Looking Back
Nostalgia is a seductive liar. -George Ball
"Oh, suck."
He glanced up affectionately at his irritable girlfriend, knowing that she never swore unless in extreme distress, and preferred to spit random phrases to express her displeasure. She was struggling with the zipper on her dress, trying not to break the zipper and also inhale at the same time. Buddy crossed the room and steadied her wordlessly with a hand on her hip, and then zipped her into the slinky black dress. She curled a lip at her reflection in the mirror, and Buddy kept his hand on her hip, creeping around her waist to pull her closer to him. "I hate this dress," She grumbled, smoothing the silky fabric self-consciously.
"You look very…" He paused, looking for a word. "Sexy."
"Oh please," She huffed. "I'm a lot of things, Buddy, but sexy isn't one of them." Violet pushed herself free of his grip and went to their shared closet to get her shoes – unlike most women, she had three pairs and kept two of them scattered around the house. The third pair were stylish black stilettos, and only used on special occasions: like New Year's Eve.
"Can I contest that?" Buddy asked, sitting on the bed and smirking at her. She tossed a sheaf of black hair out of her eyes and fastened the heels around her ankles, then stood, gaining several inches in height as she did so. Despite this, she was still barely at eye level for Buddy.
"No, you can't," She said, checking her makeup in the mirror briefly. "C'mon, we're going to be late."
"It's a New Year's Eve part, dear, we're only late if we're past midnight." He said, adding a snide twist to the dear.
"Shut up," Violet huffed under her breath. "Can we just leave without arguing? You always drag your feet before I bring you anywhere, so stop acting like a whiny toddler."
"I drag my feet?" Buddy snapped, "More like the other way around. You're never eager to go someplace unless you're all dolled up, and then I barely see you. You're always flirting with some old guy." He didn't sound affronted, for he was too busy sneering.
Violet turned around, a crease appearing between her delicate black brows. "Are you talking about the endorsement parties? Because I hate those, and so do you. I have to sit around in a mask for hours, in heels, while you drink cocktails and let busty women feel you up. And for your information, I don't flirt, I try to get money from them for sick and starving children. It's part of the job of a superhero." She threw her fluffy white shawl over her shoulders to protect against the gently falling snow, and then fiddled with her wayward earring.
"You always try to turn me into the bad guy," Buddy protested.
"You are the bad guy!" Violet sighed, irritated. "Now can we please just go without me having to hold your hand and strap you into your booster seat?"
He folded his arms across his tuxedo and glared at his girlfriend. "Have you noticed you're always the one who picks fights?" Buddy growled. "You always nitpick, you can never let anything alone! Yes, I'm a supervillain – that's what I do. If you'll notice, I currently have more contracts than you do. Maybe I'm not on a cereal box, but when someone needs money they come to me."
"There's a difference, you idiot!" Violet cried, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, or possibly scream. "I try to get money to help poor people and rebuild hospitals, while you're called to speaking engagements because you look good as a centerfold model and you don't mind flirting with the reporters! You're a shameless attention hog, and you never think about anyone but yourself!"
"That's a spectacular imitation of your mother," Buddy said coldly.
"Oh yeah, try to change the subject," Violet said, lashing out angrily. "Let's go to me and my flaws, I'm sure there's plenty of ammo there."
"Don't degrade yourself," Buddy said lowly. "I won't have it."
Her temper flared. "You won't have it? What do you think you do, own me? I hate to break it to you, you royal asshole, but I'm not some piece of arm candy that you can bring around to photo shoots! You can't tell me what to do, or make me do something I don't like! You're a controlling, manipulative ass who never thinks of anyone but himself and pouts like a toddler when he doesn't get his way!" Violet shouted at him, and turned away from him.
She had never been used to walking in heels – her ankle twisted violently, and she yelped in pain as she fell forward and grabbed the dresser for support. There was a bolt of ice-clear pain up her leg, and something shattered on the ground.
He was at her side in an instant, holding her upright, and despite her weak slap to his arm he stayed close to her. "Hey, relax," He murmured in her ear, keeping her steady. "You okay?"
Violet buried her face in his chest and tried not to cry, because she had worked so hard to make her makeup look like the girl's Buddy had hanging all over him at parties. "No," She said, and sniffled a little, feeling disgusted with herself. "No, I'm not."
He sat her on the bed and went over to the dresser, bending down to pick up the picture frame which had broken. Buddy paused as he glanced at it for a moment, and then gave a bitter half-smile to Violet. "Check it out."
It was a picture they had taken in a photo booth on their second date; when Violet had still been shy, anxious to the point of insanity, and awkward beyond belief. Buddy had been cocky and downright rude at times, but for some reason they had really connected in the photo booth. It was one of the seven photos they had gotten, but this one had been the best – a picture of Violet making the 'peace' symbol, and Buddy lounging back and giving an evil smirk to the camera. They had argued later that day as well – in fact, there had only been a few times when their dates weren't ended with arguments, or begun with apologies.
"Look at us," Violet said wistfully, rubbing her ankle as she looked at the photograph through the cracked glass. "We were such idiots."
"Or maybe we had a good idea," Buddy answered, sitting down next to her. "And it just didn't work out."
She looked up at him sadly. "How did we ever think this could work?" Violet said softly. "You're the best-known supervillain of all time, and I'm the highest paid superhero in the business. When did we start abandoning common sense?"
He stroked her fingers, pressing the glass with his hand. "Right around the time I started falling in love with you."
Violet laughed. "Oh? And when was that?"
Buddy kissed her temple and tapped on the cracked frame. "That time when I first saw you in uniform, in the rain, do you remember that?"
"Come on!" Violet protested. "I was covered in mud and blood and God knows what else."
"You were sexy as hell," Buddy breathed in her ear, nuzzling her dark hair. "Shield around you, dripping wet, hair in your eyes, and you just glared at me…damn." She felt his grin against her cheek.
"I tried to kill you," Violet reminded him.
"You've been trying to kill me almost every day since we started dating," Buddy replied at once. "It's part of the job."
"Only when we're in uniform," Violet replied, leaning against him. "We just argue all the time when we're regular people."
They were quiet for a moment, investigating the implications of that. Regular people – that was a laugh. Neither of them were, or ever would be, normal and regular.
"What about you?" Buddy asked after a long moment of silence.
"When did I fall in love with you?" Violet asked, and then smiled to herself. "I don't know…It was more like over time. Not all at once. More like, it got harder and harder to genuinely want to see you dead."
He kissed her cheek. "Spoken like a true superhero."
"Spoken like a girl who's in way over her head," Violet said reproachfully, but without any real scolding. She let her head rest against his chest and then toed off her heels, one after the other. Her ankle still hurt, but it felt better to cuddle up next to her boyfriend and try to let the recent spat dissolve.
"Both of us are in over our head," Buddy told her softly. "Neither of us have ever been in love before."
"Really?" Violet wanted to know, twisting to look up at him. "Not even with Mirage?"
Buddy thought for a moment. "Not fully," He answered factually. "More appreciative. She was my first fan, if you will, and I never liked that power she had over me. When you have only one person behind you…they have a lot of hold on you."
"Oh? Compared to the mobs of fans you have now?" Violet said dryly.
"Come on, sweetheart, I thought we weren't going to fight again," Buddy reminded her.
"When did I call for a cease fire?" Violet said playfully, tucking her feet under her.
Buddy's pale blue eyes half closed and Violet knew he was going to kiss her a split second before he did. She forgot about the fight, forgot about their duties and their jobs, and just remembered him. After two years of on-and-off dating, of fight and squabbles and downright murder attempts, the two of them still had that completely unstoppable force; that toe-curling, head-swimming kiss which neither of them could explain. It brought back memories of their first night together – of Buddy, patient and serious for once, and Violet, shy and near-tears. But it had forged that unbreakable bond between them, the spawning of an idea: the idea that they were best when they were together. It had been almost physically painful for the two of them to engage in battle again the next day, and Violet vowed she would never do it again. But she came back the next day, hungry for more of him, and nearly tackled him in the doorway.
No matter how awful they were together, they were worse when they were apart.
He broke the kiss and Violet savored his breath on her face. "We can skip the party," He suggested.
Violet was already loosening his tie. "It's a New Year's Eve party," She told him coyly. "We're only late if it's past midnight."