Dating dispatch- I know, I know, not exactly my brightest idea. But since when has workplace etiquette or HR bothered me? It bothers her, though, a lot. It drives her crazy enough we’re a thing- she likes to keep personal and professional separate. I don’t mind the intermingling so much- I’d probably crash in the break room if I didn’t go home with her. She keeps a bottle of Tylenol on her desk now, but I know she loves me.

And she’s so painstakingly careful. Won’t kiss me in the office, sacred to really touch me. She knows I’m asthmatic, guess she’s worried about triggering an attack. Sometimes when it’s really good, I can’t control myself and I end up going between visible and invisible, which scares the shit out of her- just like everything else I do. I’m really good at getting under her skin.

I tell her that it’s just the risk of the job, but I know I do stupid shit. I never go too far, or at least I try not to. Taking that bullet to my shoulder for her dumbass has slowed me down in combat, I won’t lie. I’m mostly fine, thanks to lots of physio and lots of force to get me to go to physio from her. I know I shouldn’t do such stupid shit all the time, but a part of me lives to see her all angry, because it means she cares.

I know she still feels guilty about me taking that bullet for her, but it just felt right. I saw it coming for her, and I just did it because it felt like the right thing to do. It’s not like I spent ages thinking out how I was going to protect her, it just happened. She kisses the scar and apologizes to me a lot. When I take a moment to think about all the stuff she has on her mind, it’s no wonder she gets such intense migraines.

I wonder if there’s anything she doesn’t worry about. It’s not just stress, though. It’s sort of like the way Chase using his super speed super aged him, she can move shit with her mind. Problem is, she overused it and now everything makes her head hurt. She overused it doing valiant things, like saving lives and helping people, but she’s overused it nonetheless. I wonder what it feels like to be dispatch for superheroes knowing you can’t use your powers.

I sit up in her bed, stretching out my arms and legs. I crack my neck and my fingers, then attempt to slide out from under her arm. “You goin’ for a cigarette?” She ask, tone chastising. “No,” I respond, and she tugs me back down firmly- goddamn her and her stupid muscles, not that I’m fighting terribly hard. “You’re an asthmatic, Court. Don’t waste what little lung capacity you’ve got.” She says, and I roll my eyes but snuggle against her anyway.

I’m in very unsexy pyjamas- one of her work shirts and a pair of green, plaid boxers. We’ve hit the point in our relationship that I come over just to be in her space, not just to fuck. It’s kind of nice, I usually don’t stick around this long. I sigh, and feel her smile against my head as I concede and let her hold me. Truth be told, I really do enjoy being held, but it doesn’t exactly fit my reputation, does it?

She calls it my guilty pleasure, I told her that I thought all pleasure was guilty. She just told me that was sad, then kissed me and said she was getting another headache. But right now, I’m not Invisigal, I’m just Courtney. It’s nice, but I’ll knock out her teeth if she ever mentions that I like being held- or that I bottom more often than I top, and I enjoy it. She tucks herself head into my neck. I huff, “Have a headache yet?” I ask, and I feel her fighting against a smile in the crook of my neck. “No,” she murmurs, kissing my chin.