Stories to distract yourself

Superman

"I'm home." Sam closes the door to my apartment behind him, jacket disappearing into his pocket dimension. I was finishing my lunch when he let himself in, outfit in shambles. There were ragged tears across his shirt revealing bandaged wounds. It took most of my concentration not to wince. 

"So, care to tell me how you got those?" I prodded, but I knew he wouldn't answer. He preferred it when I didn't talk about 'work.' The only thing he gave me was a healthy appreciation for my work's health insurance, and a growing concern for his well-being.

Sam shook his head, suppressing a wince of his own. He sniffed, and his eyes lit up. "Mmm, lunch meat." He bravely limped towards me, hand outstretched. "Donations to your neighborhood watch?" His eyes twinkled with dark humor. 

I wrinkled my nose and flicked a piece of spam at him. "It's my meat, you freeloader. Not all of us can carry lunch in our pockets." I took a long look at him as he walked over to the window and looked out at the alley below, light reflecting off his grey-green eyes. The small flickers from him habitually opening and closing a portal illuminated the rest of him.  The tears on the front of his shirt weren't the only ones; he looked like he was pulled through a meat grinder. A flicker of worry bloomed inside me, like every other time he showed up with battle scars. He looked at me, and when I saw that confidence inside him, my worries seemed small in comparison.

He smiled and crossed the living room, wrapping me in a bear hug, and my fears vanished like dawn breaking. "Hey, Kat, I'm fine! Don't look at me with those puppy-dog eyes. I'll get soft."

I hummed and murmured in his ear, "Like I don't have you wrapped around my finger already." We held each other for a moment, my fingers tracing the ripped edges of the folds of fabric. The worry came back, stronger. "Are you sure you want this?" I say despite myself,  clutching him close. I felt him tense. "They'll only get stronger. If they figure out your habits, your limits..." 

"I didn't know you cared about me so much," Sam tried to lighten the mood, but I wasn't fooled; though I couldn't see his face, I could feel him biting his lip. "That won't happen. With the wins we have under our belt, the city's starting to take us seriously. We can make an actual organized resistance- we can have heroes, Kat. I couldn't say that last month."

"Last month you didn't walk in with stitches as long as my arm, asking for scraps." I separated from him, crossing my arms. "You might be getting better, but so are they. You're not invincible, and now that I know this can happen? I don't want it. I'd rather lock you in our room."

He looked down at himself and a pained look crossed his face. "I know that it seems like a risk, but- how can I say this..." He passes a hand through his hair, looking around the apartment. "Every inconvenience in this apartment is irreplaceable- the shedding carpet, the sticky window, even the stains on the couch. These are a part of us, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. But... when someone rises up, that puts all of this in danger? I not only want to stop them, but I'm our best chance at stopping them."

"But- that's not fair! The city doesn't get to have you just because you say so. I'm sure if you stepped back and let someone else pick up the mantle, we could get another hero, with a safer power."

Sam's brow tensed, and he spoke with iron in his tone. "How many people would die for that? How many families like ours would be shattered because I tapped out? Kat, I'm not moving on this."

I squeezed my eyes tight, a raging torrent of emotion building inside, and shouted, "But I don't care about them!  They aren't putting their lives on the line every time they go to work! They aren't coming home in pieces, stitched together and wrapped up! They aren't..." My voice broke, and I covered my face and whispered, "They aren't you."

"Oh, Kat..." He crossed the space between us in an instant for one more hug, and I couldn't keep it in. The tears, the wailing, the mess, it all came out of me. We stood there for minutes, me beating his chest like a toddler, and him taking the hits with his arms around me, murmuring assurances.

When I calmed down, my embarrassment kept me close to his chest. "It's not fair... Why does it have to be you?" I murmured into his shirt, grabbing it with both hands.

"Because I have a woman who would kill me if I didn't come back." Sam chuckled, and winced as I hit him again. Damn him, making jokes at a time like this. As if reading my mind, he protested, "I'm serious! If I didn't have a woman at home that I loved so much, I wouldn't fight those guys. It's because you're too damn special to me. If anything, you're the one with superpowers, managing the mess I leave behind every morning."

My heart stuttered, and I felt his heart beat faster. "What are you saying?" I whisper. I hear his pocket dimension open, and I let go as he stepped back. Onto one knee. Box in hand. My hands went to my mouth.

Sam stared into my eyes and began, "Now, I know this isn't the best time for this, but we've been pretty close lately, and-" 

I slapped him, grabbed the box and threw it at the couch, and tackled him to the floor. "No! Yes- but no! This isn't how this is supposed to happen! You're supposed to take me out!"

"I think you beat me to the punch there." He smirked, and I was tempted to slap him again. Just a little. "So, Kat, what do you say? Care to be with a poor vigilante like me?"

I thought back to our move into this apartment, when he showed me he had superpowers. When he pulled his belongings from thin air, I had that same fear of the unknown that I felt then, but I had memories to fall back on. I knew him, and he knew me. Every experience we stumbled through shaped us, broke us, and put our pieces together. I almost told him with words, but I bent down and let my lips do the talking. 

We kissed long, each savoring the company of the other. I could feel his pulse racing through my fingers, matching my own. Our bond was laid bare for each other, and the result was clear: this man was mine, and I was his. No matter how battered he would get, I knew he lived for this, and I made my peace with that. After that fateful day, I engraved the ring he gave me with these words:

Villains, beware! My Superman is after you, and he fights for me.