Shrunk with a Stupid Supervillain

Treatment.

I'm never going to get used to Diego picking me up. I hate it. Despise it. Loathe it.

When he does it a second time, I make sure to hang on tight to the soft black fuzz of his gloves.

I gasp when my good wing catches some air as he speed-walks me to the living room. I have to reclasp the glove fuzz, and hunker down so I don't get pushed off his hand by the air. See just how frail and pathetic I am?

Diego glances down to check on me, then keeps walking and stops facing the coffee table, the boring couch behind him.

He slides me off his hand and onto the table carefully, setting all the medical supplies beside me. Then he adjusts the lamp to shine over me, which nearly blinds me.

"Aren't you hot in that?" I ask him, looking him up and down. He still has on his all black outfit, which consists of at least two layers, covering him head to toe. And plus, he looks like he's in pain.

He pauses unwrapping the gauze, and... poses?

"Why yes, yes I am," he says, winking at me. I scrunch up my face, confused and slightly disgusted, until I realize what he means.

"W-wait, no, I meant temperature wise," I say, blushing and looking down at the table.

I hear him chuckle, and shoot him a glare. He looks over at me, and chuckles more when he sees me glaring at him.

"Sorry, sorry. Yes, I actually am hot in this. But your wing repairing comes first, so turn around and sit down."

I do what he says, sitting down criss-cross applesauce style. I untuck my injured wing, feebly stretching it out, my face contorted with pain.

I sit still and listen as he uncaps the ointment, and flinch when I feel his finger apply it to my wounded wing. He mutters sorry, and keeps adding it to the worst spots on my wing.

I try to keep quiet and ignore the pain, but when Diego smothers some on the most painful sore, I can't help but whimper.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, just bear with me, okay?" Diego says, continuing to apply the medicine. I nod, fidgeting with the shoelaces of my converse to distract myself.

Diego finally pulls his finger away, and reaches for the gauze. I stay frozen in place, scared that if I move I'll mess the ointment up.

I can feel him wrap the gauze around my wing, and position the makeshift splint on as well.

"There, all done!" he says, and I turn around to see him pulling away to admire his handiwork. I also examine my wing, and approve of it.

"How're you so good at bandaging stuff?" I ask, stroking over the bandages and feathers that poke out.

"Oh, you know, being a supervillain kinda leads to a lot of injuries." he says, leaning back against the couch.

That's odd. I thought all the superheroes left him alone. I mean, we all loved Diego's antics, and I've never seen him be attacked before.

"But Dieg-"

"I'm going to change out of this, so stay here," he says, cutting me off.

I open my mouth to finish, but he cuts me off again.

"Promise you won't tell anyone who I am?"

"...wait, you're going to reveal your identity? To me?"

"Well, duh, you might have to stay here for a while, and I don't want to have to always hide who I am." he says, rolling his eyes.

I just stare at him, and realize I'll have to reveal mine as well. What am I supposed to do, always keep my mask on? Besides, feathers have fallen off of it and it stinks by now, as do the rest of my clothes, from hiding under a dumpster.