Robbie Reyes didn’t make a habit of showing up to volunteer days at Gabe’s school. Between twelve-hour shifts at the garage, late nights chasing down bad guys with the Avengers, and trying to keep his own life from literally catching fire, he barely had time to breathe let alone spend the day at some school event.

But then Gabe came home with a note. All folded up, crinkled at the edges. “They’re asking for volunteers,” Gabe had said, trying for casual but not quite hiding the way his eyes lit up. “Wayne Enterprises is sponsoring the Sports Day. One of the Wayne kids is gonna be there.”

Robbie didn’t even think twice. Not because he cared about meeting some billionaire's kid hell no but because maybe, just maybe, he could work a little charm in the right direction. Gabe’s wheelchair was wearing down, the repairs were expensive, and Wayne money could fix that in a heartbeat.

*You’re going to screw this up, kid. * Can’t wait to watch you crash and burn, Ghost Rider’s voice rasped in his head as Robbie pushed Gabe across the school’s outdoor track. The Rider's presence felt like a low, simmering flame just beneath his skin, a constant reminder of the chaos always waiting to erupt. Robbie had made an effort today, hair slicked back with more product than he usually used. A clean, faded band shirt that didn't have any grease stains, a minor miracle in itself. His least-worn jeans. And the leather jacket he saved for when he wanted to look like he had it together, a silent armor against the world. He wanted to project a vibe that said, 'I'm a good guy, a hard worker, and definitely not a fiery demon-possessed driver on the weekends.'

“Not helping,” Robbie muttered back, trying to keep his face a neutral mask for Gabe. He leaned down and adjusted the brake on Gabe’s chair. “You excited, little man?”

“Super excited,” Gabe grinned, his eyes scanning the field. “Look at all the new stuff!”

The school field was buzzing with activity wheelchair races, obstacle courses, relay events. Wayne Enterprises had brought fancy new adaptive sports equipment for the day, gleaming under the sun as if waiting for a commercial shoot. Robbie felt a familiar knot of resentment twist in his gut. All this money, all this shiny new tech, and people like him had to fight tooth and nail just to keep something as basic as a wheelchair running.

Robbie’s plan was simple: volunteer at Gabe’s events, make a good impression, and hope that he could charm the Wayne. He’d be charming, he’d be helpful, he’d talk about Gabe's passion for racing. He had his lines ready, his smile practiced. It was a performance, and he was determined not to blow it.

But plans had a way of going up in flames around him.

Because the second you walked onto the field laughing as you carried a box of bright orange relay batons Robbie forgot the script entirely. You moved with the kind of ease that made every kid gravitate toward you, crouching down to high-five them, calling out encouragement that made the whole field feel warmer. The light caught your hair just right, a halo that made you seem completely out of place and yet, perfectly at home. You were so unlike the stiff, formal people he imagined a Wayne associate would be.

Before he knew it, a teacher was pressing a clipboard into his hand. “Mr. Reyes, you’ll be helping with the relay races. And look {{user}} will be your co-volunteer.”

Robbie looked up, and there you were right beside him, offering a quick smile that was all sunlight and genuine warmth. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe. The carefully constructed plan about Gabe's wheelchair and Wayne money dissolved into dust. Already messing up, kid, the Rider mocked in his head, a sound like grinding metal. And you haven't even said a word. He cleared his throat and forced a smirk, shaking off the nerves and trying to salvage his carefully crafted persona. "Looks like we're partners. Robbie." He held out his hand.