Kevin stretches slowly and makes his way to the bathroom. “I wasn’t asleep that long. How bad could—holy shit what did you do?” He leans over the edge of the sink to peer at himself in the mirror and he can’t stop laughing. It looks like he rubbed a balloon on his head, stuck a fork in a socket, and then set the whole thing with hairspray. It’s ridiculous.

Timo leans in the doorway, mouth quirked with satisfaction as he watches Kevin try and manage his hair. It requires the heavy application of water and a comb, but Kevin does eventually get it under control even with one hand. He shakes his damp head and Timo catches him in the doorway so he can wipe away a stray drop of water rolling down Kevin’s temple. Kevin pushes him back into the doorframe gently and kisses him. 

“Come on,” Timo says finally, pulling back and blinking slowly at Kevin like some kind of large cat. “Lunch.” 

“Lunch,” Kevin agrees, leading the way out of the bedroom.

“Hey,” Erik says pleasantly when he sees them. “Food should be here in a couple of minutes.”

Kevin pulls out a chair. Someone has set the table with Kevin’s assortment of plates and forks. Timo sits next to him, draping an arm across the back of Kevin’s chair. Kevin leans into him, feeling his warmth. 

“Antti went to get the food,” Erik explains, still fiddling with the Super data. It looks like he’s zoomed in on the downtown area. “We had a discussion while you were asleep.”

“Oh?” Kevin wants to know, but with his luck lately, he’s also apprehensive. Maybe Erik is just going to try and lock him up until they solve this problem. He thinks they probably won’t kill him. At least, not in front of Ember, who is currently floating  above the fridge.

“Yeah, we decided that it doesn’t make a lot of sense for you to only know a couple people’s names. We agreed to equal risk for all of us, as a team.”

“Also,” Sunshine says cheerfully, “Firestorm can’t remember whether to use code names or not and it’s hurting his tiny brain.”

Firestorm puts him in a headlock and Kevin watches as they both sail lightly across the room until they bounce off the wall. 

“Enough,” Erik says gently. He doesn’t raise his voice, but the two of them separate. They’re both smiling, so Kevin assumes this happens often. “Now, you’ve met me. Blue Blaze?”

“Oh we handled that already,” Timo says, sounding smug. Kevin elbows him, but it does nothing to dent his smirk.

“Okay...Ember?”

“Hi,” Ember says with a wave, sinking down to the floor. “You can call me Tommy.”

“I’m Marcus,” Sunshine says, claiming the chair next to Kevin. “Whenever you get bored with Timo, let me know.” He laughs with delight when Timo flips him off behind Kevin’s head.

Firestorm takes a seat next to Erik as Tommy goes to answer the door. “I’m Melker.”

Erik looks expectantly at the apparently empty living room. “Ultraviolet?”

There’s a lavender shimmer and then Ultraviolet appears, stretched out along the length of the couch. He tiles his head to look at Kevin and there is just something unnerving about his eyes. “Simek,” he says curtly. “You can call me Simmer.”

“Hi,” Antti says, sweeping into the room with an armful of bags. “Food is here.”

There’s a flurry of movement and then the table is absolutely loaded with take out containers. Kevin recognizes half the food as at least adjacent to what his mother makes, so he parcels out a little of everything onto his plate. It only takes a bite to agree with Timo that is was worth the wait. He whispers as much to Timo and Timo looks perfectly delighted.

“You’re going to spoil him, Timo,” Melker says warningly. 

 “Oh definitely,” Timo agrees without thinking. Half the table erupts in laughter, but Kevin pecks a kiss on his cheek. 

Tommy says something across the table, something about bread and Simmer rummages in a pile of little boxes to toss a roll the length of the table. 

“Wait,” Kevin says, interrupting his own inhalation of the stew and the sausage. “Do all of you speak Czech?”

“No,” Marcus says. “Erik, Melker, and I speak Swedish. Antti speaks Finnish. Timo mostly grew up speaking German, but the asshole is also perfectly fluent in French.”

“Oui, je parle français,” Timo agrees, smiling beatifically even when Antti elbows him. 

“We speak Czech,” Tommy says gesturing at Simmer and himself. “And you speak Slovak, yes?”

“Kind of,” Kevin amends. “Waaay better at listening than speaking. A lot of the Slovak I know is just what you say at home, you know? I listened to my parents speaking all the time, but I never had to do academics with it or use it for work.”

“You’ll have to join us,” Timo says, looking fond. “We play a game to pass the time, trying to get the others to translate ridiculous sentences in their language.”

Kevin smiles. It sounds perfectly mundane, which they could all really use when they’re done trying not to get murdered. “So,” he says, “how did you all become a color-coordinated, all-European Super team? There’s no way that was an accident, right?”

Simmer snickers off to Kevin’s left but doesn’t elaborate.

“It was sort of an accident,” Erik explains, passing a box of roasted vegetables down to Tomas and taking the gravy in turn. “We were a men’s league hockey team. You know, community event for new transplants to the area, a way to maybe meet other people in the same situation. Hockey doesn’t require a lot of English, especially at that level, so it’s a good way to make new friends for a lot of us.”

“Oh, so how long have you known each other?” Kevin lets Timo pile more food on his plate. He hooks his ankle around Timo’s companionably.

“About three years?” Antti guesses. The others shrug agreeably. 

“So we used to practice at this small, rundown rink, on the outskirts of town. Kind of a shithole, but ice time was cheap and the rink was usually cleared by the Zamboni around the time we all got off work anyway.” Erik pauses to take a bite of his food. 

“There was an accident,” Timo picks up solemnly. He keeps staring at his plate, even as Kevin turns to look at him. “We were the last ones in the building. It wasn’t unusual. Sometimes the front counter employees would tell us to just lock up before we left; most of them were just teenagers. We were on the ice and the light rigging broke. All the lights came down in an explosion of sparks. When we woke up, everything hurt like hell and we were glowing in the darkness.”

“Except Erik,” Marcus says. There’s something in his eyes that makes Kevin stay silent. 

“Except me,” Erik confirms lightly. “The universe saw my ability to captain the hockey team and decided I needed to have a permanent team of idiots to boss around.”

Marcus laughs at that and says something in Swedish. Kevin can tell he and Erik are teasing each other about something, but it flies over his head.

Timo bumps his knee gently. “Erik blackmailed the owner into giving him the rink instead of getting sued. When this is all over, Erik will give us ice time if I ask nicely. I saw you had skates in your room.”

“I’m gonna wipe the ice with you,” Kevin promises with a grin. Timo looks appropriately delighted at the challenge.

It’s a quiet afternoon and Kevin would protest more if he wasn’t on dose two of pain meds. The thought of taking a day off fills him with anxiety, but he can admit that typing reports with one hand would be slow and futile. He does log in long enough to skim Jake’s latest work. It looks fine, just as he would expect. The Supers come in and out and Kevin beats whoever is in his living room at Mario Kart while mostly using one hand. 

“Okay,” Erik says over dinner (reheated stew). Everyone else got a glass of wine, but Kevin has stuck with water. He’s going to be achy enough tomorrow without a headache. Erik passes the bread to his left and continues, “The attacks have been very localized and in proximity to you alone. I think we can assume that our safe house is, well, safe still. We’re going to be chaperoning you directly to and from work.”

“And anywhere else,” Melker says with a small nod. 

“Until we get more information about the villainous Super,” Marcus says, “you’ll just have to be careful.”

“I’ll be careful,” Kevin agrees. Timo looks doubtful, but he can shove it. Kevin has looked out for himself in the city for years. 

“We’ll take shifts,” Erik explains patiently. “I assume you want Timo here for the night shift? The rest of us will switch off during the day.”

“No,” Kevin says, shaking his head. He can feel Timo going still next to him, but he keeps talking. “I want Timo on the same sleep schedule. He should sleep at night and take one of the day shifts when I can see him.”

“That’s disgusting,” Marcus says with glee.

“That’s sweet,” Tommy counters, but Kevin can barely hear him because Timo has cupped his chin and pulled him into a kiss.

“I’ll take you to work in the morning,” Timo promises. 

Kevin grins sharply, “And bring me breakfast? Antti brought me breakfast.”

Timo loops an arm around Kevin’s shoulders, gesturing expansively. “Obviously. You only have three stale pop tarts and I will not be having that for breakfast.”

Kevin can laugh at that, because it’s true. He hasn’t gone grocery shopping this week, so his food stores are down to the nonperishables; there’s three poptarts, two cans of beans, and a rather suspect packet of Tuna-to-Go. 

“You’re going to spoil me with breakfast?” he asks, half teasing. 

“Obviously,” Timo whispers lowly, pressing a kiss to the corner of Kevin’s mouth.

“Oh come on,” Melker protests. “Not during dinner.” Simmer elbows him, but Kevin can feel his cheeks going pink. He likes these Supers, quite a bit, but not enough to parade a nascent relationship in front of them without any shame. 

Usually, they meet him part way home, where the lights of the city dim and the crowds thin. He is therefore surprised to see a flickering orange glow floating jauntily outside of his work at two in the morning. 

“Hello?” Kevin says, uncertain, but attempting to be polite. 

He gets the distinct impression that the orange blob is waving at him, so he waves back tentatively. 

“Hello!” The orange blob sounds very cheerful and Kevin relaxes a little bit. “Trains are broken. I walk you home.”

Kevin nods. He’s too tired, really, to make much conversation. They only make it a few blocks until his companion breaks the silence. “Why do you work so late?” The orange glow washes out slightly, ebbing to reveal a sympathetic round face. 

“Project,” Kevin sighs shortly. “I’m supposed to present a final report to a client the day after tomorrow. Or, I guess, now tomorrow. One of my team members was out sick this week, so I had extra work.”

 “Oh no,” the Super says sadly. “You need sleep.” He holds out his arms, hands emerging from the shifting orange glow slowly. He looks like he’s asking for a hug and his ambient warmth is just making Kevin sleepier. “Want me to take you home?”

Kevin sways forward and then blinks slowly. “I don’t even know your name.”

The Super smiles disarmingly and says something that sounds familiar and yet incomprehensible. He tilts his head when Kevin just stares and then says, “Ember.”

Kevin nods, brain still slowly processing. “Uh, Kevin. I’m Kevin.”

“I know,” Ember says, looking pleased. “Now, let me take you home?”

Kevin walks into a warm hug and gets lifted like a child. It’s comfortable and his arms are only loosely wound around the Super’s shoulders as they drift upwards.

Kevin’s staring blearily at the city lights below, cheek squished against Ember’s broad shoulder. “Wait,” he says abruptly, almost directly into the Super’s ear. He’s lucky he doesn’t startle the Super into just dropping him. “Are you all European?” The accents were pretty heavily European, but Ember said something that reminded him of hearing his cousins talk. His own Slovak is dreadful, to the absolute despair of his mother, but he recognizes it somewhat.

“You’re so smart,” Ember says, patting him on the back fondly. Kevin feels proud for a moment and then a little stupid for basking in that praise.

“Do you speak Slovak?” Kevin asks quietly.  “My parents spoke it with each other so I know some, but my grammar is really bad.”

“No,” Ember says. “I speak Czech. Not so different though!”

He sets Kevin down very, very slowly, just inches from the lobby door of his building. “Go sleep.”