Spitfire and I spent the next twenty minutes trying on disguises. Picture some cliche movie montage and that's pretty much it. We danced around, I put on a crazy pink wig and a pair of large, green sunglasses. Spitfire put on a hat and a fuzzy boa over his costume. It was odd but I found it strangely endearing.
Eventually, Spitfire and I left the hideout in an outfit that looked nothing like me. The short blonde wig was a little strange at first, I wasn't used to the how light the hair was, but it wasn't the worst thing I had ever worn. That distinction belongs to this mickey mouse sweater my great aunt bought me, a horrendous, misshapen garment that was at least three sizes too big.
The crop top definitely beat the wig in how uncomfortable it was to me, second only to the mini skirt. Thankfully I had convinced Spitfire to let me wear a coat and leather jacket. The glasses fit did well, which was a relief, as were the boots he brought me. I wondered for a moment where he had gotten all the clothes and items for my disguised, but I decided against it. Knowing Spitfire, he'd probably ask for a kiss in return for his help.
...sigh.
Spitfire got to work on my makeup, a skill to such a degree that most makeup fiends would be green in envy. The products he painted my face with were name brand too, and I didn't dare glance at any of the labels I wore. It was so off character, the seriousness with which he was helping me. I half expected him to stop for a moment, that goofy grin on his face, as he turned around a mirror and showed me he had essentially done me up like a clown.
Except, for some reason, I knew that he wouldn't do that.
"Are you sure this much is necessary? As soon as I get inside, I'm going to wipe all of this off my face." I warned him.
His focus never left what he was doing to my face, "Let me live a little, I never got to play with dolls growing up."
"So you're saying I'm your doll?"
"Essentially," He stopped for a moment and looked for me, breaking out in a grin. "I think we found a new nickname?"
"Nope. Absolutely not. You are not calling me doll."
"Of course not..." His words told me no, but those eyes spoke the truth in volumes. "...Doll."
"Stop." I swatted his hand away, but he continued on.
"Don't distract the master at work." He ran a red lipstick across my lips, eliciting a shiver. I became strangely aware how close his face was to mine as he worked, "I'll make you look like a raccoon purely out of spite if you're not careful. I'm spiteful."
"Whatever, just hurry up. I'm tired of sitting here."
It wasn't too much longer before Spitfire stepped back and admired his handiwork. He refused to allow me get up or see myself in the mirror, insisting that I stay in my seat until he was satisfied. So I had to just sit there while he stared at me.
He disappeared, leaving me all alone in the Batcave. Everyone else had long since split, going around to clean up the messes made and take over for the heroes watching over the 'targets' like Mary. I think my mom and Hunter both slunk home, Hunter mentioned checking in on Mary. She had remained unharmed, thankfully, although just because nothing has happened yet, doesn't mean something won't happen soon.
When he appeared back within view, he was carrying a shiny object in his hand. Before I could ask what he was doing, he thrust the mirror into my face and waited with bated breath for my reaction. It was one of the cheap, dollar store mirrors that almost bent under the weight of my shaking grip.
It was a few moments before I spoke, "I look really...pretty."
"You always look pretty, I just...enhanced it?" For a moment, the sincerity in his eyes moved me. And then that smug grin returned, "I'm just kidding. I'm a miracle worker."
"I have so many questions. Can I hire you as my personal stylist? Also, where the hell did you learn how to do makeup. I doubt you're putting on a full face and then slapping a flimsy mask over it?"
"Maybe I learned on my little sister?' He quipped playfully.
"You don't have a little sister." I shot back.
"Okay, so that was a bold-faced lie. The truth is, I dated a girl, she was a little crazy, but an absolute makeup fiend. It was so fascinating to watch her apply it all and one day, I asked her to teach me how to do it. Eventually, I was better than her, she still texts me every once in a while asking if I'll do her makeup for a party. I'm just that good.
He continued, "Hell, my eyes may not even be green. She showed me the wonders of contact lenses."
"You're too self-centered to allow hide your eyes. I'm surprised you even wear a costume."
"What can I say, I've got to keep my loved ones safe. A secret identity does that for you."
I couldn't help but laugh. We should have left a while ago but, I was enjoying this, "Even behind a mask, you are full of surprises."
"Did I tell you paint as well? I'm quite good, even better than I am at makeup."
He's full of surprises I guess, "Will you paint me something?"
My face flushed as I realized what I had asked him. I got so caught up in the moment, I spoke before I could stop myself.
"I could certainly paint you." Before I could stutter out a response, he held his hand out to me. "We should probably head out now, we wouldn't want to leave your friend hanging."
"Mhmm." I muttered, still a little too focused on our exchange to put pay attention.
So of course, when my feet left the ground, I panicked for a moment. And then I looked up into his eyes and everything seemed to melt away. Damn he has pretty eyes.
We were almost there when I finally broke out of stupor. Spitfire had been attempting to converse for me for most of the flight.
My eyes grew wide as we got closer to my neighborhood. My house was actually gone. It felt so different seeing it up close, everything suddenly felt far more real now that I wasn't just seeing everything through a computer monitor.
"Come on W-wwwweendy." He stuttered a moment, probably from the weight of our shared masses. Except he's never had such a problem flying us before. Maybe it's the distance?
"Why did you call me Wendy?" I inquired looking at him suspiciously.
The nickname was a first for him, I think? Has he given me a nickname before? Are we at the stage of the superhero/person-he-saves-a-lot relationship when he starts to give me nicknames. Wendy I can deal with, but the moment he calls me something like Cupcake or Princess I am breaking his nose.
Wait, he definitely already gave me a sexist nickname.
Lois Lane, perhaps?
Yeah, we definitely already had a discussion about why I don't want to be called that.
Back to him.
"Why not Wendy?"
"No, why Wendy? Just tell me."
"Because we're flying?" He offered up, "And I'm wearing green spandex? I'm practically Peter Pan which makes you Wendy, because you need my help to fly. No pixie dust of course, and I think I'm a little old to actually be Peter. My thing with the real Wendy would probably be illegal, so you'll have to do."
"Gee thanks." I muttered.
"Where do you want me to drop you?"
"A little ways away, there's a patch of woods so it seems like I'm taking a shortcut on my way here. I can walk over alone," I looked at him playfully, "Unless you'd like to come and hang out with us."
His eyes shot to me, "It would probably be a bad idea for me to be walking around with you."
"You're probably right, having you with me would make the disguise pointless. Who else would you be chauffeuring around?"
"Fair point."
We touched down in a patch of wood a block and a half away from Murphy's house. Spitfire promised he'd be watching over me until I got to Murphy's house and that he'd be in the area for a while until someone else relieved him. He guessed it would probably be my mom after she got a little bit of rest.
She probably wanted to see the house, if she hadn't stopped by already.
The streets were quietly and dimly lit, yet I felt oddly safe. It's my neighborhood and it's gated so it's a familiar and safe area in general, I wouldn't be surprised if Murphy's home had camera feeds of the entire neighborhood. Murphy has made it clear his father is absolutely that paranoid.
Still, it was knowing that Spitfire was somewhere near watching over me as I walked. It was odd how little I knew about how, how few interactions we had had thus far, and yet he was someone I was safe with. The little insights into his mind, and the way he handled my vulnerability after what happened in the parking lot, it strengthened our bond.
The gates loomed over as I grew closer to the mansion. Hesitating only for a moment, I pressed on the bottom for the intercom. It took a few seconds before it flashed to life, the face of Murphy's butler staring back at me with confusion. Crap, I forgot about the disguise.
Geoffrey was quickly to try and send me off, "I apologize, Mr. Thompson-"
"I'm here for Murphy," I cut in, "The password is crayon."
He paused for a moment and then the intercom went black. I worried for a moment that I might have been brushed off. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, ready to message Murphy to let me in when the gate opened just the slightest bit.
I took that as my cue to enter, so I slipped through the crack, noticing it locked right up. The journey up the driveway was long and arduous, but I managed to make it up without being too out of breath.
The ornate front doors flung open and there, standing on the other side, was...
"Wallflower!"
Murphy.
He quickly ushered me upstairs and showed me the room I could sleep in. The closest already had clothes in it, which I tried to protest until I realized I had nothing. Murphy seemed to notice the smile fall from my face so he wordlessly moved over to my side and bumped his shoulder against mine.
No words passed from our lips but they didn't need to. I was thankful, for letting me stay and he knew that it was nothing. Money wasn't a problem for him, although we both knew he appreciates having someone just a few rooms away for the first time in a while.
"Get into something more comfortable, I doubt that outfit was your idea in the first place," He walked over to the door but stopped a few steps away and turned to me, "You look...nice."
"Thanks." I said quietly and he shut the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Hey guys! Hope you liked this chapter. If you read something that seems like a big reveal that isn't there anymore, don't fret. I made a mistake while writing (I was super tired) it has been fixed. Please keep it to yourselves (all 12 of you) because all will be revealed soon.
Sidenote, this book reached #182 between this chapter and the last although it went back up.
I'm going to start putting up my favorite comment/comments. It's something I did with one of my last stories and I enjoyed doing it.
Favorite comments:
"Definitely the first thing #Freudianslip"
-Ncitybookworm
(That was regarding Novas "accidentally" asking Murphy if she can sleep in his bed)
"The stolen red crayon!"
-Piplupstriforce
(For being the first to remember the red crayon)