Liminal Spaces

So Mark's 'it's gross and weird' is very surface level - and heavily based in 'it would look gross and weird to other people (like Mom)'. He really skipped out on most of the guilt complex these guys usually get? Because of the utter lack of boundaries/being so used to telling Robin everything, and internalising whatever she says.

The guilt complex would only really start developing once he accepts that whoops there's more to it than just happening to fantasise about his twin whenever he's jacking off. Maybe that doesn't happen purely because they spend so much time together and he feels safest and happiest with her. Maybe there's more to it. Maybe it isn't normal to feel violently jealous at the idea of her dating anyone, never mind marrying some other guy when he's the only one she should want to be with-

Robin: hey maybe you should try going on a date [and enjoy some normality before Dad breaks your world view]

Mark: [repressing the hell out of next stage barnacle twins urges] good idea okay sure um. who should i date? can you pick for me?

extra funny aspect: Robin is lowkey unhappy about it because she, too, is a possessive co-dependent weirdo. Sitting on the couch with a distinct aura of 'wtf do I do with myself while Mark's out. Is this gonna happen a lot. do I need to get a new hobby' but can't focus enough on motorbike maintenance to settle down. Punching bag also is not successful.

Alright, so it’s more a drowsing situation. Keeps to the border of true sleep for now; you figure one day, it’ll be as natural as drifting off in bed, or on the couch after a movie night.

Mark’s better at it than you. The falling asleep part - you’ve got no issue with his abilities as a trusty cuddle raft, but even with your ear over his steady heartbeat, no need to hold yourself up in the air when he’s got the both of you…Actual unconsciousness stays out of reach.

But it’s still nice. You’re above the clouds, the air cooler despite the flare of the sun, which just makes Mark’s familiar warmth all the more appreciated. You shuffle up a little, tuck your nose under his jaw. His fingers flex on your hip, the suit dulling the touch.

Invincible. A few ideas, loose plans and designs, and in the end - you’re both wearing the same damn suit. Both carrying the name.

Visiting Art, then chatting about it after - playing in the air, catching Mark out of his rough landings, teasing him for his pouts over you being a natural flyer - and he was nervous, when he asked if you wanted to share the same look.

You suggested swapping out the colours at least, maybe going for a blue cowl and yellow boots with yours. An almost-inversion. But he took your hand, fiddled with the old friendship bracelet you found a pair of in the back of your bedside table a couple weeks before. Tossed him his, slipped on yours; a small thing, but a link to all that used to be when the end is sweeping in.

Beads in orange, yellow and red. Sunset colours, you think was the aim. Childish blocks of your names, MARK on your wrist and ROBIN on his. Both R’s scratched through the middle. Split the difference, something like that.

“I know we could be a-a duo, or whatever, but it’s not the same,” he said, and there was that edge to it. You don’t belong to him. You are him, and he’s you, and yeah. You get it. Becoming a hero is a big deal, and it wouldn’t be the same if you separated out now. Decided to be anything other than each other.

But fuck, you had to try. Just another small moment of I don’t want to fuck you up forever in your shrug, and, “Might be good for us.”

“How?” he asked, and you didn’t really have an answer that’d be honest. You aren’t the selfless type, you’ve figured out over the years. The old you just never had the chance to be so greedy.

But you could still throw some logic into the mix. “Could confuse people. Two heroes with the same costume and name. We gonna Thing One and Two it?”

He grinned, bright and easy and yours. “Who cares if it’s confusing? We’ll save the day - nothing else matters.”

So here you are now, well above cruising altitude with Mark keeping you both airborne, and nothing else matters. A cooldown after a busy day. Later, it’ll be an actual shower, remind yourselves how to feel human again. But right now, the best thing for you both is some time well away from anyone else.

Sometimes you talk for hours. Sometimes you drift in a lazy orbit of Earth.

Sometimes you go further, play hopscotch on the Moon and tumble through the vacuum of space, revel in the lack of friction. Try not to think too much about flying straight out of the solar system, and see how far you could get before needing your next inhale.

The air is thinner up here, so the usual rise and fall of Mark’s chest isn’t there to follow. Instead, he strokes your hip and back, keeps you in that loose contented awareness his touch always brings out. Two points where you find it most comfortable to exist, lately; moments like this one, or in a fight. Contradictory but…fitting, for the thing you’ve grown into.

The proximity to the void is also why you’re not surprised that, when Eve flies up here, her voice is muffled by the helmet she wears to contain the oxygen she feeds into it.

You observe it in a brief opening of your eyes when she calls Mark’s name, but the squeeze of his arms around you has you relaxing back into him. He drifts you both lower, where he can speak without losing his breath, and you can-

Really, you should move away.

Poor Eve, ha. You guys have some real bad habits, and as harmless as this one is, normality is a far swing from this particular base. It’s just- you two haven’t been up here for long, and there are so many demands on his time now. Screw you for wanting to make the most of it.

“Hey, Eve. Something wrong?” he asks softly, but he knows you’re awake. Your arm is wrapped loosely around his neck, fingers sunk into his hair. Cowls off for both of you, so your lips are by the edge of his suit. Every careless intimacy so integral to your life now, you don’t know what you’ll do when he wants to stop.

…You won’t do anything. Obviously. But you guess it’ll feel shitty, for a while.

“No, not really,” she says, sounding normal now. Well, her tone’s a little- tense? Controlled. “You’re just late for- Is Robin okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Robin’s fine.” He shifts the angle slightly, tilting you both more upright. Still far from vertical though; makes it easy to let him take most of your weight, pressed up against his front with one leg dangling down by his thigh. Even though he’s taller and slightly broader, you can do pretty much the exact same when it’s your turn as brace.

You smile a little, a secret tucked to his skin. Feel him shiver. Hasn’t quite grown out of a few reactions just yet. You keep your fingers relaxed in his hair, so he can freely turn his head without pushing him over the edge.

“Then…What’s this?” She sounds a little uneasy. Just the low beat of it, a recurrence each time she sees you two being so…close.

Ah, maybe you shouldn’t find it funny? You like Eve, both on the field and off. Find her powers damn fascinating too, though it confuses you why she doesn’t use them to their full potential - but that could be Dad’s influence talking. Hard to tell.

But this isn’t forever. You and Mark. She’ll have him all to herself one day, okay? Thousands of years, while you’ve not even had two decades yet. Kinda unfair, but what can you do. It’s Mark’s happy ending.

“A sky nap,” Mark says, like it should be obvious.

God, you love this dumbass. He’s not actually oblivious to how fucking weird you two are - he complains about William pointing it out a bunch, even if William has also adapted to it after years of friendship - and you remind him now and again, too. Mostly as check-ins? Like, hey, d’you wanna get off this crazy train yet- nope? Okey-dokey.

You’d say it’s to assuage your conscience but you seem to be missing one of those. Build-a-twin was running low, try again when there’s a sale on.

“We’ll be back down soon,” he adds, as if that covers off all concerns. And we, when Eve was obviously looking for him. Not great, huh.

It’s a little warmer here, and you’ve started to breathe again now Mark is. Instinctive reflection; in when he breathes out, so neither of you ever pull away. Sometimes after a hard fight, you’ll go far away from any clear-eyed observers and press your forehead to his, feel his fingers tangle in your hair, and just…breathe until your heartbeats settle.

There’s no need for it now. No reason to play at sleep, feel the faint vibration of Mark’s neck when he speaks to Eve. You do it anyway.

Instead, Dad flies each of you out before coming back for the luggage. Takes longer than when you were kids, since he can’t comfortably (for the mostly humans involved) hold you and Mark for one trip, but the travel time is still far less than your bodies should be able to handle.

He explained it’s part of how Viltrumites function. Not just a biological upgrade, but a force mitigation on anything close to their bodies, linked up to the same ‘muscle’ that sees them able to move freely through space. Too fast and you’d be unable to breathe just the same as if you were strapped to a fighter jet. You said it seems a good way to knock out a supervillain if needed, and-

You don’t crave his approval. Seems a dumb thing to want, given what’s coming.

But you’ve noticed he looks pleased whenever you voice how you think Viltrumite powers could be used in combat. He’ll correct you if you’ve gotten something wrong, and it’s too interesting for you to care about the obvious reasons he’d want you thinking like this.

Mark is Mom’s favourite, and you’re Dad’s. It’s pretty funny. Oh, they don’t say so - obviously, they don’t fucking suck as parents, haha - but whenever it’s family time, a few patterns emerge. And Dad…he tells you more about Viltrum.

Not a lot. Not enough to raise real red flags to any normal teenager. It’s more on the mindset of a Viltrumite; what they value, take pride in. Some vague nods to their achievements over thousands of years of existing as a cohesive society. More focus on feats of strength, alien creatures battled and trials overcome; the easy fascination with impossible power, and the lack of restraint offered by all they can do.

What you might be able to do, one day.

Should be able to. Dad sometimes thinks you two might not get your powers. You see it, when he mentions the usual age Viltrumites begin to show signs of their potential. He said, once, that he used to train their children. He didn’t say this was before the Scourge wiped them out.

Then his eyes cleared, and he set his hand on your shoulder. “You have all the makings of a true Viltrumite.” Talk about a back-handed compliment.

It’s probably a little concerning; are you really so suited to being a genocidal tyrant?

You don’t feel like one, kneeling behind Mark on the beach towel and rubbing suncreen into his back. The two of you woke up later than your parents, a text sent by Mom letting you know they were going out for breakfast and cruelly abandoning their children on the first full day of vacation.

Must be so convenient for them, having twins who’ll occupy each other. Especially now you’re both older and well into the stage where you could be left alone without a babysitter. If you didn’t like Mark so much, you might find it actually annoying. Instead, the near-constant company is admittedly your main tie to sanity.

Which is, y’know, totally fine. Not gonna combine badly with superpowers at all.

Sweat sticks to your forehead, hair kept out of your face by your sunglasses. The sweltering heat pokes at a few memories under the hazy surface of who you used to be. No brother back then, but sand and the tumbling waves lulls you into…not nostalgia, exactly. More like noticing an old scar on your skin, trying to remember where exactly it came from to last so long.

This is a quieter beach than the ones you can think of. Not private, but there aren’t any other families set up close by. Most are closer to the water, or over by the for-hire beach beds next to a bar.

You lean against Mark’s back, your chest around the bikini top already sunscreen-ed up, and grab his wrist. He doesn’t resist the pull of his hand up so you can lick at the ice pop. It’s easier to share, given how fast they melt. His fault for starting the sharing food habit. Never dropped it, either, so you adapted.

“It’s too hot,” he complains, head tipping back against your shoulder, his hair warm and sweaty. You shift so you can take his weight better, knees spreading to either side of him, and he reaches back to hold your thigh. You’re in matching swim trunks, because you’re both real fucking predictable, ha.

Can’t say you hate it. Comfort in known patterns, in being a part of him. You’re dreading the day it ends, but you try not to think about that. When it does inevitably come to mind, you…try to see the good in a change to your dynamic. He’ll be better off. You’ll manage.

“It’s perfect,” you argue, cupping his bicep to rub in a streak of sunscreen. The ice pop is a delicious suck of strawberry sweetness; just what the doctor ordered. “We can drag over a parasol later.”

“Or go swimming?”

“Thought you were worried about jellyfish.”

“I said I heard there’s jellyfish. I’m not worried.” He pauses. “You don’t think there’s a lot, do you?”

Get stung one time, and the trauma lasts forever. “I’ll keep an eye out, you big wuss. Protect you from the scary stingies.”

Mark as a kid, teary-eyed and clinging and calling them stingies. You think it was because he liked the idea of stingrays, kept doodling them on your arm in the car ride over that morning, and got it mixed up.

“Fuck off, Robbie,” he grumbles, seventeen years old and working his way into that teenage boy cockiness. Late bloomer in a few respects there. “I don’t need you to protect me.”

His annoyance doesn’t send him moving away. Instead, he pulls the ice pop back to his mouth despite already having more than his fair share of it, his eyebrows raised and a flashed smirk before his lips close on the popsicle - because the fucker knows he’s being greedy.

So you feel zero remorse about letting go of his wrist, to threaten the edge of the shirt bundled up over his lap. Your shirt. “Don’t need this, then?”

“Robbie,” he squeaks, which is still pretty cute. He was already flushed, but it deepens now as his hand squeezes nervously at your thigh. “That’s not- This isn’t fair. You know I…I can’t help it.”

Yeah, you know. Comes with the territory of being a teenage boy; he gets turned on by every little thing, including his sister helping him with sunscreen.

You were the one to explain it didn’t mean anything when he woke up to a boner pressed to your hip (groggy and confused at his tumbling apologies, petting his hair until he chilled the fuck out).

Mom did the whole talk on it, sure, but you’re his twin. Too many years of him looking to you for answers, no boundaries to make this a taboo topic. Not a solid boundary, at least, because- honestly? You just didn’t see the big deal in it.

Oh no, he gets hard sometimes, how horrifying. Sure, maybe you should be more bothered when he jerks off in bed beside you, but you guys have a system going.

You’ll pretend to still be asleep, or distracted with a comic, or shove your headphones on, and he won’t make a mess. Easy peasy. And hey, the water-based lube you prefer is usually in a two-for-one pack, so it’s no hardship (ha) to have a bottle in both bedrooms. Add in some tissues and wipes for him, and it’s only a Thing if you make it one.

So you usually don’t, unless it’s to fuck with him. Can’t help teasing him sometimes. He brings it out in you, those puppy dog eyes and the embarrassed twist of his lips.

Chuckling, you lean in to kiss his flushed cheek. All soft heat under your lips, his exhale fanning across your skin. “I know. Relax, I’m not gonna show everyone how excited you are…to be on vacation.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” he says dully, the grouchy baby. But he relaxes when you set your palm low on his stomach, feeling where his happy trail disappears under the waistband of the trunks. “If you had a dick, you’d be- It’d be the same. For you.”

You make a doubtful noise, resting your cheek on his temple. Nothing feels more natural than being close to him, and you close your eyes to the blazing sun. “I don’t get wet at the drop of a hat, so-”

“Dude.”

“What? It’s my version of a boner. I think you’re just easy, Mark. But don’t worry, a lot of girls are into that.”

He scoffs. “Like I’m ever gonna get a girlfriend. I mean-” The heel of his palm pushes your trunks up higher on your leg, so he can grip bare skin instead. “There’s school, and we’ll have our powers soon. Dad’s so busy all the time - we can’t date. And there’s secret identities, and…It isn’t worth it. Is it?”

“Depends.”

Amber is probably better off without the experience of dating a superhero, given the ending. Then again, character growth comes in all types, so it might be doing her a disservice to go ‘the civvie girlfriend isn’t worth it’…Ah, well. If she still asks Mark out, you’ll encourage him to give it a shot. But Eve is the endgame, and it isn’t like she’s years off.

“Don’t you want to give it a try?” you ask, and the heat feels right for this sort of question. Relaxed, no stakes. Just a chat with your favourite person. Just the quiet risk of him finding someone else to be his favourite. “Dating. Sex.”

He shrugs, bicep sliding under your loose grasp, shoulder blades rubbing against your chest. Sticky with sunscreen and sweat, the smell of it heavy, mixing up with the strawberry popsicle. His shampoo, too; the travel bottle shoved into your suitcase, something citrus-y.

“Maybe later,” he says quietly. “At college. Dad said about…us, so, he might not like it.”

Only part she felt awkward about was meeting Debbie - Nolan was more of a 'huh. wtf is wrong with the timeline here'. Can't imagine Debbie was pleased with Mark running off and getting married without telling her - so now RobMark have to pull off seeming like a real couple whenever they see her.

It's gotta be the sweetest torment for Mark. Everything he wants, just out of reach...but also in reach.....if he just had the balls to confess. Drama king in the bathroom sighing away 'my life is the worst' you fool. You muppet. You're living on easy mode compared to most Marks jfc. She isn't even your sister.

lmao idk about surprise pregnancy (which would. be a very big surprise if they're not screwing) but it wooould be funny if they managed to 'friends with benefits' it - while being a married couple. Mark yearning 110% while literally behaving as if they're married for real. Including the sex.

"what are we" Mark my man what the fuck is wrong with you. Is the lack of angst in your life causing you to act out. Do you need your wife to be fridged before you can react normally.

Mark feeling guilty every time he has to take his ring off while out as Invincible, and it's worse now Robin knows, and sees him being Invincible, ring-less.