Mark is late (again) for his date, so Debbie can't think of a better option than to embarrass her son with his baby photos.
Content: Mark's POV, family humor, fluff, Mark being late for a date (again), Debbie being the best mother-in-law/mom, teenage embarrassment, brief mention of post-Nolan trauma (but in a positive healing context), established relationship, mild implication of physical intimacy (not explicit).
Seriously? A damn monster had to show up in Japan today? Why, out of every hero on the planet, did they have to call him specifically? Doesn't Japan have its own heroes, what the hell? He highly doubted it, because he caught a glimpse of some girl with blue pigtails breaking the kaijin's jaw like she was crushing a soda can. She didn't need his help at all!
So why did they call him?! To cheer them on from the sky?! To take a team photo?! To admire the beautiful scenery?! Total bullshit!
He flew past a flock of migrating birds who squawked at him indignantly for ruining their perfect V-formation. He would've apologized if he wasn't so stressed out.
Mark knew he shouldn't be this pissed. He was a hero. He wanted to help, wanted to save people, wanted to make up for even a fraction of the irreparable damage his father had left behind with his betrayal. Helping had never bothered him before and never would… but why did it have to be exactly on the day of his date with you?
He'd spent weeks moving schedules, canceling patrols, begging Cecil for just one goddamn night off. He really wanted to prove to you that he was serious. That despite all the chaos, the intergalactic fights, the sleepless nights and emergency calls, you were still his priority. He loved you like an idiot. And he hated feeling like lately he'd only been showing you that love halfway.
And now, thanks to some knockoff Godzilla, everything had gone to shit. He'd left you alone at his house while he made up some lame excuse about "let me just change my clothes!" for TWO HOURS!
How many dates had he already canceled on you? He didn't even want to think about it, because this one wasn't going to be another.
Mark spotted his neighborhood from above, his heart pounding hard, his figure cutting through the wind like a bullet train. With a strong push, he flew through his bedroom window, thanking the universe for leaving it open. Last time he broke it, his mom gave him a two-and-a-half-hour lecture, and today he didn't have even half an hour.
He ripped off his Invincible suit at top speed, tossed the goggles onto the bed, and stumbled out of the room, tripping over himself. He'd come up with some stupid excuse later. "I couldn't find anything to wear" was a classic, right? He was tying his shoelaces while barreling down the stairs like a runaway bull. He nearly crashed into Grandma's vase, and more than once almost face-planted onto the floor.
Please don't be mad. Please don't be mad. Please don't be mad. Please, Jesus, God, Buddha, whoever… please don't be mad, he repeated to himself, breaking out in a cold sweat. He could only hope (and pray) that his mom had entertained you enough and that you were in a good mood. Or at least entertained enough not to want to kill him.
"—I'M HERE!" he shouted, taking the last few steps two at a time. "Baby, I'm so sorry! I couldn't find anything to wear, and you know I like to look good just for you, I didn't want to—"
He stopped dead as he entered the living room.
His mom was sitting right next to you on the couch, both of you chatting like you'd been best friends your whole lives. In front of you was a tray with two glasses of lemonade and an open photo album. The two most important women in his life, sharing giggles and secrets. Under any other circumstances, he would've felt happy. Right now, he just wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
His mom was showing you THAT album. The one with his embarrassing baby photos.
No… you've got to be kidding…
"Oh, and look at this one," Debbie said with a mischievous smile, turning the page very slowly. "Here's Mark after his first bath. See that chubby little butt?"
"Awwww," you brought a hand to your mouth, but you couldn't hold back the laugh that escaped. "He's adorable… God, look at him, he's all wrinkled."
"Yeah, he had a cute wrinkly little butt."
"MOM?!" Mark nearly choked on his own saliva. His ears were burning, and he could feel his soul leaving his body. "What the hell are you showing?! Close that right now!"
Debbie looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
"What? I'm just sharing family memories with your girlfriend, sweetheart. It's healthy. Besides, she asked to see your baby photos."
"I didn't ask to see them!" you protested through your laughter, though you clearly weren't sorry. "Well… okay, I did ask. A little bit. But your mom is very convincing! She said 'you have to see how cute he was' and I couldn't say no."
That was enough humiliation. Mark lunged, trying to snatch the album from his mother. Debbie, with a surprising agility for a woman without superpowers, dodged him effortlessly. Mark ended up face-planting into the couch, right next to you.
"Look at this one!" she turned another page, unbothered. "Here he is in his little sailor suit. Doesn't he look so handsome? We dressed him like that for the family photo when he turned two."
"MOM, PLEASE!"
"Pfff…" you tried to hold in your laugh, but you covered your mouth too late.
"D-don't laugh!" Mark looked at you with a completely betrayed expression, his face red with embarrassment. Never, in all his 17 years of life, had he wanted to die as much as he did right now.
"And here he is in his little bee costume," his blessed mother continued, pointing at the photo with pride. "We dressed him like that for the Spring Festival. Oh, my sweet baby… what happened to you? You used to be so cute."
"Mom, I'm begging you…" Mark got up from the couch and sat down between the two of you, trying to close the album with one hand while covering his face with the other. "At least skip the ones where they dressed me as a pumpkin."
"Pumpkin?" your eyes lit up. "I want to see that one."
"No!" Mark looked at you, horrified. "Baby, love of my life, light of my days… please, have mercy. I already feel horrible enough for being two hours late. Don't humiliate me like this, please…"
"But I want to see them, Mark. You were such a cute baby! All wrinkly, and chubby, and pink."
"I wasn't pink!"
"Your cheeks were pink! And your little butt too!"
"DON'T SAY THAT!"
Debbie watched the two of you with a soft, nostalgic smile. After weeks of feeling miserable, of sleepless nights worrying about her son, and entire days spent drowning in wine over everything that had happened with Nolan, seeing this scene was like a small balm. The laughter, Mark's embarrassment, your look of pure joy… it was normal, and she hadn't realized how much she needed it.
She got up from the couch calmly, closed the album with a soft thud, and hugged it to her chest.
"Alright, I've had enough fun for today," she said with a little laugh that made Mark groan. "I don't want my son dying of embarrassment before his date. Why don't you two go already? It's still a good time to go somewhere nice."
She started up the stairs, but stopped halfway and looked back.
"Oh, Mark, when you get back, take out the kitchen trash, okay? The truck comes early tomorrow. And don't be late, please. Have fun, you two."
"We will, Mrs. Grayson."
Debbie turned completely on the stairs, her face softening the moment she met your eyes.
"Oh, call me Debbie. You're part of the family now. None of this 'Mrs. Grayson' business. Got it?"
You nodded, feeling a warm, pleasant flutter in your chest.
"Got it… Debbie."
Her back disappeared upstairs, leaving a silence in the living room. Mark let out all the air he'd been holding and flopped backward onto the couch, eyes closed, cheeks still red.
"Whyyyy…?" he groaned, drawing out the vowel like a little kid.
"Come on, stop complaining."
"You saw me naked! How am I supposed to not complain?"
"But you were adorable as a baby. And, well… it's not the first time you've seen me— you know."
"SHHHHH!!" Mark clamped his hand over your mouth, shooting a panicked look toward the stairs. "My mom is upstairs!"
"But it's true!" you insisted, pulling his hand away from your mouth with a laugh.
"Y/N!"
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Final Notes:
This drabble was inspired by the classic trope of embarrassing a son with his baby photos in front of his partner. I know it's super silly, but I personally love this trope. There's something sweet about seeing characters completely helpless as their mothers pull out the family album. Debbie deserves to have some fun after everything she's been through, don't you think?
