like many Rooks, Marisol has a big sweet tooth. she doesn't have fond memories of childhood food to fall back on for comfort, so what she tends to consider "comfort food" is sweets that are relatively simple, as well as Antivan street food (which i imagine, depending on WHERE in Antiva, would be either traditionally Spanish or Italian street foods)
i associate Marisol with honey a lot (i HC that one of her primary ways of delivering poison is through the cultivation of different poisonous honeys lmao) - so for this specifical answer chose the Italian dessert, Struffoli!
traditionally served during holidays, here's the idiots getting ready for a Satinalia party lmao.
What if, in some strange universe, Robin ends up dating a widower Nolan?
The kitchen isn’t empty when Mark makes it downstairs that morning. He freezes just at the edge of the tiles, abruptly a lot more awake than he was a few seconds ago.
Robin is there. She’s in the kitchen, and- it isn’t the first time, so there’s no reason to freak out over it. But she’s standing by the coffee machine, frowning as she messes with the buttons, and she’s-
It’s super fucking obvious she’s stayed the night. With his dad.
Which he knew! Obviously.
Dad talked to him about it before Mark met Robin for the first time, and sure, he got pretty upset about it back then. But Mom died three years ago now, and lately- it’d seemed like, lately, Dad was starting to act a bit more like he used to before. Like he wasn’t disappointed in Mark all the time for not getting his powers yet, even though he’s just turned eighteen and it’s almost the end of his senior year, and he’s supposed to go to college soon.
He just didn’t know Dad was acting different because he started dating someone. And not just some old lady his own age - physical age, whatever. No, it’s-
“G’morning,” Robin says on a yawn, fingers wriggling in a lazy wave. Her hair’s loose and extra curly, like she hasn’t brushed it yet, and he’s more used to seeing it in a plait or bun or ponytail.
She’s in pyjamas too - and he’s so, so glad she isn’t wearing one of Dad’s shirts again, like she was that one time they bumped into each other in the hallway at night, and it was so awkward that Mark wanted to drown himself in the bathroom sink. The pyjamas are way better, a loose shirt and shorts, and fluffy penguin slippers.
“Hey, hi,” he manages, shifting his weight before he darts over to the fridge. “You- uh, sleep well?”
He cringes and barely resists the urge to knock his head against the fridge door. Loads of those sorts of urges lately. Love that.
“Uh huh.”
Risking a glance back over his shoulder, he sees she’s still messing with the coffee machine. “Do you…need some help?”
“Please,” she sighs, taking a step back from it. “This thing’s too fancy.”
“It’s, uh, just a bit fiddly. I’ll show you how?” He hazards a smile, and opens the machine up to check the pod is in right. “Oh, you’ve got to turn this the other way. So the pod’s like this, see?”
“Like…” She moves beside him and peers in, and he tries not to be super conscious of how much shorter she is. Seeing her with Dad is weird enough.
Weirder because Robin’s only twenty, and Dad’s this thousands of years old alien, and maybe it isn’t as strange an age gap for Dad after- after Mom, but, it’s so fucking weird.
She’s two years older than him. They talked about Science Dog at dinner last night, because she’d picked it up recently, and she mocked Dad for being “so out of touch with pop culture”, and Mark just doesn’t get what they even have in common?
Other than Robin reading Dad’s sci-fi books that Mark didn’t even know about, but apparently she liked them enough to send a letter to the publisher complaining about a lack of sequels and a whole bunch of questions. She said it was a shock to her when Dad actually wrote back, and- maybe that’s the one way this is a really old person thing, right, to start talking through letters.
Mark said he’d never written a letter before, and immediately felt dumb and childish for it.
He clears his throat and finishes demo-ing the coffee machine, grabbing one of the mugs Robin had already set beside it on the counter. There’s two mugs. Oh, she must be…making one for Dad.
“Is my dad up?” Ugh, it feels strange saying my dad like he’s a kid and Robin is way older or something. She’s college aged. Sure, she doesn’t attend college - she’s a mechanic, works on cars but is really into motorbikes, and she’s been building one from scratch lately - but that’s the age bracket. His age bracket.
“Supervillain attack called him out,” Robin says, seeming totally at ease even though it had to be a crazy thing to discover, finding out she’s dating Omni-Man.
The big reveal happened when she was caught up in an alien invasion too. A classic, and- Dad met Mom when she was being attacked by a supervillain, and Mark is trying really hard to be happy for Dad, he is, but it just feels awful sometimes.
But it isn’t Robin’s fault. She’s great, really cool and funny in this laidback, deadpan sort of way? But also a bit of a dork, and he thinks it would’ve been nice to be her friend, if they…Y’know. Didn’t meet like this.
“He’ll probably be back soon then,” Mark offers, setting the full coffee near where Robin’s leaning her hip against the counter, and starting the next. “Are you hungry? I was gonna make pancakes-”
The patio doors slide open, and Dad steps through in costume.
“I said you could stay in bed,” he says, and Mark feels weirdly guilty as he shifts back, like he’s been doing something wrong even though he hasn’t. “It took me less than ten minutes to deal with- what was he called? You said he was a new one.”
“King Calamity,” Robin says, and right, she knows a lot about superheroes. “Not so calamitous then?”
“Or much of a king. Who was he even supposed to be ruling over?”
“I think that was his coronation - he was wearing a crown this time.”
“Failed coronation. And the only thing he’ll be wearing is a prison jumpsuit and a neck brace.” Dad leans down to kiss her and Mark goes back to the fridge, pulling the door open and pretending to be really interested in the date on the milk. Next Tuesday, wow, that’s so soon. “Don’t bother looking up the fight. I’ll find a better one by this afternoon, and I’ll see if War Woman is up for a spar if not.”
“With the slow-mo camera?”
“With the slow-mo camera.”
“Awesome. Pick me up from my shift whenever - I’ll say I’m sick if I have to. Do-”
The fridge starts beeping from being open too long. Mark winces and shuts it, but then he has to find something else to do, unless he just flees the kitchen. He could do that. Except the last time he did, he glanced at Robin and she looked sort of, unsettled and maybe guilty, and he just felt really bad after that.
“I’ll have some of those pancakes, if you’ve got the ingredients,” Robin says, and it feels like she’s offering him an out.
Like he could just say, ‘oh, no, we’re out of eggs’, and he could leave or say he’s going to the grocery store. He wouldn’t have to look at Dad’s arm around her back, or the searching glance Dad sends him, or wonder how the fuck he’s meant to be normal about this.
