#more sidekick & aide fed up of the hero and villain talking about each other

[gayacademicwriter]

a snippet | blind date | hero x villain

trigger warning: alcohol, joking talk of throwing people/themselves out windows

The sidekick sighed as they hurried into the restaurant. The villain’s aide was already waiting in the booth, hunched over a glass of something. The sidekick nudged them with a slightly painful look in their eyes. The aide raised an eyebrow. 

“Rough day?”

“You would not believe,” the sidekick groaned, flagging a waitress, “how many times the hero talked about the villain today.” 

The aide scoffed. “Can’t possibly be more than the number of times the villain talked about the hero today. It’s insufferable, and not even because it’s about the hero. If I had to hear about anybody that many times a day I would be overcome by the urge to throw the person talking about them out the window.” 

“I’ll bet on that,” the sidekick answered, their drink sliding onto the table as the waitress left to serve another table. “Whoever’s number is higher buys the next round.” 

“You’re on. Thirty-two.”

“Forty-six,” the sidekick said with a grin. 

“Damn,” the aide muttered. “The hero really is obsessed.” 

“Thirty-two’s a pretty high number on its own. If we don’t do something about this soon I think I might actually go insane.”

“As if you weren’t insane taking on the role of sidekick. The hero has to have some pretty crazy work hours.” 

“Yeah, well... my sleep schedule is pretty flexible. I manage.” 

“There has to be a way we can set them up.” 

“That won’t incriminate us?” The sidekick countered.

“Oh, absolutely. The villain loves this one restaurant—the one right down the street, actually. I’ll let them know that them talking about the hero that much is absolutely agonizing, and that I’ve set up a date for them at the restaurant. The villain will probably head down there for the food more than for the date, but as long as they get their ass through the doors and at the table it’s good enough, because you’re going to get the hero to do the same and the hero is going to be sitting at the table by the time the villain gets there.”

“Bold of you to assume that I have the capacity to tell the hero that I’ve set up a blind date for them.” 

“Bold of you to assume that I care,” the aide shot back. “Besides, if it stops them talking about each other, then I’d say it’s worth the risk.” 

“I have a feeling that could backfire terribly.” 

“Well, maybe they’ll start talking to each other instead of pining over each other to us.” 

“Fair,” the sidekick admitted. “But only if we can watch from across the street, and only if you’re bringing popcorn and drinks.”

“Come on. I did all the thinking here.”

The sidekick jerked their head in the direction of the restaurant. “Or no blind date for your villain.” 

The aide rolled their eyes, downing the rest of their drink. “Fine. Done. I’ll make the reservations, let you know when it’s happening. Let the hero know in a small enough time frame that they can’t decline.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” The sidekick glanced at their watch. “I’ve got to head out soon. Apparently the villain is committing some small atrocity in some city square in forty minutes.” 

The aide rolled their eyes. “Oh, that. It’s not even an atrocity.” 

“Says the one who serves the villain with no morals.” 

“No, seriously. I left the base to get here and the villain was doing their hair. It’s going to be one of those nights.” 

“God,” the sidekick scowled, throwing back the rest of their drink, wishing they could return home thoroughly wasted so as to not hear a word the hero spoke tonight. “What d’you reckon the chances are of me getting home and the hero asking which suit they should wear?” 

“High. Tell them to wear the black one.” 

The sidekick rolled their eyes but muttered an acknowledgement. 

“I’ll let you know when. It’ll be in the next week or so.” 

The sidekick nodded, raising their glass. “To hopefully never hearing them pine again.” 

The aide toasted them. “Dear God, please.” 

—

The call came a week later. 

The night after they had schemed, the hero had indeed asked which suit they should wear. The sidekick wondered if it was a mistake to tell them to wear the black one, because they got home that night and the hero was very smug over the way the villain’s eyes had lit up when they saw them. The entire night, the sidekick wanted nothing more to throw the hero out the window. Or perhaps themselves. Anything from having to hear about the villain’s eyes again. 

“Thank God,” the sidekick whispered into the phone, having ditched the hero as they went shopping for sewing supplies. “What time?” 

“Seven,” the aide’s voice crackled over the phone in answer. “It was the earliest I could get.” 

“Not a problem. Thanks.” They clicked the phone off as the hero exited the store, humming a jaunty tune. 

“Hey, hero...” 

“Yeah?” 

“You know how you’re always talking about the villain?” 

“Yes—”

“Don’t start up again now,” the sidekick interrupted, holding up a hand to stall them. “No offence, but it has got to be one of the most unbearable things that you’ve ever talked about, so I’ve set up a blind date for you in hopes that’ll take your mind off them.” 

There was a pause. Would the hero take the bait? The sidekick crossed their fingers. 

“Well, I’ll go, I suppose, but it won’t work.” 

“Just indulge me.” 

“Only for you, sidekick. What time?”

“Tonight, at seven.” 

The hero started up their tune again. “Alright.” 

—

“The hero’s just left the apartment.” 

“Great. The villain will leave in five.”

“Perfect.” The sidekick paused. “If this doesn’t work—”

“You’ll end me, I know. I’ll see you at the café on the other side of the street at seven fifteen?”

“The one with the french doors and big windows?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Alright.” The aide clicked off the phone and returned to the living room, where the open bathroom door revealed the villain parting their hair. 

“You know this obscene plan has no chance of getting anywhere—”

“Ah, just try it out,” the aide insisted, leaning against the doorframe. “And hey, if it doesn’t go well I can listen to you complain about that instead of blabber on about the hero’s lips.”

“I do not talk about—”

The aide quelled their protest with a glare. 

“Just get ready,” the aide sighed. “You have three minutes.”

And in the meantime, they thought with a sigh, I may as well grab the drinks and popcorn the villain didn’t notice I bought two hours ago.

—

“This should be pretty interesting,” the sidekick said with a grin. “I warned the hero that their date might be a tad bit late.”

“A wise decision,” the aide acknowledged, tossing them a glass, “seeing as the villain enjoys taking their time getting ready.”

“So I figured,” the sidekick answered. 

The villain and the hero had just seen each other, faces lighting up with surprise, delight, and smirks. The aide took a deep sip and a handful of popcorn. 

“I have a feeling they’ll be chatting for awhile,” the sidekick mused. 

“I bet at least sixty percent will be flirting.”

The sidekick scoffed. “Eighty is more like it.”

The aide tilted their head as they took another swallow of their drink. “Do you think they’ll figure it out?”

The sidekick followed suit. “Oh, for sure. I just have a feeling they’ll be more thankful than annoyed about it.”