A/N: This was slightly inspired by Twelve Long Months by Brian Malloy, but I honestly did have to make someone ponder about a superhero.
Stupid muggle-esque prompts.
"Sometimes I wish I could be Superman."
I'm seeing Daphne now more than ever, but it hasn't been making me any happier. More often our nights have been filled with me preparing her for meeting my mother, rather than actually getting horizontal. Now it seems we're just talking about anything.
"I have no idea what that means."
She laughs. "He's this bloke in muggle comic books. Has powers, saves the world, can't be touched my kryptonite."
"Ah." I say, trying and failing to understand. ". . . Why's that?"
She takes another spoonful of—yes—bread and warm milk before answering. "Well . . . he's a real man. He actually lives two lives. In one, he's just Clark Kent, the twat who can't get the woman he loves because she's married to someone else. But in the other, he's a hero, a man that woman still wants to be with, and he can do anything he bloody wants to without any fear of the consequences. He could be shagging you in the middle of the mall, and it wouldn't even matter."
Daphne thinks it over some more. "I think it'd be nice not to have to worry about what other people think."
"On the other hand," I point out. "You'd also be a man. And I have to tell you, it's not as easy as you might think. We have these things between our legs that get in the way of walking and whatnot. Two of them hurt like you wouldn't believe if treated the wrong way, and if you want to take a piss you have to actually hold and aim the third. It's a bit of a nuisance."
She looks afraid for a moment, then bursts out laughing, bringing a fist against her bowl and spilling milk everywhere. Quicker than you could say "holy hell," one of the elves makes her way to the table and mops it up.
Daphne, still smiling, pushes her bowl away. "What's happened to you, Blaise? Something's changed."
My good mood dissipates instantly. I look behind her, where the elf is carrying the mop away and another is watching our conversation with mild interest. Seeing my gaze, he looks away apologetically, bows, and minds his own business.
"Never mind. Yeah, Daphne, you're right. It would be nice if people could do want they wanted. So what the bloody hell is kryptonite?"
She's smiling, but she's not. "It's, um . . . this element from his home planet, Krypton."
"Wait a minute. Superman is an alien? You want to be an alien?"
"You're not getting it. He's an alien with superpowers."
"You're a witch!"
"Oh, shut up."
"Never."