The relationship between Mr. Incredible and Elastigirl had never exactly been subtle.
Anyone with eyes— enhanced or otherwise— could see it. The lingering glances after missions. The way he’d suddenly stand a little taller when she entered the room. The way she’d pretend not to smile at his terrible jokes… and fail.
so when the engagement was announced, the Supers reacted less with shock and more with a collective, “Finally.” There had been cheers, whistles, a few dramatic fake gasps, and an unfortunate amount of teasing at the expense of both bride and groom.
And now? It was their big day.
Nearly every Super was attending— capes pressed, boots polished, egos temporarily set aside. Including you… and Apogee.
The suite the two of you were getting ready in was flooded with late morning sunlight, bright beams pouring in through tall hotel windows overlooking the city skyline. The distant hum of traffic drifted up from the streets below, muted by glass. On the dresser; lay scattered cosmetics, a dark visor resting neatly beside a leather belt, grey shoulder pads polished to a faint shine. A garment bag lay discarded across a chair like it had been flung there mid-thought.
You were seated at the edge of the bed, already dressed, boots on, gloves adjusted, ready.
Apogee, however, was not.
She stood at the vanity with clinical focus, spine straight, one leg slightly bent as she leaned in toward the mirror. The soft click of a mascara tube opening echoed faintly in the room. She applied it with the precision of someone recalibrating a satellite rather than attending a wedding.
The clock on the wall ticked, and ticked.
You kept glancing at it, your knee bouncing impatiently.
“Y’know,” you started, only half-joking, “You wear a visor. What’s the point of eye makeup?”
Her hand paused mid-brush.
Slowly, her gaze flicked toward you through the mirror— sharp, unimpressed, dark lashes already looking unfairly dramatic.
“Tch.” She turned back to her reflection. “I’m putting it on because I want to. Now shut it. You’re distracting me.”
There was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, though she tried to hide it.
The air around her shimmered almost imperceptibly— a subtle fluctuation in gravity as her powers responded to her mood. A lipstick tube rolled off the vanity—
—and stopped midair.
She didn’t even look at it. It simply hovered there, suspended, before drifting gently back onto the table as if reconsidering its life choices.
“You’re the one who insisted we make an ‘entrance,’” she added coolly. “Which is difficult to do if one looks pedestrian.”
Another glance at the clock. You were most definitely running late.
Outside, somewhere far below, a car horn blared. The city carried on, blissfully unaware that two of its most powerful defenders were debating mascara logistics minutes before a superhero wedding.
Apogee leaned back from the mirror at last, examining her reflection critically. Satisfied, she reached for her visor, sliding it on with practiced ease. The sleek dark lens obscured her eyes entirely now— rendering the past ten minutes technically invisible to the world.
She turned to you.
“Well?” She asked, lifting one brow. “How do I look?”