Holding Out For A Hero 04
Notes, warnings and disclaimers in the author's notes.
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"What the hell is a 'Grant Emerson'?" Perse asked.
"How did you hear about Grant already? Did he call?" I hoped!
"No one has called all day. But, since you've been within my range, I've been hearing the name Grant Emerson sung to tune of about a dozen songs. You've been broadcasting so strongly, I daresay that every mentalist in Manhattan is asking the same question." Perse leapt to the counter and settled down. "We need to work on building up your mental blocks, Tyler."
I stood in shock. My god, I didn't realize that I was so, so... love struck? Is that the right word? I really haven't even had a real conversation with this guy yet and I wandering about like a starving puppy, ready follow him to the end of...
"Hey, Romeo. Back to me." Perse snapped. "You're doing it again."
I turned my attention to her, but was at a loss for words.
"We'll work on the blocks later." She began to purr. "Now, tell me all about this man who going to try and steal you away from me."
Feeling her mental wink, I retrieved a bottle of water from the refrigerator, lifted her into my arms and walked into the living room.
"Well, remember when Troia took me back to the Titan's Tower? He was the first person I saw when I woke up. Then I met him while running in Central Park and just again this afternoon at lunch."
"So he doesn't know that you were Path?" she questioned. "If that is the case, he may not realize that you know him to be a Titan. Which one is he, anyway?"
That caught me by surprise. I really wasn't sure now that I think about it.
"I don't know," I confessed.
That nagged at my thoughts all evening.
We began working that night on my mental blocks. Truth be told, I really didn't do anything. I was lying on the bed, eyes closed. Perse sat above my head and did everything. I saw her in my mind, literally, building walls: a very small one at first, then another larger one. She continued as I let sleep overtake me, dreaming of a little cat dancing about a grassy field setting up stone after stone after stone.
When I woke the next morning I found that Perse had fallen asleep with her paws tangled in my hair. Her chin was resting on my forehead and she was snoring the sweetest little kitty snores. I slipped out from her tender grasp, trying not to disturb her. She must have been up all night. It's a rare thing when I wake before her. I stroked her chin and she stretched into the touch, purring. As I left the bed to begin my morning routine, she rolled over, legs hanging limp in the air, and settled back into a deep slumber.
Later, I called Grant's number and got his voice mail. I left a message that the reservations were set and to call if anything should change. He called later that afternoon and got my voice mail. He said he would have to meet me at the restaurant on Saturday. He also said that he was really looking forward to it.
*Oh, yeah!*
Donna wasn't at the studio for the rest of the week. She left a message that she was away with the Titans and she wanted every last detail of my weekend including any naughty bits. Well, that threw a kink into my day. I really wanted her advice on how to handle Grant and the potential of a secret identity. I don't know what I would have expected, though. I doubt she is in the habit of outing her colleagues.
I spent some time Friday online reviewing the last five years of news articles on the Titans. I also managed to locate some photographs as well, but I didn't recognize Grant in any of them. Maybe I was mistaken. Maybe Grant isn't a hero at all. Maybe he was just Donna's friend and happened to be at the tower. Maybe I'm obsessing just a little too much. Maybe I'm obsessing a lot. Maybe monkeys will fly out of my...
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Saturday night didn't come fast enough and entirely too fast at the same time. I spent the last day and a half being excited/terrified, calm/worried, and nervous/really freaking nervous alternately. Dating was not my strong suit. I can count on two hands the dates that I'd been on. I can count the men I'd slept with on one. Yeah, I know. I'm a gay enigma.
Perse helped me dress. Well, she more or less vetoed everything I picked out until I couldn't take it anymore.
"Ok, Miss Furry Pants. You pick out the clothes." I said, exasperated.
She looked into the closet and floated out a pair of brown slacks and a lightweight cream sweater.
"I'm thinking you should go for the Ralph Lauren look tonight. Something wholesome and attractive, yet still approachable."
"You have been watching way too much of the fashion network."
"You don't watch enough of it." She strolled out of the room, tail in the air. "And don't even think about wearing shoes with laces. Wear the loafers."
I dressed and surveyed the results in the mirror. My cat has good taste. I looked stylish, yet relaxed and comfortable. The colors really did wonders for my skin tone. Plus, my ass looked great in these pants. I pocketed my wallet and cell phone and went into the living room.
"How do I look?" I said as I spun for my hardest critic.
"Like a cafe au lait flavored dessert waiting to be gobbled up." She licked her lips.
"Uh, is that a good thing?"
"Trust me. I'm never wrong."
It was then I decided that Persephone *was* a distant relative of Donna's.
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I was waiting outside the restaurant, watching the theatre crowd mill about before the evening shows. I had arrived early enough to make sure our table was still held for us, which it was. We had a corner table in the back, far enough away from the kitchen and the windows to have some privacy, but not so much that we could rip off out clothes and lick each other all over without being noticed. Hmmm. I grinned to myself at the image it produced and felt my groin respond approvingly.
"Hi, Tyler." The voice came from behind me.
Oh, god! Down boy, I thought as I tried to will the uncontrollable swelling into submission.
I turned and looked up into his wonderful brown eyes. "Hi, Grant."
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"You look really nice tonight," Grant said as he sipped his sparkling water. It turned out he wasn't much of a drinker. That suited me fine since I wasn't either.
I looked up over the menu I was holding, barely suppressing a blush. "Thanks. You look very handsome yourself."
He did. Grant was wearing grey slacks and blue sweater. The sweater really accentuated the muscles in his shoulders, but fell loose at his waist and arms. The v-neck displayed the promise of a smooth, tan chest. His hair was haphazard. It was the kind of style that either took hours to achieve or you would fight with it for hours to avoid that look and fail. We both looked like we stepped out of ad for "Preppies 'R' Us".
After ordering, we discussed knowing Donna. It turned out they had known each other for years, when he used to live in the city. Since he moved back here from Chicago a few months ago, they had renewed their friendship. I told him how met Donna. Well, not everything, of course. I can just imagine that conversation right now: Well, yeah, I met Donna/Troia when I turned into a mute Indian tracker/teleporter and then we rescued an abducted actress from the sewers underneath Grand Central Station. I was shot, but I feel ever so much better now. I woke up and saw you. So, who do you think is going to the World Series?
After the appetizers arrived Grant asked, "How did you manage a reservation here?"
"The hostess owed me a favor. A couple of months ago I gave her backstage passes to a concert, so now I figured was as good a time as any to cash in my chips."
He looked down at his plate and pushed the food around with his fork.
"I hope you think it is worth it," he said.
"It is," I smiled. His eyes met mine and he smiled back.
The waiter brought our entrees and, frankly, spent a little too much time flirting and fussing with Grant. I suddenly got very possessive. When I caught the waiter's eye I mouthed, "Back off. He's with me."
*Whoa! Where did that come from?*
The waiter left in a bit of a huff. I was watching him walk away when I felt Grant's hand on mine.
"That's right. I am with you."
Warmth spread across me as he entwined our fingers together. I looked at the contrast of our hands: his sun kissed by the gods themselves, mine cappuccino by heritage. I shuddered at the firm, yet tender grip and closed my eyes. When I dared to open them and look at his face, his chin was resting on his other hand.
"You know you should probably keep your eyes open when you run in the park, right?" A sly grin formed.
"You, um, I mean, uh..." I stammered. "You remember that?"
"I do. In fact, I was hoping to have got your number then," he said. "You were so cute all flustered like that. Just like you are now."
"Yeah, well. It's a gift." I replied, and thought better of it. "Not the bad running, but the fluster." I felt my skin darken as the blush rose from my toes to my scalp.
*Damn his eyes.*
We sat holding hands for a long time. No words were spoken, but a million things were said. My thumb lazily traced a circle over his knuckle. I relished the smooth, dry heat of his hand. The deep brown of his eyes called to me and I listened, losing myself in the reflection of the candlelight that danced there. I want to stay like this forever. I want this feeling to overwhelm me every minute of every day for the rest of my life. I want to stay falling in...
"Is everything to your satisfaction?"
The waiter stood at our table and it was all I could do not to reach out and punch him in the gut. Can't he see were having a *moment* here?!?
"I think everything is just the way I like it," Grant replied. His eyes never left mine.
*Oh, he's good!*
"But, sir," our waiter responded. "Neither of you have touched your dinners."
"I know."
*Oh, but DAMN he's good!*
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We ate our dinner and talked about growing up. We also found many reasons for our hands to "accidentally" touch and linger. Grant is the warmest person I've ever met. And I mean warm to the touch. It's like he just seems to radiate this heat. While he was talking about his time in college, I was imagining how good it would feel to snuggle against him in the winter.
"...and after I got my Psych degree, I began working as a teen crisis counselor. So, you were telling me about your family?" he asked between bites.
"My mom was single. My father was so busy being a reporter I didn't see him very often. I don't regret it. He and I have a good relationship now. It was tough on mom sometimes. Her sister, Lois, was there for her a lot."
Grant perked up. "Lois Lane? As in the 'Daily Planet Lois Lane'? Wow! She's like media royalty. That must have been something great with her being there."
"Well, she's Lois Kent now; but, it was great."
"Your aunt and father are both reporters. Huh. What's your father's name?"
"Ron Troupe."
His eyes grew a little wider. "Ron Troupe? No kiddin'?"
This was a little weird, now. I mean, I never really thought of my father or aunt being much more that what they were.
"Promise," I replied, resting my elbows on the table and massaging my knuckles. It was a nervous habit I thought I had licked back in college. "Why is that so interesting?"
Grant paused for a moment before answering. "No reason. I just thought it was." He concentrated again on eating.
For a moment I watched him silently, then decided to let it drop. There are other things I'd rather think about anyway. Like watching the dimple in his cheek come and go as he chewed.
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We both decided against dessert, much to the waiter's chagrin. Before telling him no, I had him repeat the selections twice and asked him in detail about the truffle fillings. Grant barely suppressed a smile as I played with the poor guy. Well, earlier he *had* pretty much done everything but sit in Grant's lap to take his order.
As we were getting up, I realized that we hadn't planned anything for after dinner. Grant must have had the same thought. We both spoke at the same time.
"Would you..."/ "How about..."
"You first."
"No, you."
"Really, you go."
"Both you go so's I can bus dis table. People're waiting for it."
A girl with pierced eyebrow was trying to get around us to clear the dishes and glasses. We moved out her way. I took Grant's hand and squeezed it.
"Would you excuse me a moment while I run to the restroom?" I asked.
"Sure. I wait right over there." He pointed to door next to the greeting station and squeezed my hand back.
I worked my way across the room to the stairs leading down to the restrooms. After I finished my business, I was washing my hands and began my grooming checklist in the mirror. Everything was still in place I thought when the floor shook beneath me. I fell to the ground as plaster and dust dropped on me from the ceiling. There was a crash as the mirror dropped from the wall and shattered on the floor. The air was filled with the sounds of pandemonium raging upstairs. I picked myself up and raced to the door. I pulled it in and found the path blocked by rubble.
I willed back Vesper as I dialed, deciding that the ghost power would be of best use here. I phased out and flew up through the ceiling. The restaurant looked like a war zone. A car had crashed though the windows in the front of the room.
Take stock: There is no one under the car. It's not on fire. There's no one in it. No one in the place seems to be seriously hurt, just very scared and on the verge of panic. I don't see Grant.
I flew to the area where he was waiting, passing though people and the debris of the windows and overturned tables. He's not here at all.
"Grant!" I tried to yell above the din, trying not to let the panic consume me. "Grant, where are you?!?"
I had my answer when I looked out into the street. Car wrecks, people running and the sound of explosions. I flew out and rose above the sidewalk, getting out of the path of the mob trying to get away.
Grant was fighting someone about fifty feet above the street. Every time that he landed a punch there was an explosion and a burst of light. His opponent was wearing some sort of armor that was deflecting most of the damage that Grant did. Grant's sweater was torn away and hanging in rags around his waist. Underneath it was a blue and orange spandex top.
*Oh, god. Grant is Damage.*
Grant suddenly flew straight down to the street before arching back up. His speed increased and he collided with Armor Man, taking them both further up above the buildings.
I took off after them, staying intangible. What should I do? I'm seriously outclassed here. If Grant wasn't making a dent in him, my punches won't make a difference. Of course he would have to touch me first. Maybe...
I shot a concentrated beam of my darkfield that enveloped Armor Man's helmet. If he can't see, then he can't land a punch. No dice. Armor Man landed a lucky one on Grant, knocking him away. I watched helplessly as Grant zoomed past me. Armor Man was now clutching his helmet, trying to clear his vision.
*Ok, now is the time to do something really stupid.*
I launched myself at full speed up to Armor Man. I may not be able to hit him, but I can keep him blind until Grant gets back. I focused my darkfield and poured it onto his head, absorbing every bit of light.
He began lashing out randomly, trying to land a punch anywhere. His fist passed through me and sparks flew up from his armored fist. He yelped in pain as the sparks danced off the metal. There was a whining sound, like a hard drive powering down.
That's it! My phasing affects the armor!
I reached my hand right through his chest and out his back. I heard his scream from inside the helmet. Whoa, that must have hurt. Fireworks dance around his chest where I was holding my arm. There was another whine and his altitude faltered.
*Shit.*
His armored form slumped as he plummeted to the ground. I solidified and flew after him, reaching out. He was too far away already. I'm not going to make it.
Just moments before impact, Grant swooped in and caught him by the arm. He rose in the sky and floated there before me.
"Thanks a lot, uh. Who are you?"
*Ok. Do I tell Grant I'm the man he just had dinner with? The fact that I look like someone else entirely might not convince him of that.*
"Vesper."
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We flew back to the street where this whole adventure began. The NYSCU was there with a van. Grant turned over Armor Man and they shackled him with some very intimidating cuffs and a harness.
"Dammit, Damage! Every time I see you, my city gets banged up! What the hell happened here?" a burly officer yelled as he approached us.
Grant explained that Armor Man had flown down and started throwing around cars.
"He was yelling something about the 'Mission' and how he was the harbinger," Grant said. "I was in the area here when he arrived."
The cop turned to me. "How about you?"
"Same. Right place at the right time."
He continued to grill us for details. I noticed that Grant was distracted the whole time. He was scanning the crowd. He was looking for me, I realized.
"Are we done here?" Grant asked.
The cop looked at him. "Yeah, for now. I'll contact you later. Still with the Titans?"
"For the time being. You can reach me at the Tower."
"How 'bout you?" He shot a glance towards me.
"You can reach me there, too."
Grant turned a quizzical look my way, and then recovered before anyone else noticed.
He yelled to us as we hurried away. "We need to keep scorecards on you Titans. You guys are never the same team twice!"
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Grant beat me to the restaurant. There was no one in it, save for a couple of cops.
"Tyler!" He was on the sidewalk looking in at the destruction. "Tyler!"
"Damage?" I said as I caught up to him.
"Not now." He rose a bit into the air, looking about. "Tyler!"
"Damage?"
"Vesper, not now!"
No easy way to do this, I thought. As he hovered above me, I dialed myself back out of his view. I was Tyler again and still covered with the dust from the ceiling.
"Grant?"
"Vesper, what the hell is it!?" He looked down and his face changed instantly from annoyance to relief. He landed in front of me and pulled me into his arms.
"My god I was so worried about you!" He exclaimed as he wiped the dust from my hair and face. "Are you alright? Are you hurt? I'm so sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean..."
"Grant, I'm fine! Really, I'm fine."
He let me go and stepped back, a little embarrassed. "I think there's something I need to tell you."
I looked him up and down. He had lost the sweater somewhere along the way.
"I think I've figured it out." I said and smiled.
"Can we get away from here and go someplace to talk?" His face was so serious. I was suddenly very worried. I hate the "t" word.
He looked around the street. The cops were still milling about and photographers had joined them. Lights were flashing all around us. Beyond the yellow police tape, a mass of onlookers was kept at bay.
"We'll never get through that crowd." He observed. "Do you trust me?"
"Yeah."
He wrapped his arm around my waist. "Hold on."
I clung to his shoulders are he lifted us into the air. Once above the buildings, he oriented and we took off uptown. He gripped me securely and it felt wonderful. I felt his muscles of his shoulders and arms as we soared above the city. I was tingling all over. I'll never think of flying the same way again. He didn't look at me once, though. His expression was so grim. I became very cold despite the heat that was flowing off of him.
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We landed in a clearing of Central Park. It was a clear night and the sliver of the moon hung above us.
"Tyler..." he started.
I didn't let him finish.
"Grant, be quiet for a moment. I had a really good time tonight, despite what happened. It's dangerous to live in this city. I knew that when I moved here. I grew up in Metropolis. Every other month some super villain crawled out of the sewers to take out Superman. I'm used to it. And before you even say it, I'm not going to allow that you think we shouldn't see each other just because don't want to put me in any danger. The fact that you're Damage doesn't change the fact that I really like you! I like you a lot and this is the first time in years that I've felt this way. You are not going to take this away from me. I won't accept that."
I watched his expression fade into disbelief.
"I thought that you probably wouldn't want to see me anymore," he said after letting it sink in. His hands were in his pockets and he looked so very shy and vulnerable. I suddenly realized what this was about. He was afraid that I was going to reject him. "Are you sure about this? I'd like to see you again, too, but being a superhero's boyfriend is not an easy life."
My heart skipped a beat.
"Boyfriend? You want me to be your boyfriend?"
Those brown eyes caught mine again.
"If you're up to it, yeah. I want you to be my boyfriend," he whispered.
"I'd like that."
"Yeah?" A grin slowly crept into his face.
"Yeah. I'd like that a lot. But there's something else you need to know."
Worry began to flood his face as I willed the dial into my palm. He watched as I dialed up Vesper.
"Vesper?" He sounded confused. "I mean... Tyler?"
"Yes. It's me."
"How?"
"Long story," I said as I dialed myself back.
"Does Donna know?"
"She does. This is how we really met. She didn't meet me as Vesper though." I took a deep breath. "She met me as Path."
"Path? You mean that was you in the Tower's medical bay?"
"Yes."
Grant looked overwhelmed. He lowered and settled down on the damp grass.
"So, when we met in the park wasn't the first time we met?"
"No."
He looked up at me, concern etched across his brow. "Did you know who I was after seeing me at the Tower?"
I settled down across from him, my legs crossing Indian style. "I didn't. Honestly, I just figured you were a friend of Donna's. I swear. I didn't know until tonight."
We sat in silence for a while. I nervously pulled blades of grass out of the ground and placed them in a pile by my feet. Grant cleared his throat and I looked up.
"So how many people are you?" he asked.
"I think it's limitless; but, I'm still me. That doesn't change. Just my powers."
"Out of curiosity, are you all the new vigilantes that appeared in town some weeks back?"
"Guilty." I smiled, albeit a weak one.
He regarded me silently for a while. My grass mound was growing by the second.
"Cool."
Things were starting to look very up.
"Really?"
"Yeah. It is," he said as he stood and brushed off his backside.
I looked up at him as he offered his hand to me. I took it and he helped me to my feet. I stood before him still holding his hand. I wasn't letting go and he wasn't taking it back. We looked at each other, as if it were the very first time. Our hands shifted and our fingers folded together. He is so warm. I stepped closer to him. We were inches apart now. I lifted myself up on my toes to bring my lips to his. His lips were so very soft. I kissed him once, then again as I tilted my head slightly. He responded tentatively. It was unbearably sweet. He lowered his head to mine as I relaxed my feet, planting them back on the ground.
His free hand began to glide up my arm tracing a slow, lazy path to my shoulder. Gooseflesh rose as I shivered. How can someone so warm give me chills, I thought. Our lips met again, then parted. I felt just the tip of his tongue brush out, then back in, as he tasted me. We kissed softly, innocently over and over again.
I lowered my chin and stepped into his embrace. My arms slid around to his back as I rested my cheek upon his chest. His powerful arms wrapped around my shoulders. He shuddered with a sigh and laid tiny kisses against my forehead. Everywhere his lips touched left a heated mark. I imagined steam rising from each one.
We held each other silently under a barely moonlit, starless sky. I listened to his heart beating in his chest and was feeling hypnotized by the rhythm. His hand traced small circles around my shoulder blade. I inhaled deeply, taking in his scent - a mix of cologne and sweat from battle. It was intoxicating and made my head swim. I exhaled with a low moan and he placed another kiss on my brow.
We spend so much of our lives chasing these elusive moments in time. I had just caught up with one of them and wanted it to last forever.
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End of "Holding Out For A Hero". To be continued in "Where Have All The Good Men Gone?" coming soon.
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"What the hell is a 'Grant Emerson'?" Perse asked.
"How did you hear about Grant already? Did he call?" I hoped!
"No one has called all day. But, since you've been within my range, I've been hearing the name Grant Emerson sung to tune of about a dozen songs. You've been broadcasting so strongly, I daresay that every mentalist in Manhattan is asking the same question." Perse leapt to the counter and settled down. "We need to work on building up your mental blocks, Tyler."
I stood in shock. My god, I didn't realize that I was so, so... love struck? Is that the right word? I really haven't even had a real conversation with this guy yet and I wandering about like a starving puppy, ready follow him to the end of...
"Hey, Romeo. Back to me." Perse snapped. "You're doing it again."
I turned my attention to her, but was at a loss for words.
"We'll work on the blocks later." She began to purr. "Now, tell me all about this man who going to try and steal you away from me."
Feeling her mental wink, I retrieved a bottle of water from the refrigerator, lifted her into my arms and walked into the living room.
"Well, remember when Troia took me back to the Titan's Tower? He was the first person I saw when I woke up. Then I met him while running in Central Park and just again this afternoon at lunch."
"So he doesn't know that you were Path?" she questioned. "If that is the case, he may not realize that you know him to be a Titan. Which one is he, anyway?"
That caught me by surprise. I really wasn't sure now that I think about it.
"I don't know," I confessed.
That nagged at my thoughts all evening.
We began working that night on my mental blocks. Truth be told, I really didn't do anything. I was lying on the bed, eyes closed. Perse sat above my head and did everything. I saw her in my mind, literally, building walls: a very small one at first, then another larger one. She continued as I let sleep overtake me, dreaming of a little cat dancing about a grassy field setting up stone after stone after stone.
When I woke the next morning I found that Perse had fallen asleep with her paws tangled in my hair. Her chin was resting on my forehead and she was snoring the sweetest little kitty snores. I slipped out from her tender grasp, trying not to disturb her. She must have been up all night. It's a rare thing when I wake before her. I stroked her chin and she stretched into the touch, purring. As I left the bed to begin my morning routine, she rolled over, legs hanging limp in the air, and settled back into a deep slumber.
Later, I called Grant's number and got his voice mail. I left a message that the reservations were set and to call if anything should change. He called later that afternoon and got my voice mail. He said he would have to meet me at the restaurant on Saturday. He also said that he was really looking forward to it.
*Oh, yeah!*
Donna wasn't at the studio for the rest of the week. She left a message that she was away with the Titans and she wanted every last detail of my weekend including any naughty bits. Well, that threw a kink into my day. I really wanted her advice on how to handle Grant and the potential of a secret identity. I don't know what I would have expected, though. I doubt she is in the habit of outing her colleagues.
I spent some time Friday online reviewing the last five years of news articles on the Titans. I also managed to locate some photographs as well, but I didn't recognize Grant in any of them. Maybe I was mistaken. Maybe Grant isn't a hero at all. Maybe he was just Donna's friend and happened to be at the tower. Maybe I'm obsessing just a little too much. Maybe I'm obsessing a lot. Maybe monkeys will fly out of my...
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Saturday night didn't come fast enough and entirely too fast at the same time. I spent the last day and a half being excited/terrified, calm/worried, and nervous/really freaking nervous alternately. Dating was not my strong suit. I can count on two hands the dates that I'd been on. I can count the men I'd slept with on one. Yeah, I know. I'm a gay enigma.
Perse helped me dress. Well, she more or less vetoed everything I picked out until I couldn't take it anymore.
"Ok, Miss Furry Pants. You pick out the clothes." I said, exasperated.
She looked into the closet and floated out a pair of brown slacks and a lightweight cream sweater.
"I'm thinking you should go for the Ralph Lauren look tonight. Something wholesome and attractive, yet still approachable."
"You have been watching way too much of the fashion network."
"You don't watch enough of it." She strolled out of the room, tail in the air. "And don't even think about wearing shoes with laces. Wear the loafers."
I dressed and surveyed the results in the mirror. My cat has good taste. I looked stylish, yet relaxed and comfortable. The colors really did wonders for my skin tone. Plus, my ass looked great in these pants. I pocketed my wallet and cell phone and went into the living room.
"How do I look?" I said as I spun for my hardest critic.
"Like a cafe au lait flavored dessert waiting to be gobbled up." She licked her lips.
"Uh, is that a good thing?"
"Trust me. I'm never wrong."
It was then I decided that Persephone *was* a distant relative of Donna's.
=========================
I was waiting outside the restaurant, watching the theatre crowd mill about before the evening shows. I had arrived early enough to make sure our table was still held for us, which it was. We had a corner table in the back, far enough away from the kitchen and the windows to have some privacy, but not so much that we could rip off out clothes and lick each other all over without being noticed. Hmmm. I grinned to myself at the image it produced and felt my groin respond approvingly.
"Hi, Tyler." The voice came from behind me.
Oh, god! Down boy, I thought as I tried to will the uncontrollable swelling into submission.
I turned and looked up into his wonderful brown eyes. "Hi, Grant."
=========================
"You look really nice tonight," Grant said as he sipped his sparkling water. It turned out he wasn't much of a drinker. That suited me fine since I wasn't either.
I looked up over the menu I was holding, barely suppressing a blush. "Thanks. You look very handsome yourself."
He did. Grant was wearing grey slacks and blue sweater. The sweater really accentuated the muscles in his shoulders, but fell loose at his waist and arms. The v-neck displayed the promise of a smooth, tan chest. His hair was haphazard. It was the kind of style that either took hours to achieve or you would fight with it for hours to avoid that look and fail. We both looked like we stepped out of ad for "Preppies 'R' Us".
After ordering, we discussed knowing Donna. It turned out they had known each other for years, when he used to live in the city. Since he moved back here from Chicago a few months ago, they had renewed their friendship. I told him how met Donna. Well, not everything, of course. I can just imagine that conversation right now: Well, yeah, I met Donna/Troia when I turned into a mute Indian tracker/teleporter and then we rescued an abducted actress from the sewers underneath Grand Central Station. I was shot, but I feel ever so much better now. I woke up and saw you. So, who do you think is going to the World Series?
After the appetizers arrived Grant asked, "How did you manage a reservation here?"
"The hostess owed me a favor. A couple of months ago I gave her backstage passes to a concert, so now I figured was as good a time as any to cash in my chips."
He looked down at his plate and pushed the food around with his fork.
"I hope you think it is worth it," he said.
"It is," I smiled. His eyes met mine and he smiled back.
The waiter brought our entrees and, frankly, spent a little too much time flirting and fussing with Grant. I suddenly got very possessive. When I caught the waiter's eye I mouthed, "Back off. He's with me."
*Whoa! Where did that come from?*
The waiter left in a bit of a huff. I was watching him walk away when I felt Grant's hand on mine.
"That's right. I am with you."
Warmth spread across me as he entwined our fingers together. I looked at the contrast of our hands: his sun kissed by the gods themselves, mine cappuccino by heritage. I shuddered at the firm, yet tender grip and closed my eyes. When I dared to open them and look at his face, his chin was resting on his other hand.
"You know you should probably keep your eyes open when you run in the park, right?" A sly grin formed.
"You, um, I mean, uh..." I stammered. "You remember that?"
"I do. In fact, I was hoping to have got your number then," he said. "You were so cute all flustered like that. Just like you are now."
"Yeah, well. It's a gift." I replied, and thought better of it. "Not the bad running, but the fluster." I felt my skin darken as the blush rose from my toes to my scalp.
*Damn his eyes.*
We sat holding hands for a long time. No words were spoken, but a million things were said. My thumb lazily traced a circle over his knuckle. I relished the smooth, dry heat of his hand. The deep brown of his eyes called to me and I listened, losing myself in the reflection of the candlelight that danced there. I want to stay like this forever. I want this feeling to overwhelm me every minute of every day for the rest of my life. I want to stay falling in...
"Is everything to your satisfaction?"
The waiter stood at our table and it was all I could do not to reach out and punch him in the gut. Can't he see were having a *moment* here?!?
"I think everything is just the way I like it," Grant replied. His eyes never left mine.
*Oh, he's good!*
"But, sir," our waiter responded. "Neither of you have touched your dinners."
"I know."
*Oh, but DAMN he's good!*
=========================
We ate our dinner and talked about growing up. We also found many reasons for our hands to "accidentally" touch and linger. Grant is the warmest person I've ever met. And I mean warm to the touch. It's like he just seems to radiate this heat. While he was talking about his time in college, I was imagining how good it would feel to snuggle against him in the winter.
"...and after I got my Psych degree, I began working as a teen crisis counselor. So, you were telling me about your family?" he asked between bites.
"My mom was single. My father was so busy being a reporter I didn't see him very often. I don't regret it. He and I have a good relationship now. It was tough on mom sometimes. Her sister, Lois, was there for her a lot."
Grant perked up. "Lois Lane? As in the 'Daily Planet Lois Lane'? Wow! She's like media royalty. That must have been something great with her being there."
"Well, she's Lois Kent now; but, it was great."
"Your aunt and father are both reporters. Huh. What's your father's name?"
"Ron Troupe."
His eyes grew a little wider. "Ron Troupe? No kiddin'?"
This was a little weird, now. I mean, I never really thought of my father or aunt being much more that what they were.
"Promise," I replied, resting my elbows on the table and massaging my knuckles. It was a nervous habit I thought I had licked back in college. "Why is that so interesting?"
Grant paused for a moment before answering. "No reason. I just thought it was." He concentrated again on eating.
For a moment I watched him silently, then decided to let it drop. There are other things I'd rather think about anyway. Like watching the dimple in his cheek come and go as he chewed.
=========================
We both decided against dessert, much to the waiter's chagrin. Before telling him no, I had him repeat the selections twice and asked him in detail about the truffle fillings. Grant barely suppressed a smile as I played with the poor guy. Well, earlier he *had* pretty much done everything but sit in Grant's lap to take his order.
As we were getting up, I realized that we hadn't planned anything for after dinner. Grant must have had the same thought. We both spoke at the same time.
"Would you..."/ "How about..."
"You first."
"No, you."
"Really, you go."
"Both you go so's I can bus dis table. People're waiting for it."
A girl with pierced eyebrow was trying to get around us to clear the dishes and glasses. We moved out her way. I took Grant's hand and squeezed it.
"Would you excuse me a moment while I run to the restroom?" I asked.
"Sure. I wait right over there." He pointed to door next to the greeting station and squeezed my hand back.
I worked my way across the room to the stairs leading down to the restrooms. After I finished my business, I was washing my hands and began my grooming checklist in the mirror. Everything was still in place I thought when the floor shook beneath me. I fell to the ground as plaster and dust dropped on me from the ceiling. There was a crash as the mirror dropped from the wall and shattered on the floor. The air was filled with the sounds of pandemonium raging upstairs. I picked myself up and raced to the door. I pulled it in and found the path blocked by rubble.
I willed back Vesper as I dialed, deciding that the ghost power would be of best use here. I phased out and flew up through the ceiling. The restaurant looked like a war zone. A car had crashed though the windows in the front of the room.
Take stock: There is no one under the car. It's not on fire. There's no one in it. No one in the place seems to be seriously hurt, just very scared and on the verge of panic. I don't see Grant.
I flew to the area where he was waiting, passing though people and the debris of the windows and overturned tables. He's not here at all.
"Grant!" I tried to yell above the din, trying not to let the panic consume me. "Grant, where are you?!?"
I had my answer when I looked out into the street. Car wrecks, people running and the sound of explosions. I flew out and rose above the sidewalk, getting out of the path of the mob trying to get away.
Grant was fighting someone about fifty feet above the street. Every time that he landed a punch there was an explosion and a burst of light. His opponent was wearing some sort of armor that was deflecting most of the damage that Grant did. Grant's sweater was torn away and hanging in rags around his waist. Underneath it was a blue and orange spandex top.
*Oh, god. Grant is Damage.*
Grant suddenly flew straight down to the street before arching back up. His speed increased and he collided with Armor Man, taking them both further up above the buildings.
I took off after them, staying intangible. What should I do? I'm seriously outclassed here. If Grant wasn't making a dent in him, my punches won't make a difference. Of course he would have to touch me first. Maybe...
I shot a concentrated beam of my darkfield that enveloped Armor Man's helmet. If he can't see, then he can't land a punch. No dice. Armor Man landed a lucky one on Grant, knocking him away. I watched helplessly as Grant zoomed past me. Armor Man was now clutching his helmet, trying to clear his vision.
*Ok, now is the time to do something really stupid.*
I launched myself at full speed up to Armor Man. I may not be able to hit him, but I can keep him blind until Grant gets back. I focused my darkfield and poured it onto his head, absorbing every bit of light.
He began lashing out randomly, trying to land a punch anywhere. His fist passed through me and sparks flew up from his armored fist. He yelped in pain as the sparks danced off the metal. There was a whining sound, like a hard drive powering down.
That's it! My phasing affects the armor!
I reached my hand right through his chest and out his back. I heard his scream from inside the helmet. Whoa, that must have hurt. Fireworks dance around his chest where I was holding my arm. There was another whine and his altitude faltered.
*Shit.*
His armored form slumped as he plummeted to the ground. I solidified and flew after him, reaching out. He was too far away already. I'm not going to make it.
Just moments before impact, Grant swooped in and caught him by the arm. He rose in the sky and floated there before me.
"Thanks a lot, uh. Who are you?"
*Ok. Do I tell Grant I'm the man he just had dinner with? The fact that I look like someone else entirely might not convince him of that.*
"Vesper."
=========================
We flew back to the street where this whole adventure began. The NYSCU was there with a van. Grant turned over Armor Man and they shackled him with some very intimidating cuffs and a harness.
"Dammit, Damage! Every time I see you, my city gets banged up! What the hell happened here?" a burly officer yelled as he approached us.
Grant explained that Armor Man had flown down and started throwing around cars.
"He was yelling something about the 'Mission' and how he was the harbinger," Grant said. "I was in the area here when he arrived."
The cop turned to me. "How about you?"
"Same. Right place at the right time."
He continued to grill us for details. I noticed that Grant was distracted the whole time. He was scanning the crowd. He was looking for me, I realized.
"Are we done here?" Grant asked.
The cop looked at him. "Yeah, for now. I'll contact you later. Still with the Titans?"
"For the time being. You can reach me at the Tower."
"How 'bout you?" He shot a glance towards me.
"You can reach me there, too."
Grant turned a quizzical look my way, and then recovered before anyone else noticed.
He yelled to us as we hurried away. "We need to keep scorecards on you Titans. You guys are never the same team twice!"
=========================
Grant beat me to the restaurant. There was no one in it, save for a couple of cops.
"Tyler!" He was on the sidewalk looking in at the destruction. "Tyler!"
"Damage?" I said as I caught up to him.
"Not now." He rose a bit into the air, looking about. "Tyler!"
"Damage?"
"Vesper, not now!"
No easy way to do this, I thought. As he hovered above me, I dialed myself back out of his view. I was Tyler again and still covered with the dust from the ceiling.
"Grant?"
"Vesper, what the hell is it!?" He looked down and his face changed instantly from annoyance to relief. He landed in front of me and pulled me into his arms.
"My god I was so worried about you!" He exclaimed as he wiped the dust from my hair and face. "Are you alright? Are you hurt? I'm so sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean..."
"Grant, I'm fine! Really, I'm fine."
He let me go and stepped back, a little embarrassed. "I think there's something I need to tell you."
I looked him up and down. He had lost the sweater somewhere along the way.
"I think I've figured it out." I said and smiled.
"Can we get away from here and go someplace to talk?" His face was so serious. I was suddenly very worried. I hate the "t" word.
He looked around the street. The cops were still milling about and photographers had joined them. Lights were flashing all around us. Beyond the yellow police tape, a mass of onlookers was kept at bay.
"We'll never get through that crowd." He observed. "Do you trust me?"
"Yeah."
He wrapped his arm around my waist. "Hold on."
I clung to his shoulders are he lifted us into the air. Once above the buildings, he oriented and we took off uptown. He gripped me securely and it felt wonderful. I felt his muscles of his shoulders and arms as we soared above the city. I was tingling all over. I'll never think of flying the same way again. He didn't look at me once, though. His expression was so grim. I became very cold despite the heat that was flowing off of him.
=========================
We landed in a clearing of Central Park. It was a clear night and the sliver of the moon hung above us.
"Tyler..." he started.
I didn't let him finish.
"Grant, be quiet for a moment. I had a really good time tonight, despite what happened. It's dangerous to live in this city. I knew that when I moved here. I grew up in Metropolis. Every other month some super villain crawled out of the sewers to take out Superman. I'm used to it. And before you even say it, I'm not going to allow that you think we shouldn't see each other just because don't want to put me in any danger. The fact that you're Damage doesn't change the fact that I really like you! I like you a lot and this is the first time in years that I've felt this way. You are not going to take this away from me. I won't accept that."
I watched his expression fade into disbelief.
"I thought that you probably wouldn't want to see me anymore," he said after letting it sink in. His hands were in his pockets and he looked so very shy and vulnerable. I suddenly realized what this was about. He was afraid that I was going to reject him. "Are you sure about this? I'd like to see you again, too, but being a superhero's boyfriend is not an easy life."
My heart skipped a beat.
"Boyfriend? You want me to be your boyfriend?"
Those brown eyes caught mine again.
"If you're up to it, yeah. I want you to be my boyfriend," he whispered.
"I'd like that."
"Yeah?" A grin slowly crept into his face.
"Yeah. I'd like that a lot. But there's something else you need to know."
Worry began to flood his face as I willed the dial into my palm. He watched as I dialed up Vesper.
"Vesper?" He sounded confused. "I mean... Tyler?"
"Yes. It's me."
"How?"
"Long story," I said as I dialed myself back.
"Does Donna know?"
"She does. This is how we really met. She didn't meet me as Vesper though." I took a deep breath. "She met me as Path."
"Path? You mean that was you in the Tower's medical bay?"
"Yes."
Grant looked overwhelmed. He lowered and settled down on the damp grass.
"So, when we met in the park wasn't the first time we met?"
"No."
He looked up at me, concern etched across his brow. "Did you know who I was after seeing me at the Tower?"
I settled down across from him, my legs crossing Indian style. "I didn't. Honestly, I just figured you were a friend of Donna's. I swear. I didn't know until tonight."
We sat in silence for a while. I nervously pulled blades of grass out of the ground and placed them in a pile by my feet. Grant cleared his throat and I looked up.
"So how many people are you?" he asked.
"I think it's limitless; but, I'm still me. That doesn't change. Just my powers."
"Out of curiosity, are you all the new vigilantes that appeared in town some weeks back?"
"Guilty." I smiled, albeit a weak one.
He regarded me silently for a while. My grass mound was growing by the second.
"Cool."
Things were starting to look very up.
"Really?"
"Yeah. It is," he said as he stood and brushed off his backside.
I looked up at him as he offered his hand to me. I took it and he helped me to my feet. I stood before him still holding his hand. I wasn't letting go and he wasn't taking it back. We looked at each other, as if it were the very first time. Our hands shifted and our fingers folded together. He is so warm. I stepped closer to him. We were inches apart now. I lifted myself up on my toes to bring my lips to his. His lips were so very soft. I kissed him once, then again as I tilted my head slightly. He responded tentatively. It was unbearably sweet. He lowered his head to mine as I relaxed my feet, planting them back on the ground.
His free hand began to glide up my arm tracing a slow, lazy path to my shoulder. Gooseflesh rose as I shivered. How can someone so warm give me chills, I thought. Our lips met again, then parted. I felt just the tip of his tongue brush out, then back in, as he tasted me. We kissed softly, innocently over and over again.
I lowered my chin and stepped into his embrace. My arms slid around to his back as I rested my cheek upon his chest. His powerful arms wrapped around my shoulders. He shuddered with a sigh and laid tiny kisses against my forehead. Everywhere his lips touched left a heated mark. I imagined steam rising from each one.
We held each other silently under a barely moonlit, starless sky. I listened to his heart beating in his chest and was feeling hypnotized by the rhythm. His hand traced small circles around my shoulder blade. I inhaled deeply, taking in his scent - a mix of cologne and sweat from battle. It was intoxicating and made my head swim. I exhaled with a low moan and he placed another kiss on my brow.
We spend so much of our lives chasing these elusive moments in time. I had just caught up with one of them and wanted it to last forever.
==================================================
End of "Holding Out For A Hero". To be continued in "Where Have All The Good Men Gone?" coming soon.
