#pre-ship

All in all, Danny had been rather forgettable, from his plain face to his cheap suit, until the break room.

Danny had been pumping various syrups into his cup from the flavor cart Tim had insisted on when he arrived. His argument for that flavor cart was that employees could make their own flavored coffee on W.E.'s dime instead of dropping seven or eight dollars at some Cafe chain. The real reason was so that Tim didn't have to walk to a nearby cafe or send someone to get it for him.

Tim lingered, debating if he should greet the other, when Danny took the first sip of his coffee. At once, a purr filled the room, taking Tim by surprise so much so that he forgot to even announce his presence, just watching the other man with fascination as the purrring got louder. Danny leaned back on the counter, eyes closed in bliss as his chest rumbled with the noise.

The sound cut off abruptly when Tim pushed the door open completely, and Danny shot him a look of panic. This told Tim that Fenton did not want anyone knowing he could make that noise. So he pretends he never heard it.

"Morning" He said instead, smiling in a polite way as he walked towards the coffee pot "New batch?"

"Yes" Danny gulped, knuckles white from how hard he gripped his mug. Their conversation was quick and polite, just a bit off, but not enough to be considered tense. Neither was familiar enough with the other to have a full-blown conversation. Tim left with his mug of flavored coffee in three minutes, ears straining for more purs but none came.

By the time Tim made it down the hallway, up the elevator, and sat down at his desk, he knew the bookkeeper was nonhuman, likely hiding it. He also knew it didn't matter, and he continued his work.

A week later, Tim found Danny working after hours, apparently trying to correct a mistake on the number of pencil cases ordered that an intern had made and accidentally went over budget, meaning Danny had to create multiple grant appeals. As he was typing away aggressively on the wireless keyboard, a soft growl, like that of a canine, built up in the back of his throat. It made the hairs on Tim's arm stand, but otherwise, he ignored it. He merely grabbed a pack of copy paper from the supply cabinet, the reason he had wandered remotely close to Danny's work area and went on his way.

Tim filed the new noise away in a mental slot he reserved for Fenton, but found no reason to worry about it. He knew many people who were meta-human and aliens (and, honestly, anything in between or beyond) who hid a similar secret. As long as Danny wasn't bothering anyone, Tim saw no reason to bother him.

Nearly three weeks passed before Tim heard another unusual sound from his temporary employee. This one was not animalistic, but it sounded like a broken beeper going off as the man desperately tried to stop a bout of hiccups. Other employees checked the fire alarms, a few times convinced that a battery had to be changed somewhere, while Danny slouched in his chair, looking red-faced and clamping one hand over his mouth.

With each slight spasm of his chest a slight sharp beep rang out from below Danny's fingers. Tim wondered how no one had noticed he was making the sound, as the entire room of fully grown adults searched for the fire alarm that needed changing.

A ticket was even placed into facilities t9 come up and check the systems while Danny slipped away, claiming a sudden upset stomach. Tim watched him leave, sipping his lavender-flavored coffee and adding the new noise to his mental file.

The real kicker was one month and two weeks after Fenton was hired. Tim had stayed late one night to catch up on work that had piled up during a long case, and he had forgotten to inform the rest of the temporary employees of his plan. This meant that Danny had assumed he was the last one in the building, so he started blasting music while he worked.

Tim could hear the bass of the music from his office; he couldn't make out the words, but the noise was loud enough to get through the floor, letting him know it was rock. After a few hours of it, curiosity got the best of him, and he wandered down to the second floor to see what the song or band was.

The second the elevator door dinged open, his ears were assaulted by the loud, blasting music of Ember Mclain (a pop-rock singer who dominated the charts for months and vanished without a trace) and a second-louder electric guitar. Thinking an employee had brought an instrument to work, playing it instead of working, Tim had marched into the work area for the Gotham Knight, intending to hand out a verbal warning.

What he found was Danny Fenton, playing an air guitar but producing the sound with his mouth. He danced around his desk, eyes closed and completely engrossed with the music that he did not notice Tim standing at the doorway, dumbfounded.

As Fenton moved his head back and forth in a classic headbang, Tim watched as his hair slowly turned pure snow-white and the electric guitar noise grew louder and louder, overpowering the music. Eventually, Danny got lost in a rock solo that had nothing to do with the song, waving his arms against an instrument that wasn't there and rocking his tush back and forth like a man possessed by the power of rock.

Tim almost clapped, but stopped himself in time, as he carefully backed away and returned to his office.

When he sat back down at his desk, muttering the same song under his breath, Tim knew what Fenton was.

A mimic.

Likely a half-breed.

It made sense why Fenton flinched so much whenever Tim offered him a handshake. He made a mental note to stop wearing his pure-silver rings and switch to something more sensible.

While she was still missing her phone, wherever it wound up after her shift in reality, Alex was grateful for the ancient iPod Sam had managed to get his hands on for her. And the playlist he’d added for her, full of some of her favourite artists and a few she’d never heard of, got her through even the most mundane parts of her days. Part of her wondered if that was a difference in realities or if she’d just never heard of them.

Alex pranced around the kitchen, dancing as she cooked a soup she'd make sure had no funky textures. After speaking with Mikey, she knew for a fact that the dishes being served at the townhall included mushrooms, and at least two neurodivergent kids had texture issues with mushrooms. So she'd searched the kitchen, seeing what she could whip up for those poor kids to eat safely; they had already lost their mother in Thanos’ snap – they had been through more than enough and shouldn’t have to worry about something so trivial.

The song changed, the familiar beat of Feeling Good echoed in the kitchen, and she slowed her dance to accommodate it as Nina Simone's smooth voice drifted on the air.

Birds flying high, you know how I feel Sun in the sky, you know how I feel Breeze driftin' on by, you know how I feel It's a new dawn It's a new day It's a new life for me, yeah

While the broth bubbled away on the stove, Alex made her way to the chicken breasts cooling on the counter. Nothing like homemade chicken soup to help with a bad day.

Softly, she sang along with the music as she put the chicken on a cutting board and began shredding it with a pair of forks. Nobody could ever accuse her of having a professional singing voice, but at least she was managing to stay relatively in tune. The smell made her smile and brought memories of her and Maya, her foster sister, working away in the kitchen to perfect it to the front of her mind. Bickering over what base to use, what spices, flicking olive oil at each other. Until finally they found a recipe that was perfect - the chicken came out perfectly seasoned and ripped apart like a dream because it retained its moisture.

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she turned away to grab a paper towel to dab at it.

"What's all this?" Sam's voice cut through the air, amusement adding a light twang to his voice.

Certain she looked perfectly nonchalant and not at all like an idiot for jumping at the sound of his voice, Alex threw out the paper towel and turned back with a wide grin. "Chicken soup,” she squeaked.

The smirk pulling at his lips and the twinkle in his eye told her Sam had noticed. But he didn’t call it out. Instead, his eyebrow shot up and he looked from the chicken to the stove and back to her. "You're makin' chicken soup from scratch?"

Shrugging off her embarrassment, she bit down on her bottom lip and resumed shredding the chicken. "It's hard for the centre to keep everyone happy," she muttered. "And some of those kids, they're already going through so much. Adding sensory issues on top of that would...it just felt like the right thing to do. I dunno."

Sam nodded. "Need a hand?"

No questions, no asking her about sensory issues and what that meant, just...Sam being Sam. She didn't know why it surprised her so much. "Sure." Turning back to the fridge, she grabbed some carrots and celery and held them out. "You mind chopping?"

He smiled and took them from her. "How fine do you want it?"

She showed him how to chop the vegetables so the kids wouldn't have texture issues, and explained that she was planning on doing half without vegetables just in case. "Just enough to get the flavour into the soup, then we'll strain half of it into a separate container."

"Got all this figured out, don't you?" he teased as he set up a work station next to her on the counter.

A rush of heat to her cheeks had her ducking away, hoping like hell he hadn't seen.

"And I see you approve of the playlist," he added, gently nudging her shoulder.

Alex grinned up at him. "Nina Simone is a classic! I can't thank you enough, Sam. Really," she gushed. "This...it's amazing." It had been far too long since she'd had music in her life. Being able to cook and listen to jazz, it got her through the day, helped her sanity and focus. One day she was going to have to talk to someone about her ADHD and maybe getting medication again, but for now? The music was doing its trick, giving her something to help hold her attention.

"Not perfect?" Sam shot back with a wink.

Fighting another flush, she sassed, "Get me a record player and we'll talk." Almost immediately, she clamped her mouth shut, eyes wide. "Sorry, that sounded so rude, I didn't mean -."

"Don't worry about it," Sam laughed. He paused, mischievous smile firmly in place. "Am I allowed to tease you about that Canadian accent?"

Thankful that he hadn't taken it the wrong way, she elbowed his arm. "Shut up."

"No, no," he chuckled. "Say it again. Maybe toss in a little 'eh' for me?"

Shaking her head, she looked away from him. "And here I thought superheroes were supposed to be nice," she groused.

"How about I make it up to you with another playlist?" he offered, chuckling as he pushed a pile of perfectly chopped carrots to the side. "Ever heard Trouble Man?"