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Morgan’s early villain career had required a lot of time spent in dive bars. When you’re new to the scene, the bars are the best place to make connections with other lowlifes. Their first three heists after leaving their parents’ house had been funded by pool and poker games played while half drunk and pretending not to mind the cigarette smoke. Once they were more established, they’d hired the majority of their minions based on recommendations from their favorite bar tenders.
The point was, Morgan had learned to hold their liquor well. The kind of bars they hung out in were not safe places to get blackout drunk. However, drinking a lot made people underestimate you. So Morgan trained their tolerance and made use of their skills. They’d stolen a lot of shit using info other villains let slip under the assumption that Morgan was too drunk to remember. It was great! The only problem was when they were drinking with friends.
At home, Morgan was free to get absolutely plastered. Unfortunately, getting plastered with their tolerance was very expensive, and not drinking made everyone else feel awkward. Alex was already eternally sober, and Morgan didn’t want to be left out when their friends/nemeses with reasonable powers drank together. So they hammed it up a bit.
It wasn’t hard to act a little extra drunk. Mostly, they just didn’t take their ADHD meds and turned their brain-to-mouth filter off. Their train of thought regularly tried to take scenic and adventurous routes most people required outside substances to even glimpse. The result was a number of fun but somewhat incomprehensible conversations with Barnaby and Ohio on the finer points of death traps while Alex complained about the disappointing amount of actual death involved.
Things got a little complicated when Morgan woke up the morning after a night of drinking games with their nemeses. Halfway through their ibuprofen and water (high tolerance did not equal no hangovers), Morgan realized what they’d did the night before after they’d reached tipsy and their filter was off. They’d called Alex an 8! To their face!
They hadn’t recognized who Ohio was talking about in the moment. After all, Alex was not a 10. They were at least a 12! But Ohio was the kind of square to argue that measurements off the scale should be rounded to the closest measurable number. Of course he’d call Alex a 10.
It didn’t have to be a big deal if they ignored it, right? Alex didn’t seem to mind in the moment, and even Tipsy Morgan could clock their partner’s terrible poker face in an instant. They hadn’t hurt their feelings or anything.
Maybe Alex just didn’t care about Morgan’s opinion of their datability? They were pretty confident, and it wasn’t like they thought of Morgan as a love interest or anything. They were married for tax benefits, not for feelings. Why should Morgan’s opinion matter when Alex was obviously off the charts attractive and Morgan was barely a 5 even after their morning caffeine? It shouldn’t, and it didn’t.
So why were they still feeling uneasy? They’d established that Alex didn’t care if Morgan thought they were attractive, which should have made Morgan feel better since it meant they hadn’t hurt their partner’s feelings. The tightness in their stomach must be hunger.
They could make breakfast! Alex loved their cooking, and they deserved a thank you for tucking Morgan in and setting out the ibuprofen last night. They even had fresh fruit in the fridge from the farmers market last weekend!
Morgan distracted themselves with breakfast thoughts as they finished getting ready for the day. They picked out fresh clothes, discarding their usual habit of wearing the same articles of clothing until the layers of motor oil reduced their mobility or Alex complained. The little voice in their head claiming it had anything to do with a certain S tier could go to hell. Maybe they just wanted to look like a 5 before their morning caffeine for once.
The bloodstains on their hoodie reminded them of Alex. Alex, who had carried them to bed so gently and made them feel s— Alex, who had arrived coved in blood last night, which led to blood stains. What breakfast thought could they think in response to that? Blood sausage! Alex covered in blood reminded them of blood sausage. Morgan’s train of thought was totally completely on track for breakfast, and absolutely no weird word associations would get in their way.
Morgan had woken up way earlier than normal. Usually when they saw the sunrise, it was because they had worked through the night. This morning, the sun had woken them up. Alex must have forgotten to close the curtains when they carried Morgan to bed like a— like a friend. A very friendly friend who liked blueberry pancakes because they looked like they were bleeding.
Morgan made their way to the kitchen, sneaking past Alex’s room in hopes of not waking their partner. Partner in crime, that is. Right. Maybe they could make Alex some cherry syrup! That would really make the pancakes look wounded. It was both blueberry and cherry season now, and Morgan had gotten the fruit for a steal (heh, literally). It would be a shame to waste their hard work.
They didn’t have the ingredients or time for blood sausage, but regular breakfast sausage was well within their means. Morgan mixed the pancake batter and seasoned the ground pork while the cherries simmered on the stove. Then they formed the sausage patties while the butter and sugar cooked with the fruit. The syrup came together with a dash of almond extract and a dash of cinnamon, the pancake griddle and sausage skillet left to heat up in the background. By the time they turned around with the finished products, Alex was in the kitchen.
Alex’s lips were especially red in the morning. Usually that was because they were drinking the blood of their enemies, but today it was because of the spoonful of cheery syrup they were enjoying. The look on their face made Morgan’s poker face come crashing down. They refused to blush in their own kitchen. It was just Alex! Yes, their partner was too beautiful for words, and yes they made Morgan incredibly happy, and yes they wanted to kiss the syrup that was stuck to the corner of their lips, but— wait, what?
Morgan bantered with Alex practically on autopilot. They needed to examine their own thoughts for a moment. They wanted to kiss Alex? They did. That wasn’t a fluke? A surreptitious glance at Alex’s mouth confirmed it. People didn’t get butterflies when their partner in crime smiled unless they had a significant crush. People didn’t see a flash of fang from the strongest super villain to ever exist and think “Adorable!” unless they were either seriously deranged, or at least a little bit in love.
Breakfast went by in a haze. Morgan acted as normally as possible while trying to deal with the series of revelations following their understanding of their own romantic feelings for Alex, and Alex thoroughly enjoyed making their pancakes look like a crime scene. They were so cute! Morgan could not handle it. Their own thoughts were turning traitor every time Alex did literally anything.
Their eyes, which Morgan had once seen as a super cool symbol of eldritch and unknowable power, now reminded Morgan of how soft and warm Alex-as-a-cat had been that one time they shared a hotel bed together. Would sleeping with (assumedly) human Alex be just as warm? Would their hair be just as soft? Would Alex want to be the little spoon, or the big spoon? Knowing them, they’d claim to be a knife in public, but maybe they’d let Morgan be the big spoon in bed. With how safe they felt by Alex’s side, Morgan would sleep well either way, but they hoped they could make Alex feel protected as well.
Alex snapped the dishes clean after breakfast and left to check in with their minions at the Antarctic base, just like they usually did on Mondays. Morgan waved goodbye like usual before collapsing on the couch, which was where they once again shifted away from their normal routine. They stared into space and tried to stop their brain from wondering what it would be like to kiss Alex goodbye instead of waving. They were not successful.
Morgan spent way too long on the couch before texting their minions on the group chat and giving them the day off. Unlike Alex, a few of their minions were actually successful at reading Morgan’s poker face sometimes. Alex complained it was unfair, but Morgan thought it was probably because Alex had never needed to rely on their grasp of body language and micro expressions to survive. Plus, this way Morgan could keep Alex’s birthday gifts a surprise. Anyway, Morgan didn’t want to deal with one of their minions reading how smitten they were from the set of their jaw or the angle of their smile.
With their day newly freed, Morgan decided to go grocery shopping. Maybe they’d make that blood sausage after all. Alex would certainly enjoy it, and Morgan found themselves desperately wanting to make Alex smile again. That wasn’t a particularly new feeling, but the acknowledgment of it was new and terrifying and electric all at once.
Four hours later, Morgan had cooked up a feast for lunch. Their usual coping mechanism of choice was tinkering, but cooking was working pretty well! After some time to organize their thoughts, they were pretty sure the sight of the sunlight shining in Alex’s hair would not immediately send them headfirst into waxing poetic.
Morgan held it together when Alex arrived in the apartment for lunch. They held it together when Alex expressed delight at the blood sausage they’d made from scratch. They even held it together when Alex started telling them funny stories about their minions and made themselves laugh at their own stupid gory jokes. But Morgan was really bad at pining. They broke in the final stretch.
Alex was standing in the living room in the space in front of the window they’d labeled the transporter corner after an argument about jump scares back when their friendship was fresh and they were still learning how to fit together. The sight of then reminded Morgan of the little day dream they’d had four hours ago about kissing Alex goodbye. They really were not cut out for this pining shit.
“You know, I’m not very good at this,” Morgan admitted. Alex appeared confused, which was a rare but incredibly cute look on them.
“Good at what? You’re just standing there.”
“Pining. It’s just, it’s not working out for me.”
“You’re pining after someone?”
Alex was not usually oblivious, but Morgan could be more blunt if it got their point across. Healthy relationships required clear communication, and Alex was worth it.
“Yeah, I have been all day. I can’t stand it. So, do you want to go our with me, like, romantically?”
“What?!?”
They tried slowing it down. Maybe Alex was still processing? They added hand gestures to really clarify the question.
“Do you want to go out with me romantically?
Alex’s stunned face was just as cute as their confused face. It was even better when they answered, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
“Cool.”
Morgan smiled at their partner, now hopefully in crime AND romance. They took a chance and leaned forward to kiss Alex’s cheek. They took a step back and savored the view of the beautiful blush that appeared in their wake before waving goodbye.
“Have fun terrorizing your minions! I’ll have some date ideas for you to pick from when you get back.”
Alex lifted a hand up to the cheek Morgan had just kissed, still adorably stunned, before nodding slowly and snapping. When they disappeared, Morgan started pumping their fist in excitement. They had a date with their absolute favorite person! Them! A date! With Alex!
The thought stopped them in their tracks. Fuck, they needed the perfect date idea immediately. They rushed out of their apartment, ran down the hall, and started banging on Barnaby and Ohio’s door. Dog boy and Professor Square had been dating for years. Surely they’d have some ideas, right?