Chapter Text
Bdubs woke slowly.
It was a difficult feeling to name, the feeling of coming to in a world where you didn’t know what was going on. It was a bit like he was drowning, like he was looking up at the surface and desperately trying to reach it, his fingers breaching into air only to be pulled down again. A sharp pinprick in his neck, like being stabbed. He thought he could hear filtered conversation floating around him, reaching his ears like whispers.
“--okay,” someone was saying, several times, like a mantra. A prayer. He could feel gentle hands on his shoulders, patting his back, combing his hair away from his face. He could feel himself being sick, dispelling something from his body. Drowning again.
The push and pull of waking and sleeping again was exhausting. Bdubs tried to remember what had happened, what had led him here to this ocean, wherever here was. He couldn’t seem to figure it out. Each time he thought he got close to the truth, his vision would fade out again. Darkness.
Drowning.
Awareness came in waves, only for sleep to come and chase him from the surface. Pain was a constant company, running slender fingers down his torso, his head, his shoulders. Everywhere.
“--okay,” the voice would say again. It sounded vaguely familiar, like hearing a song that you’d enjoyed in your youth. “It’s okay.”
Bdubs wrinkled his nose, tilting his head back to catch a breath. He wanted to wake up. He wanted to–he wanted to stop suffocating–
“Shh,” the voice said, and it sounded much closer than before. From the next room over, a whisper that traveled far. Bdubs let out a noise. He thought he might be very close to catching a breath, and he tried again, surprised when air rushed into his lungs. He shifted, feeling something soft beneath him.
And, with as much strength as he could muster, he forced tired, heavy eyes open.
He was immediately met with light that was far too bright. Grimacing, he slammed his eyes closed again, shying away from it, trying to fold himself in again.
“I know,” came the voice, a whisper, very close. “It’s alright. It’s okay.”
Bdubs groaned, blinking his eyes open again. It was still difficult to see, and his vision was swimming uncomfortably, but–
But when his gaze landed on the figure next to him, he realised he recognised that man.
“Big B,” he said, and his voice sounded slurred and weak and hoarse, but he was talking and he was alive and he would take what he could get.
The villain broke into a relieved smile. His face was impossibly soft. “Hey, there,” he murmured.
Bdubs swallowed uncomfortably. He tried to sit up, and pain erupted over him. He let out a noise, shaking.
“Easy,” Big B told him, using gentle hands to push Bdubs down again. “You’re still weak. You’ve been out for a while.”
Bdubs allowed himself to be handled, if only because he was too weak to fight it. Besides, the couch beneath him was comfortable.
“How long?” he asked. His mouth was dry and his throat hurt.
There must’ve been something in his voice, because Big B passed him a glass of water. He took it with both hands and sat up just enough to allow himself to greedily drink it. It was cool, soothing to him despite his recollection of drowning.
“How long were you out?” Big B clarified his question, and when Bdubs nodded, he hesitated. “A few days.”
The admission hung in the air, heavy and something neither of them wanted to touch. Bdubs sat there, dumbfounded, his water suddenly forgotten.
A few days. How had that–he’d only been wounded a little bit! A small scratch! Surely that didn’t–that hadn’t–
The confusion on his face must've been clear, because Big B sighed. Waved his hand like he was trying to conjure something out of the air, and then let it fall flat against his side. Bdubs noticed he was dressed in casual clothes. “I’ll explain. But you should eat something first.”
Bdubs wanted to argue. He needed to know now, needed to understand what had happened so he could avoid it.
But…but he knew that Big B was right. He still wasn’t feeling well. Despite apparently sleeping for several days, he was still weak and tired. Pain was still pulsing down him like a heartbeat, and yes, he was hungry. Sue him.
Whatever. He nodded, and Big B came over, this time helping him into a sitting position. The movement hurt, but it was worth it to be seated instead of laying down. He had a better vantage point like this.
“I’ll be back,” Big B told Bdubs, then he disappeared down a short corridor. To the kitchen, presumably.
Bdubs sighed, twisting his head around, testing his range of motion. It hurt, but not that badly. Enough that he could stretch a bit. His main concern was his gut and the obvious wound there, though he was still fuzzy on the details of how he’d gotten it. Something to do with darts…?
He brought his hand to his face, surprised when he was met with no mask. How had–
But…Oh, right. He vaguely remembered Big B taking it off.
That was–Bdubs didn’t know how to feel about that. He squirmed, shifting in his seat, and turned his attention on something else. He didn’t want to be thinking about something as trivial as identities right now.
So instead, he took the opportunity to examine the space around him. It was a bit difficult to focus, but as his mind got used to being awake, his vision focused.
Big B’s apartment…was not what Bdubs would have expected. He’d been imagining villainous things, maybe weapons and such thrown around casually. And yes, he did see a knife, but other than that, it was incredibly normal. The decor was a bit bare. That was it.
It…almost reminded Bdubs of his own apartment, back at the agency. He spent so little time there that it didn’t even feel like a home, and though maybe, once upon a time he would have liked to decorate it, he wasn’t supposed to. That was against the rules, something about if he died or was fired, they needed to be able to use the suit for the next hero immediately.
Grim. But realistic, he supposed.
So, as annoying as it was, Bdubs’ living space was sparsely used and even more sparsely his. He would give anything to be able to live in an apartment like this. The freedom to do what you wanted–to decorate how you wanted–
It would have been amazing.
He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice Big B enter again until the villain murmured, “Here you are.”
Bdubs blinked, looking up to see a plate being shoved at him. He hesitated for just a moment before taking it gingerly and examining the toast on it. Slightly burnt, but not that bad. He took a bite and nodded his approval, though his stomach twisted a bit. A consequence of being empty for too long.
Big B has also gotten him more water, perhaps seeing how quickly he’d drank the other glass. The other man settled into an armchair across from him and it was silent for a long moment.
“Talk,” Bdubs finally told him, because he hated the quiet. “I can eat and listen at the same time.”
Big B looked like he might argue, but then he shook his head, sighed. Giving up the fight before it even began, choosing his battles. Or something like that. “Fine.” A pause, as if he wasn’t going to continue. “I’m..not sure how much you remember.”
Bdubs thought back, scrunching his nose when his headache flared. His mind was a foggy thing, but it was clearer now thanks to food and fluids. He remembered…fighting Zeus…getting hit with a lot of darts. A sword, a slice across his stomach. Fleeing here.
He told Big B as much, in between bites. It was more difficult to talk about than he thought it would be.
Big B listened intently. There was a little frown grazing his lips, but other than that, he was his usual stoic self.
It was so weird to see him in such a casual setting as this. Bdubs rarely saw him all together, let alone in an apartment like this.
It wasn't bad, just…strange. A little different, a little lonely.
“Well,” Big B started when Bdubs had finished his recap, "Obviously, you came here. And I wasn't just going to let you die.”
There was something in those words, something Bdubs didn’t know how to name. It sounded like he’d heard them before, and he swallowed thickly.
Big B continued, “The wound on your stomach was pretty bad, but nothing I couldn’t handle. It's stitched and cleaned now. Your head…”
Here, he trailed off. Suddenly Bdubs was acutely aware, once again, of his lack of mask, of the fact that he was no longer wearing his suit.
Of the fact that Big B could see his face.
He shifted, uncomfortable. For a moment, he ran his tongue over the chip in his tooth. Then he stopped.
“I already told you this,” Big B said after a minute. He sounded just as uneasy as Bdubs felt, and he was avoiding eye contact. “But I’m not sure if you remember.”
Bdubs frowned, shoving thoughts of his mask away in favour of thinking back. He could recall, vaguely, waking up and talking with Big B, but he had no idea what had been said.
Big B seemed to sense this, because he sighed. He was still looking at the ground like it was very interesting, still chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I had to remove your mask. You got hit in the head, and there was some blood. I had to check it.”
It seemed like he was trying to convince himself more than Bdubs. Suddenly, it occurred to the hero that Big B was nervous.
“It’s okay,” Bdubs said, slowly. He was surprised to find the words were true.
He–he might not have wanted it to go down like this, but–but he trusted Big B.
He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t. Big B was a villain, and even if he hadn’t done anything all that bad, he was still Bdubs enemy. They were still on opposing sides of this war.
But even so…
Bdubs shook his head to clear his thoughts. “It’s okay,” he said again, testing the words to find out if they still held strong. Somehow, they did. “Now we’re even.”
That was an easier way to look at it. Bdubs knew Big B’s real identity–heck, he even knew where he lived. This was just–just a trade. A transaction of sorts.
Big B finally nodded his agreement. He still looked unsure, but at least he wasn’t arguing. That had to count for something.
“Anyways,” he continued. “You were sleeping for a long time. I don't know–I thought I had done something wrong. You weren't waking up. And then you did.”
He paused here, like this was supposed to mean something to Bdubs. After a moment in which it became obvious it did not, Big B cleared his throat. “You fell asleep again after that, and I thought everything was fine. But then in the morning you were still sleeping. And in the afternoon. I got–I got scared.”
Bdubs blinked at that. The word echoed around the room. Scared scared scared.
Big B was many things, but he was never scared.
“So I went to talk to him.”
“Him?”
“Zeus.”
Bdubs opened and closed his mouth. Shock washed over him, along with an inkling of a name. Something that started with a ‘J’. “You–what?”
Big B cringed, but his face was unapologetic. “I had to ask him about his darts. They were the only explanation for why you were still unconscious.”
The information washed over Bdubs slowly. He remembered the darts; he had thought they were useless things. They hadn’t seemed to have an effect at all.
Of course, he’d been wrong.
“Jo–Zeus told me that they were slow working. They were dipped into a poison, or something like that, and it entered the bloodstream through all the little cuts. It’s meant to allow the hero to get away, thinking they were safe, and suddenly collapse on the street. Easy for kidnappings and stuff.”
Bdubs swallowed thickly. It took him a moment to process that, to realise the amount of danger he’s been in.
Big B sighed. “I know it might be hard for you to think, but…but Zeus isn’t actually a bad guy. He didn’t mean to hurt you like that. He didn’t know who you were, otherwise he wouldn’t have attacked you.”
Bdubs regarded his friend with a raised eyebrow. It wasn’t that he didn't believe him, but…well, it was difficult to imagine. Zeus was a villain, after all.
Then again, so was Big B. And he would never intentionally hurt Bdubs.
“Okay,” he relented, though he still wasn’t sure. He just didn’t feel like arguing.
Big B nodded his head. He probably saw exactly what Bdubs was doing, but he didn’t comment on it.
“Anyways,” he continued after a moment, “He gave me the antidote. Well, after some persuasion."
Bdubs tilted his head. Persuasion. “You threatened him?”
“Not him, no,” Big B answered.
He did not elaborate. Instead he continued, “Anyways–I gave the cure to you last night when I got back. It’s been hours since then and it’s finally working.”
Bdubs went silent, mulling this over. All things considered, it wasn’t that much to process, but still, his head was swimming. He felt so exposed without his mask on; normally he was able to hide his expression behind the fabric. Not now, though. He was out in the open, on full display.
If Big B noticed his discomfort, he didn’t show it. He stood up, stretched. Somewhere in their conversation Bdubs had finished his breakfast, so his plate was taken from him. He let Big B disappear down the same hallway.
When he returned, it was with two pills. Bdubs eyed them suspiciously.
“Relax,” Big B told him, rolling his eyes. “It’s not poison or anything.” He winced, as if realising what he had said. “Nevermind. They’re just painkillers.”
Bdubs wanted to argue that he didn’t need them, but the wound on his stomach was killing him. And his head wasn’t doing that great, either. Plus all the other little bruises and cuts he had.
..It would probably be best to take them, now that he thought about it. And so he did, but he made sure to glare at Big B as he did so.
Big B just rolled his eyes at the antics, plopping backwards into his chair. Bdubs studied him, noticing how tired he looked. Like he hadn’t slept at all the past couple nights, or if he had, it had been very little. Sharp, bruise-like bags rested beneath his eyes.
He wanted to call him out on it. Wanted to say, If you take care of me, you still have to take care of yourself.
But he kept silent. Sometimes, choosing to talk felt like the wrong thing to do. Bdubs wasn’t sure if what he had to say would go down well between them.
And so instead, the two of them just sat there awkwardly. There didn’t seem to be anything else to say, and the air was charged and heavy where it rested against them. So many things were being left unspoken, but neither of them seemed to know how to say them. It was just them: both exposed, in casual, civilian clothes, in an apartment that was sparsely decorated.
Drowning.
Finally, Bdubs rolled his neck. The quiet had never been something he liked to dwell in. He swallowed, said, "Thank you, by the way.”
The words were more sincere than he meant for them to be. They were supposed to come out almost teasing, annoyed. Not the gentle hum that had rolled past his lips.
Stars above, he must really be tired.
Big B didn’t comment on his soft tone. The villain had some unnamable emotion swimming in his eyes. “You’re welcome,” he replied. A pause. “Are you–you’re feeling alright, yeah?”
Bdubs nodded. He was feeling much better, actually. Between having food and water, plus the medication, his wound didn’t hurt nearly as much. And his head felt clearer than it had in days.
“I am,” he told Big B.
The villain bobbed his head back. There was another long pause, silence stretching heavily between them. Bdubs glanced at the clock and suddenly, a thought occurred to him.
He stilled, feeling impossibly stupid that he hadn’t picked up on it before. He’d been unconscious for days. He had to–stars above, he had to report to headquarters! The agency was probably freaking out!
He jumped up to his feet. Immediately, spots swam in his vision as blood rushed to his head, his wounds pulsing in pain at the sudden movement. Big B rushed over to steady Bdubs before he fell back over, concern and surprise rising in tandem on his features. “What are you doing?” he asked, worry making his words loud and accusatory.
“I have to–have to get to the agency,” Bdubs explained. His words were listed to the side, sloppy. He was swaying.
“You’re in no condition to go there,” Big B told him. “Sit back down.”
“No.”
Big B didn’t listen. He pushed Bdubs back, albeit gently, and the man couldn’t put up much of a fight. He fell back on the couch awkwardly, his injuries flaring just a bit.
“I need to get there,” he told Big B, ignoring the pain. “Let me go.”
“No,” Big B said again. He hovered over Bdubs like the hero might jump up and sprint to the door. “You’re still hurt. You shouldn’t be casually strolling down the streets.”
Bdubs scrunched his nose. “You have no business in telling me what I can and can’t do.”
Something akin to hurt flashed in Big B’s eyes, but it faded so quickly that Bdubs thought he might have imagined it. “You can’t,” he snapped.
Bdubs leveled him with a glare of his own. “Yes, I can. I’m perfectly capable. You have no right to keep me here!”
Anger came to life, twisting Big B’s features. “Fine, then,” he spat. “Go on. Go!”
His voice was raised in a way that it wasn’t usually, and Bdubs blinked, the beginnings of fear poking his chest.
He trusted Big B, sure.
But trust did not change the fact that he was a villain, and Bdubs was a hero, and the two of them–
They were not friends or partners, or even acquaintances. They were enemies.
Bdubs reminded himself of that as he forced his ragged body to its feet. He chanted it to himself when he swayed, dizzy, and Big B made no effort to support them. They were enemies. They were.
He headed to the door. He knew, deep down, that Big B was probably right. Bdubs had no business trying to get to the agency right now.
But that wasn’t going to stop him. He knew he could make it if he tried (after all, he was a hero, he was used to injuries) and he knew that he had to try. If he didn’t, then the higherups would get mad at him, and then–
Well, Bdubs had already been missing for several days. It was safe to assume they would fire him if he wasn’t back soon.
So yes. He did have to go, if he wanted to keep his job.
Big B stood stoically in his room. He stared after Bdubs with something haunting in his eyes, something that Bdubs didn’t really understand.
“I think I know what you meant,” Big B suddenly said, right when Bdubs was about to leave.
Bdubs froze with his tired hand on the doorknob. Confusion twisted his gut. “About what?”
“About me hurting you.”
Bdubs opened and closed his mouth. A conversation pulled at his brain, and suddenly, through a thick fog, he could remember something.
Have I ever hurt you?
Yes.
He swallowed and turned around again, meeting Big B’s eyes. “Well, then?”
Big B looked like he wasn’t going to say anything. It was silent for long enough that Bdubs huffed and turned back to the door, stepping out, about to close it when: “I leave. It hurts when I leave, doesn’t it?”
The words knocked something loose in Bdubs. A horrific, stupid burning threatened his eyes. Tears. He carefully didn’t turn around again, lest Big B see them.
“Leaving is a part of life,” he said instead. His voice came out gruffer than he meant it to.
Big B hummed. There was a rustle, like he was shaking his head. “That doesn’t make it any less painful.”
Painful for who? The person being left, or the person doing the leaving? Bdubs didn’t know. He wasn’t sure it mattered. Big B was right; leaving someone was painful no matter what way you looked at it.
And Big B always left. He was the first to leave their conversations, always the first to disappear, often in the middle of them talking. Sometimes, Bdubs didn’t even notice he was gone until he turned around and found the space behind him empty.
It was ironic, in a way. That Bdubs’ power was super sight, and whenever he turned around, Big B was lost. Somewhere he couldn’t see him.
Something like indignation flared in Bdubs’ chest at the thought. Anger lapped at him, chasing away the loneliness, the pain he felt. He turned around and glared at Big B, recalling his words. That doesn’t make it any less painful.
“Good,” he told Big B.
And then he did something he knew would hurt him.
He left.