Chapter Text
“Go away!”
The knocking stilled for a moment; you stood just a few feet from your front door. God, he did not know how to take a hint. You turned your phone off over half an hour ago when he had first tried to call you. Even now, you were sure that if you turned it on this very second, a litany of notifications would hinder it from running smoothly for at least a few minutes.
The silence lasted a bit longer before a few more knocks rapped against the door.
It was dark out; it must be late. Though, in all honesty, you weren’t sure what time it was. After all your aforementioned phone has been powered off for who knows how long, and you were not about to just sit in front of the microwave for your time-checking purposes.
“Please-” A soft voice seeped through the door, followed by a soft thud. The assailant must have just let their head fall forward against the wood. You could picture it easily, and it was quite a sad, pathetic sight.
With a sigh and a roll of your eyes you responded.
“Why Rex.” It was not really emphasized as a question, but an exasperation. Running a hand through your hair you turn and put your back against the door. Against your better judgment, your fingers brushed against the cool metal of the lock.
There was another long pause, for a second you thought you could hear his breathing, quick, erratic, messy.
It is odd to think that everything has led to this. Years, months, weeks, days, it did not matter. Lifetimes had passed now since you both had met. He’s an asshole. He’s always been an asshole. It was the first thing you thought when he opened his damn mouth during your first meeting- encounter- whatever. You had never met something so egotistical as Rex-Splode as long as you had lived. God, even thinking his name made you want to rip your hair out. It was insane to you that someone could be so in love with themself that they didn’t even have an identity outside of their “secret” identity.
Maybe, he was ashamed on some deeper level. That is, if he was even capable of being that self-aware. Maybe, the only interesting thing about him is his abilities. Who he is on a level past that is so disappointing and pathetic, pathetic, that he has erased it. He practically lives in his costume. In fact, you once saw him wearing street clothes and before you could fully be surprised, he disintegrated it to reveal that he was in fact still wearing that damn costume.
But you had to admit, he was able to jump into the action much faster than you could. Being that you needed to grab you backpack and- well, it was a whole thing. A whole thing that regrettably, you still aren’t able to complete with maximum efficiency.
He was a good hero though, you could admit this to yourself internally. As unpleasant as he was as an individual, he made up for it in a lot of ways with his competence. The Guardians weren’t exactly known anymore for never getting their asses beat, but he was never one to give up.
This was one of the few things you admired about him, but as of right now, it was the bane of your night.
“I… I have to talk to you.” The voice responded finally, “Fuck- Please Joy.”
You found yourself rolling your eyes once again. You hated that nickname. And you made it well known. You didn’t just hate it, you carried great disdain for that stupid, stupid-
And then he whispers something. It hardly makes its way through an inch or two of wood. Cocking your head slightly in surprise, you point your ear towards the door, listening harder. And then you hear it again, a little louder this time, you hadn’t imagined it. Rex had just said your name, your actual name, not your alias, or any of his ridiculous nicknames for you, your given name. You could count on one hand how many times you remembered him saying it.
And just like that, you’re unlocking the door, bad idea, and you’re pulling it ajar just slightly, bad idea.
His hair is wet, droplets dripping down his face, sliding to his chin. It must be raining outside. It’s too bad you cannot hear it in your apartment; it would be nice to lull off to sleep to the rhythmic tapping. To accompany the sight there’s also a faint scent of alcohol. Great. Much to your surprise, he is wearing street clothes right now. That part of you still wonders though, if even now he’s wearing that orange and yellow suit underneath. There’s no way that’s comfortable.
After a few moments of silence, you realize you are just standing there looking him up and down. Is he not going to say anything? Your mouth parts somewhat, ready to say something snarky, your brow rising.
“Can I come in?”
Silence again. No, you cannot come in, I hate you and I hate your stupid face and your stupid ponytail, man-bun, whatever it is. You have done nothing but complicate my life and make me feel miserable.
“Fine.” Shit.
You shuffled marginally to the side, letting him come in. Once fully inside, he took in your apartment for a second, seemingly forgetting why he was here. In the dim light from a lamp you had on near your couch, you could see now that not only was his hair wet, but he seemed to be almost soaked. Scratch that, he definitely was soaked.
“Did you walk here?” Disbelief is clear in your tone. Headquarters was much too far, a twenty-minute drive on a good day. Maybe he had been drinking at a nearby bar- but still, that was quite the walk.
“What? No.” There was that familiar indignation. Most assuredly a lie though, there was no other reason why he would be quite literally trailing water into your entryway. Rex had a way of seeming disingenuous no matter what he said, which made it hard to see through his lies sometimes, but you were starting to be able to pick up on certain cues.
He walked up to a shelving unit in your living room. It had books on it, not that you ever had time to read. Old textbooks, well-meaning birthday presents, and a few you bought for yourself. To the front, there were some framed photos, somewhat accenting the shelf. Well, kind of. There were picture frames that still had the generic stock footage in them from the store. A sad reminder of the fact you could not have a normal life, and now Rex was staring at them.
“You like the family tree?” You finally manage to quip, sighing as you leave to go get some towels from the other room. “You’re making a mess everywhere.” The statement leaves your tongue dryly as you hand him a towel. Then you shift your focus to drying up the trail he left from where he was standing to the entry point.
Rex simply gave an absent-minded hum. He never shut up for this long usually. You’d found it nearly impossible to get a word in without him feeling the need to have the last word during your first. Even if you were not saying something that could be argued with, he always seemed to find a way. Like he took it as a challenge the moment you opened your mouth. But now, he was hesitating, just for a moment, standing holding the towel. Before he finally attempted to dry off the ends of his pants which were the major culprit of the indoor mess.
You could not deny your mind was racing, and he was apparently in no hurry to explain why he wanted to come in. After spending far too much time making a sad attempt at banging down your door, he was suddenly docile. Not looking at you and fiddling with the damp towel in his hands. If you didn’t know better, you might even think he was nervous. Had he even looked at you since entering?
“I like your apartment, the interior design in here is… nice.” He murmured finally.
What.
“Oh, thanks?” What? “It actually came mostly furnished; I didn’t want to furniture shop while also trying to settle in with the Guardians you know? Kinda…busy.” What is happening right now?
“Oh.” He seemed almost disappointed. “Well, it’s nice.”
Great talk!
“So-”
“Uh-”
“Oh sorry-”
“No, you go first.”
YOU’RE THE ONE WHO WAS JUST BEGGING ME TO LET YOU IN WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘No, you go first’ WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
“Not to interrupt your sightseeing in my apartment, but what exactly do you want Rex?” Silence. Again. Is he drunk? He’s not swaying, but you definitely caught the scent of it earlier. For the length you’d known him he had never been known to be the poster child for moderation. But he wasn’t slurring- then again, he has said approximately seven words since walking in so how can you really know?
“You have to come back to the Guardians of the Globe-”
“No.”
There’s the eye contact, first time since he walked it. But now it felt weird, charged. You found yourself wishing he would go back to staring at the embarrassing frames on the shelf.
“You’re a strong asset to the team-”
“Oh, do not give me that rehearsed bullshit. Is Cecil feeding that to you right now? Because that’s a new low for him.” That was not a new low for Cecil, he has definitely gone much lower. You knew this after learning more about the ReAnimen.
“Fuck, Joy what do you want me to say?” He held his hands out in exasperation, taking a step towards you.
“I am not going back; you’re wasting your time. I’m sure that you have better, more interesting ways to spend your evening than being here beating a dead horse. Also, I am getting tired of you calling me that, you know that.” You step back towards the door, grabbing the handle to escort him out.
“Half the Guardians just left on some bullshit expedition to Mars, only Rae, Kate, and I stayed behind.” He folded his arms, showing no intention of budging. “If anything happens-” He gritted his teeth, and man it must have almost physically hurt for him to admit that you were a quality member. It was not too long ago that he practically threw a fit when Cecil introduced you. “At least wait until the others get back to go on this pity party.”
Rude.
“Seriously?” You couldn’t believe the nerve he had to beg to be let in and then pull whatever this was. “If you need back-up so bad ask Mark.”
“He left with them.”
You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Honestly Rex, I don’t care. You’re a big boy, I think you can hero without me holding your hand for a little bit.”
“What’s your fuckin’ deal!” He glared but then closed his eyes, taking a breath. “I didn’t come here to fight-” A pause. “or force you.”
Cute, he’s doing self-affirmations now. Okay, time to go. Out.
“Alright this has been fun, bye Rex!” You start to open the door just to feel it slam shut again. Gaze snapping up to his hand pressed unwavering against the door. He moved fast.
“Fuck this isn’t-” He was a little too close for comfort. You back away, your hand trailing off the door handle. His eyes follow you closely.
“Rex, you’re drunk-” You start, your arms crossing over your chest.
“No-”
“It is really late-”
“No-”
“I am tired, it’s been a really long day-”
Your name, said loud, for the third time tonight, finally shuts you up for a second.
“You’re not listening.” There’s a tense silence now, his hand is still against the door even though you have stepped away. “I’m not drunk.” He almost whispered, shaking his head as if even he didn’t know where he was going with this.
Right… sure…
If there was one more long silence you were going to do something violent.
“Do you need me to call a car to drive you back?” You said quickly, turning around to go get your phone. He didn’t respond, but you could hear him impatiently tapping his foot behind you. After a second of holding down the power button your phone flashed to life, and as you expected, it struggled for a bit. Once fully on a litany of messages flashed across the screen and your notification sound went off an obnoxious number of times. You turned a fraction to see Rex now pinching the bridge of his nose. It was such a bizarre situation you almost wanted to laugh. But instead, you ordered a car. Five minutes out.
“You didn’t… really leave because of me, did you?” It takes you off guard, his voice is soft, there is no layered sarcasm or snark. No double meaning. It’s almost vulnerable feeling.
“What do you want me to say?” You mirrored his words from earlier back to him, raising your eyebrow. Was it one hundred percent his fault? No. Was it approximately ninety-two-point-eight percent his fault? Yeah, that sounded about right. But what productive would come from telling him that?
“Say it wasn’t my fault.” He rasped. He stepped towards you again. You stepped back again.
He almost looks hurt.
“The car is going to be here soon, let me show you out.”
“Goddamn it.” His jaw tensed and he looked away, but he didn’t say anything else, stepping aside so that you could open your front door.
The tense feeling didn’t stay behind you in your living room as you both exited. It followed you down the hall, tightening between the two of you with every step. The other apartment doors one by one make you feel like you were in a box of mirrors. Did it always take this long to get to the elevator? If you lived in an apartment building with less stairs you would have jumped at that. Quickly running down the stairs with only the footsteps resounding in your head. The idea of the two of you standing side by side in the elevator as 13 floors passed was not one you were fond of.
You shook your head to yourself remembering his outburst about not being drunk. You were getting very tired of the lies. Pressing the elevator button there was nothing left to do but wait in more silence.
Maybe… you should go back to the Headquarters with him.
If he was telling the truth about the Mars trip, then it might be better for you to be around. Even if Rex was lying through his teeth earlier about you being an “asset” in his eyes, you actually were. Even if he did not truly think so.
God, no what are you thinking? You haven’t even been gone twenty-four hours; not even been able to sleep on it. No way.
But, a small part of you wanted to make sure Rex got back safe. Even if he made horrible decisions and bruised your pride more often than not, you had been through a lot of fights together. And he doesn’t seem to be thinking clearly, especially if he’s showing up at your apartment, after everything.
With a ding, the elevator door opened, and you stepped in, Rex following behind. You pressed the button for the first floor, and it illuminates dimly back in response.
Begrudgingly, you had to admit he had even saved your skin more than once, not just in the field but to the team before as well. He was not one to step down when he thought someone was being unrighteously lectured. Even if he didn’t like the person being lectured very much. He must have some twisted sense of loyalty. God forbid you defend him though, or he would get upset you didn’t let him handle it himself. Now you were getting irritated all over again at several unpleasant memories.
If you were one hundred percent honest, you were probably going to go back to the Guardians after a week, maybe less. It would be embarrassing after the scene you made about leaving “for good” but you were meant for it. What good were you if not a hero?
A week. Maybe less. Rex gave you approximately fourteen hours.
You glanced over at him without turning your head. He was biting the inside of his cheek, staring straight forward. No readable expression. Why was he so quick to try hauling you back? He could hardly stand being in the same room as you for more than five minutes. You used to pride yourself on being mostly likable, you had very few enemies. You were even nice to Rex for quite some time, but it never seemed to make a damn difference. He was just an ass!
… An ass who thinks to come to your apartment when he’s drunk?
He turns his head slightly and you faced forward again with a snap.
The elevator dinged again snapping you out of whatever thought was about to breach your consciousness. Ground level.
Hurriedly, you leave the elevator, a certain discomfort you couldn’t place enveloping you. The glass doors are an entryway ahead of you. It’s pouring so hard outside you can’t even see the sidewalk. No wonder he was unintentionally giving your floor a spot clean. You could hear it now, the thrumming of the rain. It immediately made you feel more relaxed. As you slam through the doors you are able to see the car waiting outside, the rain showing even more clearly in the beams of the headlights.
You did not hold the door for Rex.
It was very cold outside; in hind sight you really should have grabbed a coat. It seems you had more pressing matters on your mind though. Sighing loudly to yourself, even though you cannot hear it under the constant beating of the rain, you march towards the car. The windshield wipers squeak louder with every step closer. Standing by the passenger window, you wait a few moments for the driver to roll it down. Speaking as loudly over the wind as you can, you tell them to take him back to the headquarters. And in a more hushed tone, you plea for them to make sure he gets in fine. If the driver was just some random guy this would have been highly irregular and definitely not in their job description. But it was one of Cecil’s guys, so they knew exactly where to go.
The passenger window closes, and you back up topen the back seat for Rex. Once again, his hand stops the door from fully opening and you prepare yourself for another short-lived argument. But it dies in your throat as you glance up to see that he’s just… looking at you.
There’s that feeling again, from when you left the elevator. Was it apprehension? Waiting for him to say something stupid? You shifted back slightly; he leaned forward slightly.
Odd.
“The driver will take you to the headquarters.” You say finally, your gaze jerking from his eyes to his shirt collar. You could see a sliver of orange and yellow and for a second you thought triumphantly that you knew it. He is wearing it still, typical. Focus.
“Come with me.” His brow is furrowed, he must be angry. Angry he wasn’t able to force you into submission, into coming back.
“No.” You said softly, managing a sympathetic smile. You needed at least twenty-four hours of not being around that ridiculous team.
He leaned forward a few inches more until you were both very close now. That feeling again. Manual breathing is now the only thing that you can think about with full attention. How do you remember to breathe when you are not actively thinking about it? How did you manage for so long until right now? Because this is taking a lot of effort to make sure you’re breathing normally, more than that, to make sure you coming across as if you’re breathing normally.
“Please.” He’s not looking you in the eye, his eyes have flickered down for a moment, a blink and you miss it moment.
But, you didn’t blink, and you didn’t miss it. His lips are slightly parted, and he edges forward what couldn’t have been more than a millimeter. Your gaze returns to his eyes. There is no way. He is drunk and you’re imagining this, go to bed.
“Goodnight Rex.” You finally manage to say, but your actions don’t reflect the same sentiment. You don’t back away immediately. He is entirely in your personal space, and you don’t make a move to get away. A small, insignificant voice in your mind screams, begs you not to move, not to go back to your apartment. You had to know why he was there. For Pete’s sake! It’d only been fourteen hours! Why were you now standing here feeling crazy wondering if he was actually leaning forward more. You needed him to explain.
And then… you stepped back.
If you hadn’t known better, the emotion that flickered across his face would have looked a lot like disappointment.
After a pause, Rex got into the car and closed the door. His eyes hardly leaving you until the car passed you completely.
You turned around to watch it drive off. A shiver running through your body. Damn rain.
He’s an asshole. He’s always been an asshole. It was the first thing you thought when he opened his damn mouth during your first encounter.