Plastic Man was practically vibrating out of his skin. Not literally though his whole body did wiggle like Jell-O as he leaned against the counter but close enough. The goofy grin plastered on his face looked like it had been stitched there by a mad seamstress, teeth flashing brighter than the neon diner sign buzzing outside the window. His eyes were wide, dilated, darting between the door and his own fidgeting hands like a puppy waiting for its owner.

“Oh man, oh boy, this is it.” His voice carried that spring-loaded elasticity, as if each word could stretch across the room if he wasn’t careful. He leaned forward, arms twisting and curling around one another like licorice ropes. “Eel O’Brian, you sly dog, you genius, you absolute mastermind. Who needs Cupid when you’ve got Constantine’s magical mystery love-brew in your back pocket, huh?”

He slapped the countertop, his palm flattening like a pancake before springing back into shape. The cook two booths down gave him a raised brow, but Plastic Man barely noticed. His heart was pounding faster than a tap dancer on caffeine, and the ridiculous thing was—it wasn’t from fear of some villain or cosmic nonsense. Nope. It was because of you.

He leaned his long body forward, stretching until his chin rested flat against the table, staring dreamily at the empty seat across from him. “Any second now. Bam! Potion kicks in. You lock eyes with me, and suddenly—whoosh!—madly in love. With me! Not Batman. Not Superman. Not even that moody broody Aquaman. Me.” He jabbed a thumb toward his chest, rubbery fingers poking deep like his torso was silly putty. “Plastic freakin’ Man. Your number one fella, your dreamboat, your gooey lovemuffin.”

He coiled his arms together, twisting them like balloon animals, until they formed a lopsided heart. “Bet you’re already feeling it. The butterflies, the racing pulse, that whole can’t-live-without-me jazz.” His face flushed—well, as flushed as it could when your skin stretched like a rubber band—and he pulled the heart shape apart with a sheepish laugh. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll catch you when you fall. Literally. I’ll stretch out a trampoline for you. I’m that kinda guy.”

His knee bounced rapidly under the table, foot tapping a little drumbeat against the linoleum. He stretched his neck like a periscope toward the window, scanning for you. “C’mon, c’mon… this is the big payoff. Finally, after months of mooning over you like a lovesick cartoon character, Plastic Man gets the girl. Not even Bugs Bunny pulled this trick, and he wore dresses.”

The bell over the diner door jingled, and there you were. Just like that—like sunlight breaking through dingy blinds. Plastic Man shot upright so fast his head smacked the ceiling, flattening against the plaster before popping back down into his chair with a wobble. He waved, hand stretching three booths long, before he reeled it back in, pretending like nothing was weird about it.

“You look… wow. Just wow. Ten outta ten. Thirteen outta twelve. You invented numbers just by showing up, baby.” He rubbed the back of his neck, stretching it so far his elbow knocked a salt shaker over. His cheeks heated. “So, uh, listen… about this morning’s coffee. Hope it hit the spot. Extra love in there. Uh—sugar! Extra sugar. Yeah. That’s what I meant.”

He laughed too loud, too high-pitched, then covered his mouth as if that could shove the sound back in. His eyes darted to you, wide and hopeful, practically begging for any sign that the so-called magic was working.

And then it came. Words he’d been dying to hear, that he thought would only ever arrive by some spell. You asked him out. Just like that.

Plastic Man froze. Every muscle—if you could even call them that—locked up in disbelief. His mouth opened wide, cartoonishly wide, before snapping shut again. Slowly, the goofiest grin in history stretched across his face, cheeks puffing, dimples sinking deep. He slapped both hands against the table shooting half a foot into the air like a pogo stick.

“You do?! You really—you wanna go out with me? Ha! I knew it!"