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It had all started innocently, Matthew swears, although he can't say that's that where it's ended up.
He’s in a back alley, the exact kind of place he would typically avoid, staring down a mugger brandishing a knife at him. His heart is pounding, thumping in his ears—his palms are clammy, sweaty. Just a few more seconds, he's sure his savior is just around the corner…
This part of the city is notoriously rife with crime, which is precisely how Matthew had ended up here. All it had taken was strolling past a few of the higher end stores, and he’d seen this guy, little more than a petty thief, sprinting out of a store and into this back alley.
Matthew had followed, because he's stupid and suicidal and also deeply, tragically gay.
And Superman is hot. Like, way too hot—inhumanly hot, which Matthew supposes he technically is. And, well, rescuing people in danger is his thing. So it logically follows that if Matthew is in danger, Superman will come rescue him.
Right?
“Ha,” Matthew laughs nervously, putting his hands up as a barrier between him and the crook. “You know, I didn’t see anything, really! I mean, what priceless diamond necklace, huh?”
“And I’ll make sure of that, kid,” the thief returns, tightening his grip on the knife.
Matthew is going to die because he’s stupid and gay. It’s pretty par for the course, honestly—he just hopes his friends don’t make fun of him too much at his funeral.
Oh, who is he kidding, Hao and Gyuvin are going to have a field day with it, and Matthew will absolutely deserve all the post-mortem slander.
The thief takes another step forward, and Matthew’s back hits the slimy brick wall at the end of the alley; there’s nowhere else to go. He lifts his head to double check that there isn’t a ladder going up to one of the rooftops that he’s missed, and—
Is that an exotic, red and blue bird? Or a brightly colored airplane?
Matthew’s knees go weak with relief, because it’s definitely Superman—he’s saved!
There’s a red-and-blue blur as he swoops down, then a sharp POW! as he mercilessly uppercuts the crook. He goes flying, skidding across the alley away from Matthew, and Matthew hunkers his gay ass against the brick wall to watch his man-who-isn’t-his-man save his life. He’s so dreamy when he does that.
There’s the scream of sirens in the distance; where Superman is spotted, the police are never far behind to apprehend whatever ne’er-do-well he’s caught. Superman leaves him wedged in the metal lid of a dumpster, folded around him. It’s an appropriate enough restraint while he checks in on the citizen he’s saved.
Superman stops short, hovering in the air before him, his cape billowing out behind him. “You—I mean, Citizen,” he says.
“Matthew, but sure,” he says, immediately fixing his clothes and his hair to look presentable. Maybe the jolt of fear has made him look sexier, who knows?
“I—” he says, cocking his head as he lowers to the ground. He seems flustered, which is good. Now—how does one ask Superman on a date? “I mean—are you okay?”
“Oh, gosh,” Matthew says, and staggers forward—into Superman’s solid chest. For a man of steel, he seems a little unsteady, stumbling back with Matthew’s weight like he’s caught off guard. “Sorry, I’m just a little weak from the shock, I think.”
“Um,” Superman says, and his heart is thumping erratically beneath Matthew’s ear. “I mean, we can get the paramedics to check you out—”
“No, I’m all good,” Matthew insists, squeezing around his middle. “Really, you saved me.”
He’s so tall, and solid. Matthew barely comes up to his shoulder. When he looks up at him, he has his black hair parted with his forehead exposed, one singular curl swooping over his bare forehead. His shoulders are noticeably broad even under the cape. He’s sure there’s a practical reason for the spandex, but as it stands now, it just leads to Matthew ogling him. It’s a wonder he isn’t drooling.
“Um, alright, Citizen,” he says, gently pushing Matthew back by the shoulders until he unlatches.
“Matthew,” he reminds him.
“Yes, okay, Matthew,” Superman says, slightly exasperated. There’s something familiar about it, the way he says his name—perhaps Matthew has heard it in his dreams. “Listen, I have to go get this guy to the cops. You’re okay?”
Matthew bats his eyes. “I’d be better if maybe we could go out for a drink or something sometime.”
“Uh—” It seems he’s truly caught Superman off-guard. “Uh—sorry, are you asking me out?”
“Yes,” Matthew says resolutely.
“Okay, um,” he says, and he looks fidgety. “I don’t actually go on dates with citizens.”
“I’m not a citizen,” he pouts. “I’m Matthew.”
“Okay, Matthew,” he corrects. “Listen, it has to be a no, okay? You don’t want to go out with me.”
“I assure you I do,” he says calmly, having to tilt his head back to properly look at Superman.
“Uh,” he says. “Okay, well, I’ve got to go. Uh—see you around? Or—no! I hope I don’t see you around. Stay out of trouble, alright?” And he swoops over to the arriving police to assist them.
Matthew is accosted by a dogged reporter from the Daily Planet, and he eagerly waxes poetic about how Superman had saved him, and even told him to stay safe, to stay out of trouble.
Matthew has no intention of doing such a thing, though.
The first time he’d come face-to-face with Superman had been entirely an accident—or fate, depending on how you look at it.
Matthew had been on his lunch break, intent on trying the new place that Jiwoong hyung had been raving about, not realizing that it’s in the bad part of town. But Matthew had come all that way, and his stomach was grumbling…
To make a long story short, he’d never gotten his sandwich, and he’d ended up as one of the hostages in a robbery, genuinely scared shitless. He’d never had a gun pointed at him before, but he was not eager to repeat the experience—Jiwoong fucking owed him, for recommending this shady ass place.
And then Superman had swooped in, blasting the doors open with his super-strength and immediately subduing the villain. He’d done a double take upon seeing Matthew (a sure sign that he’s just as into Matthew as Matthew is into him), and then looked sheepish. Honestly, it had been a strange first interaction.
“Um—is the cat out of the bag, then?” Superman had asked, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly as he floated down before Matthew.
“Huh?” he’d asked stupidly, probably drooling. “I mean, uh—thank you for saving me, Superman.”
“Huh? You don’t—I mean, yes, of course, Citizen.” His voice had changed halfway through—it had gone deeper, more authoritative, like he meant to impress Matthew. He’d swooned, he’d genuinely swooned.
“Oh, it’s Matthew,” he said. “None of that citizen nonsense.”
“Uh—okay. Sure. I mean, I’ll never see you again, so I probably won’t have to remember that,” Superman had said awkwardly, and then found a reason to swoop over to another lady, a mere citizen, to check on her.
And, well, everyone knows that Superman’s identity is a mystery. He’s probably a master of disguise—and so the only way to get in contact with him is to put yourself in danger. Something that Matthew is stupid (and gay) enough to do.
“No, he’s so dreamy,” Matthew sighs, falling dramatically across Ricky and Hao’s laps later that night in Hanbin’s apartment.
“I should have never recommended that sandwich place,” Jiwoong mutters, flicking through the newspaper. “Of course you would go and end up in mortal peril and need to be rescued.”
“And then decide that he needs to continue to put himself in mortal peril,” Yujin adds, sprawled across the floor.
“Anything for dick, I respect the grind,” Gyuvin insists, going through Hanbin’s collection of comics to try to find something to read.
“You’re going to get killed, Matthew,” Hanbin chides. “I mean, isn’t this too far? You can’t go hunting for danger just to see Superman.”
“Exactly!” Gunwook shouts, with supreme relief, and everyone looks over to him. He’s settled in Hanbin’s recliner, his glasses pushed up his nose. He’s just started his office job in the past few months, and he still wears dress pants and a button up every day—usually a tie, too, and sometimes a blazer, but he’s lost them for now, the casual environment of Hanbin’s tiny apartment. “It’s stupid and reckless.”
“Maybe if Superman really cared about Matthew’s wellbeing, he’d go on a date with him so he’d stop putting himself in danger,” Taerae points out, and the room is split in opinion.
“Maybe Superman has a good reason for not going out with Matthew hyung,” Gunwook pouts, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping down in his chair.
“Then he should be upfront and tell me,” Matthew sniffs, lolling his head upside down to where Jiwoong is reading today’s copy of the Daily Planet. “Oh, Jiwoong hyung, you should definitely check out tomorrow’s paper. I talked to a reporter today, I’ll probably be in it.”
“Seok Matthew: Gay Disaster,” Hao quips for a headline, and the room breaks into snickers.
“Hey,” Matthew says, crawling up out of Ricky and Hao’s laps. “If people have a problem with me putting myself in danger, why don’t we all brainstorm and plan my next move so we make sure it’s as safe as can be?”
“Try to date someone more attainable than Superman,” Yujin suggests, and Matthew tosses a rolled-up magazine from Hanbin’s coffee table at him.
“Ehhh,” he says, imitating a wrong buzzer noise. “Try again.”
“No, wait,” Gunwook says, sitting forward eagerly. “Yes, we should absolutely plan what Matthew is going to do next. You know, so he can be safe.”
“You know,” Ricky says, stretching without Matthew’s weight on him. “My friend’s family owns that jewelry store down on Fifth? They’ve been trying to save money, and they cut some corners on security to do it. I bet anything the—what does the Daily Planet always call it? The criminal underbelly of the city probably knows about it.”
“Perfect!” Matthew says, springing off the couch. “I’ll just start spending all my free time around there!”
“I’m not sure I understand how helping you find a new place to get twisted up in crime is going to keep you safe,” Jiwoong admits, skeptical.
“It’s not,” Gyuvin argues, flipping through a comic at random. “It’s to get dick.”
“Wait!” Matthew realizes, immediately patting his pockets to make sure he has his wallet and keys—he has to act fast. “There’s lots of crime that happens at night! Like jewelry store robberies! Oh, god, I’ve got to get down there! Ricky, you said Fifth Avenue?” he double-checks, already halfway out the door.
“That’s the one,” he responds calmly.
“Wait a second—” Gunwook says frantically, also standing out of the recliner, stretching a hand out towards Matthew.
“Hurry!” Hao encourages, a broad smile on his face. “They could be robbing the store right now! Superman is probably already there!”
“This is so stupid,” Jiwoong intones, flipping again through the paper.
“Have fun, hyung, don’t get killed,” Yujin says.
“I won’t,” Matthew says confidently, puffing out his chest. “My man will come save me, I know it.”
“Hyung—” Gunwook tries again, but Matthew is already out the door, scurrying down the stairs to get over to Fifth Avenue.
What luck! The front of the jewelry store is already conspicuously smashed in when Matthew arrives, though it’s late enough that no one is around to witness it.
No one except Matthew.
Does he… go in? That’s certainly dangerous, and stupid. It kind of makes his stomach drop, his palms go disgustingly sweaty, his knees quake. But, well, there’s no danger out here. It’s late, and no one seems aware that this robbery is going on.
How does it work? Does Superman have some sort of sixth sense for danger? For peril? Oh, god, does Superman sleep? What if he’s asleep right now and Matthew just does this and get killed? Is he willing to risk it just to see Superman again, to see if he can buy him a drink in thanks for saving his life for the third time?
Yeah, he kind of is.
He gingerly steps over the jagged, broken glass of the front window. The jewelry that must usually sit here has already been snatched, and the inside of the store is a disaster. There’s shattered glass everywhere, priceless gems snatched at random. The expensive chandelier sways precariously in the dark.
There’s a rustling towards the back of the store, an odd noise that Matthew can’t quite place. Trying to avoid broken glass, he creeps back. There’s an open door with a light on, what looks like an area normally restricted to staff only. Is there a vault? Do jewelry stores have vaults?
They do; Matthew creeps over and risks a glance into the room. Some kind of villain, also dressed in spandex but nowhere near as fine as Superman, is using laser vision to cut a hole in the vault.
Matthew is stupid, and forgot about supervillains’ enhanced senses—despite him being quiet as a mouse, the villain turns and spots him. Fuck. Shit.
“Oh, um,” Matthew says, already backing away. “My bad, I just thought—yeah, I’ll head out now.”
The villain is over to him before he can even register the movement, pinning him against the wall by his throat. “You won’t go anywhere,” he threatens.
“Uh,” Matthew says, scrabbling at the hand pinning him to the wall. All his efforts in the gym prove futile when he’s up against super-strength, and his attempts to free himself do absolutely nothing against the villain. He’s losing air, losing oxygen—it would be a really opportune time for Superman to swoop in.
And he does, of course he does—Matthew was never even worried, despite the fact that his extremities were beginning to go numb, his face maybe going slightly purple.
He flies in in his usual blue-and-red blur, smashing the villain through a nearby wall to get him off of Matthew. He ignores Matthew for now—understandable, he supposes, while the villain is still on the loose.
Honestly, Matthew just sits back and enjoys the view. Superman smashes the villain around with all the usual gusto—lots of POW! and WHAM! and KA-POW! And, of course, the most glaring benefit—he looks damn fine doing it, not even the little curl on his forehead out of place when he descends back to Matthew, the villain slumped over a destroyed counter, unconscious.
He looks stern; it's kind of sexy. “Stop,” he commands, pointing aggressively at Matthew. “You can't just put yourself in danger because you want to see me.”
Matthew pouts; if his hair were long enough, he'd be curling it around his finger. “Maybe I’m just a danger magnet,” he says. “Maybe I need someone around to protect me.”
“Nobody, danger magnet or no, gets in the middle of three crimes in as many days,” Superman deadpans. “Cut it out.”
“You know, I think it's nearly morning,” Matthew points out. “I bet we could find a diner that's open and you could tell me more about how to stay out of trouble.”
“No, Matthew.”
“Oh, we’ve moved on from Citizen?” Matthew giggles.
“I can’t go out with you,” Superman insists, direct. “Stop asking and please stop putting yourself in harm’s way.”
The will they won’t they is dead in the water, as is Matthew’s heart. “Okay, fine,” he mutters. “Just—you take care of the bad guy, I guess, and I’ll go home to catch a couple hours of sleep before I have to get up for work.”
“Hyu—Matthew,” Superman corrects, and Matthew is certain they’re not close enough for Superman to be calling him hyung. Also, isn’t Superman older? He looks older. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Matthew insists, stepping back over the shattered window, not looking back. “No, yeah, I’ll just keep my head down. I won’t step foot near any expensive stores or in the bad part of town. You won’t see me. So long, Superman.”
“It’s for the best,” he promises, and he’s floating in the air again, just hovering a few inches above the ground, his cape flaring out behind him.
“Yeah, mhmm, for sure,” Matthew says, and humiliating little tears flood his eyes. “Yeah, so, um. Not later because I’m sure I won’t see you again. But, you know. Bye.”
“Bye, Matthew.”
He flees—Superman can clean up the mess, and Matthew will just get in the way.
Matthew sulks—duh. He’s actually pretty devastated, pretty inconsolable, but he has a solid pack of friends. Gunwook takes him out to a diner—Matthew was going to go to a diner with Superman, and he tries not to think about it.
“Come on, hyung, there are other fish in the sea,” Gunwook assures him, his glasses reflecting the fluorescents above.
“But only one Superman,” Matthew laments, his stack of pancakes ignored, his fingers curled around his too-hot coffee mug.
“Maybe,” Gunwook says. “But, like, I bet the guy is crazy busy. Probably it’s dangerous to date him, right?”
“He’s hot,” Matthew pouts. “And he’d protect me, anyway. I’m a danger magnet.”
“You seek danger,” Gunwook corrects.
“Like a magnet seeks metal,” he says dramatically, and it might be poetic—maybe. Gunwook doesn’t look impressed, and he’s usually pretty smart about stuff like that, so maybe Matthew isn’t really onto something, there. “Or, you know, whatever. I’ll get over it, Gunwookie, it’s whatever.”
“Okay, hyung.”
Gunwook is looking to call a waitress over to get their bill—they both have to get back to their respective offices and Matthew is going to be starving all afternoon, pancakes going sticky and soggy. He’s staring down at his coffee mug, also overfull. There’s a distant thud, and ripples go across the surface of the black coffee. Another, and some sloshes out of the mug, cascading down Matthew’s fingers and spilling onto the table.
“Ow, shit,” Matthew says, automatically licking the boiling coffee off of his fingers, soothing the burn.
Gunwook’s already staring out the window, squinting off into the distance, like he’s scrutinizing something. “Hyung,” he says, still staring out the window. “You should go. Back to the office, or back home.”
“Hm?” Matthew asks, trying to assess the burn damage on his fingers. “Why—wait! Gunwook!” Gunwook has already risen from the table and bolted out the door, without so much as a goodbye. “Hey, Gunwookie, the bill! Ugh!” Matthew slams a twenty on the table, smiles apologetically at the waitress, and hurries out of the diner.
It’s—awfully windy. Matthew can barely stand upright, honestly. And Gunwook, though he’d left perhaps fifteen or twenty seconds before Matthew, is nowhere to be seen.
Gunwook had said to go back to the office, or back home. But this is just inclement weather, right? Surely it’s not so bad that—
A huge piece of debris rockets through the sky and smashes into the parking lot; the force of the impact rattles Matthew’s teeth, his bones, and he instinctively dives for cover. “What the fuck,” he whispers, coughing in the dust. He recognizes the globe that rests atop the Daily Planet building, and that can’t be mere inclement weather.
Home, yeah. Okay, home. He’ll go home, and Superman will take care of this, and he won’t even see Matthew, honestly. He doesn’t want to see Matthew and Matthew doesn’t want to see him. But—Gunwook. Where the hell had Gunwook gone? He can’t be far ahead; he didn’t have that much of a headstart.
Back to his office, probably? Matthew makes it to his feet, although he’s shaky, and heads for Gunwook’s office—the opposite direction of home, but he has to make sure he’s okay.
And, predictably, he spots the blur of Superman, speeding to the sky from right behind the diner. Seriously, maybe it’s Superman who’s stalking Matthew. He pauses in the air, and seems to spot Matthew heading for the scene of danger.
“Seriously?” he calls, and swoops in front of Matthew. “Go that way!” he insists, pointing behind him, in the direction of Matthew’s apartment.
“My friend, Gunwook!” he says. “I have to make sure he’s okay, I—I lost him.”
“He’s fine, idiot!” Superman hisses.
Matthew cocks his head. “Wait, you know Gunwook?”
He grimaces. “We’re acquainted. I saw him, he’s fine. Go home, Matthew.”
For once, Matthew obeys, even though the cute little curl on Superman’s forehead is calling his name. He spins on his heel and decides to take Superman’s word for it. He can go hunker in his apartment away from the city center and wait for Superman to save the day yet again.
Back in his apartment, he watches live coverage of Superman swooping around the city center, hunting down the mastermind who’s trying to destroy it. He calls Gunwook’s landline over and over, trying to stretch his own cord from the kitchen so he can watch the TV in his living room, riveted. Gunwook must not be home, though, because he isn’t picking up—Matthew wishes he had his office number.
Matthew watches as Superman triumphs again, bringing the supervillain to his knees in time for cop cars to swarm him. The mayor of the city comes out, searching for Superman to thank him, but the camera crews can’t find him—he’s already vanished.
And the coverage is kind of boring from then. Matthew tries Gunwook’s number one more time, pouring himself a bowl of cereal as the line endlessly rings. Eventually, he just slams the phone back up on the wall; the workaholic probably just went back to the office. Not Matthew; he’s going to stuff his face with cereal and find a nice soap opera to watch.
But no sooner does he settle on the couch and find something promising than his doorbell rings. His cereal is going to go soggy at this point, how frustrating. He sighs and places the bowl on his coffee table, going to answer his door and see what they want.
It’s Gunwook, looking significantly disheveled. Seriously, he has a patch of dirt on his face, his glasses are askew, his clothing rumpled and his hair a mess. “Hyung, hey,” he says, shouldering his way in. “Listen, I need to talk to you.”
“Dude, I’ve been calling your apartment like crazy!” Matthew says. “What, you went back to the office? With an evil genius on the loose?”
“No,” he sighs. “Hyung, I’m—I’m Superman.”
Matthew almost laughs, but Gunwook’s serious expression stops him. “Gunwook, be serious,” Matthew says, although he looks deadly serious. “No, Gunwook—you wear glasses. Superman doesn’t wear glasses.”
“Are you—?” Gunwook asks, cutting himself off before he gravely insults Matthew. He whips his glasses off and chucks them on Matthew’s kitchen table, looking at him pointedly.
Huh.
Wait, no! It’s all wrong. No, no, Superman has that little curl on his forehead, and he wears spandex, not boring office clothes. But, well…
Matthew reaches out to push Gunwook’s hair off his forehead, and he gives a little yell and jumps back. “No, Gunwook, you can’t be—”
He rolls his eyes. “What, I don’t have the suit? Look.” And he unbuttons his button down to reveal the classic Superman S emblazoned across his chest. The tight spandex Matthew has been drooling over. “Should I fly around your apartment, too?”
Matthew narrows his eyes. “So when I was putting myself in danger so I could flirt with Superman… that was you?”
“Yes.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Let me see the suit.”
Gunwook gives an exasperated little sigh and removes his shirt the rest of the way. He steps out of his pants. Pulls the cape out of his pocket and fastens it around his neck. And, yeah, that’s Superman—or, no, it’s Gunwook—or, no, it’s both.
Huh.
“Huh,” Matthew says, raking his eyes up and down Gunwook’s spandex-clad body. “So… did you tell me this because you really desperately want to kiss me? Because you want to take me up on that offer of a drink?”
“I—!” Gunwook protests, his face flaming red. “Hyung, you can’t date Superman. It’s dangerous! I just… thought you should know. That I’m Superman.”
He cocks his head. “What if I want to date Gunwook?”
“I…” His face is still red, and he swallows thick. “I mean, that part might be fine. In theory. Just, you know, Gunwook isn’t always available. Sometimes it has to be Superman.”
“I’ll date Superman, too,” Matthew says stubbornly, arms still folded across his chest. “I’m a danger magnet, anyway. If anyone can protect me, it’s Superman.”
“Then, uh, yeah, hyung,” Gunwook says, wringing his hands in front of his body. “I mean, you can mostly date Gunwook. I’m just saying, sometimes it might be Superman.”
“I look forward to it,” Matthew says, and does what he’s fantasized about since he’d first glimpsed his savior. He grabs him by the collar of his spandex, the string securely his cape around his neck, and tugs him down to his level to drag him into a kiss.
And, yeah, Matthew now has a bowl of cereal mush and a soap opera he’s missed the first few minutes of, but he also has Gunwook in his Superman suit eagerly attached to his lips, so he thinks that things have worked out in his favor, as they always do.