Mark knew two things the moment he walked into the room.

One: this was supposed to be a small party. Two: superheroes had very different definitions of the word “small.”

There were people everywhere—heroes he recognized, heroes he vaguely remembered fighting alongside once, heroes who looked like they could bench-press buildings and were currently arguing over snacks like normal people.

He hovered near the drink table, scanning the room automatically.

You weren’t there yet.

Which was fine. Totally fine. He was normal about it. Not constantly checking the door or anything.

“Relax,” Eve said, nudging him with her elbow. “She’ll be here.”

“I’m relaxed,” Mark said immediately.

She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve looked at the door twelve times.”

“Okay, first of all, that’s not true,” he said. “Second of all, she said she’d be late.”

“Uh-huh.”

Before he could defend himself, the air in the room shifted.

It was subtle—enough that civilians wouldn’t notice—but every hero did. Conversations paused. Someone mid-laugh cut off abruptly.

Mark’s head snapped toward the entrance.

You stepped in, calm as ever, scanning the room with quiet awareness before your gaze landed on him.

His shoulders dropped instantly.

“Oh thank God,” he muttered.

Eve caught it. Of course she did. “Wow.”

“What?”

She smirked. “Nothing.”

You crossed the room with easy confidence, exchanging nods with a few familiar faces along the way. Someone clapped you on the shoulder. Someone else actually straightened up when you passed.

Mark tried not to think about that.

You stopped beside him, close enough that your arm brushed his. “Hey,” you said softly.

“Hey,” he replied, smiling like an idiot.

Totally normal. Totally chill.

Things stayed normal for exactly five minutes.

It started when Rex—because of course it was Rex—leaned back against the counter, looking between the two of you with a grin.

“So,” he said loudly, “you guys are official, right?”

Mark choked on his drink. “What—yeah—why is that—”

“Oh,” Eve cut in, smiling sweetly, “everyone knows.”

Mark looked around.

Every single person was watching them now.

“…Cool,” he said weakly.

Rex crossed his arms. “Okay, but real question.”

Mark felt a deep, instinctive sense of dread.

“Who wears the pants in the relationship?”

Silence.

Then—immediately—

“Her.”

“No question.”

“Definitely her.”

“Yeah, that’s not even a debate.”

Mark blinked. “Hey—!”

Someone else added, “I mean, have you seen her?”

Another nodded. “And have you seen him?”

“Hey!” Mark protested again. “I wear pants! I’m wearing pants right now!”

No one acknowledged this.

Eve tilted her head, studying you thoughtfully. “You give off that energy.”