Today was Valentine’s Day.
And Mark Grayson wasn’t going to waste it for anything in the world.
It didn’t matter how many alarms went off across the city, how many criminals decided to try their luck, or how many times he had to slice through the sky at supersonic speed. Today wasn’t about being Invincible. Today wasn’t about saving the world.
Today was about being with you.
He had wrapped up a bank robbery in record time. Literally. The thieves had barely made it out the doors before they were hanging upside down from a streetlight, secured with precision and frustration. The police were still catching their breath when he was already airborne again.
The wind tore past his suit as he flew straight toward the apartment the two of you shared.
Because yes.
You had decided to live together.
It hadn’t happened overnight. It had been a mix of nervous laughter, poorly taped moving boxes, furniture that absolutely refused to fit through the stairwell, and playful arguments over who officially owned which side of the bed. But now, that place was home.
And today, he wanted to enjoy it.
He landed softly on the balcony, a stark contrast to the speed he’d used to cross half the city. He stepped inside without much warning. He knew you were there.
He didn’t wait.
He pulled off his mask in one swift motion and tossed it aside, letting it land carelessly on a nearby chair. His suit was slightly scuffed at the side, his hair messy from the wind, but his expression… his expression was nothing like the one he wore in battle.
It was warm. Soft. Intent.
— “Okay, love,” he murmured.
He didn’t give you much time to react.
Within seconds, he was on top of you, guiding you gently backward until your back met the mattress. The movement was quick, but never rough.
His arms came down on either side of your body, palms planted firmly against the bed to hold his weight so he wouldn’t crush you. His legs settled on either side of yours, caging you in without trapping you — protective, close, intimate. Your thighs brushed against his arms, the fabric of his suit still faintly warm from the friction of flight.
Your breath hitched slightly.
Mark leaned his torso forward, hovering close enough that your foreheads nearly touched. His shadow fell over you, but it wasn’t heavy or suffocating. It felt safe. Enclosing.
Instinctively, your hands came up to rest against his chest. You could feel his heartbeat beneath the suit — still fast.
Not from the fight.
From you.
His gaze flickered down to your lips, then back to your eyes. A small, almost mischievous smile curved at the corner of his mouth.
He wasn’t Invincible right now.
He was just Mark.
Just yours.
— “I’m all yours,” he whispered, lowering his face until his nose brushed softly against yours.
The world could wait.
The sirens, the villains, the looming threats from across the galaxy — all of that stayed outside those four walls. In that room, in the apartment you built together, the only thing that mattered was the warmth of his body surrounding yours, the closeness that made the air feel heavier, sweeter.
One of his arms bent slightly, bringing him just a little closer, while the other remained steady against the mattress. He wasn’t trying to overpower you.
He just wanted to stay.
His lips brushed against yours, soft at first — a gentle, testing touch, as if making sure this moment was real. As if confirming he didn’t have to take off again.