Remember Me // Superhero One-on-One // Stalkers Welcome

Around 3 AM is when James was indeed asleep. He had an arm around and under the pillow he slept on. His comfy comforter was curled around him so none of it touched the floor, and he was wearing a comfy PJ outfit she picked up for him. He snored softly, his mouth open in the slightest in the light of the TV, which was still on.
And it was true that he hid her whiskey things. Brownies were tasty and she promised. So he replaced them, not caring too much about how she felt about the hiding.

Nyir wandered over to the couch, watching the peaceful rise and fall of his chest. The hum of the TV and his soft snoring was a welcome relief from the deadening silence of her bedroom. Gingerly, she lowered herself to the ground, leaning against the couch, her head inches from his. She would keep watch, she told herself with a yawn, sleepily chewing a large bite of brownie. She was asleep moments after she swallowed.

James didn't move from his spot when she joined him, and did he only move when it was his usual time to wake up. He stirred slowly with a soft noise of confusion at something dark in his vision, jumping up a little. It scared his tired brain into waking up, and he blinked a couple times when he realized it was just her. What was she doing? He set a hand on her shoulder and gently shook her, looking down slowly with his sleepy expression.
"Nyir, go back to bed."

"Mmm, floor," she hummed in response, staying stubbornly asleep. Her brain demanded answers, as always, so she managed to ask, "Time?" before she slipped back into a half-slumber.

"Nooo, not floor. Bed. It's five o' clock in the morning." He usually woke up a bit early to go the bathroom, then he was just awake for the rest of the day.

"Bed," she repeated, raising her head slowly. "Ow. Sore. All over." The pain jolted her into wakefulness, and she realized with wry embarrassment that she still had a brownie in her hand. In fact, the whole thing was embarrassing –from the panic, to the passing out, to finally falling asleep on the floor. She didn't want to admit that she slept better when she was close to him. That made things so much more embarrassing. "Your brownies are delicious," she mumbled.

James stood up and slowly lifted her up again with a soft chuckle, taking her back into her bedroom and setting her down. "I know you're sore. That's why I don't leave you to sleep all over the apartment," He gently scolded her, smiling at the compliment. "Thank you. You try to get more sleep and I'll make breakfast later." He moved out of the room again, humming. He didn't even decide to question why she fell asleep next to him.

She didn't resist when he lifted her up, mostly because she physically couldn't. Years of teleporting at high speeds and landing with little or no shock absorption make her joints ache anyways, but sleeping on the floor made it several times worst. Plus, losing that much blood made her feel altogether shitty. He set her down in her bed and started to leave, but she called out, "Hey, wait a sec."

James paused and peeked back into her room, looking expectant and ready to do what she wanted. "Yes, Nyir?" He asked gently, with a smile. He knew her small problem with her joints, so he always wanted to help her out with warm things or just a nice hug every now and then. She seemed to enjoy them a whole lot.

"This is going to sound stupid," she prefaced, already regretting opening her mouth, "but…could you, I don't know…sing, or something? While you're in the kitchen or the living room or whatever. Or talk to yourself. It's quiet back here and I usually love the quiet, but…yeah."

James blinked a couple times, smiling a bit. "Sure I can. I'm not really the best singer but I can try my best." He smiled brighter to her and sat up off of the door. "Did you want to come with me to the kitchen so we can talk instead?"

She smiled lightly at that, shrugging. "If you let me have brownies for breakfast. Oh, and if you carry me there," she said, raising her arms dramatically, and then wincing as her side stung.

James laughed gently and walked into her room again to gently pick her up, taking her to the kitchen and sitting her down. "I'll let you have a little piece of brownie, but I wanna make omelettes! I was watching Gordon Ramsay make them last night on his show and they looked super tasty," He rambled as he got out eggs.

She shrugged, watching him gather the ingredients. "I don't care. I'll eat whatever you make." She grabbed another brownie, nibbling the corner and studying him. He seemed completely at ease, unconcerned with the worries that weighed down her mind. She envied his innocence. He was in danger, but he didn't know it.

He continued his chatter like she wanted him to anyway. He seemed to be enjoying talking about using his new spices and making everything a lot more tasty for her as he moved around, cracking eggs skillfully (he spent hours within hours doing it when she was gone) with just a twist of his wrist to try and impress her.

"You're like Gordon Ramsay, except less British and less rude," she observed with a chuckle. "You learn stuff pretty fast, don't you?"

James giggled softly at her comments, glancing back at her. "Oh, I suppose I do." He grinned, deciding not to tell her why he made so many desserts that one time when she was gone for an exceptional amount of time.

Nyir smiled softly. "So what else are you putting in the omelet?"

"I dunno, I might chop up some cheese and sprinkle it in for a nice melty center." He usually liked things that had cheese centers.

"I'll take that," she said. She watched him cook for a few more minutes, but soon the clock hit six and she realized she had to wake up. She couldn't just sit still and pretend things were fine. She needed to do some investigating, some exercise, something. She pulled her hero phone out of her pocket and texted the director of the city's hero corporation, Director Kyŏng-Bennett, Need to discuss something with you. Are you available? She tapped her fingers on the side of her screen, waiting impatiently for a reply.

Once she sent the text, a plate with a warm omelette was set down in front of her, with a smiling James holding a spatula and some salt and pepper standing in front of her.
"Enjoy your omelette. You look so stressed and upset. Don't be upset." He patted her head a couple times and walked back over to his stove, humming to himself as he made an omelette for himself.

"Wow, I'm cured," she snorted, shaking her head as though she hadn't enjoyed the friendly pat. "I can't help it, you know. It's in my nature." She cut a piece of the steaming hot omelette, watching the cheese ooze out the side. She took a bite and felt an impromptu smile on her face. "Okay, sans sarcasm, I might actually be cured. First chocolate brownies, then a cheese omelette. You clearly want me to get fat."

James giggled at her grumpy self, grinning brightly at her with his crooked teeth and all. "You know I care about you very much. I'm not trying to make you fat, I'm trying to get some definition. You're so skinny and small and it's very sad. And bad for your joints. It's bad enough that you teleport n' stuff, but hey, help out your body a little."

She swung her fork at him, narrowly missing as he walked by. "I'm not skinny! I'm lean and chiseled. I only forget to eat sometimes." She flexed her bicep to prove it. "See, muscles."

"AAAH!" He yelped, ducking away from the fork with a huff. "Well, now I know so, because you almost killed me!" He snatched the fork from the wall with a little bit more than just strength and handed it to her.

"When I'm not dying," she said, gesturing to her neatly stitched stab wound, "We should arm wrestle. Yes, I'm aware that you're strong, probably stronger than me, but I'll beat you by sheer force of will. Plus, I carried you here that one time. You were heavy."

James huffed again and crossed his arms. "I don't wanna. Fighting is bad for friendship, I think. So we're not gonna." He rose his nose to the ceiling and meandered over to check on his eggs.

"Aww, you're adorable sometimes," she said with a laugh. "An arm wrestle builds friendships, it's not a fight. It's just a test to see who's stronger. Guys go crazy for it. Girls too, honestly."

"Well I don't like it," He ruled, crossing his arms grumpily and shaking his head. "I'd rather cook and watch TV with you or something. It's nice just talking to you, too."

She hummed noncommittally, still kind of wanting that arm wrestling match. She took another bite of her omelette. "Since I'm injured we can maybe watch a movie later. Maybe. If it's something good."