If we wanna get back on track with making Mark’s life a living hell in the Thragg&Anissa!Rocky AU (how many AUs within an AU do we have at this point?? This page is just AU-ception), we can make it that Anissa DID assault Mark here, but she didn’t conceive, so she went to Thragg instead. So, now Mark has to deal with a whole bunch of issues from wanting this man so badly despite being with Eve, and said man is either the son of his greatest enemy, or worse, his own kid. And yet none of that is stopping him from being so down bad for this guy that his mom has taken under her wing. Debbie reached out because they all suspected Robin is Mark’s kid following him telling them about the assault, and well, Robin doesn’t look like Thragg or Anissa (mostly cause Robin is growing into himself as, well, a male Robin. At best, he has Anissa’s nose and Thragg’s jawline). So nobody knows if Robin is Mark’s kid, and none of them know how to bring up the subject that Robin might be his, because they all assume Robin had no idea and it’s very awkward to tell a man that he is the product of assault when he is unaware of any blood relation between you. (Of course Robin knows. Anissa didn’t hide shit. He just didn’t want to bring up any reminders to the guy she assaulted. That would be all kinds of fucked up. Robin has no idea they think he’s Mark’s kid, he just thinks Mark is being the kind and forgiving hero, not holding who his parents are against him.)
The best way for this misunderstanding to come to light is in the middle of Mark and Robin’s situationship, probably after a long night of intimacy where Mark breaks down and freaks out that he just slept with his son. Robin is now very confused
I've fully given over to 'ah yes another fandom where I write endless iterations of AUs. I'm a creature of habit' - just kicked into overdrive by all the fun possibilities being tossed my way xD
Mmh that's another kind of spice for the situation. A snippet of a possible scene in this version of the AU!
“Oh, god…What have I done?” isn’t exactly ideal to hear on a morning after. Though you do give Mark points for pulling off such a classic phrase without sounding (too) overdramatic.
But you guess he has a decent reason to be sat up in your bed, knees pulled up and head in his hands. Cheating on his wife with a guy half his age is fucked up. You already said so when he first kissed you, and since it wasn’t enough to stop him you figured, hey, it’s his life to mess up. Debbie’s gonna be disappointed in you, but you never claimed to be a saint.
(Before you woke up all the way, you did also have the fuzzy concern of ‘shit we didn’t use condoms’ until you remembered the new convenience of no pregnancy risk. The genital switcheroo is the gift that keeps on giving.)
You sit up, the sheets already slipped low from Mark moving - must’ve been cuddled in close. “You okay?” Dumb question, but it’s more a prompt and to let him know you’re awake.
Can’t help taking a moment to admire him either, even in the midst of his freakout. The curtains are mostly shut but still let in plenty of morning light. You weren’t kidding each time you’ve called him pretty, and more bluntly said he’s one of the hottest guys you’ve met when he pushed on that point.
Wouldn’t consider yourself to have a type, but it takes serious effort not to touch a few of the bites you left on his neck and shoulders. Maybe with your tongue. They’re already so faded, thanks to that Viltrumite factor. Pain and boon both.
“No,” he says miserably, and you smile a little. For all he is, he’s also just…kinda lame and cute? It’s what pushes you to actually reach out, cupping the back of his head and winding your fingers into his hair in a coaxing pet.
A shiver runs through his frame, and he doesn’t pull away. So it can’t be the end of the world.
Finally, Mark lifts his head just enough to meet your gaze. Already looks like he’s bracing himself - and like he’s on the verge of running. Or flying, as the case may be.
You won’t stop him if he does, but you hope he sticks around. At least have breakfast before ditching the one night stand. If there’s one thing you’ve learnt about Mark, it’s that he’s ass at taking care of himself.
“I…I lied to you,” he forces out. Then shuts his eyes like he can’t bear to look at you, which isn’t a great sign. “I mean- I didn’t, tell you something. Something important. I was going to, one day, I…I didn’t mean for this to happen. You have to believe me.”
“I believe you,” you say, because he really sounds like he needs it.
You take the risk of shifting closer, tucking the sheet up around your hips so there’s nothing overly untoward about lightly pressing your side to his. Leave your fingers loose in his hair, arm against his back. He always seems to respond best to touch, so you figure it’s better than distancing yourself. He’s an oddly sensitive guy.
Maybe not so odd, with everything he’s been through - but if you focused on that, you’d keep on puzzling over how the hell he ended up in your bed. Of all people. Plenty of other guys for a (human) midlife bisexual crisis, all less fraught than your situation.
“You shouldn’t,” he says with enough self-loathing to power a city or two.
Still doesn’t move away, though his arms shift to cross over his knees, a white-knuckled grip on his elbows. Fascinating to think of all the power contained there. Hell, you felt a decent portion of it just recently, and it just left you wanting more. Guess you’re a greedy kind of person.
“Tell me this big secret, then.” Feels too early for an apparently revelatory conversation. And like it would’ve been better to wait until after a shower, but he’s got you curious now. If anyone has big secrets up their sleeves, it’s you. What’s he twisted up over in comparison to full-out reincarnation?
“You’re gonna hate me.” His mouth twitches, stuck in the faltering space between smile and grimace. His eyes open and your hand slips down from his hair, rests on the back of his neck as he faces you.
“You’re my…You might be my-” Jaw clenching, he struggles with whatever terrible truth is weighing on him. But you’re starting to get an inkling from the phrasing. “Anissa. She- It wasn’t my…choice. It was years ago, and I didn’t…I couldn’t-”
“Stop.” You begin to draw away, finally fucking getting it, but a deep hurt sinking into his expression stops you. Has you grasping his knee with your other hand too, a nudge of hey, fuck off, I’m not leaving. “I already know, Mark.”
His eyes widen. “You…know?”
Now it’s your turn to grimace. “I was told.” Downsides of not doing a lot to fake being a normal kid, you guess. And Anissa being without that husband she was meant to have in the comic. “It’s probably Thragg,” you add optimistically, wishing not for the first time it was more evident in your features.
Yeah, you’re taller in this life - halle-fucking-lujah - but you’re no six foot four monster. Around Mark’s height, but Anissa was tall too, and it isn’t as if kids usually match a parent’s specific height.
Freakishly, you look a lot like you used to other than your build. Broader jawline and a smaller nose that could be from either potential daddy, and the shape of your eyes are more like Anissa’s, yeah. But still your eyebrows, your hazel eyes, your skin and hair colour. All bleeding in from day one, like a constant reassurance from the dead girl in the alley.
(Some days, you think you see a scar slicing across your stomach. Just a small thing, but it bled a lot. Funny, how fragile you used to be. How hard it’d be to do the same damage to the you that exists now, with very few who could manage it at all.)
“You knew all this time I could be your-” He stumbles, but muscles through “-your dad? Why didn’t you say anything?”
Why didn’t you, you think of rebuking, but that seems unwarranted. And you can already guess why, Jesus. “Wasn’t…relevant, I guess. If you weren’t holding who my parents were against me, bringing that ‘maybe’ up would be shitty.”
“Not relevant-” A laugh escapes him, and he scrubs a hand roughly through his hair. Gets it sticking up worse than it already was. “We just slept together, Robin. I’d say it’s fucking relevant now!”
Is he mad at you now? How the turn tables.
You pat his knee soothingly. “Wanna do a paternity test?” He shoots you an incredulous look, and you shrug. “I know we can’t do one the normal human way, but you’ve got all that space tech, right? Viltrumite-specific stuff left over? Then we’ll know for sure.”
You’d consider asking the GDA but haha, no. Working with them on a heroics basis is one thing - handing over your blood and more of Mark’s? You’ll pass. Don’t need them knowing the potential connection either, if that information isn’t currently on their radar. They don’t bug your place or Debbie’s, you’re real clear on that.
“I…I guess.”
Jeez, he looks like the idea never occurred to him. Or maybe it did, but he shoved it to the back of his mind thanks to everything else about the situation - even before last night. That seems to be what’s feeding the abrupt shift to a nervous pull of his bottom lip between his teeth; too damn tempting for his own good.
But hey, you’ll be good. Even shift your hand from his neck to back, super duper platonic. Ish. Ignore your brief appreciation for the few scratches you managed to leave near his spine that haven’t quite faded yet.
“What if-” He swallows, looking nauseous (ha, maybe you should’ve grabbed the condoms in your bedside table). “What if it’s me? If we…did this, and- I’m your…”
You hum, considering it.
Honestly not a possibility you’ve thought about much in a while? As awful a dude as Thragg was, fucking yeah he was the better option compared to being a rape baby. Doesn’t take away what happened to Mark, and you’re still Anissa’s kid for the ‘living reminder’ status regardless of whose sperm was involved, but overall? Less terrible than it could be.
If Mark’s ridiculously bad luck strikes true, you guess you wouldn’t be shocked. But it sure leaves you in a bind. You didn’t even get the chance to suck his dick, damn it.
“Schrodinger’s daddy issues, huh?” You squeeze his knee before relaxing back against the headboard. “Won’t know until we know. But since we’ve already crossed a few lines…D’you wanna make the most of it?”
His confusion makes a swift transition to flustered understanding. Sends a flush crawling up his neck, and he shakes his head in automatic denial despite the noticeable drag of his gaze over your chest. You do have great tits even as a dude; many thanks, hypothetical daddy. Whoever he may be.
“We can’t- It’d be wrong for us to keep doing this.” Damn, that tone of his really makes such vague phrasing nice and dirty. Might be the dose of genuine disgust mixed in with the desire.
“It was already wrong.” You have the sheets still tucked over your lap, but you let them slip lower on your stomach, expose a hip. Watch him stare and- ha, lick his lips. Easy. “No one will know except us,” you add to sweeten the deal. Give him the excuse he needs. “I can keep a secret, Mark.”
The sound of his name has him looking you in the eye again. Whatever he sees there breaks his hesitance, and you smile under the first kiss.
If this is the last time, you’ll make it a memorable one.
