stops in her tracks halfway up the last flight.
"Fuck is that supposed to mean?" She's cataloging every potentially embarrassing thing in her medical record- the three daily pills she forgets to take half the time (allergy, antidepressant, ADHD). The two times she broke her collarbone in high school from jumping out of cars. The six different STD panels (all clear) she had during the 2021 hoe phase to end all hoe phases.
"It means," he says slowly, relishing it. "-that I've been getting dunked on for 'Robert Robertson' for months, and you've been hiding your last name this whole time."
Oh no.
"Way to kick a guy while she's down," she grumbles, keeps walking up the last steps. He catches her around the waist, and it might be fond because he doesn't have a reason- she hasn't lost her footing. It's nice- really nice. She would wrap her arm back around him if it wasn't in a sling (and if she wasn't second-guessing the whole 'he actually likes me' thing).
"Sorry, but I can't get over the fact that Courtney Cleary has the power to turn invisible."
"You and all my middle school bullies."
He's smirking. Oh, it's lovely, it's infuriating. "Save the sob stories for later, we've got a long week with nothing to do but lick our wounds and watch crappy daytime TV. Plenty of time to tell you about all my bullet holes."
They're in front of the door now. He holds out a hand. "Keys?"
"Lost 'em weeks ago. But it's probably fine. Here, see-" she tries the handle and the door swings open, fully unlocked. "Voilà."
Robert shakes his head. "Of course. Nope, at this point I'm the idiot for expecting anything else..."
The apartment is just as she left it- a hazard with everything in place. She'd be a little embarrassed, if she hadn't already seen Robert's depression-cave.
Beef trots in like he owns the place, sniffs a hoodie lying in front of the couch before spinning in three circles and settling into it.
Robert flicks the light switch back and forth. No power.
Did I forget to set up the auto-pay again? Shit…
"What do you want to eat? I'm starving, and Thai sounds really fucking good right now."
Courtney watches him in the unlit apartment as he scrolls through the delivery app on his phone. The soft yellow glow blurs out the deepening purple bruise covering half his face. He catches her staring, raises his brows.
"Or…I can pick something up close by?" he says, misinterpreting her stare. "But I'd rather not risk losing that parking spot right in front of the building."
"…You're staying over?"
"Well…yeah." He's staring back at her like she's stupid, or stubborn maybe. "I mean, I'm not, like, moving in, but he nurse said you'd need help for a couple days. Don't you remember? Or were you too out of it when she went over the home care instructions?"
Oh. Well if that isn't a punch to the gut. Another tally in the column for hanging around out of guilt and pity.
"So you're taking care of me…why? Because you think I don't have anyone else?"
He sits down on the couch, rubbing his brow, exhausted. "Okay, I already answered that first one back at the hospital, and I can't get sappy more than once a day. As for your second question…yeah, it's a little obvious. From one stubborn loner to another." A couple clicks through his phone, looks back down at it. "What do you want?"
"You," she mutters under her breath.
"What was that?" He's still staring at his phone.
"Pad See Ew. Hot, but not Thai spicy. Double shrimp."
The rest of the day slips by in a sleepy haze. They're both still tailed by the exhaustion of the fight. Courtney passes out before the food arrives, wakes up, eats, falls back asleep, wakes up again, watches about ten minutes of some trash reality show Robert streams on his phone, (mostly because she has to lay on his shoulder to see the screen), falls asleep again. Everything's taken its toll on Robert, too. Half the time she's up, he's fitfully dozing on the loveseat.
At some point she must make it to her actual bed, for she wakes up in the dead of night, Beef curled around her lower back like a hot water bottle. She fumbles for her phone to check the time.
Dead. Shit. No power…right.
A little snort from the corner- she jumps. It's Robert, of course, sprawled across the overstuffed antique armchair she typically uses for clothes too clean to launder but too dirty to hang back in the closet.
"This better not be some chivalrous bullshit," she mutters to Beef as she stands. The dog yawns at her before flipping over to face the other wall.
She snaps her fingers in front of Robert's face, trying to wake him gently, a soft muttering of his name. He sleeps on.
"Hey, fucker," she says a little louder, tapping him on the shoulder. He bolts awake, snatching her wrist with terrifying speed. It takes everything in her not to go invisible and jerk away.
The lights come on in his eyes and it's a few seconds before he registers he's not under attack.
"Fuck, sorry." The vice grip on her arm slackens. Brow furrows, sleep-thick voice melting away to worry. "What's wrong?"
"I- everything's fine." She suddenly feels stupid, for raising the alarm. But she didn't mean to. Courtney waves vaguely at the bed. "Go to sleep."
Robert tips his head back, thudding against the wall. Groans. "You woke me up to tell me to go back to sleep?"
"No, I woke you up because I can't sleep with you sitting there. It's fuckin' creepy. Like you're watching."
"Okay…I can go to the couch," he yawns, standing. Now it's Courtney's turn to grab his arm. He stares at her hand like it's going to tell him something.
"Dude, don't be weird. Get in the bed."
"I'm not being weird, I'm-" he buries his face in his free hand. "I didn't want to assume…"
"Oh my God. I spent months throwing myself at you, shoved my tongue down your throat twice in the last week, and you assumed I'd feel more comfortable if you slept in the cuck chair? Stop acting like a creep and sleep with me. Next to me- fuck, you know what I mean."
"I'm not sure I do."
Courtney points a finger at his chest. "I'm going to pee, and if you aren't lying down- under the goddamn covers- when I get back, I'll…"
"You'll…what?"
She brushes past him, storms out of the bedroom.
"Now I see why you were so bad at being a villain," he calls after her. "None of your threats have consequences."
She shuts the bathroom door loudly as an answer.
When Courtney returns to the bedroom, Robert is obediently tucked under her thin blanket.
"Good boy," she say in a soft voice.
He pinches his brow with a finger. "You absolutely cannot say shit like that right now."
"Why not?" she says as she slides into bed next to him.
"You may not have noticed, but I, like you, am also covered in a stupid number of injuries. It would be a very inconvenient time to get…excited."
"Would it?"
They're facing one another in bed, obese dog sandwiched between their thighs. The whole scene is horrifyingly domestic; Courtney wants to bottle it and jerk off to it later.
"So. You're saying you don't like…excitement?" she asks innocently.
His eyes flick down to the low collar of her oversized sleep shirt. "I am…definitely not saying that."
"Hmm." She smirks knowingly, flips carefully over to face away from him. "Noted."
There's nothing from his side of the bed but a long, frustrated exhale.
Courtney is carefully peeling off the bandage on her shoulder when the bathroom lights flicker to life the next morning. The electric hum of a neighborhood comes online, background noise she never noticed was missing.
The power must have been off in the whole building from Shroud and the Red Ring's assault on the city.
She didn't forget to pay the bill. It wasn't her fault, after all.
That's a new one.
Robert knocks on the door. "Hey, power's back on. Where's your phone? I can charge it for you."
The phone in question is sitting on the counter next to the capless tube of toothpaste, black-screened and dead. Whatever's in her messages- whether its a dozen declarations of hate from the entire Z-team, or well-wishes and forgiveness, she's not ready to see it. Not yet.
Courtney tosses her phone in a drawer under a pile of half-used tubs of hair gel.
"I dunno, I think I left it at the office," she lies.
A long beat of silence. "Okay. Well, I just got an email about needing to go in for an interview, about…everything. I'm guessing you did too."
Oh, right. He's suspended. They're both suspended, pending further investigation.
"You okay in there?" Robert asks when she doesn't respond. "It's been a minute and I assumed you were taking a massive shit or something, so I didn't want to bug you..."
"How do you know I'm not?"
"No one holds this long of a conversation while they're trying to squeeze one out."
"I can hold…anything as long as you're squeezing…okay yeah I can't make that dirty."
"It started pretty disgusting," Robert says lightly. Then, "Seriously, you okay? I know I keep asking that but you did get shot yesterday."
Courtney examines her reflection. She's sporting gym shorts, socks, and nothing on top, because she's been picking painfully at the bandage wrapped around her shoulder for the better part of an hour. It's slow work with how tightly it's stuck to her skin and the odd angles she's forced to use with her good hand.
She sighs. "Yeah, can you come in and help me with this?"
The door clicks open, and Robert hesitates, just for a breath on seeing her state of undress, then steps in to examine the bandage on her back. "You should have told me you were changing the dressing. That's like, the whole thing I'm here for."
"From one stubborn loner to another, right?" she quotes back at him.
She catches his smirk in the mirror reflection, corner of his mouth cutting a slice through the green mask of bruises.
"What's our approach here? Slow and steady, or tear it all off in one go?"
"Let her rip."
"A fellow masochist. All right, ready?"
She nods, braces her hands against the counter.
"Okay, on three. One-" he pulls, hard, and she gasps as every fine pale hair on her back is ripped out at the root.
"Motherfucker," she hisses.
"Huh, stitches still look good."
From Courtney's perspective, it's a horror show- the wound above her left breast is crusted with blood, haloed by a flower of black bruising.
"Eugh," she grimaces.
"It could be a lot worse." Robert reaches around her to wet a washcloth, starts cleaning the exit wound, disgustingly gentle. Courtney squeezes her eyes shut, grips the lip of the sink.
"I took my first bullet when I was nineteen," Robert says casually. "Not even a year after my dad died. I was determined to get Mecha Man on the streets again."
He must see how uncomfortable she is being cared for like this, how hard it was to ask for help, because he's willingly put the attention back on his own vulnerabilities. It's so much more than she deserves.
"You ever run into The Trench?" he asks.
Courtney lets out an involuntary snort. "That creep who flashed everyone?"
"Yeah, claimed he had 'hypno dick' powers, because people got distracted when he opened his trench coat. As if that's not like, a normal human reaction to someone whipping their dick out."
"Wait, the Trench shot you? Ow-" She winces at the sting- his hands are firm on her back, placing the clean bandage. She watches him through the mirror- he's focused, calm. She's considering getting hurt more often, if it means he'll keep taking care of her like this.
"Sorry, I have to put pressure on it…No, he didn't shoot me, thank God. I was on my way to stop a B&E, some fancy art gallery. The Trench was right across the street, harassing college students. I got cocky- no pun intended- thought I could put him in his place and take down the burglars in one night. Two for one."
He turns her shoulders gently, twists her around to face him so he can clean and dress the entrance wound.
"Trench ran away from me, straight into the gallery, right at the B&E, and I knew these guys were heavily armed. He's a creep, but he didn't deserve to get hurt or killed. So I went after him. The burglars were waiting for me, shot a chunk out of my side like a second after I walked in. I had to fix this-" Robert lifts the side of his shirt with one hand to show a old poorly-healed knotted scar just under his ribcage, "- by myself. Too embarrassed to go to the hospital. Kept passing out trying to suture it."
He finishes placing the front bandage, secures the sticky edges more carefully this time. Robert's eyes don't move from the bandage for a second, even though she's completely topless. He's seen it all before, but she expected at least a glance down- her tits, the augment, fuck, anything.
It's a bare minimum level of decency, and it makes her want to scream.
Grab my tits. Spit on me. Rip the machinery from my chest and let me bleed out on the bathroom floor. Do anything except this.
"Thanks."
They lock eyes. She leans forward, so slight a movement they could both back out if they want. Which he doesn't. Robert stays right where he is, resolute.
He also doesn't move in for the kiss. So she won't either.
Courtney sighs. "I can't believe you took a bullet for Hypno Dick. Makes me feel a lot less heroic."
He breathes out a laugh, steps back.
"Come on. Let's get dressed and rot in front of Survivor."