Chapter Text
Foilsick (adj.) Feeling ashamed after revealing a little too much of yourself to someone.
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Cecil’s regret didn’t happen instantly. It didn’t happen the second the words left his lips- because he was right. He was justified. However, his moment of regret came in when he looked into Debbie’s eyes and saw her shock, and then how they brimmed with trepidation and guilt.
She felt guilty about her actions, her words, which she shouldn’t be- they were valid, and any other person not in his position would understand where she was coming from.
And sure, Cecil understood, but he couldn’t empathize. He’d been doing this for so long that he struggled to step into her shoes. And for that, he felt regret. For raising his voice, for grabbing her arm, for causing her pain.
There would be no words that could heal a relationship like theirs, especially when Cecil was steadfast on Invincible’s, on Mark’s, continued superherodom.
He expected her to fight against his outburst, say something biting or trite or maybe even a bit depressing, but instead she just stated her need for him to drive her home.
Upon recalling her two glasses of generously poured wine, Cecil just sighed and took one hand out of his pockets, palm facing upward and waiting expectantly for the keys.
Cecil didn't meet her eyes as the cold metal hit his fingers, only waited for her to move away from the driver's side door so he could slide inside.
The ride back to Debbie’s house was silent, the only noise being the crackle of whatever song was on the radio.
Cecil couldn’t stop himself from drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, a nervous tick that betrayed his otherwise calm demeanor.
Maybe, just maybe, if he manages to not give enough away, maybe he can make it through this night without doing something he'll horrendously regret. Something he wouldn't be able to meet Donald’s eyes about.
Cecil slowly turned down Debbie’s street, blissful in its suburban way except for the house opposite hers, still a crater wrapped in police tape. His teeth pressed together at the sight- he had completely forgotten to get someone to clear out the wreckage since he was so overwhelmed with the disaster in Chicago. He made a mental note to remind Donald about it later, knowing that he should be in full functioning capacity by next morning.
Cecil turned, ready to finally break the silence by telling her goodnight, but Debbie had already exited the car. He gripped the steering wheel nervously before following after her. She beat him to the door, and when it dawned on her who actually had the keys to let her inside, Debbie turned around.
God.
Cecil had promised her he’d be more honest, and when he finally burst at the seams with all that honesty… he could tell it broke her.
But here, on the step of her front door, Cecil had to hold himself back from being honest once more, holding himself back from telling her just how beautiful he thought she looked.
Right there, a loose string of hair off her bun that now fell past her ear, the way she had to tilt her head up to meet his eyes because of their height difference, the way her brown eyes were a bit hazy and sad and desperately intoxicating. An eyebrow raised in slight impatience, waiting for him to hand the keys over.
Cecil often felt bad about many things he did- many things he had to do, and he felt pain over those choices, a continuous self-infliction of misery.
But this? Seeing her here? It was so much worse. He ached.
“Cecil…” She started, and he had to blink himself out of the stupor. “My keys…”
Cecil grunted and finally handed them over, the tips of his fingers brushing her wrist for a millisecond.
She turned around to unlock the door, turned the knob, and then glanced back at him.
“What?” She questioned, “Spit it out.”
Be honest with her, Cecil .
“You're beautiful,” He blurted, and watched as confusion and shock knit her eyebrows. “I..uh...earlier I asked you what you first thought of when you saw me. That one's mine.”
He took a step towards her, ignoring that traitorous heart that slammed against his chest.
“And not just in looks. In personality,” Cecil took a deep breath, his weight shifting to one side in order to alleviate the tension of her eyes boring into him. “You're a good person, Debbie. You're right for hating me.”
He laughed bitterly, looking up at how the roof stuck out over the porch, watching the bugs circle around the overhead bulb. “Christ, it means you have a soul. If you actually like my company, then something must be wrong.”
“I invited you over, didn't I?”
Cecil looked down, his mouth dropping in shock.
“We had dinner together, didn't we?” Debbie asked, breaking the spell his words put on her, “Or did I imagine that part?”
Slowly, Cecil shook his head.
“Then somehow,” Debbie stated, meeting his eyes like a challenge, “In some stupid, fucked up way, I must enjoy your company, shouldn't I?”
Cecil felt himself swallow involuntarily as he watched her slip her keys into her pocket then reach up hesitantly. His breath caught as her soft hand found his face, finger pads cradling his scar.
“I thought about it alot on the drive home…what you said.”
So much of Cecil’s life was cutthroat, tough. Don’t let them see you sweat, that kind of thing. But hell, he had never been as tense as he was as he waited for Debbie’s next words.
“You said you would be selfish by saving my life. Are you…selfish when you’re with me?” Cecil noticed she was choosing her words carefully, sounding them out before they left her lips. Like trying to confirm a crackpot theory.
He couldn’t tell if it was nervousness or her attempting to push past her drunkenness, but whatever it was made his jaw tighten. She must have felt the tensing beneath her hand, because he felt her thumb rub absently on the underside of his chin next to his ear.
“I forget who I am with you, Debbie, even if it's only for a couple minutes,” Cecil sighed, reaching his hand up to grab her wrist for the second time that night but under vastly different circumstances. His heart thrummed with something between exhilaration and bone chilling fear. “It's the most selfish I've ever been.”
On impulse, his head tilted as he leaned into her touch.
Her eyes widened, her mouth parting slightly.
For a moment, Cecil feared he had fucked everything up; ruined the possibility of any positive relationship. So in that moment, that single heartstopping millisecond, he figured that if he was in for a penny he might as well be in for a pound.
He bent towards her, eyes flicking across her plump lips before he met her gaze.
His heart slammed in his chest, but her warm palm against his face gave him courage.
“Please,” He murmured, a hair's breadth away from tasting her. This was the moment. She had every chance to pull away, every right.
He wouldn't do anything without her say-so, her explicit encouragement.
So when she surged forward to meet his lips, he almost couldn't believe it.
Her fingers slid up from his chin and brushed his ear, the other hand wrapping around his neck, trapping him in a vice that he never wanted to escape as his eyes closed.
Debbie tasted like wine and smelled like lavender and felt like absolute bliss.
Cecil melted into her touch, aching to please and provide as he met her ravenous rhythm. He couldn’t stop himself from sighing against her lips.
He wanted to feel every piece of her, his hands finding her hips as he pressed flush against her body. Cecil's mouth moved in synchronicity with her's, turning his head as their lips slotted and parted over and over again.
He never wanted this to end. If this kiss stole his breath, it would be a wonderful way to die. Cecil would die without regrets, and at least Donald was alive again to succeed him.
Cecil's leg slid in between Debbie’s, and in a shot of boldness used his pressure on her hips to shove her backwards. She bumped against the door and let out a sort of squeak.
His body burned, and Cecil felt like a foolish teenager again as he surged forward to taste her. Feeling his throat constrict due to loss of oxygen, he broke contact with her mouth and attacked her neck, mouthing at it with a ravenous sort of reverence.
Cecil wanted to take as much as he could, acutely aware of the possibility of this bliss ending at any moment.
He could feel her quick pants for breath as he kissed her neck, his fingers pressing into her skin through the fabric of her shirt as they glided up from her hips to her waist. Somewhere along the way one of Debbie’s hands had slid up the back of Cecil's head and into his hair, fingers tangled in gray strands. The other was digging into the fabric of his suit and pressing hard against his flesh.
Debbie was panting into the cold air when she managed to find words, “Where's Mark? I know you know.”
It didn't seem like a dig at his surveillance as she shivered under his touch. It seemed like an out, a desperate attempt at something that could lead further than this porch. And as a matter of fact, he did know where Mark was.
“He's at Amber's,” Cecil said against her skin, “He'll be staying.”
He had checked on Mark’s location before he left work, right before he saw Debbie’s location at the gravesite.
“Good,” Debbie whispered, “Now let me go so I can unlock the door.”
Cecil chuckled, chest warm with the promise of more, and let go of his tight hold on her waist.
As her key slid into the lock, Cecil's fear crept back up. There was no way she would let him inside her house, much less move this distraction any further. Her ex-husband was Omni-man for crying out loud…how on Earth- this galaxy- this universe , could he ever compete? Cecil already knew he wasn't attractive by ordinary standards, but knowing what he was up against made it a million times worse.
Being director of the Global Defense Agency definitely doesn’t help his chances.
The door swung open with a light push, and she flicked the lights on one by one. Cecil stepped gingerly inside, rationalizing the last few minutes in his mind.
This was actually happening. She was kissing him back, touching him like he was touching her.
Every selfish desire he’d ever had involving her flashed through his mind in rapid succession as Debbie flicked off her heels and walked over to the kitchen. Cecil raised an eyebrow as he stood in the middle of the living room, hands tense in the pockets of his jacket.
She opened up a cabinet, took out a tumbler and a bottle, and began to pour.
The clock on the stove was well past midnight.
“What are you doing?” Cecil asked, meeting her in the kitchen, “I don’t think you should be drinking any more.”
“Not for me,” She said, handing him the glass, “For you. Liquid courage.”
Cecil looked down at the whiskey in his hand, swirling the liquor around in its glass. He had spent his whole career never letting people know his true intentions, lying and cheating and lying some more. But somehow, around Debbie, he couldn’t hide a damn thing, and she knew it.
Concerning Debbie, he was absolutely terrified.
She was drunk, drunk enough that she didn’t feel comfortable driving home. He wasn’t exactly completely sober either, but based on what he saw he couldn’t guarantee that she was in complete control of her decisions. He didn’t even know if the drinks they had at the restaurant were her first of the day, and given her behavior the day before, there was a huge possibility they weren’t.
But when would an opportunity like this appear again? When would he have the most beautiful and badass woman he’s ever met want him again?
Cecil threw back the glass of whiskey, letting it slam against the marble countertop of the kitchen island with a muted thud. He met her eyes as he swallowed, and watched as her own flicked down to watch the liquid travel down his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing as the whiskey burned its path downwards.
“I’m not going to be like him,” Cecil breathed, so quiet he thought he had said it in his head. But Debbie was so close, her head tilted up to his, that she caught it. “There’s nothing more I want right now than this. But you have to understand…I’m not going to be what you want. The man you want.”
Cecil planned that he could talk her out of this, that the feeling of her supple lips on his would be a memory of what could have been. That if he can coax her from this, that he could tell himself that he had done everything he could- that they simply weren’t compatible. He could tell himself that the chemistry he felt right now was a fluke, and they could forget this night and go back to Debbie despising him.
He was shocked as she rolled her eyes, grabbed the lapel of his suit, and yanked him forward, his body stumbling as he was flush with hers.
“I’m getting pretty tired of other people telling me what I want,” Debbie said, her attitude coming back again with a vengeance.
Cecil felt his chest rise and fall in quick breaths, urgency thrummed through his veins, everything inside him wanting to please. At any moment, he felt like he could easily walk straight off this cliff, lose all self control and take from her whatever he wanted, everything he secretly dreamed about.
The only thing that held him back was that he knew she was going to regret this. When the buzz wears off and the sun rises and she wakes up the next day with Cecil not by her side, she will curse herself for what she’s doing right now.
It was an unfortunate inevitability. They couldn’t change the state of the world or the parts they played in it- and neither of them wanted to.
But there was nothing Cecil wanted to do more than swallow up Debbie’s passion, channel it, amplify it, make it sing.
Who was he, staring down someone like her, to deny what she said she wanted?
He captured her lips quickly, chasing the high of her touch, his hands finding that now familiar spot at her waist.
Everything outside Cecil’s job was an enigma that heightened a hidden insecurity that he would never be good enough. Somehow, in this moment, that fear propelled him, pushing him past traditional barriers like age or physical prowess in an attempt to prove himself wrong for the benefit of the person before him now.
It was like the kiss on the porch had resumed. Debbie melted to his touch, their mouths melding together, bodies flush.
Excitement pumped through Cecil’s thoughts as he touched her smooth skin, felt her plump lips against his thin ones, the way she didn’t seem to mind his scars as her fingers held his face for purchase.
Debbie moaned into his mouth as Cecil freed her shirt from its diligent tuck, his slender fingers touching cool skin before quickly traveling upwards. He could tell she wanted more, yearned for more, so he slowly walked her backward the few steps until her back was pressing against the countertop.
“Up,” He ordered when he could finally separate his lips from hers, a slight huskiness slipping into his usual timbre.
Debbie nodded quickly before putting her palms against the counter, using them to propel herself upward. Once she was sitting on the cool marble, Cecil grabbed her legs, spread them, and stepped into the space. Her legs wrapped around his back like she read his mind as he met her for another kiss.
“Good girl,” He growled as they separated, his dick already straining against his tight trousers.
Now that the height difference had shifted so that Debbie had an inch or two over him on the counter, she seemed to revel in the newfound superiority she had over him. He could only imagine how he looked as his face warmed up with thoughts of devilish intentions.
Her heels dug into Cecil’s jacket as he glanced downwards, his fingers unzipping her pants. Debbie pressed her lips together in anticipation as Cecil brought his fingers upward, and swallowed his index and middle, sucking quietly.
“Hurry up,” Debbie whispered, her eyes following his digits as they left his mouth and slid beneath her layers of clothing.
“Well aren't you a bossy thing,” He said before brushing against her folds. Her back arched slightly as Cecil's middle finger brushed against her clit, rubbing in small circular motions.
“Don't act like you don't like it,” She said through quiet gasps, reaching one hand up to untie her bun.
Cecil chuckled lowly, watching as Debbie writhed. “Yeah, I do.” He played with her clit for a bit before sliding down to feel her wetness, pushing a single finger inside.
Debbie bit her lip, her ears turning pink as Cecil watched her. Breathtaking, just like he imagined, watching her strings pull taunt.
“I could tell you the same thing, actually,” Cecil teased, curling his finger inside and watching her shiver, “God, you're wet.”
The position was slightly uncomfortable, his palm upwards and his knuckles rubbing against the rough texture of Debbie’s underwear and pants, but he wasn’t going to let any of that show. Any uncomfortability or strain or awkwardness he felt would be his secret alone so that he could treat Debbie to the experience she deserved.
“Hah…more..” Debbie gasped, a quick moan escaping her lips as Cecil pulled back the tiniest bit so that another finger could enter her.
Cecil’s breath was husky, every sensation of her wetness making him ache with a surge of anticipation to taste her, feel her, have her.
He knew she was going to hate what they had done together once she awoke in a few hours, but God, all Cecil wanted was for her to look back on this night and feel that small curling of lust deep in the pit of her stomach that he felt every time he saw her. An inkling of what it meant to care about her and to so deeply want her despite it all.
Her legs were still languidly draped over his back, so when he managed to pull his fingers away and straighten his back Debbie quickly tightened her hold.
Cecil knew he couldn’t take her as far as he wanted, like across the living room and up the stairs to her bedroom, but he could take her to the couch where he could show her just how much he wanted to serve her.
He wrapped his arms around her back, and with a grunt of effort, walked them both over to the couch.
Debbie laughed into his neck, “Don’t break something.”
Cecil grimaced as he finally made his way to the couch where they had watched the latest baseball game the night before, bending his knees slightly before dropping her on the couch with a slight bounce.
Debbie yelped in surprise, her eyes widening as Cecil climbed over her, his lanky frame engulfing her own. He was breathing hard, his eyes determined, and he watched as her own pupils flickered down to the bulge straining against his pants that was now incredibly apparent as she looked up.
“I need you to stop talking,” Cecil growled, one leg bent on the couch and the other still on the ground, his left hand next to her head and the other grabbing her chin roughly, “And take off your pants.”
He let go of her face and watched her scramble, giving her the room she needed to push down her pants just enough for him to do the rest, grabbing the bunch gathered at her thighs and yanking them off.
He didn’t want to give themselves time to pause for a moment, to reflect on what they were doing together. All he wanted was to have all of her, no matter if she reciprocated his feelings or not.
He didn’t care that she was using him, and had used him from the very start she called while he was at the Chicago reconstruction. He wanted to take advantage of this moment, and nothing was going to stand in his way now that he could tell she wanted what he could eagerly provide.
Cecil shimmied as far as he could until his shoe was hitting the arm of the couch before bending down again, his left hand now supporting his weight as his right grabbed at Debbie’s lace panties. His fingers rubbed against the floral arrangement before he slowly pulled them down, hardened eyes interlocked with hers.
Debbie bit her lip as her wet pussy met cold air, but Cecil didn’t let it stay like that for long. After discarding her underwear along with her pants, he pushed her legs apart gently, urging one to drape languidly across his shoulder while her other touched ground.
Cecil couldn’t hide his eagerness as he licked his lips eagerly before descending, covering her inner thigh in soft kisses.
“You’re beautiful,” Cecil said for the second time that night before his patience wore thin and his mouth covered her entrance.
Just feeling her with his fingers wasn’t enough. Hearing her muted pants of breath as his digits sunk into her wasn’t enough either. But as his tongue flicked over her clit and he felt her body shiver, Cecil figured he was getting pretty close.
It took everything in him to hold out for her. Her moans were so whimpery, shaking with every swipe of his tongue, but also so her in its pitch that Cecil couldn’t help but feel his body sing in response.
All Cecil wanted to do was please, to slowly draw out every shaky breath she had till she was gasping for air.
“Hhhh…mmph…” Debbie moaned, pressing her mouth together to muffle herself. Cecil looked up from his task, solidly meeting her gaze as his tongue slipped between her folds. Her hands scrambled for purchase on the slick couch.
Cecil’s nose pressed flush against her clit as his tongue roamed inside her wet walls. He couldn’t help but groan at her taste, feeling her body vibrate from the sound.
Her back arched as Debbie gasped at the ceiling, tearing herself away from Cecil. When she wasn’t looking at him she seemed to fall deeper into the sensations.
Cecil separated a hand from her thigh to press a thumb against her sensitive clit, circling as his tongue explored her.
“Oh fuckkk…” Debbie moaned long and slow as Cecil sucked before coming off with a wet pop and diving back down, her voice breaking high near the end.
He wanted her to cum on his tongue, feel her body convulse and pitch break, to watch as she whimpered by his touch. Cecil didn’t let up, even as his dick twitched and ached to just get the whole thing over with, aching with the want to give himself a bit of pleasure. But no, this was for her.
And he couldn’t even argue that he didn’t feel pleasure from this too, seeing her shields disintegrate as he explored her, practically feeling her temperature increase from his tongue’s place deep within her folds.
Debbie’s moans were increasing in pitch the more he tasted her, thumb swirling over her hard clit. They were practically coming out in squeaks.
She started to say something unintelligible. Cecil couldn’t make it out through the gasps, only quick little syllables that essentially led nowhere. But he knew what it meant.
He coaxed out her orgasm, felt her walls contract and body shake. Cecil watched from his position between her legs as Debbie’s eyes closed and her mouth opened in a silent moan, gasping breathlessly.
Cecil pulled away and licked his lips hungrily, planting delicate kisses on her inner thighs where his fingers had left pink tinged marks.
He waited until her breathing slowed to sit up, running his hand over his head to push his hair back. Debbie met him there, her lips devouring his, no doubt tasting herself in his mouth. Cecil groaned, reaching down to palm at his aching crotch.
He managed to pull away, his forehead pressed against hers, “Upstairs. Now. I’ll be up.”
She stood up quickly, and Cecil felt the smallest bolt of pride at seeing her legs wobble slightly as she practically scurried up the stairs.
Cecil was slower, picking up her discarded clothes. His own clothes felt slightly damp, and he reached up to loosen his tie before taking it completely off and draping it over Debbie’s clothes hung over his arm.
He followed after her, stopping only to notice the slight off color patch of paint next to the stairs. He frowned- a reminder that the repairs didn’t wholly fix the damage Nolan caused. Cecil shook his head before climbing the stairs and slipping down the hallway, knowing just where to go.
The door was open, and through it he saw a direct view of the bed, with Debbie laying on it completely naked. His breath froze as she stretched, arms above her head as she waited for him. Cecil stepped inside, throwing their clothes on the ground and shutting the door shut behind him.
“Fuck,” He gasped, earning a mischievous smile from Debbie.
At her smile, the familiar feeling of inadequacy spiked through him. She was gorgeous, like a present wrapped just for him. And here he was…
Cecil shrugged off his jacket before leaning over and flicking the light off. The room plunged into darkness, the only light coming from the nighttime outside that slowly outlined everything in the room.
“Why’d you do that?” Debbie asked, moving over to the edge of the bed.
“Please,” Cecil sighed, unbuttoning his white collared shirt, “Just let me have this.”
He didn’t want to explain his insecurities to her to ruin the moment, and he definitely didn’t want to give her the option to fill his ears with false platitudes.
Debbie sat up like she wanted to say something, but ended up falling quiet as Cecil slowly took off his remaining wardrobe, the only thing staying being the watch on his wrist. He hadn’t been naked in front of another person in years.
Cecil crawled onto the bed, tilting Debbie’s chin up in the dark. He kissed her softly, lovingly, transplanting his delusional selfishness into every touch. He moaned as Debbie felt for him in the dark, her fingers curling around his shaft as they kissed.
Cecil shuttered, breaths haphazard. He didn’t know how much longer he could go on like this, absolutely pathetic as he thawed under her delicate touch. He needed her more than he ever needed anything before, needed to feel what it was like to push his cock inside her, feel her warm pussy envelop him.
He whimpered as Debbie pumped his cock, using his slick precum to deftly drive her hand. He could cum right here and now. He felt the pressure build.
“Stop, Debbie, please stop,” He gasped helplessly, pulling their mouths apart. She slowed down, and he could hear her hushed breathing. “Let me take care of you.”
A sentence he could utter to her only in this extremely specific setting. Anywhere else, and she would argue and yell until her throat went hoarse. But here, as he eased her down onto the bed, spreading her legs apart and getting in between them, he knew that this would be the only time he would ever get the chance.
He felt her slickness as he aligned with her entrance, his cock rubbing across her folds. He couldn’t wait any longer, and by the sounds of Debbie’s anxious breathing she couldn’t wait either.
Cecil pushed inside slowly, groaning deep and low as he filled her with each incredible inch. He kept going until he was flush against her, his hands wrapped around her waist.
“You alright?” He managed to growl out, teeth grinding as he felt the warmth of her tight cunt.
“Go already,” Debbie shot back.
It was the last bit of confirmation he needed.
Cecil’s hips snapped back before slamming into her again, eliciting a shocked gasp from the woman below him. He began to piston into her with a strength he didn’t even know he still had.
He huffed, already falling apart at how amazing she felt. Heat that spread through his thin frame like a chemical fire, and nothing was going to put it out.
Debbie moaned, forced to take the ricochet of his seemingly relentless pursuit, “Oh god, yes.”
Cecil couldn’t stop himself as words spilled out of his mouth, chasing that insurmountable high, “You like that, yeah?”
He could see the outline of her face as she nodded. His pace was consistent, pulling back before slamming into her again. “Take it, take it, take it.”
Debbie whimpered loudly, reaching up to pull her legs back so that he could hit her deep. “Yeah, just like that,” Cecil acknowledged, “Such a good girl. You know just what you want.”
The position was so intimate, so close to her. One of Cecil’s hands left her hips to slam next to her head as he bent downwards, his nose almost brushing her neck as he fucked her. He could hear every whimper, every whispy breath, every pitched moan that left her lips.
He was glad that the darkness provided him with this tiny incremental shield, a covering from how earth-shatteringly weak he felt for her.
He doubted he could make her cum again, like this, and honestly he wasn’t thinking that much about it. As he fucked her, his cock pumping in and out of her slick pussy, the only thing he could think about was chasing his own high.
If Debbie noticed, she didn’t seem to mind, content on losing herself to the moment.
With these actions, Cecil was the most selfish he’d ever been.
He groaned, unable to stop himself as the cord on his self control finally snapped, fucking her haphazardly as he rode out his high.
He could feel his release pour into her, letting it finish before he pulled out. He collapsed next to her, their intermingling heavy breathing puffing into the air.
After his pulse died down to a reasonable level and Cecil no longer felt like he was on the verge of a heart attack, he got up to grab a towel from the bathroom. He came back to the bed, offering the towel to Debbie after wiping off his own sweat.
Cecil settled down with a sigh, languidly stretching across the length of the bed. Debbie shifted closer and placed her head on his chest without invitation. Cecil carded his fingers through her hair, her weight an uncomfortable but welcome pressure. After a bit of this silence, Debbie seemed satisfied and rolled over to sleep. Cecil stared up at the ceiling, the images of what they had just done replaying over and over in his mind.
—————
It had hardly been an hour when Cecil was woken up to a buzz in his ear.
“Sir, are you awake?” Donald’s voice crackled through his earpiece.
Cecil sat up, looked over at Debbie fast asleep, and groaned.
“Sir?”
“Shit Donald, give me time to wake up,” Cecil admonished.
“Sorry sir.”
Cecil managed to stand, rolling his sore shoulders, “What is it this time?” He took a quick glance at his watch, the time flashing bright into his eyes. Not even four in the morning.
Guess there really is no rest for the wicked.
“There seems to be a Hydra off the coast of Ireland.” Cecil could hear the ruffling of papers on Donald’s end. Despite the unwelcome wake up call, he had to admit he was thankful his friend was back on the field again. He was also thankful that Donald always seemed to respect his privacy on principle: since Cecil could teleport anywhere he wanted, Donald never had the need to check his location.
“Gimme a few minutes, Donald, I’ll be right there.”
Being careful not to wake Debbie, Cecil managed to find all his clothes in the dark and make his way over to the bathroom. After dressing himself, Cecil made sure to give himself a mean look in the mirror. He smoothed his hair down and straightened his tie. He sniffed himself, and easily determined he smelled like sex. This would be a mean one for Donald to ignore without a raised eyebrow.
After determining that there was nothing he could do about it, Cecil selected the familiar coordinates of his office back at the GDA, trying not to think about how he just left Debbie alone in the dark.
His atoms stretched and collapsed again, the bright lights of his office making him squint. Donald was already there, not phased in the slightest by his entrance.
“Couldn’t handle the Hydra yourself?” Cecil asked, his question their own private language that decoded to ‘tell me what you know.’
After getting a quick brief and giving the order on some billion dollar missiles, Cecil’s thoughts inevitably drifted back to Debbie.
“Donald, before you go,” Cecil called, his words catching him before he made his way out the door, “I need you to handle the leveling of the property across from the Grayson’s.”
He knew it was kind of fucked up to ask Donald to handle the project, having him oversee the place where he thought he almost died. But he knew Donald could handle it.
Cecil could easily spin an excuse for Donald on why he wanted it done, one that wasn’t about how soft he was for a woman who would never care about him the way he cared about her.
But Cecil also knew that Donald didn’t need that to do his job.
Just another thing he wouldn’t tell him about.
Donald raised an eyebrow, a question he would never ask verbally but Cecil read instantly on his expression. Cecil waved a hand, “Just do it.”
Donald nodded, the door sliding shut behind him.
Cecil sighed heavily, gearing up for a long, tired day ahead of him, less than an hour's worth of sleep rattling around his frame. No doubt Debbie was getting more.
Settling down at his desk, Cecil grabbed his tablet, opened up the Immortal file, and tried not to think about how much he already missed her.
In a few hours, Debbie would wake up, realize he wasn’t there, and then the bitterness would hit her. How Cecil had left her all alone, the second man to do so.
The most honest Cecil had ever been, and it still wouldn’t be enough to get what he really wanted out of this world.
He pushed that thought down too, along with everything else.
Cecil had work to do, and he knew he could no longer let himself be selfish with her again.
Especially if he went through with the plans he had for Mark Grayson.
He would soon chalk up this night as an example of an ever-growing list of Cecil Stedman’s weaknesses; ones that won’t be repeated.
Probably.