Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Oh, fuck his life. 

Like, actually. What the hell kinda luck is this? Dealing with one Mark isn’t enough, there’s gotta be, what- twelve? A dozen Invincibles reigning hell on the planet, with a special affinity to the Guardians? Yeah, man. This is just perfect, totally aces! 

And just when he was finally getting better at this ‘new year, new me!’ shtick. 

Rex grabs at the slider to his side and pops two capsules in his hand, he channels the hot heat into each and turns to throw them forward at the guy currently on his trail. He didn’t think it was possible for Mark to look so evil. Don’t get him wrong, Rex has seen the guy get pretty fucking insane. He’d seen the dude rip apart Kate’s brother, the multiple bodies that came along with it all dawning the same face, he watched the blood’s borders spread farther and farther. But, to be fair, it’s because the man- Paul, that’s his name- did fuck Rex up on the steps pretty bad. Then, what? A week later? Rex watched as the whatever-you-call-it in Mark’s head finally relented it’s torture, and the other rose up from the ground to tear apart Sinclair’s fleshy-robots. With a shiver, he remembers the fake blood and real guts that stained not only the walls, but Mark’s whole body fist to face. Jeez, that was real freaky. 

This Mark doesn’t have an excuse, he’s just fucking psycho. 

Rex ducks behind a wall and works at the compartments at his hip when they stick. “Fuck, fuck, not now-” He clenches his teeth and one disk comes loose just as there’s a wave of wind so hard it makes the exposed skin on his cheek stretch back. It’s like being on a rollercoaster and making that first, steep descent, only instead of laughing with his hands up in the air- Rex looks up to see this alternate Mark with crossed arms and a smile. 

“Sloane, right?” The guy taunts, swerving in the air when Rex throws the capsule and it blows up just to the side of his arm, “Man, you’re totally different than my Rex. He’s way too full of shit to fight in this kinda thing- well, was. ” 

Rex side-steps a punch, just a hair away from getting his jaw shoved back into his brain, and plasters three disks to evil Mark’s back. They explode and the guy barely reacts outside of a slight flinch, like he got poked or something. This might be the most unprepared Rex has ever been in his life, and that’s really, really saying something. 

“You kill him?” He asks, not totally held-up on the answer as he’s instead preoccupied with getting his face smashed through a window. 

He’s pulling himself up and off jagged pieces of glass when Rex hears behind him, “I did, actually,” There’s a hand wrapping around his ankle that yanks him back, his chest scratches against the upright shards and he winces, “Wanna hear how I did it?” The other continues, as if he didn’t just shred Rex’s front into janky sections. 

“I’ve got this crazy feeling that you’re gonna tell me no matter what I say,” Rex uses his other leg to kick his heel into scary Mark’s gut. Unfortunately, but not too surprisingly, it hurts him more than it seems to hurt Not-Mark. It doesn't feel too different from kicking a brick wall, maybe stone, maybe titanium, whatever bruises the most. 

“So astute,” Mark says it condescendingly, like one would to a toddler taking it’s first steps or something, “My Rex wasn’t that smart, either.” He drops the ankle and stands over Rex’s back, leaning down to pull at his mask. The top of it comes off easily, he hears it drop by his right ear. Then, when Rex lifts his head up, there’s a solid shove that sends him nose-first into the cracked floor. The nose has gotta be one of his least-favorite places to get shoved into pavement, it makes top three for most painful, at least. 

There’s a sensation at the top of his spine, lowering down against the ridges as Mark speaks, “I cut him in half, clean through. I just dug my hand in and…” The touch- a hand, Rex realizes- digs into the bone hard enough that Rex legitimately starts to fear for his mobility if it goes any further, among the other, million fears running rampant right now. “I’m grateful to be able to relive the experience today,” Not-his-Mark hums. 

“You talk a lot,” He groans, spitting out the blood that puddles in his mouth from where his tongue got in the way of teeth. 

“Your Mark doesn’t? Here I was thinking it was a staple.”

Rex huffs and the pressure at his spine increases, “No, no, he does. He just says nicer things like, ‘Good morning, Rex,’ and, ‘You’re such a great friend, Rex,’ instead of, ‘Killing you once isn’t enough, Rex.’” 

There’s silence and then there’s laughter, Not-Mark’s laughter. The edge at his spine and the foot on his head release just enough weight for Rex to turn onto his back. He grabs as many disks as he can and tosses them all at the body above his own. There’s a grunt that cuts through the laughter, and smoke blows everywhere following the bursts of flame. Rex crawls through the cloud and tosses back a few more bombs just for good measure. 

He squirms behind a jersey barrier and clutches at his stomach, which is currently the biggest cause for the blood loss he’s feeling. It’s- a lot. He can acknowledge he’s watching a lot of blood just flow out of him like nothing, while also acknowledging that he can take a lot more before he inevitably conks out. If a bullet didn’t take the edge of his brain earlier this year, Rex probably wouldn’t have the confidence he does now. Surviving the impossible can do wonders for a guy’s ego. 

“I really missed this,” He hears from a distance behind the stone barrier, along with the crackling of fire and the framework of buildings crumbling, “The back and forth of good banter, it always got my blood flowing. Nobody wants to do it in my world anymore, they’re all too scared of me.”

This guy has got some major issues. Of course Rex has to deal with the Dictator Mark, he couldn’t get Average Mark, or Just-Happy-To-Be-Here Mark, and Mark That Bakes Muffins is on vacation. There’s twelve of these dudes, and he gets the scariest. Of. Fucking. Course. 

He doesn’t hear any footsteps, which makes sense for a guy who floats everywhere. He only hears, “Hi, Rex,” Before looking up and seeing the alternate leaning over the top of the barrier. 

“Sup, dude,” Because what else is he supposed to say? ‘Please don’t kill me, I have a lot to live for?’ Come on, he’s not totally lame. 

Rex tosses a capsule up and watches as not-Mark catches it in his fist, the tremble as it explodes inside the warmth. Yeah, cool, whatever. 

Evil Mark reaches down to grab at Rex’s hair and yanks him upwards. Instinctively, his hands shoot up to try and shove the fingers out, but it’s no use- he feels with a sting and burn as hair is pulled out with every jostle he does. It won’t stop him from squirming and kicking back, but it does hurt like hell. 

Not-Mark turns him around so they’re face to face, Rex looks down to the smile on his face and mocks one in return. A gloved hand comes to his face and touches his cheek, his thumb presses into the skin before dragging down to his neck. Four fingers settle on the right of it, while the thumb crosses over his adam’s apple. 

“So you’re gonna choke me out, really? Jeez, what a- hck, cliche,” Rex gags against the pressure at his neck, “C-can’t even let me go out awesome-ly?” Rex uses one hand to scratch at the one in his hair, and the other to pull at the fingers on his neck. Neither one of them does anything, he knows they won’t, but it gives him something to do. 

“You want something better?” Evil Mark’s pointer taps against the skin, “I’m open to suggestions.” 

Rex furrows his brow, squinting as the grip loosens slightly, “Why are you dragging this out so much? You could just rip me apart in a second, you said it yourself. What’s the holdup?” 

There have been many times since the chase started that this Mark could’ve killed him. He was already covered in the blood of countless innocents, slaughtered without a second thought like pests. Contagious combustion and scientific experimentation aside, Rex isn’t too far off from an average joe, especially in terms of winning a fight against a Vitriol- Vilt- whatever Mark’s murderous alien race is. The most he’s done so far is slow the guy down with some smoke, and even then it only gave Rex a few seconds of peace and time to recuperate before he got literally pulled back into the fight. So, why is this guy wasting so much time with him?

“I like to play with my food,” Not-Mark admits, using his thumb to turn Rex’s head side to side, “I’ve gotta say, you’re way better looking than my Rex was. He was kinda sickly and sad, but you-” He licks his lips, “Have really grown into your skin.”

Rex swallows and laughs, “Alright, talk about mixed messages, dude. You tryna fight me or fuck me right now?” 

“I’m figuring that out as I go.”

Okay. Cool. Awesome. “So you never did that with your me, then?”

He smiles, “I never said that.” 

Rex clears his throat around the blood that trickles down, “I thought you said you killed him? By ‘split in half’ did you mean-?”

“No, I did kill him,” Not-Mark assures, “But I also fucked him.” 

Rex groans dramatically, “Please tell me it wasn’t in that order.”

The other’s head tips back to reveal his throat, he laughs and his neck shifts with every inhale and exhale in between. The hand in Rex’s hair releases its grip, which leaves Rex up in the air held only by the hand at his throat. He uses both hands to hold onto it to try and lift himself up as much as possible, upper-body strength aside, it’s not an easy feat. Not-Mark looks back to him and he freezes, feeling just like a kid with a hand in the cookie jar, as if struggling for more air is something so devious, rebellious even. 

A second later, he freezes for a different reason. It’s not a fist coming through his chest and out his back like he fears, nor is it a broken neck like he also fears. It’s something he doesn’t really see coming despite the kinda obvious way the tone was shifting, but in Rex’s defense, there’s not a lot of air going to his head at the moment. 

He feels warm, rough lips against his and it’s like time stops. Not in a true love’s kiss sense, not in the slightest. The pressure at his windpipe grows and he gasps into the contact, which only serves to let Not-Mark take it as an invitation to stick his tongue in there, too. Eugh, he’s pretty sure there’s blood in his mouth that isn’t his own. He pulls away when Rex’s vision starts to sway and his head drops to the side, toning down the force on his neck with it. 

Rex breathes in and coughs, sagging when his lungs feel half-normal again, “I take it you figured it out, then?” 

“I did. Congrats, you get to live a little longer.”

Well. Okay. If it keeps this freak occupied while the rest of the team figures something out. Sure. Why not? 

“Cool,” Rex says, before moving against the palm on his throat and into the other’s space. This time, he puts the kiss in motion, he gets his tongue ready to explore. Not-Mark takes a moment to realize what’s happened, to recover from the shock, before smirking against Rex’s lips and opening up. Rex can feel the guy moving them through the air while they transfer spit and blood, the slight breeze ruffles his collar. His back comes against a wall- brick, if he had to guess, before his head gets pushed back against it. 

Not-Mark kisses like he fights, violently, with a smile. The grip on his neck pushes back and releases every few seconds, maybe ten if he could focus enough to count, which doesn’t seem like a lot but feels like a lot when his airflow is getting messed with in two separate places. If- when, he makes it out of this, there’s definitely going to be a bruised ring all around his throat, which is going to be such a joy to explain to actual Mark when the time comes. 

For now, he can appreciate that he’s probably getting the best treatment in comparison to the rest of the team. He takes back what he said before, maybe Dictator Mark isn’t the worst one he could’ve gotten. Average Mark certainly wouldn’t be as crazy as this. Just-Happy-To-Be-Here Mark wouldn’t be shoving him against a wall with his tongue down Rex’s throat. And Muffin Mark probably wouldn’t have his leg between Rex’s, and he wouldn’t be slowly grinding against him, either. So, yeah, it’s not the best position he’s been in, but definitely not the worst. 

Worst would have to be with his knees on the floor and a gun pressed into his head, and him saying, ‘Just do it, you pr-’

“What the fuck ?”

Rex’s eyes shoot open, and Not-Mark pulls away with a wet sound. He’s released from the choking grip as something flies through the air in front of him going way too fast for him to immediately tell what, or who, it is. He catches blue and black, and it takes Not-Mark with him, so Rex can assume it's probably the one person he should be very grateful for, while also the one he doesn’t want to face at all. 

There’s tough sounds of fists meeting skin, and Rex chances a look to the side. Sure enough, there’s Not-Mark right under Actual-Mark, getting the living shit beat out of him. Rex reaches up to his throat and massages the skin there, he winces at each rub. Yep, definitely bruising. At least the dude didn’t bite, that’d be really fucking awkward to explain. 

Rex doesn’t watch the rest of the fight, but he sees Mark walk back into view with bloodied fists and gloves torn at the knuckles and he’s pretty confident that the scary Mark is dead or dying in the rubble to the right of him. 

“You’re awfully late to the party, man,” Rex rasps, his voice is gonna need some work after all that. Talk about embarrassing. 

“Did- were you-?” Mark rubs at his face and smears blood on the mask in the process, he groans, “Just- whatever, we can talk about it later. Where’s Eve?”

Yep. They can totally talk about it later. If talking about it later means Rex hiding from Mark while he rubs one out in the shower. Sure. Why not?

Chapter Text

Samson sees Bulletproof leaning over the high railing, with crossed arms and a furrowed brow, and knows something must be wracking the kid’s brain. 

He finds the stairs by the side and walks up the spiral. Bulletproof doesn’t show any acknowledgement of his presence other than a raise of two fingers off the bar. Samson mimics his posture and rests his elbows on the railing, looking over the scene below them. 

“What are you doing up here again?” He asks. 

Bulletproof shrugs, “People watching, the usual.”

“Uh-huh,” He nods his head, “But you look constipated. Got something on your mind?”

Bulletproof shuffles his foot against the floor, his fingers tap, “Yeah, there’s-” He looks so Samson, “Hear me out on something?”

“Shoot.”

“Look at Rex,” Bulletproof points discreetly down at the guy, “Hasn’t he been acting weird lately?”

Rex is currently leaning over Rudy’s shoulder as the other fixes something with his suit. There’s nothing immediately sticking out to Samson, he’s been kinda quiet and standing strangely to the side, but-

Samson scoffs, “What? After a bunch of evil Invincibles showed up and killed everybody? Almost killed him? Yeah, I’m not surprised he’s a little rattled.”

“As if that would freak him out so much,” Bulletproof says, “He almost died a couple months ago- with a bullet and brains leaking outta his head, and he came back just fine. Better, even.”

“So?”

“So, why is he acting so weird? And look-” He gestures to Rae, “Look at her, and then look back at Rex.”

Samson rolls his eyes and does as instructed, shifting his gaze to the other side of the room where the girl stands. It is… a little strange, for the two of them to be so far apart. Samson thought there was something good going on there between them, so maybe they’re just in that rough patch phase. 

“I don’t see anything but another awkward love problem,” He reports, “And you have to keep in mind- it’s Rex, he’s not exactly known for his relationship skills. Maybe he got back with Eve, or Kate, or- I don’t know, one of them.”

“No, this is different,” Bulletproof shakes his head, “Just wait ‘til you see-”

The side door opens and Mark and Eve walk in, everyone turns to look at them, Rex included. Eve’s doing better, considering a very close call just a few days ago. Last he saw of her, she was wrapped up in hospital blankets and smothered with dried blood and bruises. Now, she looks totally fine, as if nothing ever happened. 

Both Samson and Bulletproof, if his head following means anything, watch as Rex crosses the distance first. With arms out he walks to her and calls, “Eve! Holy shit, you look good- great! I mean, you always looked great but like, wow,” He turns to Mark and snickers, “My bad, totally not trying to steal back your girl here.”

Bulletproof smacks the back of his hand against Samson’s arm, “Look, watch what happens when they get too close.”

“What- who? Eve and Rex?” Samson looks over the pair.

“ Mark and Rex, dude.”

Mark takes his mask off and gives a half-smile to Rex, “It’s fine.”

Rex smiles and steps back to look over both of them, asking about how Eve’s doing and nodding along to whatever she says. But he keeps looking over at Mark, quick split-second glances, and Mark keeps looking back.

“Isn’t that weird?” Bulletproof whispers, “Why eye-fuck each other when they’ve got Eve right there, y’know?”

Mark’s gaze shoots up to them for a few moments before refocusing on the conversation, Samson stiffens and kicks Bulletproof’s ankle, “Alright, shut up. I think he can hear us,” Then he processes, “Wait- hold on, are you saying Mark and Rex-?”

“Absolutely.”

Samson sighs long and hard, rubbing at his temple, “Okay, I’m gonna need you to explain your reasoning on this one.”

Bulletproof grins at him, like he’s been waiting to tell someone, “Look, I can’t prove anything, but whenever Mark wasn’t at the hospital, he was here. And whenever he was here, he was trying to talk to Rex.” 

Down below, Mark bites at the inside of his cheek, Samson sees him dig his fingers into his crossed arms.

“I think you’re looking too deep into things,” Samson shuts it down and pulls away, straightening his back up, “And you should probably find another hobby, this is starting to get creepy.”

Bulletproof waves a dismissive hand in his direction, “Yeah, whatever. See you next time.”

-

Rex pushes open the door to the communal showers, dipping in between the space. Beforehand, he’d be able to step right in with the motion sensor’s help. Now, he has to listen to the harsh screech of metal and wires and shit all grinding together every time he wants to get clean. 

He left Mark and Eve back on the main floor, casually exiting from the conversation with a quick ‘Gotta piss’ then followed by ‘Be right back’, even though he 100% definitely does not intend to return. Eve just rolled her eyes at the crude phrasing and shrugged, not privy to anything strange or suspicious. Mark, on the other hand, had furrowed his brow and opened his mouth like he was about to object, before deciding against it and just settling on a ‘Kay’ instead. Rex swears he could feel eyes following him all up until he turned the first corner. Then, it had been like a weight was lifted. 

It’s not that he’s ignoring Mark. He’s just- getting some space, taking it easy after a ‘traumatic experience’ or whatever the people on the news are calling the attack now. And even if he was ignoring Mark, it’s not like Rex ever verbally agreed to actually discussing it, especially not with Mark of all people. Maybe they’re kinda friends, but that doesn’t just automatically grant Mark permission to consistently linger in Rex’s space every day now. 

And- it’s not his fault some other version of Mark wanted to get all handsy with him, throwing him around like a plaything, and it’s definitely not his fault that maybe he was a little into it. But like, whatever, it’s not the first time a fight has awoken something in Rex, and it probably won’t be the last time. 

Mark had said, ‘We can talk about it later,’ and, technically, Rex never said yes- so…

He doesn’t have to admit shit, basically. 

Rex makes quick work of his clothes, pulling the zipper down from his collar to his waistline, shrugging the sleeves off with minimal difficulty. The sweat from earlier today sticks to the material all weird, more so in a way that frustrates him in the moment instead of an actual problem to submit a complaint to Cecil about. Still, it just furthers his point that a shower is needed. He tosses the upper half of his suit on the side counter and gets to work on his pants zipper just as there’s a sudden sound to his side. 

Where Rex had struggled to shift the broken door enough to fit himself in, Mark just shoves the whole thing out of the way. So far, in fact, that he thinks the dude’s just broken it even more, at least by the way the metal crushes into itself at the end. 

“Ah- shit,” Mark jerks his arm back from the door, reaching back out to pull at it before once again retracting his hand, “Um, I didn’t mean to- uh…” He rubs the back of his head and looks over to Rex sheepishly, “Sorry.”

Rex pulls his hands away from his obviously unzipped pants and shrugs, “It’s fine, man. Not my damage to cover, more for the boss-man.” 

Mark sucks in his lips and nods awkwardly, stepping in all the way and tugging the slab back enough so it’s almost like a closed door- as much as it could be. Then he stands there, arms back to being crossed and looking like he’s about to start whistling or something. 

“So…” Rex starts, “You come here to shower, or-?”

Mark looks up, “Yeah- no, I mean-” He stutters, “No, uh. I actually wanted to talk to you about-”

“How have you been, dude?” Rex interrupts, laughing, using his heel to pull one of his boots off, focusing all of his eyesight on only that.

Mark pauses, “I’ve been- kinda not good,” His voice sounds a little confused, “You just asked me that, like- not even ten minutes ago.” He takes a step closer, “Rex-”

Rex works at his other shoe, then lifts them up to the side counter next to his clothes. All that’s left are his pants and undergarments, and he’d really rather Mark not be here for this last part. “Ye-up?” He exaggerates with a pop of his mouth, still facing directly down while he stalls. 

“When I found you and-”

“How’s your mom?” Rex asks, fiddling with the latches on his side. 

He hears Mark cut himself off with a sigh, “Like, also kinda not good? Can you just-”

“And Oliver?” Rex feels a little bad for this one, but Mark really isn’t getting the hint that he just wants some alone time in the shower- and that this sudden proximity is certainly not doing wonders for his repression. 

“Rex,” Mark warns, his voice teetering on the edge of something real, something dangerous. 

“What, man?” Rex’s own voice changes, pitching up on nerves, “Can’t a guy shower in peace without being interrogated about it? Get off my ass, for like, an hour.” 

There’s another one of those awkwardly long, silent moments where Rex can almost convince himself that Mark isn’t even in the room. Though, it’s broken when Mark huffs, “Thought you said you ‘gotta piss’”, Humorously, in a poor mockery of Rex’s voice, “Right?”

He shrugs, “Ever heard of multitasking?”

“Dude. Gross.” 

He chuckles. For a second, Rex can pretend this is all normal- that he and Mark are just having a laugh over something stupid like they used to do. It’s just that whenever the other man is close to him, whenever he’s so much as in his range of sight, Rex can’t help but think about how it felt to be against so much force. Just the other day, he’d seen out of the corner of his eye as Mark took down some random no-name that escaped prison during the attack. It wasn’t anything new, the way Mark fought, just the eyes Rex witnessed it with. Mark had lifted a full adult man up by just his wrist, scolding him while his arm didn’t so much as shake with the weight, and Rex tore his eyes away as he fled in the opposite direction. 

It wasn’t cowardly, Mark could absolutely handle one street-level criminal- was handling it. Rex left because he wasn’t needed in that situation is all, no other reason, certainly nothing he had to fess up to. 

“Okay,” Rex groans, “I know how it must’ve looked, but I swear me and that other you were just messin’ each other up. There really is nothin’ else to it.” 

He can see in his peripherals the way Mark’s hip comes to lean against the counter, “Uh-huh. It looked pret-ty off from a normal fight to me, Rex.” 

Rex rolls his eyes, “Well duh, you’re strong enough as it is. It really fuckin’ sucked trying to hold off some bloodhound version of you while he was literally eroding my face into sludge.” Then, he finally looks over to Mark, just turning his head to snidely retort, “You really think I was getting it on with that guy.”

Mark pauses, tests the waters, “Maybe.”

“Okay, well he didn’t look that different from you- post -mask removal. Like, literally, he looked exactly the same, just a little more sinister,” Rex crosses his arms and squints, a hint of a smirk teasing at his mouth, “So if you’re saying I wanted to screw him, then wouldn’t that mean I want to screw you, too?” 

Again, a pause, “...Maybe.” This time a little timid, unsure. 

Rex whistles out high, “Wow, the ego on you, huh?” He shakes his head and laughs, “And that’s coming from me, of all people. Take a breath of fresh air, man, I’m not tryna jump your bones.” 

“Oh,” Mark says, “Cool. Just- just wanted to make sure.” He swings his arms a little, “So, you aren’t attracted to me? Like, at all?” 

Rex smiles confidently, “No-pe,” With a pop of his lips. 

Mark’s mouth presses in on itself, “Your heartbeat just sped up.” 

“Ugh,” Rex’s arms whip up above his head as he scoffs, “This is so unfair, I can’t tell when you’re lying,” He waves his hand at Mark, “Yeah, whatever, you have a nice body and shit. Who cares? Like, half of the Guardians Part 2 got the hots for you, anyways.”

Mark snickers, “That’s definitely not true.”

“Do you want me to start counting names?” 

It turns to a slight grimace, “Ah… not really.” 

It’s more than a little awkward. Rex could’ve lived happily without Mark knowing he wanted to get closer than close with the guy, but apparently that’s just too much to ask. 

Rex fiddles with the pulled zipper, trying to discreetly get the point across that he would still like to shower. Mark clears his throat and turns, but doesn’t walk out. No, the dude starts tugging his own suit off. His spine pokes his skin and muscles make themselves known on either side. Rex’s undereyes twitch, his jaw falling lower and lower before he rights himself. 

“What are you doing?” Rex asks, voice higher than he’d like.

Mark doesn’t turn around, “Getting ready to take a shower,” He pushes his clothes into a bundle at the counter. 

“Uh-huh…” Rex teeters off, pulling his eyes away from bare skin, “Cool, awesome, cool. Guess I’ll beat you there.” He pulls his pants down all the way, followed by his boxers, and shoves them into his own pile. He’s never minded nudity, but something about Mark’s singular presence has Rex taking quicker than average steps towards one of the stalls, closing the curtain behind him.

He hears Mark walking into the stall to the right of his as Rex turns the knob. The cold water sprays into his face, Rex has to spit out dribbles of water and wipe his eyes. The temperature is a shock to his system, but is gradually appreciated as it fights the heat under his skin. The shower to his side starts up, and he hears Mark hiss under his breath. Rex’s laugh gets muffled by the water, but he’s pretty sure Mark can hear it anyways. 

There’s a passive stillness in the air for a few minutes. Rex has grabbed both a shampoo and conditioner bottle, presumably Rudy’s, from the corner shelf and gotten to cleaning all the grime and sweat out of his hair. He’s washing it out when the curtain from behind him is pulled back and his backside is hit with a gust of cool breeze. 

“Whatthefuck-!” He yips, just with a glance of pale skin as there’s a chemical burning in his eyes. He squeezes them closed and opens them again, trying to blink away the forced tears. “Dude. What are you doing?” 

“My shower won’t heat up,” Mark shrugs, eyes pointedly looking everywhere but Rex’s body- like he’s the one who’s feeling embarrassed. He tugs the curtain closed behind him and steps further into the water. Rex backs himself into the wall, tiles probably making indents in his skin from the force he presses with. 

Rex is trying to scrub away the soap from his face when he feels a thumb against his undereye, it wipes suds away and comes back to remove some more. Rex keeps blinking until he can see clearly without pain and finds himself dumbfounded, almost at a loss for words, “So you came into my shower? Naked? And started touching all up on me? Because…?” 

“I already told you, my shower was too cold. I- uh, saw steam coming up from your stall.” 

Rex guffaws, “That’s from me, jackass. I literally have bombs in my arms.” 

Mark’s brows lift, “Oh, yeah,” He steps closer and Rex feels cornered before realizing he actually is. Mark’s arms come to either side of his own, fingers pressing against the skin lightly. “Mm,” He hums, taking in the warmth. He seems to get a little lost in it, as his chest grazes Rex’s. 

“Oh, my god. Mark,” Rex squirms, accidentally rubbing their skin together, “Fuck my life, dude, what is happening?” 

Mark breathes, leaning his head forward to escape the spray of water and instead just moving closer- again. “What were you up to with that variant?” 

“What?” Rex snaps, “You get me pinned to the shower wall and that’s what you ask me?”

“Um, I guess,” Mark shrugs, “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Oh, for fucks sake. Is this real? 

“Yeah, I can kinda see that,” Rex leans his head back so his skull dings against the tile, “There are so many better ways you could’ve gone about this, something like ‘Wow, Rex you’re so sexy,’ or just asking, ‘Hey dude, can we have sex in the public showers-?’” 

“Can we have sex in the public showers?” 

Rex stares, opens his mouth, closes it, opens it, “Yeah, sure, okay,” Tinny and quick, “Why not?” 

It’s not like arousal hasn’t been building, hadn’t already been building just from talking to Mark before. Heat’s been shooting downwards for the past half-hour, honestly, it’s just getting more and more hard to hide it. Haha, hard. 

He might be feeling the effects of brain damage. That, or the second encounter with an attractive half-alien guy that could totally crush his head into little mushy bits is maybe a tiny smidge overwhelming. Maybe. 

Though, unlike before with the crazy murderous freak, Mark seems much more unsure of his next actions. His hands clench and unclench, his fingers hesitate brushing over Rex’s arms, even his eyes don't stay in one place. 

Rex sighs and stands up straighter to nose at the air between them, straining his neck in the process. Mark swallows, blinks, he leans in closer until their lips touch. It’s stiff, which Rex is slightly perplexed by considering they’ve both had their fair share of experience. Rex, at least, knows it mostly can’t be because of him because he is really putting his all into this stupid kiss, and he’s basically already kissed Mark. Just like, not really.

Mark’s lips aren’t really moving, it’s more like he’s just tensing them and hoping it will work. He really hopes this isn’t what Eve has to put up with all the time. Actually-

“Hey, wait-” Rex pulls back and Mark unconsciously follows after him, kissing him against the cold tile until Rex bites at his lip. He knows it doesn’t really hurt him, but Mark still breaks it up with a furrowed brow. “I thought you and Eve were like, a thing? Is that over, already?”

“Uh… no,” Mark bites the inside of his cheek, “Not really. We’re still together.” 

Rex clicks his tongue, “So, why are you making moves on me?”

“I kinda, sorta talked to her about it,” Mark admits, “And she said it was cool.” 

Rex nods with a pursed lip, “Okay, I guess that works.” It’s a bit weird that his ex is ‘cool’ with her boyfriend macking on the guy who cheated on her, but then he briefly thinks back on all the things he and Eve had gotten up to back in their prime, and understands that the girl almost definitely plans on getting in on something of her own, too. 

“Wait, fuck,” Rex sags, “What about Rae? I’m kinda-”

“I might have also discreetly asked her how she would hypothetically feel about it.” 

Rex cackles, half in shock half in what-the-fuck, “Oh, my god. Did you plan this whole thing?” 

Mark’s mouth tugs back, water droplets cascading over his hair, “Really poorly, yeah.” He leans his head back into Rex’s space, “Can we-”

Rex doesn’t let him finish, his hands worm their way around and up Mark’s back and tug him forward. It’s looser like this, Mark opens his mouth wider as he gasps in shock and Rex makes it stay like that as his teeth clash with Mark’s. The hero’s thumbs drop down to rub at Rex’s hips, nosing down the bone and teasing at his dick. It bobs untouched at his stomach, Mark’s own is settled not too far off. 

Mark’s leg eases its way between Rex’s, slightly pushing at Rex’s right thigh so he can get himself even closer. Like this, their arousals are so close they’re just barely an inch apart. Rex doesn’t know if Mark is doing this on purpose, or if he’s just scrambling at any bit of skin he can get. Mark separates their lips, gives a quick peck, and then starts to suck down Rex’s jaw to his neck. He settles his mouth in the space where his throat meets shoulder, kissing and licking against the sensitive spot. 

Rex groans as one of Mark’s hands comes up to the other side of his neck, pushing in and forcing him into Mark’s mouth. His teeth, suspiciously sharp at the canines, gently nip and prod. It’s light and playful, dark and threatening. Rex wonders if Mark wants to bite into him, Rex wonders if he wants Mark to bite him, he wonders how much of a masochist these interactions are turning him into. 

“Whew, you’ve really got a- fuck- mouth on you, huh?” Rex taunts, “How long have you been holding out on me?” 

“Shut up,” Mark’s teeth dig in harder, his skin pinches and Rex keens. Mark releases his bite and looks up, brows tensed, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no,” Rex swallows, “It’s fine. Actually, more than fine. Totally a-ok, dude.” He doesn’t feel like admitting exactly how much he wants those sharp teeth embedded in him, but hopefully this is enough for Mark to get the gist of it. 

Mark nods and refocuses at a new section of his neck, the hand at his throat holds tighter and Rex feels something flutter in his chest. It’s been a hot second since he’s been this turned on. Even the stint from a week prior hadn’t gotten him so worked up. 

The hand still at his hip brushes against his dick and Rex jolts, Mark’s teeth nick his skin in the action. He feels hot breaths against his neck as the man laughs, his hand gathers them both and it’s-

So much. Rex’s heels dig into the floor as he squirms, nails digging into Mark’s back. He knows the scratches will heal quick, but he hopes to get a look at them when they’re done, maybe even snap a pic or two. Some sort of solid proof that this is real and not some crazy dream he’s having, one that he has no desire to wake up from. 

Mark pants near his ear, his throat bobs against the side of Rex’s neck. He can hear the unsteady breaths, the broken moans, he doesn’t know how much more either of them can take. 

Rex tilts his head as Mark brings their mouths together again, the water warms once it travels between their body heat. Rex can practically feel the heat under his wrists buzzing, sizzling, it builds so fast and Rex can’t even think as Mark presses himself impossibly closer, palm isolating his air and a thumb taunting at the end of his-

The room flashes red as an alarm goes off, Mark jumps back from him and Rex groans, hands still gripping the skin on his back. 

“Mark, do not leave right now.” 

Mark stammers, “But, I-” He points up at the light, there’s a commotion heard from outside, “Pretty sure this means we have to go.” He backs up into the curtain, despite Rex’s nails digging into his skin, and almost trips over himself. Rex can see him trying to get his suit on with wet skin, cursing under his breath as everything sticks weird. He’s prying back the broken door when he hesitates, looks back to Rex and says, “We’ll finish this… later. I- um, sorry? Call me?” Pathetically, he winces and flies out, presumably to the main room to see what's going on. 

Rex blinks, hands still outstretched like Mark never left. He scoffs, turning around to twist the shower knob. When he looks down, hand hovering over the lever, he sees his dick still loud and proud, aching. His fingers twitch before he yanks the curtains back closed, leaning back against the wall again. 

Fine, he can get off without Mark’s help. 

-

Samson hurries to the main screen as soon as he can, stopping at the center of the room while others filter in. Bulletproof chooses to stand to the side of him, Eve and Rae are in the front, Rudy not too far behind with Amanda. Cecil is on the screen, talking about some unknown, high-level threat, again. Shapesmith creeps in from the side. 

As the message finishes and the screen goes blank, Samson notices an absence just as Rudy verbalizes it. 

“Where’s Invincible?” Then after a moment, “And where’s Rex?” 

There’s the sound of wind, “Sorry, sorry. I was taking a shower,” Mark drops down at Eve’s side, “What did I miss? What’s happening?” 

Rudy squints, “Where’s Rex?” 

There’s silence for a moment, everyone looks at Mark. 

“Um. Also… showering?” Mark explains, “I think.” He adds, like that will save anything.

Bulletproof knocks his elbow into Samson’s arm, he doesn’t turn to see the smirk he’s surely wearing.