Lovebirds

Chapter 1

Cory Mercer used to live his life as fast and recklessly as possible, which was easy to do when you didn't feel like you had a lot to lose. Between his old, cramped apartment, his loneliness, and his entry-level superhero salary, it had certainly felt that way.

He supposed he had Buzzkill to thank for his life of relative luxury. The settlement he'd gotten from the SuperThreat Task Force for the damages sustained during his ongoing rivalry with Buzzkill had been huge-not that he'd gone on a spending spree, but he had sprung for an updated wardrobe, a nice condo in a peaceful neighborhood, and just last week, he'd adopted a shelter cat.

It was Canary who woke him up for the third morning in a row, plopping herself directly onto his chest with a purr that made her vibrate like a tiny orange motorboat. "Hey girl," he said, blinking away the sleep to scratch behind her ears. Anymore, he didn't set an alarm. He didn't let the Task Force pick his enemies, either. He patrolled on his own time and pursued his own leads, and what shouldn't have been surprising to anyone, but still somehow was, was that in the last year, he'd caught way more bad guys than he ever used to. Turned out, having a bit of job satisfaction made him better at it.

But just as Canary hopped off of him, granting him permission to sit up, his cellphone rang on the nightstand: it was Commander Harrington. Sighing, he picked up and said, "Well, good morning to you too, sunshine."

"Crow, it's 1:30 in the afternoon." Her irritation was obvious, even through the receiver.

"Listen, I know this probably isn't a social call..." He doubted someone as robotic as the Commander knew what a social life was. After her day of managing capes, she probably plugged herself into a wallsocket to charge. (Not that he was doing much better for himself, but at least he was capable of being pleasant to be around.) "I don't take assignments anymore, though, so-"

"This isn't a job," said Harrington. "We have a trainee for you."

He perked up at that. "You mean like a sidekick?" He'd never been considered for a sidekick before-this was the highest honor!

"Yeah...but here's the thing..."

"What's the thing?" he asked, now trudging to the kitchen for breakfast.

"She doesn't have any powers," explained Harrington, as Cory popped open a can of 'ocean fish in broth' for Canary (ladies first; it was only polite). "We don't usually do that here, but she's a transfer from out of state, so we can't decommission her."

"That's fine," said Cory. "I beat Buzzkill, and she didn't have any powers. Breaking in a sidekick should be a lot easier, right?"

"There is ONE more thing," said Harrington. "Her old branch sent over her file, which I've CC'd you on, but it's a year out of date, and-"

"Relax. It's gonna be fine. I can handle it. Am I or am I not the unstoppable Crow?" With that, he threw a frozen burrito in the microwave. Quick enough that he'd get to work on time, but it was one of those fancy ones, with a celebrity-chef-inspired recipe, that normally would've cost seven or eight dollars. The manufacturer kept sending him packages for free. He got tons of corporate endorsements like that-he'd become a body-positive icon after Buzzkill fattened him up with her bioengineered honey and he managed to throw her in jail anyway. Kind of a hollow gesture, if you asked him. The message to the public was basically, 'It's okay to be fat, as long as you're good at defeating supervillains'. The snacks were top-tier, though.

It wasn't a bad life. He felt like he had everything to lose, and he didn't intend to.

***

Caroline Cross checked her phone.

Then she checked it again.

Then, a few minutes later, she checked it again.

Ever since the Crow's spectacular takedown of Buzzkill, he'd been her biggest inspiration. Ever since she'd learned that she'd be training under him, she'd been absolutely sleepless with anticipation. But now, as she stood in the middle of the Task Force aerial specialist training ground, a bare paved lot miles outside of the city, watching the clock tick by as her mentor got later and later, she began to worry he wasn't going to show. Maybe he'd looked at the file Commander Scaring-ton had passed along and decided she'd be too much to handle? She didn't think her heart could take it!

But then he emerged from the tree line, making his way up the path to the concrete, and he was even dreamier in person! Just like in all the billboards and commercials, his black costume clung deliciously to every roll and bulge of his soft but sturdy frame, but TV couldn't do justice to his easy swagger and the way he managed to look effortlessly chill, his dark hair rumpled like he'd just woken up like that. She couldn't wait-she ran up to meet him and, with a squeal of pure glee, wrapped him up in a hug.

***

"Y-you must be the Cardinal..."

"Uh huh! Uh huh!" Releasing Cory from her surprisingly firm grip, the eager upstart took a step back and continued, breathlessly, at a million miles a minute: "But you can call me Carrie if you want to! Wow, I can't believe I really get to be your sidekick! You know, I'm actually your biggest fan!"

That...was certainly a way to put it. The red spandex of her black-accented outfit did nothing to conceal the dramatic curves straining its threads. Her belly, round and prominent, preceded the rest of her, and the collar securing her pointed cowl in place dug without subtlety into her double chin.

And yet...

Maybe he should have felt angry for the both of them. Over the phone, Harrington had made it sound like it was going to be an issue placing the Cardinal with a supervising hero, and that she was going to be his burden as much as his sidekick. He'd assumed it was because she relied on a jetpack instead of powers, but it was obvious now that her size was a factor as well. But it was hard to be mad when Carrie was so...pretty?

He could see now what Cassandra Vexley had seen in him once he'd started to pack some weight on. Not that he would ever ruin someone's diet in secret the way she'd done to him...he hoped she was getting some mental help in rich lady prison.

"Gee, that means a lot, Carrie," he said. "You could have picked any other superhero."

"But I don't WANT to be like any other superhero! I want to be like you!"

He flushed under his mask. "I guess I am pretty good at catching bad guys."

"It's not just that! I mean..." She glanced down shyly at the space between them on the ground, folding her arms behind her back. "I know it was different for you, how that bitch Buzzkill poisoned you with her weight gain syrup and stuff..."

That was the story, at least. If the public knew how he'd fallen under Cassandra's sway-how he'd followed her like a lost puppy to extravagant restaurants, spurred on not only by the hunger induced by her secret serum, but his hunger for her as well-how he'd willingly eaten her tainted treats out of the literal palm of her hand-they'd cancel him like a bad space opera in its second season.

"You probably don't even know what a feedee is, huh?" asked Carrie.

"I..." Unpocketing his phone, Cory opened the file on her he hadn't yet read, looking for some clue. Everything seemed normal, from her combat strengths to her weapons training. There was a note that she had 'oppositional defiant' tendencies, but that was par for the course: well-adjusted people generally didn't want to put on costumes and go fight criminals.

Then, he saw it: her weight, as of last year, was listed at 108 pounds.

"I think I have a good guess."

***

The average super-fight lasted about 10 minutes, and that was usually skewed in favor of the villain. The Task Force was big about drawing the fights out for maximum news coverage-most crooks, even the super ones, could be taken down in five. It had taken Cory twelve to bring down Buzzkill, but he had his time down to four in simulations, now that his lungs had caught up with the rest of him.

Training with Carrie, though? That was something else.

He'd expected hesitation-most rookies froze when facing real, live superheroes. That was why he decided to go easy on her. But as soon as they took to the air for their first sparring match, she lunged first, a blur of red spandex at surprising speed.

Apparently, his approach wasn't going to work.

He barely dodged, her fist grazing his ribs with enough force to make him grunt. "Damn, Cardinal," he wheezed, clutching his side. "You hit like a freight train."

Carrie twirled in the air, grinning. "And you fight like a guy who skipped breakfast!" Before he could retort, she feinted left, then hooked a leg behind his knee. Cory yelped as he toppled backward and fell, swooping out of a tailspin at the last possible second.

On and on it went like that-Carrie landing blows Cory's senses should have been able to predict even in his sleep, but the longer they fought, the more he spiraled inside, his focus wavering until it was totally shot.

'She did this because of me.'

'She got fat on purpose because of me.'

'Because she saw me on all those bogus billboards.'

'It's not my fault.'

'But just a little, isn't it?'

It was on that thought that he felt the SMACK of Carrie making contact, cannonballing him out of the sky in a flawless rendition of his own signature move from his career-making battle. He grunted as his back hit the concrete, her body pinning him in place, warm and solid. She said something, but he didn't register it at first.

Then...

"Earth to Crow?" This time, her voice snapped him back. She got up and offered a hand, hauling him up with easy grace. "You okay?"

"Yeah...yeah," he panted. "You're good. That's a good thing."

"Alright," she said, "but you don't have to go so easy on me next time."

"I wasn't."

Her expression melted then. "Oh my gosh, I'm sorry!"

"No, no, it wasn't your fault. I was just...thinking too much."

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Begrudgingly, he whipped it out. Harrington's fifth unanswered text of the hour blinked on the screen. 'Status update?' He rolled his eyes and put the phone back. Harrington didn't get to monitor his every breath, and damned if he'd let her do it to his protege.

"Break time," he announced, stepping off the court to improvise a seat out of a nearby boulder.

"Goody!" Carrie retrieved her small red duffel from the edge of the pavement and flopped down beside him in the grass, legs splayed, her spandex straining at the thighs as she went digging for her water bottle. Cory watched, mesmerized, as she tipped her head back to drink, the line of her throat working, a trickle escaping down her chin to dampen her collar.

But he only watched for a second, averting his eyes as he recalled being watched that way himself. (It had been nice. It wouldn't have been if he'd known the truth.)

Then, just as he was convincing himself that he found a twig near his feet particularly interesting, a crinkling sound caught his attention, and he looked back to see her pulling a cellophane pack of striped cupcakes out of the chest window of her costume. She tore it open with a plasticky POP and took one out before holding out the other, still in its wrapper. "You want the other one?"

He hadn't thought about it in all these months, but now, it finally hit him: not since his last date with Cassandra had he actually eaten with anyone. He avoided the Task Force cafeteria, reminding himself that the food sucked anyway. He sat at restaurant tables alone and put his meal on pause whenever waiters came to check on him, because it was rude to talk with your mouth full, duh. That, or he just ate at home.

He knew deep down, once he saw the pattern, that it was self-defense. In reclaiming food as a source of pleasure, he had also turned it into a source of solitude, and that...that wasn't normal. He had to be overdue for some exposure therapy, so, taking the cupcake, he muttered a brief thanks, unwrapped it the rest of the way, and took a bite.

Then another.

And nothing bad happened.

It was obviously store-brand, and definitely smushed, but that just made it more grounding, instead of a reminder of Cassandra's gourmet sabotage. At first, a flutter of triumph built up in his chest: he did it! He ate cake in front of a girl! And he didn't completely flip out! But then, like the tip of a needle to his ego, the thought came that he wouldn't have even had to worry about that if he'd never been so STUPID...

"I think I've earned a drink," he said. "We've earned a drink, I mean. Do you want to go get a drink?"

"Mmph-" Carrie pushed the last bite of her cupcake past her lips, swallowed, and sucked the icing off her fingertips. "Would I ever!"