Pretend To Be Nice (6)

Science! Girl & Chained Lightning #6: hate sex and never speaking again (?)

Science! Girl & Chained Lightning is a spinoff of Radiance; both stories take place around 2013 in a world where atypical abilities have become increasingly common, with the storyline following a group of minor-league superheroes based in Washington, DC. This one is all about belligerent not-quite-a-couple Dr. Marissa Cotlin and her favorite (former) test subject Baz Grimes, who clearly adore each other but keep finding new and interesting ways to avoid getting the point across.

Previously…I’ll just let Sebastian catch you up. It was a lot. This time, we find out how sarcastic I was being when I made that banner image.

<#5 || Directory || To Radiance #5>

When Baz woke up, the room was light and one of his feet was cold.

The cold foot, though it didn’t make much sense, was at least easily explained: he was missing a shoe. It was less obvious why he would have slept past 0500, something he hadn’t willingly done for the last decade and a half. It was sunlight, for sure; hotel curtains never closed right. But he could have sworn he’d fallen asleep with the lamp on…for some reason.

The memories trickled in as he walked himself backwards through last night. Marissa. Her father, the retired cape, apparently. What he guessed was a mega-dose of melatonin. Getting beat up by clones who were trying to kidnap his girl. Making out. A lot of contradictions. Too many conversations. That wasn’t even all the way back to lunch yet. Had he ever had dinner? God, what a day.

He rolled over, groaning a little at the stiffness, to see if Marissa was awake yet. She must be, because the covers on that side of the bed were tossed back into place, already cold. Then again, the room was dead quiet. While she definitely had been here—an assortment of the beads from her dress rolled into his hand when he propped himself up to look into the darkened bathroom—he was alone now. He sat up slowly and took a survey of the room’s various flat surfaces: she hadn’t left a note.

Ain’t that something for a change. You took a girl back, skipped the hate sex, and went straight to the never speakin’ again.

“Would you quit it,” Baz muttered, turning his neck to pop it and grimacing as he hit a crick. He pulled his phone out of his pants pocket to find it had been smashed in the fight; the power button actually fell off in his hand. Shit, wouldn’t that make work fun tomorrow.

See, though, this was fine. Probably Marissa’d just texted that she was going out to get changed and find breakfast, not realizing he wouldn’t see it. She’d be back, if only to find out why he hadn’t replied. She hated when he ignored her messages. It was fine.

He got up and knocked back the morning electrolyte tablets with too much ibuprofen, brushed his teeth, and decided he’d better shower. Washing was largely a matter of habit and guesswork, watching the water under his feet to make sure it ran clean and flinching as he scrubbed at bruises he couldn’t see. He was still annoyed on principle, but if he felt like this after twice as much sleep as usual, he’d probably needed it. There was one counter-argument for The Wizard’s concerns: he rarely got up the morning after a fight wanting to go out and do it again. After putting his body through the meat grinder for flag and country for ten years, just to be sidelined on a freak profile, he felt increasingly tempted to say things like I’m getting too old for this when he tried to reach for something and his shoulder growled at him. He wasn’t even thirty-five. All that time as a guinea pig, and for what? If they figured out how to put accelerated healing abilities in a test tube, sign him up. That was the only way to do this.

Baz managed to bandage up his hand by feel before shrugging off the rest and getting out his casual clothes. He was just into his jeans when he heard an obnoxious beeping from the room’s microwave, and smiled. See. She did come back. He buckled his belt without putting anything else on and sauntered out to lean on the corner of the wall. “Hey, there.”

Marissa looked over her shoulder and put her coffee down very quickly, splashing some over the side and struggling to wipe it up without making the problem worse. “Oh—ohmigod. Hi. Can’t you put a shirt on?”

He smirked. “Come on, you know damn well what I look like. You see me without a shirt on all the time.”

“At work. This is, uh. This is different.” Poor thing, she’d just given up and dropped the whole cup into the trash. That probably wasn’t the easiest problem to tackle when you couldn’t stop looking at something else.

“Yeah,” he said, stretching casually for effect and enjoying the upper hand while he had it. “You’re in my room, where I get to wear what I want to.”

“Right.” Marissa crossed her arms and chewed uncertainly for a moment at one of her knuckles. She didn’t seem to know what to do when she wasn’t mad at him, and it was adorable. “Was I not supposed to be? ’Cause, I can leave if…”

Oh, no, there was not going to be any more of this. Baz had already stood up and closed the distance between them, just pausing to savor the thrill on her face before he took her by the chin and kissed her firmly. “You’re not goin’ anywhere,” he said. “Besides, I never did get much of an explanation from you.”

She ran her hand along his arm, with an air of trying to distract him. “About…?”

“What’re you really so skittish for?” he said. “You can tell me.”

Marissa grimaced softly. “I did tell you. I never thought you might be serious about me, you know…all things considered.”

Baz tried to guide her face back, but she remained stubbornly pouting at the floor. “Is it that hard to believe?”

“Yes,” she said, like he was somehow the oblivious one in this, reaching up and shoving him back a little. “You’ve always loved pushing my buttons. Then suddenly you’re flirting with me? You’re way out of my league, there was no way. You’ve got everything together, you’re cool, people like you. You’re hot as hell, and I know you know it. And then, I mean, there’s Chained Lightning. I’m—I’m not even gonna go there. I don’t even know how you would have time for me. So of course it just ticked me off.”

Okay. So maybe he’d played himself there, just a little; he could see that. But there was a lot Marissa seemed to be forgetting. “Right,” he said. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, you know, maybe you’ve never thought this through all the way. So I’ll walk you through it.”

“Tch. Sebastian—”

“Who,” he said pointedly, “heartlessly bullied me into designin’ the dumbest workable alter-ego concept I could think of when someone decided to make it a challenge, for morale?”

She had forgotten about that. It was written all over her face, in slow-motion horror. “Me.”

“Uh-huh. And who was it that brought up that the city heroes were ignoring the villain problems your colleagues were startin’ to have, and how we could be next?”

“…also me.”

“Who insisted on buildin’ that armor?”

“But you fried my exoskeleton,” Marissa snapped. “I needed a replacement project, it was only fair. What are you trying to say?”

Baz held a finger up. “How often do you actually see Chained Lightnin’ show up on Twitter? —yes. I know you keep the tab open.”

She blushed a little at that. “I don’t know. Not all that often, I guess.”

“And where is it, usually, if Lady Radiance ain’t involved?”

“Well, around the lab,” she said.

He leaned in. “Where else?”

Baz couldn’t believe Marissa was having to think about this, but it really looked like she was. The tunnel vision on this woman, for somebody so smart… “In, um…in…my neighborhood.”

“Yeah.” He picked up her hand and held it between his. “Rissa, Chained Lightnin’ is yours. I’ve never been in this for anybody else. Anytime you want me to hang it up and stay home with you, you just say so. That’s all I want, anyway.” He paused to watch her reaction. “Don’t…cry.”

“‘Don’t cry’,” she said, blinking hard as she met his eyes. “Really? Are you trying to get me to smack you now?”

He put his arms around her and pulled her in. “Rather you didn’t.”

“All right, then,” Marissa huffed as she pushed her face against his chest. “Tell me not to cry. Jerk.”

“You like it,” Baz said, recognizing flattery when he heard it.

“Yeah, you’re lucky.”

Lucky—she had no idea. Marissa could fuss about anything she wanted so long as she stayed, a soft place to land, a heart that could forgive his missteps and ultimately take him in stride. Still, he waited to be sure she wasn’t seriously going to cry on him before he ran a hand up the back of her neck and stroked it to get her attention. “You wanna sit down or something?”

“I guess,” she sighed, though she didn’t move except to turn a little and press her lips against his skin. “Hand me my food off the microwave, would you? I’ll forget about it if I don’t throw it back in the box now.”

Sebastian looked over and groaned aloud before he could stop himself, because he had been so close to ignoring the lingering pain and his own empty stomach in favor of throwing her on the bed. But this just couldn’t stand. “Marissa, what is this?”

“Breakfast,” she said defensively, raising her head to glare again.

“Hot Pockets are not breakfast.”

“Of course they are. This one has the scrambled eggs and everything.”

“No. I love you, but this drives me up the wall. You’re not in college anymore, you can stop what you’re doin’ long enough to sit down and eat right.”

“Not today, I couldn’t,” Marissa said, suddenly pink. “Not with everybody else there.”

Baz considered this, gauging her discomfort and deciding he could pry. “And why’s that?”

She’d pulled away to fold her arms uneasily again, twisting a finger into her hair. “Well, so…as I was leaving this morning, a large group of Morgan’s sorority friends may have been coming around the corner, still drunk from the afterparty. And we may have exchanged some not entirely true or innocuous comments about my obvious walk of shame, you know, as you do. And, uh…my most gossipy second cousin may or may not have been walking up behind me the entire time.”

“And by may, you mean…”

She grimaced, blushing harder now. “Yeah, definitely. I have, like, fifty unread texts and I’m honestly scared to check any of them.”

His face already hurt from how widely he was grinning while trying not to laugh. “How do you get yourself into these things?”

“I don’t know!” Marissa eyed him suspiciously. “You don’t even care, do you?”

“Sure I do. You probably looked way too put-together to sell it. I have a reputation to think of, I can’t have it gettin’ out that I don’t know how to show a lady a good time…” He took getting popped on the arm as permission to break into snickering. “Hey, alright, alright. I’ll make it up to you. We don’t have to be at the airport ’til noon, so let me get dressed while you go pack up, and I’ll take you out for brunch. As fancy as you want.”

“I don't see how that makes up for anything,” she said, leaning back with a disappointed frown.

Baz had her number, but he’d let her twist for a minute. “No, it’s fair, right? I thought this was about breakfast.”

“No, you didn’t.” Marissa hesitated slightly before reaching over again and setting her hand on his forearm, her lips twitching around words he knew she didn’t want to say. In the end, she gave up. “You know it’s not cute when you’re obtuse on purpose.”

“Pro tip, I don’t care about bein’ cute,” he said, smile curling wide again. “Look—you didn’t really think I’d let you go home alone tonight after all this, did you?”

“I wasn’t even hoping to make it home,” she admitted.

“Perfect. I can walk you to work in the mornin’.”

She scrunched up half her face at the thought. “No. That would be embarrassing.”

“Eh, we can negotiate.” Baz kissed her again, and for a few minutes forgot he was supposed to have other plans. She was so inviting, and he’d already waited for so long. He’d just disentangled himself and was raising a reluctant eyebrow at her shy attempts to reengage when someone knocked on the door.

“Who’s looking for you?” Marissa said, annoyed.

He shrugged as he walked over to see. “Probably looking for you. You shoulda checked those texts.”

“Oh, god, don’t start…”

There was Mallory, looking directly into the other side of the peephole with the most self-satisfied grin he might have ever seen outside a mirror. He couldn’t help but break into one of his own as he came back quietly. “It’s your sister.”

Marissa immediately grabbed him by the wrist. “In that case, we are definitely not here.”

“I d’know…could be important,” Baz said, lilting.

“Don’t you dare. I’ll—”

“No, you won’t.” He gently peeled her fingers away and made it about three inches before she lunged again.

“At least go put a shirt on first,” she hissed. “I mean it this time.”

If it were anyone else, probably he would have, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. He shook his head with a smile and pulled her along with him, since she wasn’t letting go.

When he opened the door, Mallory’s amusement widened almost immediately into glee. “Oh, I am interrupting something.”

“No—!”

Baz cut Marissa off with a squeeze. “Just a little, but I guess I can forgive you.”

“Well, I’ll be quick, anyway,” she said, leaning up against the doorframe. “I have to let you know that all the rooms in the reservation block were supposed to have late check-out, but actually they do not have late check-out and we all have to be out by eleven. And Mom’s very sorry about any logistical headaches that might cause.”

“Yeah, I bet she is,” Marissa grumbled.

Mallory looked back at Baz, a little more apologetic now. “I’m sorry, too.”

“It’s no problem,” he said. “We’ll just have to get a move on, won’t we?” He squeezed Marissa’s shoulder again, hoping for an answer, but this time she just scowled. “You’ll survive ten hours.”

“Aw, don’t look so sour. I’m happy for you,” Mallory said. “You did explain the plan to him, right?”

Baz looked down in interest. “What plan?”

“There is no plan.” Marissa’d turned suddenly pale. “I never agreed to anything. Mal, I told you not to ruin this for me.”

“Just trying to help, babe. If you really want four kids, you’re going to have to get started now.”

Marissa stared, lost for a moment. “What…no! That was a math problem, not—no. That wasn’t what I meant at all.”

“I need to hear about this,” Baz said.

“No, you don’t,” Marissa said, glaring at her sister. “Ugh, this is exactly why nobody talks to each other around here. I can’t take you anywhere—either of you.”

“Just repaying a debt,” Mallory said innocently. “Well! It was nice meeting you, Sebastian. Y’all have a safe trip back.”

“You too,” he said brightly. “And a merry Christmas.”

“Thanks, Merry Christmas!”

He looked back at Marissa as he closed the door. “Repaying a debt, huh?”

She shook her head. “Okay, so I used to be an obnoxious little sister, but I grew out of it.”

“Sure you did,” he said, reaching down to tug her ponytail a little closer to the right alignment. This was going to be fun—probably the most fun he’d had in years. He never could have imagined his life without this girl, and maybe it wouldn’t as hard as he’d thought to convince her to see things the same way.

“I can’t stay mad at you when you look at me like that,” Marissa said, unfolding her arms with a reluctant smile.

Sebastian started, confused. “Like what?”

“Like…oh, it doesn’t matter.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek softly. “Come on. You owe me mimosas.”

🧪💕⚡️

From: david.a.cotlin@nasa.gov
To: mcotlin@difusionlabs.com
Subject: Requested chemical analysis and hello

Marissa (Dr. Cotlin!), good afternoon. I apologize if this seems out of nowhere, but a professional acquaintance recently passed along an intriguing material analysis request with you as the originating contact. I enjoyed the puzzle very much. I understand it's related to some other work you're doing? I'd love to collaborate. Give me a call. Let's discuss. It would be good to catch up with you.

I've labeled the primary molecule of interest as iR46-C (see attached) as it appears to belong to a branch of the iRn sequence of psychic

<message clipped>

Messages: Dr.-Mrs.-Mrs.-Dr. Mallory Cotlin-Ward

Mallory: So, I did some Googling.
Mallory sent a link.
Mallory: Feel free to throw the “I can neither confirm nor deny” business at me, but your boyfriend’s secret identity sucks.
Marissa: YOU aRE TELLING ME!! i expected this text days ago tbh. dumbass thinks hes too pretty for a mask
Mallory: LOL
Mallory: 1) Glad to see you’ve moved on from having garbage taste in men to just being ABSOLUTELY INSANE. 2) Tell Sebastian his favorite sister says he needs to make more electricity puns and see who notices.
Marissa: whose side are you on, omg
Mallory: 😇
Mallory: Fair warning, I’m booking you for Thanksgiving at our house next year. You have like ten months to schedule around it, so no excuses! I miss you.
Marissa: T_T youre the best, babe. ty so much. I miss you too.
Mallory: ❤️
Marissa: <3 <3 <3

<#5 || Directory || To Radiance #5>

Thanks for reading! The main plot of Radiance will return on October 24 (tomorrow!) with #5, Master of Puppets, as the evidence is in—and, combined with several shifts in her landscape of allies, it doesn’t look good for Lady Radiance’s happy status quo. (With, of course, background relationship shenanigans from these two. I can’t with them, and neither can anyone else.)

If you enjoyed this episode, you can show it by leaving a like or comment, sharing this post, or just continuing to read. :) Everyone’s welcome in the fan club!