I was compelled to write a part 2 for the Robin!Rex AU
So. You lived.
Shit.
‘That was not the plan’ you don’t say out loud, because you’re in a GDA medical wing, and they’re absolutely surveilling the fuck out of this entire place.
It isn’t the main wing under the Pentagon you were in last time. Nah, that one got messed up by a variant, so they have you over in-
Huh. No one’s actually told you yet. Maybe you should be more concerned about that, given your less than stellar experiences at the hands of government agencies and the GDA in particular. But it’s pretty hard to bring yourself to care when you should’ve been blown to smithereens by now.
You stare at the ceiling. It fails to tell you what to do next.
Not that you were expecting a Mufasa-style revelation to Hamlet itself out of the ceiling tiles, but it would’ve been real nice if the universe could do you a solid and like, provide one anyway. You’d happily take directions now your script has been ripped out of your hands, set on fire, and scattered to the eight winds.
Sure, you weren’t…completely following it, exactly?
Oh god. Are you alive because you didn’t date a teenage girl? And didn’t proceed to cheat on her repeatedly? Did your super limited morals somehow fuck you over?
Like, you totally would’ve dated Eve when you guys were older, but you’d already uh- shut that down when you were younger, and dealt with the awkwardness of it when she still let you stay in her bedroom, and- C’mon, dating Eve just to give her a ‘my boyfriend is a dirty cheater and I’m sad’ arc prompt is, it’s crappy? You like Eve. She can character-develop without a man involved. Romance is for schmucks-
“Hey, Rex.”
“S’up.” You lift the flesh hand in a loose wave at Mark, catching sight of him in the periphery as he walks over to the chair beside the bed. Why he walks so often, you’ll never understand. Dude can fly. At least cross the six foot of height threshold and hover everywhere like a dickhead.
“You, uh…you good?”
“I’m having an existential crisis,” you explain. “Otherwise, just peachy. I’ll be outta this joint in no time.”
It’s not a half-bad body. Plenty of upgrades stuffed in, gives you increased durability and a healing boost, and gets you back in the field fast. The fact they’ve kept you here a while is pretty weird, but the doctor said it’s because they want to monitor if your brain was fucked over by the blood loss and concussions and all that shit.
Some freaky stuff came back on the scans, and they’ve filed it under your explody-enhancements, but you think it might be to do with your…other shit. But hey, you don’t think about that, remember? Since you’re…gonna die…soon…
Fuck.
Fuuuck.
“Guess I’m homeless again,” you realise, since yeah, let’s focus on the practicalities. Like how the lack of ceiling and structural integrity means the Teen Team base isn’t an option now. Also, the battle there probably gave away your super secret hideout to the broader populace, if anyone was paying just a teensy bit of attention to tracking the variants.
“You can stay at my place.”
The offer has you sitting up, because the fuck, Mark? Also, ow, your broken ribs, various fractures, and the healing gash in your side don’t appreciate the sudden movement, but they can suck it up and deal with it like a man who forgot his kneepads on a Friday night.
Mark made it through the Invincible War in better shape than most, though with Conquest’s arrival on the horizon (presumably? You really don’t remember when exactly he shows, just that it’s sometime in the aftermath), you can’t exactly call him lucky.
Still has a big cut on the corner of his lips and faint bruising on his jaw. Still annoyingly pretty, but you’ve gotten used to that being the default.
Hey, you did try to be a 24/7 asshole toward him. You’d like to state for the record you absolutely owned the jackass role, and not even the lovable kind.
Kate was totally exaggerating when she said you sounded incredibly gay when you used to taunt Invincible every time you saw him. Though your, “Ex-fucking-scuse you, I’m bisexual,” probably wasn’t the best defence in the world. But you didn’t get called out online for being terribly bisexual rep only for everyone to forget as soon as it was convenient, jeez.
“You mean your mom’s place?” you have to point out, as a matter of principle.
Sure, you’re all friendly now. Once you had your brains blown out you were allowed to cool it off on being grouchy whenever Invincible helped out in a fight, and he visited so often it would’ve been weirder not to become friends. Mark’s a cool guy, as dorky as he is, and it’s honestly pretty strange to you that people can dislike the dude after any chunk of time around him.
But you have an established dynamic to keep to. It’s-
Ugh. Okay, maybe you’re just leaning into it as a desperate grab for some semblance of familiarity. Whatever.
They won’t let you smoke in here, and no one will smuggle some in for you (like you wouldn’t do it for them! Traitors), so you need every coping mechanism you can get your hands on. Mechanical included, and that one has several times the grip strength. Good thing you’re ambidextrous, ha.
“Yeah, my mom’s house is also my house.” Mark rolls his eyes, even does a small head tilt with the motion. Cute. He looks exhausted after the recent shitshow, didn’t say much when he visited yesterday, so it’s good to see he’s not past the point of a normal reaction.
“Lame. Get a job and move out already.” You pause, considering. “Do you reckon the housing market will, like, crash or boom from all this? It could go either way, right?”
Lots of dead people means empty houses(apartments etc included). Destruction means more need for houses. The economy is in shambles-
“Dude.”
“What? We need silver linings to stay sane. It’s a superhero staple, and humour is my favourite coping mechanism.”
“I thought reckless behaviour was your favourite coping mechanism.”
Ah, he knows you well. Freaky. “I’m fickle. Today’s favourite is tomorrow’s demotion, but I’m prone to rebounds.”
“And avoiding the actual question,” he says like someone who legit pays attention to your habits. Super freaky. Maybe he should be the one in the hospital bed.
Not this one. Obviously. You’re in it.
“Listen,” you sigh, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear. You probably need a haircut again, or just buzz it all short instead of just the sides. But Eve says it looks good at this length, and you owe her in like, a dozen different ways. Corner store eye candy is the least you can offer. “That’s real generous of you, but you already saved my life. We’ve hit our annual quota on massive, impossible to repay favours.”
“It’s not about-” He makes an annoyed sound, this grumpy little huff, and genuinely; how does anyone take him seriously? Look at the guy.
Okay, don’t look too closely. It’s a fucking miracle his face isn’t plastered across the news for everyone to identify as Mark Grayson, thanks to the evil Invincibles who needed the whole world to swoon over their killer face cards. Mark’s luck is so erratic.
“We’re friends,” Mark says with enough emphasis to seem a bit manic, but he’s probably entitled to that after the year he’s had. “Friends help out friends. I know you’d do the same for me.”
You open your mouth to object, but- damn. He’s got you there.
If you were the insanely OP one, obviously you’d save his fantastic ass (and the rest of him). And if you had a house, even if it was your mom’s, you’d offer it up if he needed someplace to stay. Hell, if he tried to go off on his own or - even worse - slink back to the GDA for scraps, you’d drag him home with you like a newly adopted stray in need of chipping.
Tracker chipping, not the- fucking, noisemaker thing. God, that was horrific. Even knowing it was coming, and you were careful not to blow up the damn remote - just grabbed it from Cecil instead, because even hard-boiled GDA directors flinch from sparklers going off in his face - it was still fucking awful to let it play out that far.
Not that you could’ve done much if you wanted to change things. Instead, the major change has just…happened to you. Because of Mark.
“Fuck it,” you mutter, and try not to panic over the abrupt return of an unknown future. It helps when you look at Mark. Despite everything, he feels…reliable, you guess. A sure thing when he absolutely shouldn’t be. “Since you want my company so bad, I’ll take your couch until I figure out a new place.”
“It’ll be an air bed, actually,” he says with a grin, as if he’s won something, the weirdo.
Still, it’s nice to see? Guess it really helps that in this world, Eve didn’t get hurt so bad she was knocked into a coma - you’ve no idea why, but it’s definitely the best change from the natural course of events. Though she did still get taken off the field by a really bad leg break, so it isn’t all sunshines and unicorns. Just better than it could be.
“Fancy,” you drawl, pressing the button to lift the top half of the bed so you can lean back on it. This kind of throbbing ache really fucking sucks. “Does it come with a pillow mint, too? A towel folded in the shape of a magnificent swan?”
“Really feeling the gratitude, man.”
“Hey, if you want your dick sucked, I’m sure we arrange-”
“No, nope, no making jokes like that once you’re in my house. My mom will be around, and Oliver.”
“Who said it was a joke?…Ha, relax, I’ve got it. Save the cock talk for when we’re alone.”
“…You’re gonna make me regret this, aren’t you?”
“Oh, for sure. So how’s the water pressure at your house? The showers at the base do not hit the same standards as Guardians HQ, trust me, my muscles are knotted like you wouldn’t believe-”