Real-ish

Cora's House

Cora~

I open the ornate oak door, the gaggle of guys following me through. My house isn't too big but it isn't small either. We have two spare bedrooms, so that means the boys will have to share.

My practical thoughts are keeping me grounded as I lead them through the living room and kitchen. It's as we're on our way to the stairs that I try to shake the nerves that are slowly creeping up on me. Even behind the masks, I can practically feel the guys behind me soaking up the new space and information. It's like being around human metal detectors, but they pick up on everything.

I occasionally look behind me to make sure they're still there. I think I've mostly got a grip on the fact that they're real, as in, not an insanity-induced hallucination. But, with how they look, it's still a little much for me. The costumes don't help.

"So, first of all, who is bunking with who?" I ask. Glances, nods, and a few rarer grunts spread between them as the only sign of communication. I couldn't tell they had decided on Red... (Hood? Yes. That one is Red hood because of the red helmet, I think.) Until Red Hood speaks up

"I bunk with Red Robin and Demon Spawn bunks with 'Wing." He says. I nod because I don't know enough about what just happened between them to get such a detailed answer. They didn't even nod at each other.

"Great, the beds already have sheets and stuff so I guess I'll let you get settled." I clasp my hands together as another thought hits. I think it's a great idea. "If you want to change out of those suits I can find some of my dad's clothes." I offer.

If I can see them without their get-ups then maybe, just maybe, I'll gain enough solid comprehension to take in the situation. Thankfully, they don't consider my proposition for too long.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Cora. We really appreciate this." Nightwing says. I still can't get over their names. I swear I've heard the name 'Nightwing' a thousand times before. It sounds like some sort of... plane maybe? An airline company my parents frequent?

"It's no problem. You guys are apparently from a different dimension, so you would probably have a really hard time surviving in this one." I say with a shrug as if this is normal and I'm not going to google symptoms later. "Like with your names and those outfits. In your dimension, they're probably normal, but in this one, they seem kinda weird. No offense." I prompt.

"Well, to be honest, these outfits aren't really what we usually wear and these aren't our names. In our universe we're vigilantes." He says in a stage whisper. Something starts niggling at the back of my mind. He kinda reminds me of people at those comic con things, where they get really in character.

"That's a bit of a relief if we're being honest. It's good to know you're kind of normal, ya know?" I say, trying to hide what I'm sure is suspicion.

"Normal is a relative term," Robin says as he enters the spare room across from mine. The Reds have disappeared into the other spare bedroom, I think. When did that happen?

"Uh, yeah, sorry. I'll just, get the clothes now." I blush in embarrassment. He's worryingly perceptive. Or perhaps I'm not as good at hiding my thoughts as I want to be.

I hurry down the hall into my parent's room, I find some old shirts and some jeans with a couple of shorts that my dad never wears. If it isn't in his suitcase, it can't be that important. Both he and my mom tend to take everything they need when they leave.

I look at the pile I have amassed and nod in satisfaction. Now to find clothes small enough for Robin. My dad isn't overly large or anything, but he's definitely taller and wider than Robin is. On the other hand, I'm pretty close in height and weight. He's probably a bit buffer than I am if that armor is anything to go by.

I stroll back down the hall to my room, my eyes catching on the chalkboard sign I posted on the outside of my door. My name and a tiny sunflower doodle are printed in faded chalk. My walls are clear of anything that matches, but I think the yellow paint has enough character on its own.

I search my drawers for some shorts that aren't too feminine. I also pick apart my closet for my hoodies and shirts that might not be too small. I may enjoy my fair share of chocolate and carbs, but my frame is still smaller than his. I suppose I tend to work a lot of it off when I train.

I finally make it to my other drawers for a couple of big shirts. I stole some of my dad's old ones from when he was younger so these should fit Robin fairly well too, even if dad's newer clothes won't.

I march out of my room, the stack of clothing practically covering my face, making the short trek to where Robin and Nightwing are staying. I knock, with some difficulties, and hear a faint 'come in.' I walk inside with the mound of clothes. I peek out from behind it with a smile.

"I brought Robin some clothes. These are smaller. I'll be bringing the bigger clothes to you older boys soon because that pile is bigger by default." I explain, setting down the pile of Robin's clothes just inside the door. "How are you guys doing in here? is there anything you need?" No one can say I'm not a good host. Even if I don't know who exactly I'm hosting.

"We are doing fine, thank you, Miss Sanchez," Robin says very politely, but way too formal for me. I feel like I'm talking to some authority figure, but he can't be older than 14.

"I'm glad, but you can just call me Cora. Or if you have a nickname in mind, I'd like that too." I say. He nods silently. I can only hope he sticks to it, but I'm almost hoping he comes up with a nickname.

"Well, I'll let you get changed, and I'll come back with clothes for you, Nightwing," I say, walking out with a smile still on my face. I don't usually have guests, so it's a bit exciting, if not nerve-wracking.

I practically skip back to my parent's bedroom where I left the huge pile of clothes. I grab it and haul the outfits to the middle of the two doors separating the two rooms that the boys are staying in. Nightwing is standing outside the door, probably giving Robin some privacy to change.

"Here they are. You can get first pick while I get the other two." I offer. I step up to the door that houses the Reds. I can faintly hear grumbling and muttering from inside. It almost sounds like an argument, but I can't be sure. I would hope it's not some nefarious plot or anything.

I knock, and I get a muffled reply again. I step back just as I let them know that the clothes are in the hall. The door flies open with frightening speed and force. I leap out of the way as the two shoves each other to get out of the room.

Surprisingly, or not, their antics bring a smile to my face when the spike of adrenaline fades. The three men pick through the clothing, testing pieces against themselves for size.

I'm reminded of how kids look on Christmas morning, and that's when a thought slips past my weakened mental defenses. It startles me.

I think this could be the start of something very fun.

We may have met under weird (and by weird I mean unthinkable) circumstances, but they seem so human. If they acted rudely, or even weirder than they do, maybe I wouldn't trust them so much.

And maybe if I had a better idea of how to make friends, I wouldn't be so curious about these guys who seem so familiar.

"Would these jeans make my butt look flat?"

Maybe I'm just going crazy.