I love Rex-Splode.
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“El nuevo yo agradece tu feedback, y agradece mucho tu crítica constructiva, antes de ignorarla por completo.”
“🤨?”
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“The new me takes your feedback, and thanks for your constructive criticism, before ignoring it Completely.”
“🤨?”
Hola :p, decidí intentar dibujar a Ezra al estilo de la serie, y fue realmente difícil (y eso que la serie tiene un estilo artístico muy simple (￣ヘ￣;) ).
Aunque Ezra sea prácticamente el fiel admirador de Rex, muchas veces lo confunde su forma de hablar( además Ezra tiene de 9-10 años Lol), y otro dato de Ezra es que es autista y tiene mutismo selectivo, por lo que realmente no se comunica con palabras, y también explica sus deficientes habilidades sociales 😔.
(English translation ‼️)
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Hello :p, I decided to try drawing Ezra in the style of the series, and it was really difficult (even though the series has a very simple art style (￣ヘ￣;) ).
Although Ezra is practically Rex’s biggest fan, he’s often confused by his way of speaking (plus Ezra is only 9 or 10 years old, lol), and another fact about Ezra is that he’s autistic and has selective mutism, Therefore, he doesn’t really communicate with words, and this also explains his poor social skills😔.
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the way i immediately opened ellipsus (yes i’m felxing) and wrote this in one go! i love that idea.
i hope i captured what you actually wanted, you can read it here!
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I have some drawings of Rex as things on queue. Problem is they all face the same angle. Aaa (might post them though. Separately)
Anyway, I imagine Rex as a maincoon with a scruffy look. Only regret is giving him his hair style. But its signature Rex so aaa
I need to draw him as a cat more. He’s so cute and fluffy
I have more drawings of him as random things and plan on drawing him as more odd things. Lol. Feel free to put things in my suggestion box of things to draw Rex as.
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How does one survive getting shot in the back of the head? by being Rex Splode babyyy!
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Going to see if re-posting works so people will see it
Happy (belated now) Valentines day! Have a Playboy Bunny Rex! Did different colors to appese differnt tastes.
GOD, legs and feet are a pain to DRAW! ffs (I’m still unhappy but didn’t want to spend a month)
I might be making an alternate version of this. I might also do Mark, too.
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Oh those two just need to fuck already
Oh my favorite coworker it got to be sonar he’s the one that gave me those eddies
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hello!
my name is erika, im a huge invincible fan and i have a giant addiction to drawing mark and all the variants.
FINALLY AFTER HAVING TUMBLR FOR SO LONG MY BEAUTIFUL FRIEND MARC (hi marc) HAS INSPIRED ME TO POST! I will start posting my artwork here unless I forget or I’m busy
I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT!
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thank you for requesting! though, tbh, it’s too vague for me. i’m also not a plus-sized person, so I don’t think I’d do justice the experience of living in a larger body.
but!
my dear friend @queen-of-gotham has an amazing one-shot with a plus-size reader 😇
be warned: it’s a smut (so don’t go there if you’re a minor or don’t like it)
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Day Three: Blurred Lines
I was sad not to see Rex with his head completely shaved. So I drew him!
And the #viltrumite brand is so comfortable as a cushion ~
Challenge by @iloveladybuglucy
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fire walk with me
chapter 3: there’s a first for everything
premise: Rex is a player. But he doesn’t know you’re one, too.
word count: 5606
series masterlist | main masterlist
At exactly 6:59 pm there’s a knock at your door, followed almost immediately by an impatient, constant ring of your doorbell. You rush through the apartment, swearing in your mother tongue, jumping over your belongings scattered on the floor.
Rex barely swallows down a laugh when he sees you half-ready, the smell of your perfume mingling with the sharp bite of hairspray.
“You’re too early,” you pant, trying not to move your face too much as your setting spray still hasn’t dried down, and there’s no way in hell you’re going out with creases in your makeup.
[[MORE]]He invites himself in, moving you gently, yet with a surprising ease, to the side.
You close the door behind him faster than you meant. Or maybe you meant it and just were terrible at hiding your discomfort. He sits down on the barstool by the kitchen counter and silently assess (judges) the state of your room before getting his eyes back on you with an insufferable grin.
“I promise it doesn’t usually happen.”
You roll your eyes while trying and failing to clasp your earring.
“Did I even tell you to come in?”
He’s visibly dissatisfied with your lack of approval of his suggestive remark.
“And what else was I supposed to do? Stand there and wait like a sore loser?”
Finally, the earring clasps and you can resume the search for the missing one.
“That’s one of the options.”
“You could’ve just given me a fake address if you didn’t wanna see me, you know?”
Tension rises immediately in your tiny living area, thick silence disrupted only by the rustle of his jeans as he quickly rises.
“I can leave if you want, you know? I’m not some creep who’s gonna harass you for a date.”
“Well then, what’s stopping you?” You say casually, not even gracing him with a look, going through drawers in hopes of finding the other goddamn earring.
Rex comes up, much closer than a stranger should and his eyelids drop heavy, almost to a close. His face is bathed in the last evening rays of sun getting through your window, giving the green shade a warmer, almost brownish hue.
“You.”
Breath catches in your throat, and it takes you a while to finally speak, losing yourself in the vast depths of his eyes.
“I’ll be ready in 10 minutes,” you finally manage to utter, almost giving up on finding the matching jewellery for your left ear.
Rex comes back to the barstool and starts going through your decorative bowl full of knick-knacks. You’re too stressed—no, in a hurry—to even scold him; you hate when people rummage through your belongings. But this one time it pays off, when he triumphantly picks up the lost earpiece with a smug smirk.
With a forced pleasant smile, you walk up with your hand stretched out, but he doesn’t drop the earring to your palm. Instead, Rex gets up and mutters with a rasp that makes a shiver run down your spine, “Lemme help with that.”
You want to protest, but the moment his fingers graze your earlobe, it’s like time slowed down. The utmost care and gentleness of his touch takes you by surprise; this much brassiness he carries himself with doesn’t suit this intimate moment.
“There,” he commends, and steps back, giving you a once over. “You look stunning.”
Your cheeks heat up, and despite your best efforts, you can’t stand his gaze and pretend to look for something in your vanity. Even more so, you can barely breathe at the sheer weight of his words; they felt way too genuine.
“We haven’t even gone out and you’re already trying to lure me in?”
Rex snorts and leans on the kitchen counter, not peeling his eyes off you for a second.
“Just take the damn compliment.”
Another silence falls; maybe you’ve finally met a worthy opponent?
“Thank you.”
“See?” Rex cocks his head to the side. “Wasn’t that nice?”
“And you’re all about nice, aren’t you?” You cross your arms over your chest, fighting the smile tugging at your lips.
“Well, you’re about to find out. That is, if we ever leave.”
You gasp, mock-offended.
“Not that I’d be complainin’, there’s a lot of fun stuff to do at home.” Rex finishes with a wink that was probably supposed to be sexy, but turned out downright silly. And pathetic.
“I just need to grab my purse, change my top and—”
“Fine, fine. Take your time, wasn’t rushing you. We’ve got all night—unless you made plans for later.”
You lock eyes and you decide to drop any more teasing.
“I didn’t.”
“Good.”
Rex tries very hard to hide it, but you notice his shoulders drop an inch. You turn away with a smile and try to locate your favourite top; the one you swore you wouldn’t wear today.
—
“Are we walking, or…” you trail off as you head down the loud stairs, your neighbors probably eavesdropping when they hear a set of heavy boots thudding on the old wood.
“I know a place not far from here.” Rex grins and opens the door, only to walk through them first. You gasp; it’s been a long time since a man hasn’t held the door for you. Of course you can open your doors for yourself, it’s just… Something you got used to.
He’s also walking too fast for your liking and you keep sprinting every few steps just to keep up. Maybe fate was telling you something that day he didn’t show up and you blatantly ignored it.
“Wait!” You pant and he turns with confusion written all over his face. “What’s the hurry?”
“I always walk fast,” Rex shrugs and resumes walking, but you grab his arm and force him to stop again.
“Not today, though. I’m not in the mood to be catching up to you every other step.”
“My expiration date is sooner than for most, so I really don’t like wasting time.”
“Then why are we walking?”
He doesn’t reply, if not counting in a sigh as if he already knows you’re not done, what question’s coming at him. You step in front of him, not giving him enough space to stop, so your chests collide. Rex only looks down at you, a resemblance of a smirk ghosting on his lips. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move away. Quite the contrary, he’s boldly pressing his wide, solid muscles against your breasts.
“You don’t have a car, do you?” You ask, trying to ignore how warmth is seeping through his tee onto your skin.
“I don’t,” he shrugs. “Because I don’t need one.”
The confidence in his voice makes a shiver run up your spine, right to your head, little hairs on your neck standing upright. You bravely stand his gaze, or maybe he stands yours? Still, none of you willing to move or look away, both set on winning whatever this is.
Rex breaks the silence first, with a low voice, the sound vibrating against you with your chests flush.
“But I have a motorcycle. And I don’t think you’d want to wear a helmet after getting all dolled up.”
“That’s… fair. But still—slow down.”
“Please,” you add quietly, voice teasing the thin line between sultry and dangerous.
Rex smirks and catches your chin between his fingers. You gasp despite your best efforts not to, not sure whether you’re angry or turned by his boldness. When he speaks, it’s with a teasing tone, voice raspy.
“Now, that you’re asking nicely… I just might.”
And then, unceremoniously, he drops his hand from your face and walks around you, leaving a cold spot where your bodies connected just seconds ago. You turn on your heel and start walking with him, his pace deliberately slower now.
“Seriously?” You cock a brow, trying to sound irritated, but there’s a playfulness to your tone.
“We’re almost there,” he ignores your remark and nudges you with his elbow like a schoolboy with a crush. Would have been adorable if you two weren’t adults. Or if at least one of you wasn’t an adult.
Rex wasn’t lying, only after a few more minutes of walking you reach what must be a bar, with a neon sign saying ‘Flippin’ Great’ over the entrance. Unable to contain your surprise and excitement, you grab his arm with both hands, mouth open wide, glancing between his face and the entrance.
“An arcade bar?!” You shout, joy beaming from you as you shake his arm like a child in Disneyland. Who’s the adult now, then?
He gazes at you with a smile, very satisfied with himself, drinking in the view of hitting the bull’s eye right on the first date.
“Figured you liked a challenge,” Rex only says, leading you inside, his arm resting on the small of your back. Usually, you have no touching rule for the first couple of dates with a new guy, but since your first meeting was him literally tackling you to the ground… Might as well indulge yourself. He seems fun, definitely too handsome for your own good.
And it’s not like you’re gonna end up with him anyway.
The lively buzz of the bar greets you as Rex takes your jacket. You don’t know where to look, everything demanding your focus with blinking lights and 8-bit jingles playing along. There’s a row of flippers on the right from the bar, 80’s and 90’s arcade game machines floor above, air hockey tables in the corners, and a few booths and tables scattered around both floors.
“I assume you like it,” Rex laughs, standing in the queue to order your drinks.
“Like it? I love it!” Your cheeks start to hurt with how much you’re grinning, unable to stop since you saw the neon logo outside. “I’ve never thought I’d find a place like that again.”
“Again?”
“There was this bar in my hometown, generally the same premise as this here. I haven’t visited back in years, so…”
“Where’s hometown?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
To your surprise, he doesn’t push, only drags his eyes across your face, stopping them shamelessly at your lips. You can’t remember the last time anyone was so brazenly flirting with you, and despite knowing how dangerous that is, you lean into it, chasing the delicious thrill of being wanted.
“What can I get for you?” The tall, blonde bartender chirps with vigor and joy you haven’t seen in a long while. She’s either new, or loves the gig to the bits.
“A large wheat beer for me, and for my—”
“Make it double,” you interrupt, smiling politely to the woman behind the bar.
Rex raises both brows and leans on the bar, resting his elbow on the surface.
“What?” You question, tilting your head.
“I’m surprised, that’s all.”
“Can’t a girl enjoy a beer too?”
“It’s not often that my date has the same order as me. Usually, most women take whatever colorful drink with tens of ingredients.”
“Well, I’m not most women.”
“You’re certainly not,” he nods and pays for the order before grabbing both of the glasses.
You let him take the lead, curious if he’s going to choose a table or a booth. Walking behind him, you roll your eyes at how people step apart to make space for him like the Red Sea in front of Moses.
Life’s definitely much easier when you’re a tall, buff dude with a face of someone who’s ready for everything, with nothing to lose.
He settles on a table, away from most people, but still in the open in comparison to the booth. Might be less intimate, but then again, the tables are so tiny, that when you sit in front of each other, both of you curling your fingers around the glasses, playing lazily with the condensation, your hands almost touch. The tiny space between you two buzzes, tension palpable and rising.
There’s something electric in his green eyes, the way they compliment his dark, auburn strands of hair dropping on his forehead. You wonder if he’s actually this effortless, or if he stands every morning in front of the mirror tying and untying his manbun, plucking out the front hair time after time until it’s perfect.
“So,” you start with a smirk, breaking the quiet stare contest, both of you unwilling to break eye contact. “Why’d you stand me up the last time?”
Rex looks away with a chuckle before setting his eyes back on you. “Why did you go at all?”
You lean back on the wooden chair, taking a sip of the cool beer, its brisk flavour flooding your mouth.
“I asked first.”
“And I asked a better question,” he retorts, a devilish grin pulling his lips.
“Dangerous game you’re playing here, mister.” You squint your eyes, already enjoying yourself too much.
“Tell you what,” Rex leans even closer to you, almost laying down on the table. “Let’s play together, you versus me. We’re at an arcade bar after all.”
“I thought you’d never offer,” you quip, already getting up. But Rex is still sitting, so you lower yourself back, slowly.
“If you win, I’ll answer this and any other question you might have for me.”
“And if I lose?”
“I’ll get another date with you.” Rex extends his hand towards you, waiting. “Deal?”
You look at his palm, fingers a little crooked, visibly rough pads, cuts and scars scattered on his olive skin. There’s something special about a man working with his hands, something that you cannot not appreciate.
“Deal,” you reach and shake his hand. His grip is firm, yet gentle. Just like his chest, his hand is pleasantly warm; both of you lingering before letting go of each other’s hold. “But I’m choosing the game.”
Instantly your feet take you upstairs to the arcade floor, your eyes in search of your game of choice. A lot of arcades are taken, some even have lines to it. The moment you notice Mortal Kombat II is free after a resigned couple walks away from the machine, you grab Rex by the wrist and almost run to the arcade.
“You know that I’m a professional ass-kicker?”
“And now you’re gonna get your ass handed to ya.”
Rex scoffs and shakes his head, but doesn’t retort, only letting you first to the machine. As the game lights up with the character selection screen, you feel the brush of his arm against yours, which is far from accidental. You glance at him, and he’s not looking, only grinning like an idiot.
When you both choose your fighters, Mileena in her purple suit and mask with her two sais starts pouncing on your side of the screen across from Kung Lao with his razor-edged hat on Rex’s side.
And so the fight begins.
You’re going head to head, when you suddenly hit a great combo and almost wipe him off the mat. Almost being the key word here.
“Told ya,” you laugh, and like a rookie, you turn your head fully to look at him. His jaw is working left to right, brows furrowed in concentration over those big, round eyes. Unable to peel your eyes off him, you inspect his profile, focusing mostly on his uniquely shaped nose. You notice a scar, then another, and some freckles and birth marks scattered around them.
You’re still staring at him when he slams his hands on the side of the machine and shouts in victory, “Fuck yeah!”
Startled, you dart your eyes back to the screen, only to realize you have lost.
“Oh, come on!” You groan, crossing your arms over your chest. The view of him enjoying his win does something to you, so you glue your eyes back to the screen, ignoring the heat crawling up your neck.
“Ha! We’ve got a date, Trouble,” he snickers, bumping your side with his hip.
“Ok, fine. But—I want a rematch. And if I win this time—”
“You’re not cancelling our date,” Rex cuts in, maybe a little too quick, voice a tad too high.
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
The most devilish smirk grows on his face as he leans in close to you.
“Keep going,” he murmurs, glancing shamelessly between your eyes and your lips.
Emboldened, you move in so close you hear his breath catch.
“I choose the place.”
“So I’m gonna win either way,” Rex chuckles.
The rematch starts and with the corner of your eye you notice his posture is different now, more relaxed, looser—if that was even possible. You can’t help but wonder if he’s going to let you win on purpose this time. But you’re quickly taken away from your thoughts when Rex’s fighter kicks yours across the screen. You recover quickly and pounce back at him, your fingers clicking the vintage buttons with a professional typist’s speed. Both of you are now reduced to loud, short breaths, focusing on the game with all your might. So he wants to be taken out on a date, but apparently he wants to win more. That’s an observation to ponder on later, though.
“Yes!” You jump, raising your hands triumphantly when by some miracle you defeat him. “Eat that, Mr. Splode.”
“With pleasure, Ms…” Rex trails off and it’s like lightning has struck him, his grin faltering in a second. “I don’t think you ever told me your name.”
“Trouble is fine,” you reply, voice low and sultry, and smile from behind your glass, not breaking eye contact.
“Cheers, Ms. Trouble,” he grins and raises his beer to you. A delicious laugh gets past your lips when the glasses clink together, the liquid gold almost spilling to the floor.
Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to take this leap of faith.
Not taking eyes of each other, you get back to your table, now more comfortable with each other, alcohol doing its work.
“So tell me,” you start, finger tracing the brim of your glass. “What stopped you last time?”
His face lights up before you can even finish the question, and he puts his beer to the side, leaning on his forearms towards you with a deadliest grin you’ve ever seen.
“Ok, so—you know the Guardians of the Globe, right?” It’s really more of a provocation than a question. And not something you expected to ever hear as an intro. There’s a first for everything.
“Yeah…?”
“Sure you do, everyone does!” Rex cheers louder than is suitable even for a bar, some of the guests looking at him unamusedly. Of course he loves to be the center of attention.
“Last week—you must’ve heard, ‘twas all over the news—this massive kaiju was leveling city after city.” He speaks faster with every word that spills from his mouth, barely containing his excitement, trying to seem cool and unbothered, even though it’s not working. That cocky, confident man is slowly replaced with a joyous boy, telling you about the rock he found on the beach.
“And, well, not to brag or anything,” he leans back on his chair, resting one arm over the backrest and glancing on his nails after polishing them on his tee, “but I was there.”
He drags his eyes slowly up to yours, expecting to sweep you off your feet.
“Like, there, there.” Rex adds when he realizes the words didn’t have his desired effect on you.
You raise a brow. “O-kay…?”
His smile falters a little, “You remember the black eye I had? The bruises, cuts…?”
Somehow, you dig up faint memories of seeing the news online, drastic photos of buildings leveled, people hurt so bad all the local hospitals were overcrowded.
“Ohh,” your eyes widen, “I’m sorry… That must’ve been so scary.”
But then you remember one specific detail about this tragedy.
“What were you doing in New Zealand?”
Rex blinks once, twice.
“Uhh, fighting? The kaiju? Saving civilians, just like I did you?”
You stare at him for a second too long, then stifle a laugh. But it comes again, stronger, and you can’t keep it in this time. Laughter bursts out of you in waves, each bigger than the previous. After slamming your hand on the table a couple of times, you swipe a tear from under your eye, trying not to ruin your makeup.
“You done?” Rex mumbles, twirling the beer glass in his hand. His grin wore off and his blank, maybe even sad expression, does something to you. It’s more satisfying than anything else, that you already have control over this loud redhead.
“Sorry,” you wheeze, “but you want me to believe that less than a day after we met, you were in New Zealand, fighting a giant kaiju… with the Guardians of the fucking Globe?”
Rex crosses his arms over his chest and doesn’t say anything for a while. You wait, patient on the outside, slowly unraveling on the inside.
Were you too mean? Did you already blow it, like you usually do? It’s hard to start and maintain new friendships as an adult, let alone romantic relationships. Or even situationships, at that matter. Your big mouth might have taken you too far, once again.
“You don’t have to believe shit,” he mutters finally, tone laced with mock-hurt, trying and failing to hide a smile. “It’s the truth.”
And as if none of that spiraling has happened in your head, you let your mouth run before you can catch it.
“Uh-uh. And I’m an heiress to a Russian oligarch’s fortune.”
There’s a short silence, interrupted only by the bar’s lively chatter intertwined with the arcade’s beeps and bops.
“…are you though?”
You hide your face into your hand, shaking your head slowly. Glancing between your fingers at him, you realize he leaned in closer than before, almost lying down on the table.
His face sharpens, so much that you move your hand away. “But—I am a Guardian of the Globe. How else would I explode that piece of facade that was about to flatten you?”
That one not so unimportant piece of memory has somehow slipped your mind. Your heart sinks low when you replay that day in your head in slow motion, trying to remember what, when, and how.
“Oh yeah, good question. How did you do that, exactly?”
A shit-eating smirk gets back on his face, just like it didn’t disappear. Rex reaches out to your hand—or, you thought he was, when he only takes a napkin between his fingers. You follow his hand with your eyes, and then you gasp.
The napkin burns to ashes, completely disintegrating in front of your own eyes. It takes you a few seconds to realize your mouth flies open, closing it quickly, ignoring the flush warming your face.
“Rex Splode, remember? I’m the guy that blows up shit. I have the yellow and red suit, it’s quite an eye sore.”
“Did you just… reveal to me your secret identity on our first date?”
“Nah,” he waves his hand dismissively. “I did it the moment I first saw you.”
“Aren’t you—”
“Afraid? Of what?” Rex chuckles, taking a sip from his forgotten beer. “I’m a superhero, sweetheart. It’s hard to scare me.”
For a second, he freezes, face twisted in concentration.
“Unless it’s magic. I’m terrified of magic.”
You look at him, stunned.
He’s actually serious.
About being a member of the most elite superhero team, about it not being a secret.
And about being scared of magic.
“Woah, okay.” You rest your back heavily on the chair, blowing off air. “That’s… A lore drop, if I ever heard one.”
“Well, how about you make it even?” He asks, all cocky and all too satisfied with his smugness.
“How about you earn it?”
Rex sucks in air through his nose, and chuckles as he exhales, the sound vibrant and warm.
“I’m not a patient type,” he shakes his head and takes a swig out of his glass, finishing his beer.
“Me neither,” you smirk, and down the rest of your beer.
“Noted.”
And then he winks, all cool and casual. He fucking winks at you, gesture so cheap, yet in his rendition it’s almost, fuck—classy.
It takes you by surprise so much so that your cheeks instantly get hot. Flushed and abashed, you turn your eyes away, partially in search of some free arcade game. You thankfully notice the empty seats by the bar.
Without a word, you get up, beckoning at him to do the same and almost sprint towards the SNES pads. The bartender notices you and politely tells you what games are available to play in multiplayer.
“We have to play Mario Kart,” you beam, handing him the pad. Before he takes it from you, his fingers curl around yours, and stay there. You glance at your hands, the touch of his rough pads burning your skin, and then at him.
Rex is already looking at you, his green eyes slightly glazed, eyelids heavily drooping over them. His face is easy, soft, like it’s one of rare moments of peace where he can enjoy himself and his company. Now that you think about it, it’s surprising he even could meet with you on such a short notice.
“Get ready to get your unworldly cute ass handed to you,” he laughs, finally moving his hand away.
You gasp in mock-offence; it’s the third time you see each other, and he’s already so forward. And to your demise, you like it. You let him, though any other man you’d chastise, straight up leave the date without a word. Yet, despite you not admitting it to yourself fully, he has an insane charm. Cocky, smug charm, if that’s even a thing.
As you choose your drivers and their vehicles, you as your favourite, and Rex as DK (why are you not surprised?), the game’s familiar, iconic music starts. Your cars are dead even, swapping between first and second place every few turns. For the most part you’re quiet, focused on the game, only from time to time chuckling or complaining about each other’s driving style.
“Hey!” You blurt out, giggling like a little kid when he almost shoves you out of the track during the last, third race.
“Hey yourself,” he laughs, darting his eyes between the screen and you.
You both are very close to the finish line, fighting for first place. Each of you have won one race, so now’s the time to fight for the trophy. At one point, he glances at you for a second too long, and you know that’s your best shot.
Ruthlessly, you drive into him, and DK falls off his laughably tiny car, giving you a way to cross the finish line first.
“Yes!” You cheer, raising both fists into the air. “Hell yeah!”
“This game’s rigged,” Rex shoves the pad hard on the counter, gaining a murderous gaze from the bartender. “Sorry,” he mutters, holding up his hands apologetically.
“You’re just a sore loser,” you smirk, jabbing a finger into his chest.
“I am, actually.” He grabs your finger and smiles, and oh God, what a tasty view that is. Even if this thing between you doesn’t work out, it’s something that will remain burned in your brain forever.
“Fuckin’ hate losing. But…”
“But?” You raise a brow, a little breathless, eager for him to finish.
When he lets go of your finger you almost whine, but before it can happen, he takes your hand into his.
“But I like you.”
The silence that comes after is louder than the whole bar, bleeps of the arcades and pings of pinball, buzzing between you two staring at each other. But when he leans in, his eyes going down to your mouth, you sober up, realizing it’s escalating too damn fast.
“You don’t even know me.” You break your hand free and move away just enough to give him a message, but not completely shut him down.
Thankfully, it did the trick, because Rex shakes his head with a quiet chuckle, then catches your chin between his fingers briefly, before getting up from the barstool and extending his hand towards you.
“So how ‘bout you help me out, huh, Trouble?”
And it’s not like you want to keep secrets. You never had an opportunity to be the mysterious, older woman, so now that you have a chance… It’d be a shame to let it go. All your life you walk the fine line between too much and too little, somehow getting lost on the way to middle ground.
“One question.”
You take his hand and jump off the barstool quickly before heading towards the exit. Rex grabs your jacket from the hanger by the door and this time, he opens it for you, letting you out first.
It’s chilly outside, sporadic shiver raking your body as you walk leisurely in silence. Rex hasn’t said a word since you left the bar, and you start wondering if he’s regretting the whole evening or just thinking of his one and only question for you.
“You’re not American, are you?” He says after a couple of blocks away, completely not in the direction of your home.
Your brows shoot up, and you blink a few times, recollecting yourself.
“What gave me away?” You ask sheepishly. It’s impossible how fast he clocked you, even though you did your absolute best at trying to blend in with the crowd. Ironing out your accent for years, shopping at the same places as the Americans do, even adopting some of their customs.
“Everything.”
You stop and he follows suit, turning to face you.
“Could you be more specific?”
You regret the request the moment he starts counting the reasons on his fingers, one by one.
“Drinking beer. Unusual mannerisms. A note in a foreign language on your fridge next to my number. ”
Fuck.
“And… your English.”
“Please don’t tell me I have an accent,” you groan, resting your forehead on your hand.
“You don’t,” Rex shrugs. “It’s just too… neutral.”
“I knew I should’ve worked on my Valley Girl accent,” you cackle and resume walking, somewhat relieved that it’s out the window now. It’s something you have to think about whenever you meet anyone, when and how to tell them you’re not actually a citizen. Not everyone’s friendly towards foreigners.
“Can you do any more accents?” He asks, voice laced with curiosity.
“One question, loverboy.”
Rex groans, but it’s lighthearted. “You’re testing me.”
“Good.” You smile, giving him a genuine one, not a smirk or a grin.
The rest of the walk is filled with his insane stories of a superhero’s life, which you’re almost certain are embellished to a point where they’re hard to believe. You’re paying no mind to your surroundings, focused on the way dimples form in his cheeks when he smiles, how his eyes light up when he checks if you’re listening, how he brushes arms with you with the most endearing grin.
Another thing you notice is how he conveniently skips any parts about his personal life, changing the subject when you ask a follow up question that’s too close to him, Rex, rather than him, the Guardian. And it’s both heartening and sad at the same time.
Has he burnt himself in the past, giving too much too quickly, or is he hiding something? Or something else entirely, like he’s a workaholic and doesn’t care for personal life? But then again, would he be wandering around the city with you in the evening, entertaining you with his impressions of people you don’t even know?
Nonetheless, you have to admit, he’s great company and an amazing storyteller, even though he jumps over his thoughts with the speed of light.
So when you reach your local park, you’re taken by surprise—you must’ve been walking for miles, making a giant circle, leading you close to your home. You’re even more shocked when you check your watch, showing you it’s almost 11 pm.
“Damn, I gotta go. It’s so late—”
“Let me at least walk you back to your block,” Rex cuts in, stepping closer, too close, again.
“No need, it’s not far.”
“I already know where you live, so might as well—”
He’s cut off by a repeating beeping noise coming from somewhere on his body. You furrow your brows over your pretty eyes, looking at him with confusion, trying to localize where the sound is coming from.
“Fuck, always the worst god damn timing,” Rex groans and fishes out of his pocket something between a pager and a radio. He steps away and says a few words into the device before getting back to you.
“Listen, I’m so sorry—but I gotta go. Duty calls, and all that jazz.”
“No, of course. I get it.” There’s some disappointment to your tone, you’ve already started thinking whether to ask him to come in for a film, a few beers cooling in your fridge being the perfect bait. Not that you needed any.
Rex takes your hand and squeezes it with the gentlest pressure, so contrasting with his calloused skin.
“I’ll call you tomorrow, alright? Because I can’t wait another week to hear your voice again.”
Before you realize what he’s doing, Rex plants a quick kiss on your cheek and turns on his heel. You just stand there, your skin burning where his lips were just seconds ago, following him with your eyes, quietly hoping he’d turn.
A few steps in, he does, walking backwards, shooting you with finger guns. You huff a laugh through your nose and turn too, heading home with a sprouting feeling deep down that if fate exists, this time it’s done a good fucking job.
Chapter 4
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