robin in a pine overcoat

And try not to get too upset when Mark's away all the time, c'mon, Oliver takes so much of Debbie's focus - it isn't fair for Mark to disappear for college and hero-ing and being a boyfriend blah blah blah, prioritise, man! Set a schedule!

Aww feeling insecure bc he starts off the 'smart' one but then Oliver is catching up and that isn't fair, Benny has the half-thraxan side too, why can't he get more bug brain juice?! Shouldn't he be 10x smarter because he's, like, experienced and stuff?! God, the universe loathes his existence.

And then Angstrom happens and wow thats one way to freak him the fuck out and result in 10x the clinginess. Which could actually push him into being eager for his powers, but it's very very fear based and he's convinced if he doesnt get strong fast he'll die because he's a random extra he's disposable he isn't needed so he could die for drama and he doesn't want to die again and-

Whoops didn't leave the panic attacks behind with his old brain.

(if this is a. dodge city situation uhhh. yeah he'd be extra oblivious/excuse-making. Reality is all about...perspective. yep. nothing to see here.)

For Nolan, he deeefinitely starts out seeing Benny as the pathetic, weaker one of the two (in benmark twins). But Debbie does a lot of coaxing for him to be more understanding, and it does start effecting him when he sees Benny is scared of him at first. So when Benny gets his (ah! he's like Danny!) moment, and switches to running over to Nolan whenever he gets home, there's the 'small, scared animal's trust' factor lmao.

But favourtism only solidifies when Benny gets into ice hockey again when he's a kid, and Nolan can be proud dad while Benny says shit like "losing isn't an option - only victory or death" and threatens to cut a child's throat with his ice skates (he's very apologetic as soon as he's off ice. It brings it out in him)(he's better in a boxing ring seriously-)

Theeen there's more...lashing out meanness? Basically taking some of that internal monologue, and getting him stressed/hurt/angry enough for it to externalise. Usually gets suppressed by anxiety and fear of consequences, but he absolutely can go for the throat when feeling backed into a corner - and say shit he'll immediately regret.

(the extra worse side of it is that if he's around someone he feels safe with, he's more likely to reach a point where he could lash out instead of the fear suppressing it. Would stay silent but resentful around a stranger, but bring up something he's sure will hurt if he feels safe/close to someone)

He's verrry led by his emotions, so has awful control of himself in those moments. If he doesn't collapse, it'll explode out instead. Another side effect of overprotective brothers and his Mom's...situation, is how much he struggles with self-control/emotional regulation.

You’d be on your knees begging the universe for an answer to a question you’ve asked repeatedly, then went through a period of dull acceptance over, just for it to slam back into the forefront fairly recently - if you weren’t frozen in place. On the bed. The bed you’re sharing with Mark.

Your twin, Mark. Formerly fictional character, Mark. Currently rocking against your thigh, Mark.

And it isn’t the first time.

Your face burns and you’re so, so fucking glad that while you’re on your back, you woke up with your face already turned away from him, so he shouldn’t be able to see even if the room wasn’t dark (thank you, blackout curtains!).

It’s just about the only thing to feel any gratitude toward because holy shit. This is bad, and wrong, and weird, and he wasn’t moving that much at first, just the- pressure, against your leg, and you could’ve ignored that?

Yeah. Maybe. You’re teenagers; can’t help it when your dicks misbehave! Happens to the best of us! How often do you get hard from the adrenaline rush of a good match? Pretty often! It doesn’t mean anything, just like waking in the night with your twin brother’s erection shoved against your leg, or hip, or- other spots didn’t have to mean anything. The perils of sleepovers, is all.

Except he-

Mark groans, and you bite your lip hard as he squeezes your leg between his. He’s really close, forehead against the side of your neck and your arm is numb and trapped beneath him, no hope of wriggling free without waking him up.

You can’t wake him up, because that’d mean talking about this, and you would literally rather die.

Even if you also feel like you might die anyway when his hand pushes under your shirt and grips your waist. Mark, man, c’mon!! Why haven’t you woken up yet?! I know you’re a heavy sleeper but this is ridiculous!

The first time- god, you don’t know how you managed to act normal after. You don’t know how he did, after waking up with sticky boxers and the two of you still- close, in the morning. But he didn’t say anything, so obviously you couldn’t either, and then it was time for bed and you figured - hey, it’s a one time thing! Embarrassing teen years memories! Laugh about it one day, yep!

Then it happened again a week later. And a few nights after that. And-

Listen, you tried to get out of it! You said, hey, maybe now you’re older, you two shouldn’t have sleepovers as often?

And you held strong despite how hurt he looked, and ow that was painful, and made worse when he nodded and forced a smile. You know him too well not to spot when he’s faking being okay with something, but you had to pretend to miss it, and it sucked seeing him mope all day.

Like, you aren’t rejecting him! Just his dick! He’s definitely not allowed to start avoiding you during the day because of this!

Except-

Oh what the fuck, man, you thought while staring at the ceiling after a night of zero sleep. Nada. Zilch. Turns out, the only way you can sleep at all is when Mark is in the bed with you - apparently! Isn’t that just fantastic?!

And you gave it your best shot. Spent an entire week falling asleep on the couch or in class, because at least Mark was nearby then and it seemed your stupid brain would consider that Valid.

But you weren’t sleeping enough, and you failed a pop quiz and you were so exhausted you burst into tears on the walk home when thinking about telling Mom, and it freaked Mark out, and you totally stress-rambled the fact you couldn’t sleep without him and it sucked and you even wiped out while skating, and not in the fun slide way, in the god I wish that concussed me way, and-

He hugged you, and you slumped bonelessly into him on the sidewalk, despite him being a complete asshole by chuckling. Amusement, at your suffering? He was raised better than that!

“Let’s just go back to normal,” he said like it was easy. Like he wasn’t the one who ruined it. But then you felt bad for thinking that, because he didn’t really do anything on purpose.

He’s asleep. Completely unaware. You could shake him awake, and he’d be horrified too, and…what if it makes things weird between you? What if this is what pushes you two apart?

You aren’t little kids anymore, and Mark is way cooler than you even if he sucks at making friends so only has William (who’s your friend too, so it’s fine). You don’t want him to pull away, and realise other people are a much better option for hanging out with and having sleepovers, and then he’ll start dating before he’s meant to, and he’ll have even less time for you, and-

It isn’t fair. Your brothers are gone, and you only have him. He can’t go away too. Not yet.

And it-

You swallow, eyes squeezing tighter shut. You’re grabbing onto the sheets on the opposite side to Mark, trying to focus on it twisted between your fingers, instead of- Mark. How he feels against you. He’s so warm, and he smells good, and you’ve never…

Maybe it only bothers you because there’s something wrong with you. Maybe you should be able to laugh it off, or ignore it, and the only reason you can’t is because of the rebirth situation. Because you’re you.

And you haven’t- It’s new. This. Someone else’s…dick, rubbing against you, and there’s a tonne of fabric in the way, so it isn’t like you’re feeling much at all. It isn’t like you’re both naked. Then it’d be…actually freaky, maybe? But there’s separation, here, so it- maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe you’re overreacting.

It’s probably temporary, right? Just a…a phase. Something. Hormones going a bit crazy, and that’s- that’s why it turns you on, too. Why you’re aching, having to control your breathing, having to beg your body to stay still, and-

When he’s done, when he stops - would it be the worse thing in the world to get some relief? Just with your hand, so you can get back to sleep. If you’re lucky, he’ll shift away and you can dart to the bathroom. If not-

He’s asleep. It’s fine. It…has to be fine.

(The guilt and shame keeps you still until your boner goes down on its own, and you fall asleep again.

Simultaneously trying to make the most out of his second chance (that he doesn't deserve) and already looking for ways to become dangerous (before he figures out Nolan is Omni-Man fairly early and is like 'huh. is that...inheritable? He's definitely an alien, so probably? Useful. If I need to kill him, it'll be easier if I have powers - ah, but mom loves him. Containment, then')

And then the twins are born and he's ecstatic (second chance! again!) and also terrified (it's different this time it is it's fine, middle class happy family yes its okay, yep, calm the fuck down). Overprotective toward Mom now also extends to mega overprotective to siblings. Will terrorise anyone who tries to bully them - and make sure no one believes it, Rook's an angel, he'd never break into their houses and-

Well, he'd never. Nothing to worry about :)

Robin as usual rolling with it. Benny meanwhile not rolling with it but does have Rook who'll drop anything and everything to soothe him. And actually take steps to help Benny feel more confident/learn to manage his anxiety (sure Rook can't face his own trauma/PTSD very...consistently, but he knows how people work, and he'll learn whatever he needs to).

If canon is in any way followed and Oliver still arrives, Rook is stepping up because what no why would they ever let a stranger into their house to help teach/raise his brother? Madness (family is sacred and worth everything he has to give, family is what broke him and turned him into a monster, it's a whole Thing)

Lol Benny would definitely spill everything to Rook early on too, and then Robin would fill in the gaps. Rook just humming and nodding like "alright, leave it to me - this isn't a job for you guys to handle" and then. Does. because he's horrifying when he sets his mind to something.

Oof he'd have a tough time in an Eve sibling AU - a weaker form of Eve is very generous to him, since he'd struggle a looot more if he had to keep himself in one piece like Globin does lol.

Tbf he might eventually get into enjoying using superpowers, since it's Objectively Cool (and he could always latch onto wanting to be safe, as extra motive), but the superhero way of life wouldn't have much draw for him on the face of it. Might not have a great time in the Wilkins household tho, with Adam being a conservative type and Benny not exactly the most macho dude around lol

Benny Grayson oh boy xD Talk about a major stress.

He'd have a higher chance of a platonic relationship only (but never say never lmao), but he'd also be dealing with a looot of resentment toward Mark for. well. not being Benny's brothers. So especially during the early childhood/brain catching up period, when he's at his most anxious and grieving, he'd have a harder time seeing Mark as his brother.

Then on Mark's side he could end up jealous of how much attention delicate, needy Benny gets from their parents (mostly Debbie at first, but it'd also be very funny if pathetic failson somehow ended up closer to Nolan)(from Benny's POV, because Nolan reminds him a bit of one of his brothers who's the cold, blunt yet controlled type).

I had the idea that they only really start bonding when Benny gets into ice hockey again, and Mark is jealous so begs Debbie to let him learn - but then Benny is excited to teach someone how to skate (like his brother taught him)(and that's how you end up with figure skater Mark when he continues to suck at ice hockey lmao).

Codependency is guaranteed if they get close at all, ofc xD

Robin and Benny as siblings is...a bad match up lol. Soulmates can prompt Robin to make the effort, but siblings is a looot less likely (since she's an only child/doesn't exactly feel that 'family obligation' tie very strongly thanks to her experiences), and Benny would be constantly comparing her to his brothers which wouldn't help, plus he isn't the type to reach out on his own. Two generally passive people overall.

Because you don’t know when one will come until you’re lurching upright, sweating and shaking and pressing your palms over your ears to dim the fucking noise.

Can’t do anything about what’s inside your head but it’s instinct, it’s desperation, it’s the acidic bile in your throat and the wet heat of blood that isn’t even real.

Your fingers twist in your damp hair, and you grit your teeth until your gums ache. It’s over. It’s over, and you’re here now, and it’s better now. It is. It has to be, even though you don’t deserve it. The fuck does deserving matter, when you’ve made every wrong choice and can’t claim you’d do it different?

The carpet is soft under your feet. It’s still dark, when you open your eyes briefly, catch a glimpse of the closed curtains and the dull shine of the streetlight teasing the corners. You try to shut the noises out, stomp it down to a fuzzy overlay - tune out the radio until static is your only company. You success rate there is…unreliable.

Stop breathing like you’ve just run a marathon - while human, ha - and man up, Christ. You’re here. You’re here, now. Where you should’ve been from the start.

Guess it’s fucking typical it didn’t fix you, huh. Get everything you need, and still remain a greedy, broken thing.

Shows how distracted you are that you don’t realise Mark is awake, until he touches your back.

“Don’t,” you snarl, but the moron ignores you. Of course he does.

He just huffs and shifts closer, and your skin prickles as his knee brushes your hip, touch firmer when he grasps your shoulder. You pull away from it sharply, the breathless pause of he’ll give up, he’ll leave, he’ll realise he’s making all the wrong choices too.

Instead, he wraps an arm around your chest and yanks you back against him. Your hands drop but he catches your forearm and your other wrist, doesn’t let go even when you test him, check he means it. Force him to hold tight so you don’t break free, a living straitjacket and the only one strong enough to keep you there.

It pushes the ragged panic up a notch and he grunts when your teeth sink into his bicep. Curses under his breath and his cheek is against the side of your head, and you can taste him, the crooning iron of his blood. The need to bite harder, devour him in the desperation for it to be enough, to fix what’s always gonna stay broken, to-

You can hear his heartbeat. Faster than when he’s asleep, or relaxed, but still no frantic pace. It echoes through your spine, demands your focus until finally, finally, the dripping…stops, between one heartbeat and the next.

Your inhale shudders into your lungs, and your jaw relaxes. The rest of you follows in a sporadic unwinding, and you tuck your nose to his skin, lick at the wound. Guess it’s one of the better nights, since you didn’t take out a chunk of him. Didn’t break the bed again in the struggle, or goad him into a real fight somewhere less delicate.

Still feel the burn of it - a fight, a chase, a fuck. But you’re tired, too.

“Better?”

You hum agreeably, and smile a little when he doesn’t let up the restraining embrace. Yeah, he’s right not to trust you totally. He’s already being a damn saint about- everything, and you’ll never get used to watching him fall asleep in the same bed as you. He just calls you a creep for staring and then closes his eyes anyway. Weirdo.

(A martyr, you’ve thought plenty. Maybe you’re a divine punishment, shackled to him so you don’t hurt anyone else. He knows what you did to your world, after all. What you could do here, if he isn’t watching you every second of the day. If he doesn’t keep you beside him at night.

You’ve taunted him for getting off on it. He never denies it as hard as he should.)

He sighs, and you let him bring you back down against the bed, laying on your side with him flush to your back. Sheets shoved aside, sticky sweat between your bare back and his chest. Boxers to bed for you both, because he’s a prude sometimes, and you find it funny to demand he let you wear his. The benefits of being the same size all over.

Can’t help making the comparison when his dick is against your lower back. Not fully hard, but well on its way. Just feeling it makes yours twitch, and the slightest squirm back into him has Mark’s arms squeezing around you.

“Quit it,” he mutters. “We’ve gotta get up early.”

“Then make it fast,” is your stellar argument, spiced up by a kiss to his arm, just above the closing bite. He’s weak to affectionate shit. If you didn’t give it him, he’d droop and mope and become extra pathetic. “C’mon, you know you wanna. Woke you up in the middle of the night - least you can get out of it is a quick fuck.”

“Jesus, shut up.” His knee pushes between yours, and you think for a second he’s going somewhere with that - but he’s just trapping your calf. Loser. “I’m tired. Let me sleep.”

Booo. Lame.

You scowl against his bicep. You aren’t gonna beg him to fuck you if he doesn’t have the balls to go for it himself. A fight would be better when you’re still wired up, but sex usually works too, and you thought he’d rather go for that. He normally does.

…He isn’t getting bored of you, is he? Like, it’s whatever, but- this thing you’ve both fallen into, it’s been…good.

He should’ve kept on hating you - full-blown loathing, in fact - but didn’t, not all the way, not after a while.

You’d still rather that first stretch of whatever punishments he could set against both you and himself, than a slide into indifference. At the start, he was only putting up with you because you’re strong, and he needed that to protect his loved ones and blah blah we get it already, good guy.

He still needs you for that. You’re too dangerous to be set loose, and maybe he could work with the GDA to put you down, but you’re pretty sure Cecil sees too much use in you for that play to work. Suckers would sooner fake your death and hide you away, and whoopsie, guess who’s broken out of the playpen and is here to cause havoc?

Then, Mark would have to fight you seriously. He’d have to kill you if he wants to-

“Hey.” Mark’s voice is soft, which makes you bristle. Then you realise you’d been tugging at his grip on your wrist, index finger nearly at your mouth.

Shit. You thought you’d kicked that habit. Usually have him to chew on, as demonstrated. With a huff, you make a show of relaxing all your stiff muscles, and realise exactly how tense you’d gotten. Ugh. You don’t ache - too Viltrumite for that - but there is a dull catch in your joints, a buzzing along your gumline.

“S’fine,” you mutter, shifting your cheek against his arm to get comfortable. “Go sleep.” Dumb word choice, really. Go, like you want him to leave the bed.

It’s sturdier than the last bunch, forcefed normality by roving an Ikea instead of demanding the GDA build you something Viltrumite-proof. You must’ve insisted on trying dozens of bedframes, dragging Mark down onto as many as you could.

He didn’t avoid your reaching hands as much as he should’ve. You were wearing his hoodie; your favourite Seance Dog one over faded green. You thought about telling him all about the survivors you hunted down inside one of these places, letting them get away repeatedly just to dash their hopes, but…didn’t.

He lets go of your wrist. You prove your point by not immediately gnawing on it like a rabid dog. Just let your arm flop against the bed, and you’re totally fine to play cuddle corpse until the lazy idiot is ready to wake up and face the day.

It’s…not horrible, being held like this. You’re used to it now. Even though you’re both the same size, Mark prefers being the big spoon. No shock there.

Sometimes it’s nice when you face him, though. Watching him when insomnia bites your ass - touching him, but nothing that’ll wake him up before morning. Nothing that’ll freak him out either. You’re a daylight creep, thanks very much.

His fingers skim your belly and- it doesn’t startle you, but it does nudge your awareness up.

“What-”

He shushes you, like a dick. “Go to sleep,” he says, and it’s almost taunting, just too low to hit the note right. Doesn’t make a lick of sense until his hand settles more firmly against you, stroking through your happy trail, pinky at the waistband of your boxers and wait a minute.

Does this bitch want you to pretend to be asleep while he gropes at you? Haha, what the fuck, man. All on his high horse about being tired, and now he wants to play around, do whatever he likes? Have you all pliant and helpless?

Like, fuck, sure. Never met a kink you couldn’t under-negotiate, and he’s always gotten off on powerplays. Bonus points if he can mix in some self-sacrificing bullshit. Wonder where this one sits on those scales?

Shit, can’t ruin his fun, and you’re immediately curious where he’ll go with it.

So you make a show of yawning and settle in, tucked back against his bicep again. Excellent pillow, really. Makes up for sleeping in a bed at all - that was a tough adjustment, beds again. You usually just went on until you passed out on some derelict building. The burnt-out remains of cities; shoutout to the ones hit by nuclear bombs for the extra buzzing kick.

It’s weird, being in this world. Sure, it’s taken a battering, but nothing like yours. Mark is nothing like you, except in all the ways he is. You can’t decide if you want more or less. Scales switch out each new day.

With Mark’s touch a slow, light tease, you think you could actually doze off, if it went on long enough. Usually you can’t fall asleep until he’s under, but dozing is doable. Ish. Can’t beat back the dregs of the nightmare, but you can focus on how his hand feels on you instead, just under where the stab wound should’ve been.

Sometimes, you try to goad him into gutting you. Not a punch or a kick - you want him to sink in, push his fingers deeper. Open you up. Dig in under the intestines and maybe, maybe, find the knife shard you’ve never been able to pull out. It’s there, somewhere. If anyone could find it, it’s him.

Give him time. Maybe one day.

Tonight, his heart is beating faster as he whispers a very soft, “Are you awake?”

Ahh, he’s fun. Isn’t really the total sore loser and uptight workaholic you accuse him of being. Fuck, the fact he’s here with you at all proves it.

So you play along, breathing slow and deep, relaxed into his chest. The grip he’d kept on your forearm loosens off, and all you do is slump more into him, your hand dropping against the bed. See, you can be good when you want to be. You really are already; no killing, barely any maiming, a much-needed weapon in Earth’s pathetic arsenal.

Best behaviour, just for him. Mostly.

And rewarded by his fingers dipping under your waistband. Sliding down the length of your cock, and you let slip a breathy groan. Feel the faint jerk of his hips in the upped pressure to your back, languish in the pause of his held breath.

God, you love listening to him. All the ways to be close, to be inside him, and listening is a vital option. Track every shift of his muscles when they scrape against the bed, his clothes during the day - be the mimic if you want, if you focus enough to taste the rush of blood pumped through his veins.

Faster now, when his heart’s pounding. When his fingers curl around your cock in a light stroke and it- ha, isn’t so different from your hand. Just less callouses, no scars from back when you were human enough to keep them. Softer than you in every way.

Well, except one very noticeable one. You’re about even there.

Could be twins, and the idea disgusts him. You find it funny. You like finding every similarity, and every difference, and forcing him to see them all, too. You want him to be inside you in all those ways, too. And he’s touching you now, jerking you off under the pretence of unawareness, so he has to want you. He has to, now.

You want to reach back and grab him, grind into his erection, make him give up on any control - but you won’t break. You’re asleep, nothing more than slight, uncoordinated rocking, pressing your cheek hard to his shoulder as you sigh, shiver, stay helpless and pliant.

His grip tightens, almost rough, before he abruptly loosens it off again. You don’t make a fuss even though you want to call him out for being a tease, yet again.

His other hand is on the move, and a faint, surprised noise catches in your throat when he cups your pec.

Light at first, fingers stroking back and forth like earlier. Then circling your nipple, a scattering of low sparks and you think of how often you’ve bitten down on his pec. Fought the desire to rip off more flesh than he’s willing to give, and you imagine it - the wasteland, what could’ve been.

What they might’ve tasted like. If it would’ve been abrupt, a kill and a feast, or slower. One limb at a time. Tilting their heads back and slipping your tongue into their eyesockets, the wet pop and screaming.

You hope there’d be screaming. Mark has such a lovely scream.

But his heavier exhale when he squeezes at your pec and pumps your cock is also pretty fucking great. He’s moving now, a reluctant, stuttering roll against your back.

You do him the favour of a sleepy shuffle, arch your back just so to push into his hand on your chest, and get his cock on your ass. All he has to do is pull your boxers down, and he can take what he wants.

His hissed, “Fuck,” is hilarious. Like he’s being tormented, not given access to the finest ass on the planet (a joint title, sure, but a win all the same).

“Robin,” is complained against your neck as he finally ducks in, hot breath raising shivers and just his lips on you, just for now, but it’s fine. You’ve taught him how to bite back when you really need it.

You’d laugh if it wouldn’t break immersion.

Instead, you whine, and let yourself grin when he lets go of your pec to yank your boxers below the curve of your ass. Must do the same to his, because then he’s slotting between your asscheeks and there we fucking go.

Wasn’t so tough, was it? Just let go, and he uses his knee to push yours out, fucks in a drag against you and he’s too much of a pussy to go in raw unless he’s mad at you. But you’ll take this.

You’ll take him grabbing your hip with one hand and your cock in the other, the curses and groans muffled against your neck, the heat twisting and building and rocking through your body - blunt and intense even when this is so gentle, really.

No one can turn you on like Mark, no one’s ever, ever made you feel like this. You hate it and love it, and can’t live without it now. You’d go insane.

You have a baseline to work with here - the baseline being, y’know, his mouth. On yours. A little wet, because he licked his lips before he leaned in, like maybe he’s nervous too? Which is dumb. He’s the one who’d actually kissed someone before, and you’ve only ever kissed him. Or at least been kissed by him, since he’s always the one who…asks. If you mind him experimenting some more.

You don’t exactly understand how he’s still on the fence over whether he’s bisexual, but- hey, you don’t have a choice! He could get suspicious if you weren’t, like, super friendly and…Yep. Really, nothing you can do to stop this from happening, so you might as well enjoy it.

Sure, it freaks you out at the same time, because he’s so fucking close and you’re incredibly aware of how easily he could crush you even by accident. But he kisses really…gently. Soft and slow, only pressing in more once you tilt your head back a bit.

But once he does, his tongue is- you don’t decide to open your mouth, or to grab his shoulders, or fall back against the arm of the couch when he pushes in. It just…happens.

Like the really fucking embarrassing noises escaping you, and when did he get between your legs? Weird. You guess since he’s already there, it can’t be undone, and it means your legs aren’t all cramped up so that’s. Cool. Uh huh.

How long have you been kissing? The room’s suddenly way warmer, and Mark isn’t helping there. He’s kind of- he’s on you, but not too heavy, like he’s holding back his full weight.

But he’s still- His chest is pressed to yours, and you startle when his hand slips under your shirts and settles low on your back, but the sound you make (the whimper) gets muffled by his lips. And tongue. The one in your mouth, mostly, and it’s- he feels really-

Shit, you’re hard. Shit, he definitely knows, because it’s his stomach your crotch is jammed against. Why did you wear cargo pants today?! Jeans would’ve helped at least a little!

Stop that stop that stop that, you think aggressively at your dick, but it’s about as effective as telling Mark to stop kissing you. Which you can’t, because uhhhh…

Oh, right. It’d ruin your spy mission. Sure. If he decides your friendship now involves kissing, sometimes and without warning, you can’t jeopardise Important Stuff by refusing. He might not want to hang out with you anymore and that- it makes you chest twinge, considering it. You’d miss having him as a friend.

And- and it’d be bad, for the whole, blackmailed into it side. The GDA wouldn’t be happy. Sure, Donald has only stopped by a couple times, and didn’t actually ask you to get anything specific out of Mark (he mostly just asked how you were doing, which is a dumb question. The answer is always terrible but not actively suicidal yet, thanks).

You’re in limbo. Kissing limbo. Makeout purgatory. Quickly approaching the so turned on it hurts stage and panting against Mark’s mouth between kisses and it’s really, really hard not to move, and the fabric of Mark’s shirt bunches up beneath your hands.

You’re overheating and of course it concentrates in your eyes too, since your face alone wasn’t enough. So when he pulls back and you blink up at him, he’s all blurry, and you’re shuddering with the effort to not chase after him, trying to catch your breath and failing and-

“What the fuck,” he mutters, but before you can get past the first flicker of alarm and confusion, his lips are- he’s kissing your cheek? High on your cheekbone, and you realise your face is wet only when you feel his tongue and-

Diiiiiid he just…lick your tears?

Before you can even try to process that, he groans and pushes down onto you and holy fuck he’s hard too.

Like, super obviously hard when he shifts higher so your dicks almost line up and what the hell oh god that feels good. Why does that feel so good?! You’re both fully dressed and it’s all, it’s layers and twisting fabric and it should feel bad but it doesn’t, oh boy, it really fucking doesn’t.

Especially when he starts kissing you again and you give in, you give up, rocking against him and moaning against his mouth and sometime, somehow your fingers get in his hair.

Your right leg is dangling off the couch because you wanted him to slot in closer and he does, and it feels incredible, why weren’t you doing this ages ago, why’d you wait until Mark - why did he wait until now - can you just do this forever and-

“Um,” you manage a few minutes later, staring at the ceiling. Your boxers are sticky. You guess Mark’s are in the same state, since he…finished like, a few seconds after you, and…sorta collapsed.

On you. Breathing heavily and mumbling a, “Gimme a sec,” and then not moving.

It feels disturbingly awesome. You want to die.

“Up here again?” Amusement winds through his voice, and your jaw clenches to stifle the yelp. He sounds close, sounds like he’s right behind you, and you didn’t even hear him arrive. “I thought you didn’t like heights, Benny.”

You hate how he says your name. He lingers on it, warps it into something else (something that belongs to him).

“I don’t,” you choke out, and try not to picture how close he’s standing. If he’s standing at all, or hovering in place like the fucking wasp he is. “I…I needed some air.”

He hums, and then an arm winds over your stomach. The conviction that he’s gonna rip you in half hits with all the usual force, but he does something worse. His chest presses to your back, and you can smell him when his cheek presses to the side of yours. The nauseating iron of-

Who did he kill tonight? Does it matter?

It should, god, you need it to matter. They aren’t- they aren’t real, you think sometimes. You’re the only one who’s real here, so, it’s…okay. To do whatever keeps you alive. You think your brothers, Denise, they’d want you to stay alive. But then the guilt eats away at you and no, no, they wouldn’t want this. They’d find it disgusting, they’d hate you for it.

It isn’t even as bad as it’s gonna get yet. It isn’t even…

Your eyes sting, and you don’t mean to make any noise but you must’ve, because he shushes you. Gently, for whatever that’s worth (it’s so fucking wrong to think it’s worth anything at all). His gloved hand cups your throat, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

But he doesn’t kill you. Doesn’t tighten his grip, strangle you until you forget how to panic, lost in how close it is to being over.

Instead, he strokes your pulse. At least his gloves aren’t wet this time. You don’t feel anything flaking off against your skin.

“You’re okay,” he mocks you, and you’re sure he’s smiling when your next exhale is shuddering and wet. “I have you. I won’t let anything bad happen to my pet. I won’t let you fall - not today, not ever.”

It’s a lie. He’ll get bored, eventually. He has to get bored, when you’re…you. The thing you understand least about him is why the fuck he keeps you around at all.

Yusss such a messy situation for poor Maskless. I go back and forth on whether he's gay or bi, but either way Benny would still be more visibly the 'threat' to his loyalty - while also being the one he wants to protect more, since Robin can handle herself. Meanwhile Benny is completely clueless lmao, this guy is fully the oblivious type (the trail of broken hearts he might've left in his world...the number of guys scared off by his terrifying older brothers...)

Yeahh Benny gets some leeway from the human perspective since he actually reacts like a normal (if extremely anxious and dramatic) person might lol. Robin explaining to him that people might look to him to control/use the variants and he's just "but- but that's what you're good at! I'm useless!"

At least one of the variants has to get "please don't kill me" lmao. "leave me alone" "I'm sorry" "what do you want" "I don't know what you want me to say" "stop" "help me" - along those lines, unless some situational factors come into play.

Robin's lack of fear (or care about the mass murdering) works in her favour, helping the variants feel less like they need to push/keeps a path open to 'my soulmate won't reject me'. Soooo the opposite reaction is actually way more dangerous xD Would need to rely on their ego to be all 'I can Make This Work' and exactly how deeply the soulmate ideals matter to them - the difference between 'I can convince him to not be scared of me' and 'I can force him to not be scared of me'.

Robin's specific headcase of a situation also means she gets more of the mindfuckery aspects (including being able to read them so well), while Benny has a much more solid sense of self overall and would just feel more alarmed by the soulbond insistence that he can trust this nightmare xD Poor guy.

On the...upside? He also has a tendency to latch on and refuse to go back on it, so anyone who gets deemed safe/protector will get a very clingy soulmate looking at them with wide, teary eyes and "you...you really mean it? You'll keep me safe?"

(bit late in the game to develop a saviour complex guys but the soulmate exception is a powerful force)(as is the dacryphilia)

variants: no fear variants after meeting Benny and realising he could have a heart attack and die from sheer terror: one fear

"He's so weak and delicate" sickened "Haha...yeah, so...weak and...delicate" many emotions. none of them sickened

It's a way for him to turn what was already happening into a weird form of controlled 'I'm in charge of this' too, since obviously he doesn't know Benny was gonna run away lol. But there can't be any form of attachment or obligation involved, so it has to be via using Benny as an asset - even an unreliable one is a godsend after the strongest superhero on the planet has maybe murdered the other strongest heroes.

So they're paying close attention and while Benny is an anxiety ball, he's also noticeably not spilling about the Situation or acting super sus. Because he was already in this over-anxious state. It's the perfect camouflage :D

(and 'im terrified of you' and 'i have a crush on you' doesn't always look super different-)

On the...upside? Being friends with Mark and William is actually something of a lifeline for Benny. It both gives a focus to his general stress and gets him out of his head, and as he has more moments of feeling comfortable with them, it balances out some of his worst impulses and mood drops.

lmao by the stage of a confrontation between Cecil and Mark, Mark would be very familiar with how mean Benny can get too (circa the Argument that'll follow season 1 finale and the betrayal being revealed). So he'll see the resemblance there xD And-

huh idk if Benny would auto side with Mark in the case of the chip. because Mark is terrifying, even if he's now Benny's terrifying boyfriend. And he can 'what if' himself into inaction.

But then the guilt would overflow - because of Debbie lmao, Benny couldn't handle disappointing her (and a possible post season 1 would include him moving into the grayson house, once Debbie learns he's been living alone, so that has an influence too).