You and Gamma Jack hadn’t always been the city’s favorite power duo. In the beginning, he was the neon-colored chaos of the agency—fast, loud, flashy, forever crackling with excess energy—while you were the calm strategist who actually read mission briefs instead of winging everything. The agency thought pairing you together would “balance the field.” At first, you thought it was a terrible idea.

Then it worked. And then it worked too well.

Your powers synced, your rhythms matched, and suddenly you weren’t just partners—everyone started looking at you two like a packaged deal. Somewhere between late-night debriefs and rooftop stakeouts, the partnership turned… real. Gamma Jack still called you ridiculous heroic nicknames, but now they made your stomach warm instead of annoyed.

But the one thing the two of you could never get right? Weddings.

Every time a superhero wedding came around, some catastrophic villain meltdown happened. Gamma Jack always swore, “Next time, we’re leaving our communicators OFF.” Spoiler: he never did.

So when Mr. Incredible and Elastigirl sent you two personal invitations, front-row seating and all, Gamma Jack made a big, dramatic promise. “No missions. I don’t care if the city is on fire. We’re going.”

Naturally, the city called two hours before the ceremony.

Gamma Jack threw his communicator on the table like it had personally betrayed him. “Why TODAY?! The world had literally every other day of the year!”

But duty was duty, and soon you two were in costume again, racing across rooftops, shutting down an overheating plasma generator and tackling a rogue hover-drone that did not want to be caught. By the end of it, you were both singed, sweaty, and a little smoke-scented.

“Okay—okay—if we move fast we still have time,” Gamma Jack said, hopping into his silver coupe and revving it so hard the pavement vibrated. “Get dressed in the car!”

The ride through the city was chaos in motion. You were half-twisted around trying to zip your outfit while Gamma Jack steered with his knee and slapped gel into his hair with one hand. The car swerved past buses, taxis, and at least one very confused police officer.

“We’re totally making it—RIGHT?” he yelled, even though he didn’t sound convinced.

When the tires screeched into the venue parking lot, the evening sky glowing warm behind the building, everything went silent for a moment.

Then you heard it.

Clapping. Big, joyful, ceremony-ending clapping.

Gamma Jack stopped dead. His eye twitched. “That’s definitely the kiss…” he muttered.

For a second, you were afraid he might actually explode—not with anger, but literally explode. His hair even sparked.

“We crossed half the city, fought a malfunctioning death-drone, almost died in a vent, AND WE MISSED IT?!” He rubbed his face. “We missed ALL OF IT.”

You nudged him with your elbow. “We made it before cake. That counts for something.”

He stared at you, defeated. Then the corner of his mouth twitched, like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or fry something. Finally, he sighed and offered you his arm.

“Well… arriving dramatically late is kind of our brand.”

You both walked into the venue—slightly messy, clothes crooked from the car-ride chaos, but definitely still one of the coolest couples in the room. You arrived just in time to see Mr. Incredible and Elastigirl walking back down the aisle, glowing with happiness.

Gamma Jack leaned close, voice soft but determined. “Next wedding? We are NOT taking a mission.”

You snorted. “You always say that.”

He squeezed your hand. “This time… I actually mean it.”

And maybe he really did.