A Tale of Two Redheads (solo)

Stephen was sprawled out over the covers of his bed, shirtless and in his comfortable jeans with a quiet night ahead of him. Quin called an hour earlier, which perked him up until she apologized for being stuck at the precinct for the night. He assured her there was no need to apologize and there would be another night for them. Upon hanging up, he tossed his phone at the bed, letting it bounce recklessly to the floor, and resigned himself to a long, contemplative shower.

He looked through his contact list on the phone he, (after checking for cracks,) picked up before finding his place on the bed. He still had few contacts, leaving "Maxine- Reporter/Omen" and "Quin- Worth the Risk" next to one another. He probably should have never taken up jogging, never started frequenting the park, and never developed a taste for redheads.

Maxine was her own breed of problem; she was cute, but she had a paperclip-topus that had a taste for trouble and attention; two desires not shared by Stephen. Along with that, Maxine was a fairly well-known reporter, specifically regarding pieces on mutants. If he went on a dinner date with her, if mutant-curious paparazzi did not find them, there was always the risk she might think a shadow-wielding artist would make a good story. Maxine was gorgeous, and her kiss was a treat, but there was just not enough reason to justify the trouble she could come along with.

The real problem for Stephen at the moment was Quin. If a date with a reporter was like a deer stumbling into a clearing, a date with a cop was like that same deer stumbling into a hunting lodge. On paper, she should have been an easy "Do Not Touch" notice, but she screwed that up. Sitting at the edge of the pond with her felt so... good. He felt normal; not like a non-mutant, but rather a non-thief. He was only a few years removed from puberty last time he spent any time feeling like that. She was down to earth and fun in more than just the sense of the "chase."

Stephen felt a fuzzy nibble at his toes, sending a shiver up and down his spine. He groaned. "Parker, I'm never going to get used to that." He sat up and stroked his pet spider's head, to the reply of affectionate clicks. Thankfully, Parker's bite was not venomous, (or at least it was not when he nibbled his master.) Stephen chuckled quietly. "It'll be tough to explain you to Quin, that's for sure..." He had prepared the apartment for the possibility of Quin dropping by; his supplies were locked in a wall safe behind a painting, and his easel remained out. He knew attempting to hide his little pet would probably just cause more harm than good, so he would just explain to her a brief story, sparing his mutant intervention, about how Parker and Nate met.

Nate was the real problem here! What harm had Andrew done? None! He slept with an aggressive high-class businesswoman. (Another redhead, for the record.) Regardless, Nate seemed happier in the end. Maybe the problem was not Nate at all; maybe Stephen was the problem. If Stephen was truly Nate, with no dark secrets behind his paintings, there would be no problems at all with his love-life.

He stood up, taking his glasses from the nightstand and finding his way to the mirror in the bathroom. He stared into his own eyes and spoke aloud. "Alright Nate, you can do what you want. Take Quin out, and even be smitten if you'd like. Just remember, when everything is said and done, we go back to being Stephen and we say goodbye to New York and whatever or whoever else along with it."

Nate nodded back in the mirror, reflecting back and look of disappointment.