guess whos back (back again) with trigger warnings?? this little gremlin

tw: very violent fight scene (srsly the second most violent thing ive ever written in a fanfic i scared myself), inaccurate fighting techniques derived from two minutes of googling sorry, probably inaccurate german idk, lots of blood and also rain for no reason besides drama, inappropriate flirting with baristas, harry being a petty bitch just for funsies, i also used the word funsies in the actual fic for some reason so i apologize for that, deals with the devil ;)))), fourth wall breaks, mild swearing, and Robin making Poor Decisions for 10k+ words

➶

     Robin Reynolds would like it noted that the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad turn her day had taken was absolutely not her fault, thank you very much.

     In fact, up until the current moment, she had actually been having the best day she had been given in a while. No Avengers had broken into her apartment, she had a conversation with Peter Parker that didn't end in one of them crying, and the cute barista she always blushed around had given her a free donut with her green tea.

     Apparently, this streak of good luck was too much for the universe to handle, if her current predicament was anything to go by.

     Truly, Robin was a little baffled. She always recycled, made sure to hold the door open for strangers, and avoided walking on grass whenever possible so as to avoid stepping on bugs. She always did her homework and never forwarded those email chains or sent people videos with hidden screamers.

     She tried her very best to be a good person, so it was a little difficult to understand how she had found herself covered in blood, hiding from a group of muggers, and dragging a heavily injured and unconscious man into an alleyway.

➶

sixteen hours earlier

     "You look like a toddler who got hit with a growth ray."

     Robin blinked blearily at Harry from their position in the line at Coffee Bean before looking down to assess her denim overall dress and thin striped shirt, complete by black tights embellished with tiny hearts, her usual messy braids, and mismatched socks peeking out from black creepers. In her arms she clutched the bright yellow raincoat she had been wearing earlier to combat the pouring rain outside.

     The clashing patterns and colors that the girl had haphazardly thrown on that morning were a testament to the lack of sleep she had gotten the night before, having been woken up every few hours by the deafening thunder that sounded outside her apartment.

     It seemed as though someone had thoroughly pissed off Thor.

     "What, like Ant-Man?" Robin asked, still a little discombobulated.

     "Who the hell is Ant-Man?" Harry frowned, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

     "Right, we're not supposed to know about him yet," Robin nodded thoughtfully, shifting her focus to the menu above them as though she didn't just order the same thing every time.

     "You're so out of it today," Harry laughed, glancing down as they shifted forward in line, "Are you wearing your shoes on the wrong feet? Jesus Christ, you're a human disaster."

     "Wow," Robin looked down at her feet with a surprised expression, "I suppose I am."

     "I think you look adorable."

     Robin jumped in surprise at the voice that entered their conversation, turning to face the cute barista who was looking at them in amusement.

     Her face immediately flushed red and she began stuttering over her words as she took in the server's beautiful dark curls and shining eyes.

     "You, uh, your face is adorable," Robin squeaked out, her own blue eyes widening in horror as she realized what she had said, "I- I mean, thank you? Sorry. Um, one green tea please. Sorry."

     The barista, who's name-tag identified her as Ava, smiled brilliantly at her, showing off the dimples that adorned her cheeks.

     Robin was going to pass out.

     "Sure thing, sweetheart," Ava punched in the order with a wink that had Robin feeling like she was about to go into cardiac arrest, "and for you?"

     The second part of her question was spoken in a more flat tone, though it still sounded pretty with her soothing voice.

     "Pumpkin spice latte," Harry ordered without shame, analyzing the girl thoughtfully before adding, "Also, if you're trying to flirt to get a better tip you should know that I'm probably a better option."

     "Shut up Haz. Good grief, you're rude," Robin hissed, swatting at her shameless best friend before blinking in thought, "If that is what you're doing, though, he's right. I'm super broke. Last night I tried to order a new pair of shoes and my computer started laughing at me. Well, that might have been a fever dream since it was at, like, four in the morning but the principle still stands. So, um, yeah."

     Ava peered at the shorter girl for a minute, as though trying to decipher Robin's babbling, before another smile tugged at her beautiful features.

     "Cute," she said simply, pulling two cups out from the stack, "can I get a name?"

     "Sure, it's Robin," the girl nodded rapidly, trying and failing to recover from the barista's comment, "Spelled like the bird. Or the color, but I guess the color comes from the bird anyways. It's eggs, at least."

     "I've always wondered about that," Ava mused, "It's sort of weird that the eggs are blue when the birds themselves aren't, huh?"

     Harry groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation as the barista unknowingly unleashed the true nature of his best friend.

     "We're so gonna be late for school," he mumbled, glancing at the watch on his wrist.

     "Oh, that's actually really interesting," Robin's entire face lit up in excitement and her hands began waving around wildly as she spoke, "The pigment in their shells helps to block out UV rays from hurting the embryos. Only, while the darker color helps to block out the rays it also absorbs heat much faster than lighter colors would. So that's where you get the range from, like the ones that are just speckled with blue are usually found in areas with direct sunlight and the really dark greenish-blue ones are in places that get more shade coverage from trees. Also-,"

     "Some of us have places to be, kid," the business man in line behind them cut off her rant with an annoyed expression, "Get your coffee and go."

     Harry whipped around with narrowed eyes, ready to throw down with the balding man even if he sort of agreed with him. A panicked look from Robin stopped him and he settled for an impressive glare that had the man shifting uncomfortably.

     "S-sorry sir," Robin fumbled out, blushing heavily and scrambling to fish out the crumpled five dollar bill in the pocket of her overalls.

     Harry swiftly handed Ava his black card before his friend could retrieve the money, leaning on the counter as he smiled easily at the girl. Robin smiled thankfully at him, placing the bill in the tip jar instead.

     "My name's Harry, by the way," he informed her, "Not sure if you cared."

     "Not particularly, no," Ava quipped as she jotted his name down on the other cup, but a playful smile graced her lips.

     "Oh, I get it. You're only interested in the overgrown toddler," Harry griped dramatically as she gave him back his card, "This is terrible customer service."

     Despite the look of mock offense on his face, the boy's words held no seriousness. He flirted with pretty much everyone he found attractive but took romantic rejection surprisingly well.

     The two friends made their way over to the other end of the counter to wait for their drinks as Robin groaned and covered her face with her hands.

     "My stupid bird facts ruin everything," she declared, shifting her raincoat from the crook of her elbow to her hand.

     "Shut up, your bird facts are fantastic," Harry immediately shot her down.

     "You make fun of me for them all the time," Robin eyed him suspiciously.

     "Yeah, but as your best friend I have earned that right," Harry informed her, very seriously, "If anyone else tries to put you down for them send 'em my way. I'll beat them up for you."

     "Harry, you cried when Felicia Hardy slapped you in the face last year," Robin laughed, "You can't beat anyone up. You're too precious."

     "Fine, I'll sue them," he shrugged, undeterred, "You can use the money we win to buy those new shoes you want."

     Robin was stopped from responding as Ava came over and placed their respective drinks on the counter, along with a pastry bag.

     "Oh, we didn't order any food," Robin said hesitantly, eyeing the bag with interest.

     "I know, it's on me," the taller girl explained smoothly, "Just wanted to prove I wasn't flirting with you for the tips."

     "Oh," Robin said again softly, blushing for the thousandth time that morning, "I, um, thanks- thank you."

     She peered into the brown bag imploringly, delighted to find a blueberry donut inside.

     "Joe said you like them," Ava nodded her head over to the man now working the register.

     The tall, quiet man who usually took Robin's order when she came to the café looked over at them briefly, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.

     "Yes, yeah, Joe is right," Robin nodded, a flustered smile on her face as Harry looked at his watch again, "Thank you so much."

     "I hope I'll see you around," the barista beamed at her once again, before turning around and making her way back to the coffee machines.

     "Unbelievable," Harry scoffed incredulously as the two made their way to the door, looking down at his cup with disdain.

     Robin giggled wildly as she read the print on the side of his container, the name 'Henry' written in black marker.

     Her eyes widened in surprise as she looked at her own cup and noticed the phone number written there.

     She was definitely awake now.

➶

     "Damn, little bird, who knew you had game?" Mary Jane grinned delightedly as Robin finished retelling the story of her eventful morning to her and Gwen.

     The four teenagers were grouped in an alcove of their school halls, chatting as they waited for the first bell to ring.

     "Hey, that's my nickname for her, what's wrong with you?" Harry scowled petulantly, "Take it back."

     "Make me," Mary Jane's eyes shined brightly with the challenge, turning to face the taller boy.

     "Well now we're just verging on Wattpad fanfiction territory," Robin said to no one in particular.

     "Can I have half of the donut?" Gwen asked politely, "I didn't have time to eat this morning."

     "You need to take better care of yourself," Mary Jane's focus turned to her blonde best friend as worry clouded her features, "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

     "You should've texted," Harry frowned, "I would have gotten you something on the way."

     "I got sidetracked by my gene therapy algorithm," Gwen admitted, "I'm finally working out the kinks but one of my newer factors is pretty unstable. Can I, Ro?"

     Robin nodded distractedly, handing over the bag as she noticed someone approaching the group from across the hall.

     Peter Parker was hesitantly making his way over, hands shoved in his pockets and hair messier than usual.

     "Hey Peter," she said cautiously when he reached them, unsure of what his current mood was.

     "Uh, h-hey Robin," the boy looked just as unsure as she was, "I was wondering if I could walk you to homeroom?"

     "What, you don't wanna walk the rest of us?" Harry drawled sarcastically, taking a sip of his latte.

     Mary Jane flicked him in the head.

     "Sure, yeah," Robin nodded, ignoring her best friend as she gathered her belongings and smiled at Peter.

     "Let me know if you end up calling her," MJ called after her as they began making their down the hall, "I need fresh gossip."

     Peter glanced at Robin, curiosity momentarily overtaking his sheepish demeanor.

     "Calling who?" he asked.

     "Oh," Robin blinked, a little thrown by his failure to acknowledge the obvious tension between them, "A barista gave me her number at Coffee Bean. I was just telling Mary Jane and Gwen about it."

     Peter's face fell at her explanation in a way that caused a pang of regret to pierce through Robin, but he quickly schooled his features into a neutral expression.

     "That's, um, super cool," he tried, his voice a pitch higher than usual, "Are you going to? Call her, I mean."

     "I don't really know," Robin said honestly, "I mean, we only talked for a few minutes. For all I know she could be a serial killer or something. That's probably not true, but it was kind of weird that she was working on a Wednesday morning. Doesn't she have school? Suspicious. Oh, I guess she could be homeschooled or something. That or she's secretly an ancient witch who flirts with random girls and lures them in so she can reap their souls and drain them of their youth so she looks young. Probably not, but maybe."

     Peter was looking down at her as she spoke, a wistful smile on his face as he listened attentively.

     "Besides, even if I did call her and we ended up hanging out or something, I'd just get nervous and ramble the entire time. Nobody likes that," Robin continued.

     "I love when you ramble," Peter denied her claim, his voice soft but certain.

     "Oh," Robin blinked in surprise, smiling at him hesitantly, "thanks."

     Peter only nodded, looking forward again for a moment before his shoulders tensed. The two fell into another awkward silence, neither sure where to start.

     "I got your flowers," he told her, a slight blush dusting over his cheeks and the tips of his ears, "thank you for that, by the way. Aunt May really liked them too, she started crying and everything. It was really thoughtful of you."

     "I made her cry?" Robin's eyes bugged out wildly as panic filled her, "Ohmygod that is so not what I meant to do, I am so sorry."

     "No, no it was happy tears, sort of," Peter was quick to shrug off her concerns, "Sad and happy, I guess? Definitely an improvement from the past few weeks. You helped, really."

     Robin only nodded, a little wary of his reassurances. The ground between the two was a little rocky and she didn't want to make any sudden movements.

     "Did Ned tell you not to let your cat eat them?" she asked suddenly, "I don't even know if you have a cat, but I just thought you should know."

     "I don't have a cat," he laughed a little, shaking his head, "Thank you, though."

     They neared Robin's homeroom, stalling by the door awkwardly. Robin felt incredibly awkward, having the urge to pull the fire alarm and bolt out of the uncomfortable situation.

     Peter blew out a puff of air, his cheeks bulging slightly as he did so. He rocked on his heels nervously and shoved his hands into his pockets again.

     "Look, I'm really, really sorry about what I said to you," he gushed out in one breath, "I was going through a lot – I am going through a lot, I guess – and I took it out on you. That's not an excuse, by the way. You really didn't deserve that."

     "Hey, it's okay-," Robin started, only to be cut off.

     "It's not," Peter shook his head furiously, "Uh, sorry to cut you off, that's rude, but it isn't okay and you don't have to say that to make me feel better. You can be mad at me, if you want."

     "I don't want to be mad at you, though," Robin denied, frowning slightly, "Look, I get it. I mean, obviously I can't fully understand what you're going through, but I know what it's like to feel so bad that for a moment you just want the world to feel as dark as you do. Then it passes and you just feel worse. Unless you're a super villain, I guess. Wow, is that how super villains are made? Anyways, my point is I'm sure you feel bad enough and I'm not interested in adding to that. Could we just move on, maybe?"

     Peter looked at her intensely for a moment, like he wasn't sure whether to burst into tears or hug her. He did neither, instead letting a hopeful smile onto his face.

     "Yeah, I'd really like that," he seemed relieved, "Uh, maybe we could start with me walking you home? Just if you want to. I don't know."

     Robin hesitated for a moment, her mind flashing to the red-and-blue clad boy who had taken to walking her home. She didn't think Spider-Man would show up if Peter was with her.

     The thoughts of her hero were quickly scattered as she took in Peter's now insecure face.

     "I'd love that," she assured him with an encouraging smile.

     "Great, I should get to class, but I'm really glad we're doing this," the boy beamed, "Hey, did you know that the world's smallest owl is called the Elf Owl? I looked it up last night. It only weighs an ounce and a half. That's pretty small."

     Robin's breath caught in her throat with happiness, her heart swelling as she realized Peter had looked up bird facts for her.

     "The largest owl is the Great Grey Owl, they average around two and half pounds," she shot back, smiling wildly at him, "Just if you wanted to know."

     "Your mom's a Great Grey Owl."

     Their happy little bird fact bubble was popped as Flash shoved past Peter when he walked into the classroom.

     "Which one?" Robin asked.

     "My mom is dead," Peter reminded him.

     Flash looked between the two of them, opening and closing his mouth like a fish as he tried to think of a response.

➶

     By the time lunch rolled around the thunder outside had lessened slightly, but sheets of rain still poured violently from the sky.

     Robin munched on a carrot distractedly as she watched the rain fall from the window, wondering if her theory about Thor was correct.

     "Hello? Pay attention to me," Harry waved a hand in front of her face.

     "Say something interesting, then," she teased with a playful smile.

     "Oh, you're just full of jokes today," Harry scoffed, reaching over to steal a carrot only to make a face as he bit into it, "Gross, I hate carrots."

     "Why'd you eat it, then?" Gwen giggled at his scrunched-up face.

     "I don't know," he shrugged, taking another bite, "To be petty, I guess."

     "Such is the nature of your entire existence," Mary Jane declared dramatically.

     "No, only fifty percent of his existence is pettiness," Robin informed her, "The other half is made up of crying over Niall Horan's tweets and baked goods."

     "As I was saying," Harry sighed woefully, "I'm going to order an Uber for us all so we don't have to walk in this rain."

     "Being rich must be so nice," Mary Jane mused, shaking her head.

     "I'm walking home with Peter," Robin informed him.

     Harry blinked at her in confusion.

     "You want to walk home in the rain with him," Harry echoed slowly, "Instead of taking a nice, comfortable car home with me."

     "Yes," Robin agreed.

     "Just twist the knife in my back a little more, why don't you?" Harry proclaimed dramatically.

     "Deal with it, Henry," she grinned at him impishly.

     "Et tu, little bird?" he let out a fake sob and stole another carrot.

     His exaggerated words made it obvious that he was no longer harboring anger towards the boy Robin was spending his time with, and that his grumpiness only extended to the usual level that accompanied his best friend not spending time with him.

     "It's good that you and Peter made up," Gwen offered, looking at Robin, "If I was you, I'd probably still be upset but you guys are cute together."

     "Upset about what?" Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

     "Nothing," Robin shot Gwen a look, who made a sheepish face, "it doesn't matter."

     She didn't want the very fragile show of good will between the two boys to be shattered so quickly.

     "What did he do?" Harry demanded, waving a carrot stick around wildly, "I'll sue."

     Robin was saved from answering as her phone lit up with a call, but confusion replaced her relief as she read Tony Stark's name on her caller ID.

     She didn't even have the billionaire's number saved, so she wasn't sure how his name registered, but she opted to shove her phone in her pocket and ignore the call. Her day was going too well, she didn't want it to be ruined now.

     Evidently, ignoring the call was not a suitable option, because her usually silent phone began loudly blaring the theme song for the 1980's cartoon DuckTales.

     And just. Wouldn't. Stop.

     People were starting to look over at their table in confusion, so Robin retrieved her phone with blazing cheeks and stormed out of the cafeteria as she answered it.

     "DuckTales? Really?" she hissed into the phone.

     "What? Too before your time?" Tony quipped through the device, and she could the sound of him tinkering with something metal in the distance, "What is it you kids are watching these days? Barney and Friends? Sesame Street? I can't keep up."

     "Okay, do you think I'm four or do you think I'm in my twenties?" Robin rolled her eyes, "Because last time we talked you tried to give me beer."

     "I don't know, it all blends together," Tony admitted.

     "That's because you're old," Robin informed him.

     Tony let out an affronted grunt, and she could hear him throwing a tool onto his workbench.

     "I will have you know that I have never felt better," he insisted, "I'm the picture of youth. You're just a baby. You haven't even hatched yet."

     "One more bird joke and I'll block your number," she warned.

     "Bold of you to assume I can't just hack your phone and unblock myself," Tony snorted, "Anyways, Woodstock, I was just calling to tell you not to come in today. We're dealing with an angry Thor problem; we'll have to start your testing another day."

     "Wait, Thor is at the tower?" Robin's eyes widened in excitement at the mention of her favorite Avenger.

     "Oh, I get it, you like Thor but not little old me," Tony proclaimed dramatically, "Is it the muscles? It's always the muscles."

     "Hold on, why would I come in for testing today? Or any day?" Robin's moment of distraction passed as she recounted his words, "I told you guys I would think about it, not that I'd actually do it."

     "I heard a solid maybe and ran with it," Tony said nonchalantly, "And I've already bought all this fancy testing equipment. It'd be rude of you to let it go to waste. A real faux pas. On par with wearing white after labor day."

     "Sell it and buy yourself a better personality," Robin suggested.

     "Wow, that hurts Iago. No, seriously, I'm tearing up a little," Tony said monotonously.

     "Did you just, like, google famous birds before calling me?" she asked in exasperation.

     "No way, I've had a list in my head for years," Tony said proudly, "And unlike Barton, you won't shoot me with an arrow."

     "Jury's still out on that one," Robin threatened emptily.

     "In any case, I need a photo of you for the article," Tony switched topics rapidly.

     "What article?" Robin demanded suspiciously.

     "MIT wants to publish something about my disintegrator ray," he explained distractedly, "I'm putting your name in the credits."

     "What? I hardly did anything. Wh-why would you do that?" Robin blanched at his words.

     "You gave me the whole idea of doing it sonically," Tony brushed her off, "You deserve the credit."

     "Well that's- I- thank you," Robin stammered out.

     Tony paused, clearing his throat awkwardly.

     "Don't mention it," he said uncomfortably.

     "It's probably a bad idea if HYDRA thinks I'm dead, though," she mused.

     "Huh, I didn't even think about your tragic backstory," Tony said, "I'll just list you as Daisy Duck."

     "Moment of gratitude over," she announced, "I'm hanging up now."

     "Come in for testing this weekend," the genius called out as she ended the call.

     Robin jumped as another clap of thunder sounded out from above and wondered briefly what exactly had so thoroughly pissed her favorite Norse god off.

➶

     Robin leaned against the side of her school building, taking cover under the eaves above her as she waited for Peter to join her outside.

     The aforementioned boy tumbled out of the double doors clumsily, his chocolate eyes scanning around before lighting up as they spotted Robin.

     He rushed over to her, paying no attention to the rain wetting his hair down. The storm had lightened a little, but it was still impossible to go outside without getting soaked.

     "Hey, uh, sorry, it's a pretty bad day to walk home, huh?" Peter laughed nervously, "I wasn't even thinking about it, I guess I don't really mind the rain but we'll probably get pretty wet. We can hang out another day if you want?"

     "No worries," Robin shrugged, smiling easily, "That's why they invented umbrellas, isn't it?"

     She held up the black umbrella she had borrowed from Harry to emphasize her point and Peter grinned at her.

     She opened the umbrella and passed it to Peter, his taller height making him a better candidate to hold it. The small space shielding them from the rain forced the two to stand close together in a way that made both of them blush.

     "Do you like the rain?" Peter asked curiously as they began their route home.

     "I'm not sure," Robin admitted, "I mean, it's pretty, but it tends to amplify all the smells around you. I'm sure in a lot of places that's really nice, but in the city it just sort of makes all the garbage smell worse, you know? Plus the roads are chaotic enough without adding on people who don't know how to drive in the rain. Besides, it makes all the birds hide away. Maybe I'd like it more if I lived somewhere else."

     "Do you not like living in New York?" Peter's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

     "I don't know, I can't remember living anywhere else," Robin shrugged, "Honestly I think I'd miss it if I didn't live here, but it'd be cool to explore the rest of the world too."

     "I love it here," Peter spoke excitedly, "It's so full of life, you know? I can walk the same street every day and discover something new every time. Plus you can pretty much meet someone new every day, too. Everything is constantly changing here, but stays the same at the same time. Does that make sense?"

     Peter's rant was accompanied by a genuine expression and excited gestures with his free hand. It was obvious that he was speaking from the heart.

     "I know it has it's problems," he admitted, "but I can't imagine being anywhere else. It's my favorite place in the world."

     Robin smiled at his enthusiasm. She loved her city, too, but it was apparent that Peter viewed their neighborhood as an essential piece of him.

     "Do you think you'll go to college here, then?" she asked curiously.

     "I'm hoping to either go to Empire State or MIT," he explained, "so either here or Massachusetts, I guess. For either one I'd definitely need a scholarship, though."

     "I don't think you need to worry about a scholarship," Robin nudged him playfully, "You're super smart. Either place would be lucky to have you."

     "Uh, thanks," Peter blushed, his chest puffing out slightly at her praise, "So are you, you know? I bet you'll definitely get a scholarship too. Where do you want to go?"

     Robin blinked in surprise, a little taken aback by his question. She had never really thought much about the future. The idea of having to leave her moms or Harry behind made her stomach clench with anxiety.

     "I don't really know," she realized, "I guess I just kind of figured I'd go to the same place as Haz. I don't have a set plan."

     Peter analyzed her carefully, taking in her obvious nerves.

     "We have plenty of time to figure things out," Peter tried to comfort her, "You and Harry are pretty close, aren't you?"

     "I wouldn't be the same person without him," she said honestly, "he's gotten me through some pretty tough times. Stood by me when I had no one else, you know?"

     "He's definitely loyal," Peter chose his words carefully, "and very, uh, protective."

     Robin let out an amused laugh at his overly polite words.

     "You've somehow managed to catch him at his worst on multiple occasions, but I promise he's actually a really amazing guy," Robin hesitated before adding, "He gets pretty sensitive when it comes to things about his dad, and it seems like you're pretty close to that situation."

     "Yeah, when we were kids his dad was, um, a pretty intense guy," Peter admitted, "I remember him being really hard on Harry."

     "That's putting it mildly," uncharacteristic bitterness crept into Robin's tone as she thought about the older Osborn.

     Peter went to respond, but tensed at the sound of sirens a few blocks over. It wasn't an uncommon sound in the city, but it was definitely harder for the boy to ignore these days.

     "I hope everyone's okay," Robin noticed his reaction and payed attention to the sirens, "but hey, I'm sure even if things are bad that Spider-Man's got a handle on it."

     The boy's gaze snapped to her rapidly, his eyes widening in surprise.

     "Do you, uh, like Spider-Man?" Peter asked awkwardly.

     "Well, yeah," she looked at him oddly, "Don't you?"

     "I- I don't know," he shrugged, "Some people are saying he's a menace, that he's hurting people more than helping them. J. Jonah Jameson made an entire podcast episode about it."

     "People also say the Avengers are bad because of the destruction they cause, but at the end of the day they're doing more good for the world than bad. Nobody can be perfect, not even heroes," Robin debated, "Besides, it's nice to have someone looking out for the little guy. I mean, yeah, it's great that the Avengers are off saving the world all the time, but Spider-Man is making sure it stays safe in the meantime."

     Peter gave her a soft look that she couldn't quite decipher, and smiled.

     "You talk like you've met him or something," he said carefully, trying his best to seem casual.

     "What?" Robin panicked a little on the inside, but kept her face calm, "No, I'm just going off what I've seen on YouTube."

     The superhero hadn't explicitly told her not to tell anyone about their encounters, but she figured it wouldn't be a good idea to make it seem like he had any personal connections. Not that she suspected Peter of being someone who would try to hurt Spider-Man, but she wasn't sure he was the kind of person who could keep a secret.

     Her friend looked at her in surprise, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

     "Uh, did you know there are over forty thousand different types of spiders?" she tried to steer the conversation away, "That's around thirty thousand more species than there are of birds, isn't that crazy? Although, I guess it's not that out there when you consider the fact that there are over twenty-five million tons spiders alive in the world at any given time."

     Peter blinked in surprise, a goofy grin lighting up his face.

     "You usually stick to bird facts," he noted.

     "Just figured I'd branch out," she shrugged, feeling a little shy, "Birds are still my one true love though."

     "So you looked up spider facts?" he asked, his grin only growing bigger.

     "It seemed fitting," she explained, "You know, because of- um, because of climate change messing with insect and arachnid populations and stuff."

     In all honesty, she had looked up facts about spiders in the middle of the night when she couldn't stop thinking about the masked hero.

     "Right," he said doubtfully, as if he could see right through her hasty excuse.

     Robin blushed at this, her eyes leaving his and darting around the city. They landed on a man sitting on a bench outside of a bodega.

     He was hunched over conspicuously, his long, stringy hair covered by a black baseball cap. The scruff on his chin looked like he had gone weeks without shaving, and his large form was covered by a tattered green jacket that was doing nothing to protect him from the rain. In fact, his entire body was soaked in rainwater, although his stoic positioning didn't give any indication that he noticed or cared as he stared down at a piece of paper in his hands.

     Robin frowned at the sight, figuring he was homeless but not sure why he hadn't taken shelter from the storm.

     "Hey, did you mean it when you said you didn't mind the rain?" she asked Peter, who looked at her in confusion.

     "Uh, yeah, it doesn't bother me," he affirmed, "Why do you ask?"

     "Give me a second, sorry," she smiled apologetically.

     She left Peter on the sidewalk and hurried across the street to the man on the park bench.

     "Hey, sorry to bother you," she started, "but no one should have to sit in this rain without an umbrella."

     The man didn't look up or give any indication that he heard her. Swallowing awkwardly, she reached her umbrella out to him, pulling up the hood of her rain jacket to act as a barrier against the water.

     When he didn't make a move to take it from her, she went to set it on the ground beside him. She'd buy Harry a new one.

     Robin jumped in surprise when the man grabbed onto her wrist. His grip was tight, but not enough to hurt her in any way. She turned to see that the man was now looking directly at her, and gasped when she recognized the intense blue of his eyes.

     "Bucky?" she whispered in shock, using the nickname Steve had referred to him by.

     He flinched at the sound of the nickname, his grip tightening slightly, but his eyes didn't leave hers. She was thrown off by the emotion present in them. He seemed exhausted and manic, which weren't exactly ideal feelings, but it was such a stark contrast to the empty, emotionless gaze she remembered from her dream.

     He wasn't the soldier anymore, she realized as she recognized the emotion-filled eyes from Steve's picture album, he was James Buchanan Barnes.

     "Don't tell anyone," he demanded of her, his voice hoarse and scratchy as though he hadn't used it in a while.

     He let go of her wrist and she took a step back, still in shock.

     "Hey, are you okay?" she whipped her head around to see Peter rushing over to her from across the street, water dripping from his curls.

     "I- yeah," she answered distractedly, turning back to the man she had been talking to only to find an empty bench.

     He had taken the umbrella with him.

     "Uh, that was nice of you," Peter started seriously, "but you should be careful around strangers. He seemed really out of it."

     "You're right, Pete," she agreed, still looking at the bench, "Sorry."

     "Hey, you don't need to apologize," his eyes widened at her words, "I just want you to be safe. You're imp- uh, it's important to stay safe."

     She was only half listening, stuck on what had just happened. Her first instinct was to pull out her phone and call Steve, but she couldn't help but feel a sense of loyalty to the man who had saved her, even if she only remembered it from a dream.

     If Bucky was recovering from being brainwashed, he needed help, but his best friend from before HYDRA might be a bit too overwhelming for him if his reaction to his nickname was anything to go by. As unstable as he was right now, Steve might send him over the edge. Plus, she couldn't imagine a scenario in which a team of agents sent to bring him in would end well for anyone. He was still a trained assassin, after all.

     There wasn't a solution that didn't end in repercussions, and any action or lack thereof that Robin took would be on her shoulders.

     "Uh, Robin?" Peter gently touched her shoulder, bringing her out of her panic, "I like rain as much as the next guy, but we should probably get out of the storm."

     The problem was that Robin wasn't sure if she could.

➶

     Robin huddled under the hood of her raincoat dejectedly, cursing herself for being so forgetful. The rain had lightened into a heavy drizzle, but it was still uncomfortable to walk around in and she no longer had an umbrella.

     She had been supposed to pick up her anxiety medication prescription the day before, but it had slipped her mind with all the craziness going in her life. She had already missed one dose, and wasn't eager to miss another.

     Due to corrupt corporations increasing the price of medication to maximize their profit, there was only one pharmacy near her apartment that sold an off-brand version of the drug for an affordable price. It also happened to be a twenty-four-hour pharmacy, which was convenient for people as absent-minded as Robin apparently was.

     If the rumors were anything to go by, being in Hell's Kitchen an hour before midnight wasn't exactly the best idea, but the thought of going another day without medication was worse.

     Although, the ominous group of men not-so-subtly following behind her was enough to make Robin's conviction waver.

     She fiddled with the house key in her pocket nervously, running through the list of ways she could use it in self defense if she needed to.

     Her chances weren't great.

     She only carried enough cash to make her copay and a phone that was a few generations past to be considered particularly valuable, but she had seen people be mugged for less.

     With that in mind, she ducked behind a row of buildings and into an alley one street over in the hopes of losing her tail.

     Just as she was letting out a sigh of relief, she tripped over something laying in the middle of the alley.

     Letting out a disgusted groan as she landed in a sticky puddle, no doubt filled with polluted runoff from the buildings she was in between, she went to wipe her hands off on her raincoat.

     Her eyes widened in horror as the bright yellow material of the coat was marred with a deep red and she came to the realization that she was now covered in blood.

     Her heart began to pound rapidly as she whipped her head around only to find that the object she had tripped over was in fact a man, dressed in all black and oozing blood out of a wound in his chest.

     In fact, she was so preoccupied with the horrific wound in his chest that she barely registered the fact that he was wearing a black mask that covered the top half of his face.

     "Oh no, oh nonononono," Robin panicked, stumbling towards him to check his pulse, "Uh, hey mister, are you okay? Dumb question, alright. Please be alive, please be alive, please be alive."

     By some saving grace, she was able to find a weak, thready pulse on the side of his neck.

     "Okay, unconscious," she nodded to herself, trying her best to calm down, "I can work with unconscious."

     Of course, good luck was never really a fan of Robin Reynolds, and this notion was emphasized by the fact that she could now hear the loud, angry voices of the group of men she thought she had lost quickly approaching.

     "Hey, uh, guy, you gotta wake up," she gently hit the side of his jaw, "It's kind of important."

     He didn't stir.

     The men's voices were growing louder, and she was afraid about what would happen to the injured person in front of her if they found him without a way to defend himself.

     "Nothing good ever freaking happens in Hell's Kitchen," she groaned, and with a huff began to try and drag the unconscious man behind a dumpster with her to hide.

     Unfortunately, the young girl was running into some problems dragging a fully grown, unconscious man down an alleyway. She tried lifting him by the shoulders and almost immediately fell down under his weight.

     "Uh, I'm real sorry about this," she grimaced, before grabbing him by his foot and using all her strength to pull him across the dirty alley and behind the trash can.

     Heaving in a few gasping breaths – people really weren't exaggerating when they talked about dead weight – she ducked behind the dumpster and listened carefully.

     It seemed she and her unconscious friend had made it just in time, the men passing by the alley without any indication that they knew she was hiding there.

     With a relieved sigh, she turned back to the very pressing matter of the man bleeding out in front of her.

     "This is fine," she mumbled deliriously, "Everything is fine."

     As she took his limp hand, praying to every obscure deity she could think of that her weird and unpredictable powers wouldn't fail her now, she faltered at the sight of his cracked and bleeding knuckles.

     Doing a double take as her gaze traveled from the bloody knuckles to the wounds in his chest – yes, wounds, as she was now realizing – to the black cowl covering his face, Robin realized with a startled jolt that she was in the presence of the infamous Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

     The vigilante's reputation was equal parts violent and uncertain. Most people weren't even sure that he even existed, the evidence being limited to vague descriptions in message boards from the people he had saved and one gritty half picture taken from a traffic camera. Even those that insisted he was real were unsure if it was a good thing or not, judging by the trail of carnage and broken bones he left in his wake.

     "Can't I just have one day?" Robin asked dramatically, looking up to the sky, "One single day without this superhero crap invading my life."

     Despite her complaints, she was still determined to heal the man in the mask and set out to do so. The connection was a little harder to maintain without being able to see his face, but she figured it would be immoral to unveil his identity when he wasn't awake to stop her if he wanted to.

     Besides, she wasn't sure that it wouldn't cause him to kill her. Or at least break a few of her bones.

     With a deep breath, she allowed the energy inside her to ignite and flow through her veins. Her arms lit up with a radiant gold that she absentmindedly hoped couldn't be seen from outside the alley, and she transferred the light to the injured man in front of her.

     As the wounds finished stitching themselves back together, the man sat up with a harsh gasp while his lungs tried to replenish his air supply. His hands shot out in front of him, gripping her wrists with enough strength that she was certain she'd have bruises the next day.

     "Woah, hey, uh, Mr. Devil?" she babbled nervously, "You should- maybe you should take it easy? Just a suggestion."

     The vigilante breathed heavily, obviously still disoriented as he realized his wounds had disappeared, leaving behind only his bloody and now tattered shirt.

     "You're a- are you an angel?" his words were slurred and confused, but his voice was as hoarse and dangerous as she had imagined it would be.

     His grip on her wrists remained, but loosened from vessel-popping painful to mildly uncomfortable.

     "What?" Robin blinked in confusion, "Uh, no. I'm just- my name is Robin. It's nice to meet you?"

     "You healed me," he said gruffly, his words less slurred and more certain now.

     "Uh, no I didn't," Robin floundered, "You were just laying here when I found you. No healing involved. Ha ha."

     "I was bleeding out," the vigilante frowned at her suspiciously.

      "Yeah, I was kinda hoping you would forget about that," Robin deflated, looking at him sheepishly.

     "How-," the man cut himself off suddenly and tilted his head to the side as though he were listening to something.

     A few moments later, Robin heard the voices of the men she had been hiding from start up again. Apparently, they were doubling back.

     "Jiminy Christmas, is there only one person in New York City for them to mug?" Robin mumbled in panic and annoyance.

     "They're following you?" the Devil's voice went from scary-but-manageable to downright venomous in a matter of seconds as he asked her the question.

     "Uh, shut up," Robin panicked, "Wow, that's so rude, I'm sorry, but they're gonna find us."

     She made herself as small as possible behind the dumpster, hoping that the man still recovering from life-threatening injuries would make the same decision.

     It seemed like he had other plans.

     "Good," he ground out, forcing himself up from the dirty pavement and rolling his neck out as the men found their hiding spot and turned into the alley.

     "Oh, this is not gonna end well," Robin mumbled.

     The following events could only be described as something from an action movie. The men seemed taken aback as they were met with a menacing vigilante instead of a teenage girl, but seemed mostly undeterred as they kept approaching.

     There were three assailants in total, two of which pulled out hand guns. The third decided to mix things up a little by retrieving a stun baton from a hidden pocket in the side of his pants. This caused Robin to momentarily stop freaking out because what the hell kind of muggers carried around electrified batons?

     The Devil tilted his head to the side the same way he had earlier, a ghost of a smile touching his face, before springing into action.

      He disarmed the two men with guns easily and immediately began fighting them hand-to-hand. The man with the stun gun rushed forward but the vigilante did an actual, real-life backflip over one of the other guys and blocked his attack with the body of the other mugger.

     Apparently, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen moonlighted as a ninja.

     The baton connected with the man's abdomen before his friend realized what was happening, causing him to convulse and collapse on the ground.

     Not wasting any time, the masked man turned back to his first attacker and punched him three times in rapid succession: once in the nose with a sickening crunch, once directly to his throat and once to the jaw. The first caused the man to cry out in pain, only to be cut off by a gurgling choking sound from the second. The third knocked his head back with violent force and knocked him out as he fell directly on to his fallen comrade.

     His focus on the man in front of him allowed the guy with the baton to recharge his weapon and stun him directly in the small of his back.

     The vigilante let out a cry of pain and jerked forward, but did not fall like the first man who had been hit with it. Instead, he turned around and snapped the man's wrist upwards, being rewarded with a loud crack as the bone cracked beneath his skin.

     The final assailant let out a scream of pain as his weapon clattered to the wet pavement, but the Devil didn't let up. It was apparent that the hero was getting tired – probably from blood loss and being hit with a high voltage stun baton – but it only appeared to make his attacks that much more aggressive.

     He pounded into the man's face with his fists over and over again, but never enough to knock him out. When the attacker hunched forward in pain, the Devil took the opportunity to deliver a powerful kick to his stomach that knocked him over completely.

     Without mercy for the now whimpering man, he tugged him up from the ground by his neck and slammed him against the building opposite Robin. The man's face connected brutally with the brick and he let out another cry of pain.

     The vigilante grabbed his forearm and pulled him back, only to slam him into the wall again.

     "Who sent you?" he growled out, in a voice so deadly it made Robin want to shrink into her bloody raincoat like a scared turtle.

     Fear overtook her as she processed his words. It was apparent from their weapons and fighting skills that the men weren't ordinary muggers. The Devil seemed to think that they were targeting her specifically, and the thought sent ice cold terror running down her spine.

     "Der abschaum," the man spat out furiously, and his use of German made Robin's blood run cold.

     The Devil wrenched his arm backwards with a pop, effectively wrenching his shoulder out of its socket and causing the man to cry out in pain.

     "Why are you following her?" he bit out unflinchingly.

     The man glared venomously through the blood running down his face, but when the vigilante made to grab his other arm, he flinched in fear.

     "She made contact with the asset," he folded under the pressure, sweat racing down his face.

     Robin leaned back in confusion, expecting him to have said that they were there to drag her back to HYDRA based on his accent. She had no idea what 'the asset' was.

     "What asset?" the masked man demanded.

     "They'll kill me if I tell you," the man in his grasp was almost begging.

     If the three attackers were from the Nazi organization, it was obvious that they weren't hardcore loyalists or high-ranking members. They seemed weaker than the ones she remembered from her dreams, still dangerous but more amateur.

     "Worry about what I'll do to you," the Devil bit out, applying more pressure to the arm that wasn't dislocated.

     The man hesitated, and the vigilante bent his fingers back painfully.

     Realizing he was in no position to argue and clenched his bloodied jaw before answering.

     "The winter soldier," he confessed.

     Robin's horrified eyes and sharp intake of breath must have told the Devil that this name meant something to the girl, because he concluded the impromptu interrogation and slammed the man's temple into the wall to knock him out.

     Her thoughts began racing rapidly. The men were only following her because she had talked to Bucky. This confirmed that they were HYDRA, looking for their lost asset. They thought she was a random lead that could lead them to the soldier, which she hoped meant that they hadn't recognized her. Even so, they could have sent a picture or description of her to their superiors, who might realize that the girl they had thought to be dead was still breathing.

     Putting her fear for her own safety aside, she still had to think of Bucky's wellbeing. The man hadn't exactly been in a stable state of mind when she talked to him. If HYDRA was close to finding out where he was, he was in danger. She again thought about calling Steve, realizing just how out of her wheelhouse this entire thing was.

     Her internal dilemma was cut short as she took in the sight of the Devil stumbling slightly as he walked towards her.

     "Woah, hey, slow down," she rushed forward, wrapping her arm around his torso in an effort to support his swaying weight, "Your wounds are gone, but you probably still have residual blood loss. I'm sure that, you know, being electrocuted didn't help either."

     "He shouldn't have gotten the drop on me," the man grumbled, almost petulantly, as he leaned against the wall and took a few deep breaths.

     "Yeah, well, you sure showed him," Robin gently nudged the man's bludgeoned and unconscious form with the tip of her shoe, "I, uh, can see why they call you the Devil."

     "I hate that name," he scoffed, leaning his head back in exhaustion.

     "Well, what would you prefer I call you?" she asked, her tone a little too nervous to verge on playful like she had intended.

     He tensed at her question, his posture becoming defensive again.

     "Woah, relax, I didn't mean your real name," she was quick to assuage his concerns, "A fake one, or something. Just for funsies. Like, um, Lucifer? Or is that too obvious? What about Mr. Scratch? Are these too literal? Maybe you want a super boring, common name. Like Greg. How do we feel about Greg?"

     As she began to ramble, the vigilante relaxed again. Over the past few weeks, Robin had discovered that while her tendency to babble when she was nervous annoyed most people, it tended to make the dangerous heroes she had started to spend her time with trust her more. She wasn't certain as to the reason why, but it was definitely convenient.

     Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she was one of the few people they came into contact with that they wouldn't have to torture to get information from. Just get her a little embarrassed, and she'd accidentally word-vomit the nuclear launch codes.

     "Please don't call me Greg," he asked politely.

     "Well alright, someone's fussy," Robin mumbled under her breath.

     She hadn't intended for him to hear, but judging by the soft exhale that sounded dangerously close to a laugh, he had anyways.

     "Who's the winter solider?" he asked, causing Robin to shift uncomfortably.

     "Um, you're probably not gonna like this answer," she assumed, "But I can't tell you. It's safer for you if you don't know anything about it."

     "I can handle danger," he frowned, as if offended.

     "That much is obvious," she looked over the three unconscious men with a shudder, "but this stuff is a little bigger than a fight in an alley. Okay, a lot bigger. Pretty much colossal."

     "And you think you can handle it yourself?" he crossed his arms and clenched his jaw at her sassily.

     She hesitated, letting out a sigh.

     "No, definitely not," she admitted, "but I still can't tell you. I'm sorry."

     The Devil – Greg? – analyzed her carefully, as if deciding if he could trust the young girl or not. She eyed him nervously, wondering if she would end up like the battered men around them.

     "You didn't take off my mask," he realized.

     "No, I didn't," she agreed.

     He cocked his head to the side like he had done earlier. Whatever he was looking for, it seemed to make him relax.

     "Why?" he asked, his voice much more gentle than it had been with the HYDRA members.

     "I don't know," she shrugged, "That kind of feels like the first rule of being a hero, right? Don't let people find out your identity? That's what I learned reading Batman comics, anyways. Good job on the mask, by the way. It's a step up from Superman. He just threw on a pair of glasses and called it a day."

     "Most people would have taken it off anyway," he told her.

     "Well, I'm not like most people," she said dramatically, before letting out a laugh, "Just kidding. Gross, can you imagine if I said that seriously? I just figured if it were me, I'd want the person who found me to respect my privacy. Besides, I kinda thought you might beat me up if I took it off."

     He frowned again at the last part of her sentence, standing up straight again.

     "I don't hurt innocent people," he said gravely.

     He seemed to almost feel guilty at her words, like the thought of scaring someone who wasn't trying to kill him made him feel bad.

     "Hey, watch who you're calling innocent, buddy," Robin pointed her finger at him, trying to dispel the awkward air that was now between them, "I get up to all kinds of shenanigans and tomfoolery."

     "Sure," the vigilante said, unconvinced.

     "I'm serious," she nodded gravely, "I stole a dog once."

     "You stole a dog," the Devil echoed her in confusion.

     "Yep," she confirmed, "My best friend's neighbor had this dog that she was obviously neglecting, so we called to report it. Except, my friend lives in a super rich apartment building and when their animal control people came to investigate she just paid them off. Obviously this was unacceptable so we, uh, sort of broke into her house when she was on a trip and took him. Only, my friend's dad refuses to let him get a pet and my apartment building doesn't allow dogs so we had to take him to the shelter. Don't worry though, he got adopted by a really nice family and he's never been happier. The shelter gives me updates."

     "Wow, you're a hardened criminal," the vigilante drawled sarcastically, "You're right, I should beat you up."

     Robin eyed him skeptically, surprised to see the corner of his lip twitching upwards. She was a little surprised that he was even capable of making a joke.

     "Hey, thank you for saving me from those guys," she said gratefully, "Out of all the alleyways in Hell's Kitchen to hide in, I guess I picked a good one."

     The Devil of Hell's Kitchen shifted uncomfortably, seeming a little taken aback. He wasn't used to people thanking him for what he did. In fact, he was more accustomed to them running away in terror.

     "Uh, no problem," he shrugged, the softness of his voice out of place against his rough demeanor, "thank you for healing me. How did you do that, by the way?"

     Apparently he wasn't letting go of the whole magic healing powers thing anytime soon.

     "Hey, you were unconscious," Robin tried, "You have no proof that that actually happened."

     "Uh huh," the vigilante nodded sarcastically.

     He paused, as if remembering something.

     "How did you get me from the middle of the alley to behind the dumpster?" he asked in confusion.

     "Um, I dragged you by the foot," she admitted with some shame.

     "You dragged me by the foot," he parroted.

     "Yes," she agreed.

     They stood in silence for a moment, regarding each other. Just as Robin was beginning to grow nervous that he was going to beat her up for real this time, the vigilante let out an amused laugh.

     She jumped in surprise at the sound. His laughter was smooth and a little higher pitched than his speaking voice, and warm in a way that made Robin smile.

     As if realizing he had given away too much of himself, the vigilante stiffened again and went back to business mode.

     "You should get off the streets," he told her, "they aren't safe at this time of night, especially when you have assassins after you."

     "They're not assassins, they're-," Robin caught herself as the Devil leaned forward in interest at her words, clearing her throat, "Yeah, okay. I still have to stop by the pharmacy but I'll go straight home after that. Scout's honor. Well, I've never been a scout but I promise."

     Robin eyed the men on the ground around them nervously.

     "Do you think they're gonna wake up anytime soon?" she asked.

     He tilted his head to the side, then shrugged at her.

     "They're still unconscious," he informed her, "Will be for a while."

     Trusting his judgement, she hesitantly began rummaging through their pockets. Sure enough, she pulled out a camera from the inside of one of their jackets. The girl took out the SIM card and tucked it into her jacket pocket, hoping they hadn't already sent whatever was on it to their superiors.

     "Smart," she jumped at the vigilante's words of praise.

     "Thanks, Greg," she smiled bashfully.

     He made a sound of annoyance at her nickname for him.

     "Oh," she blinked, looking down at herself, "I should probably take this jacket off if I don't want people to think I'm a serial killer. That'd be a fun one to explain to the pharmacy tech."

     He nodded at her words, walking over to the fire escape at the end of the alley.

     "I'll make sure no one is following you on your way," he told her.

     "What?" she asked in confusion, "How are you gonna do that?"

     "I'll watch you from the rooftops," he explained, as if it was totally normal behavior.

     Robin narrowed her eyes at this, eyeing the roofs above them.

     "Okay, you could do that," she said slowly, "Or you could just walk with me. You know, like a normal human being."

     He hesitated, considering this for a moment. It was late enough that not many people would be on the streets, and the ones that were wouldn't ask questions.

     "Fine," he relented, "but if we get approached on the way, you hide and let me handle it."

     "Whatever you say, Greg," she placated.

     "Don't call me Greg."

➶

     They made it back to her apartment fairly unscathed. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen was a terrible conversationalist, but he listened to Robin's endless rambling without complaint.

     She bought him a granola bar and a cheese stick in the pharmacy to help with the blood loss he must have been feeling. This gesture seemed to take him aback as much as her 'thank you' had, gratefully accepting the granola bar. He politely denied the cheese stick, claiming that he could 'taste the processed chemicals already'. Robin was a little confused by that, but didn't mention anything about it.

     He also knew his way around the dingy back alleys of New York City so well that he managed to cut their travel time practically in half, which was helpful as they couldn't exactly take the subway.

     In fact, the vigilante was so adept at remaining hidden that the only being who noticed them was a feral cat living in a dumpster who hissed viciously at the masked man until Robin got the animal to calm down by cooing softly at him and feeding him little bits of the cheese stick.

     The Devil seemed a little offended by the blatant show of favoritism.

     "My cat, Frankie, loves cheese," Robin was explaining to him when they reached her apartment building, "We can't give him too much of it, because it might make him sick, but a little bit is alright. Hey, look, you can see him from the window."

     She pointed up to the window of her apartment that was visible from the street, her cat's glowing yellow eyes peering back at them.

     The vigilante didn't look, but instead tensed up as he tilted his head to the side in the way he seemed so fond of doing.

     "You said you had two moms?" he asked lowly, his voice back to the dangerous tone he had used before.

     "Yeah, but one of them is working the night shift at the hospital and the other is on an overnight field trip with her class," Robin nodded slowly, "Why do you ask?"

     Her newfound friend frowned heavily, turning to face her.

     "There's a man in your apartment."

➶➶➶

you ever go ahead and make daredevil a pivotal part of your fanfic just to flex on netflix?

seriously though you can pay 100 million to keep friends for a year but you can't renew the best show on your streaming service??? make it make sense

the angel part makes me laugh so hard sorry just imagining poor catholic matt being so confused and disoriented im love him

also just a psa don't flirt with service workers outside of cheesy wattpad fics. they're forced to be nice to you and it's dumb to trap them like that.

++ hmmm robin seems to attract a lot of superheroes,,, i wonder why that is??? just a convenient plot thing or is there a reason??? who knows?? hmmmm

sorry for updating like once a year + stay hydrated,

-belle xx