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Barnaby found Kotetsu out on the balcony, which did not surprise him in the least. The other heroes had insisted on celebrating their return to the First League "properly," which, as far as Barnaby could tell, involved an entire liquor store's worth of alcohol, a pool table, and a karaoke machine. Halfway through listening to Sky High butcher one of Blue Rose's songs for the third time, Barnaby had noticed Kotetsu wasn't there anymore.
So of course, he went looking.
Kotetsu was leaning on the balcony railing, silhouetted by the light of the full moon and staring out over the city. It was quieter out here, although the sounds of traffic still drifted up from the streets below, and Barnaby had to stop and stare at him for a moment. The past several days had been the longest they'd gone without seeing each other since coming back to hero work, and Barnaby had missed him. It was like a hole in his chest, a spot Kotetsu had carved out for himself and then just...left.
Barnaby still couldn't quite believe he was back.
He walked up to stand beside Kotetsu and rested his forearms on the stone railing. "What are you doing out here?"
"Heh." Kotetsu swirled the brown liquor in his glass. "I needed a break from the karaoke."
As if on cue, a particularly loud high note drifted out from behind them, followed by the muffled sound of Blue Rose threatening to shove a microphone down someone's throat. The next time someone suggested karaoke, Barnaby was going to smash the machine.
"Did the singing scare you away, too?" Kotetsu asked.
"No. I came looking for you." Barnaby would have thought that was obvious. "Are you all right?"
"Me?" Kotetsu grinned, but his smile was off. "I'm fine."
Of course. Barnaby didn't know why he'd expected another answer. "Please don't lie to me, Kotetsu."
Kotetsu looked taken aback. "Why would you think I'm lying?"
Because I know you, you idiot. "Because that's what you do when you don't want to talk about something that's bothering you."
Kotetsu grumbled. "I don't do that. Much."
Barnaby sighed and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "Oh, really? Like when you didn't tell me what Schneider had done with keeping you back in the Second League?"
Kotetsu rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah, Bunny, it wasn't a big deal—"
"Yes, it was." Barnaby clenched his fist. "Even if there wasn't anything I could have done about it, you should have told me what happened. You shouldn't have pretended everything was okay. And you shouldn't have let me find out like that."
His stomach gave the same sick swoop it had at the press conference when Schneider had announced his new partner, when Barnaby had realized he'd been tricked into coming back to the First League without Kotetsu. He still wasn't sure who he'd been more furious with: Schneider, for the obvious reasons, or Kotetsu for sitting back and letting it happen without telling him.
At least Kotetsu had the decency to look shamefaced about it now. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "You're right. I shouldn't have let you find out at the press conference."
"Then why did you?" Barnaby asked.
Kotetsu sighed and stared at his glass. "You wanted to move back to the First League. That was your chance. What kind of partner would I be if I stood in your way?"
Barnaby closed his eyes and resisted the urge to slam his head against the railing. "Why would you think I would want to come back to the First League if it meant leaving you? Even Schneider knew I wouldn't."
Kotetsu still didn't look at him. "It's where you belong. And I don't want to hold you back."
The same thing he'd said before when Barnaby had confronted him, and it was just as ridiculous now as it had been then. Barnaby scoffed. "You've never held me back."
Kotetsu took a drink. "Heh. Now who's lying?"
Barnaby frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Kotetsu finally met his eyes. "I can think of a few times you said otherwise."
Oh, so that's where they were going with this, were they? "Yes. When we were first partnered and neither of us was happy about it," Barnaby said, "and when we were fighting and I was deliberately trying to hurt you because you were lying to me. Again." He glared down at the railing. "Because I was trusting you with everything and you couldn't even tell me the truth about why you wanted to leave me."
And there was the crux of the problem, even now, well more than a year after they'd had that fight: the fear that Kotetsu still didn't trust him, didn't want him, was only using him for his own ends just like everyone else. On some level, he knew that was ridiculous—Kotetsu's lying was rarely for selfish reasons—but the fear still sank into his heart like a claw, and Barnaby had to fight to push it away.
"I didn't want to leave you," Kotetsu said softly. "I just didn't feel like I had any other choice, then, with my powers going the way they were. And you didn't..."
Barnaby waited for him to finish, but Kotetsu didn't seem inclined to pick up the thread again. "Didn't what?"
Kotetsu shrugged. "You were right. You didn't—you don't need me."
Barnaby could only gape at him, because of all the things he'd thought Kotetsu might say, that hadn't been one of them. That hadn't even been on the list, because it was absurd. "That's the stupidest thing you've ever said, old man."
"Hey—"
"If it weren't for you, I'd have killed Jake," Barnaby said.
Kotetsu jerked back, eyes wide and appalled. "No, you wouldn't have. You're not like that."
"Yes, I was." God, Barnaby wanted to get it through his thick head. "You don't understand, do you? Before I met you, I was just like Virgil. I was just like Lunatic. I would have killed Jake without hesitation. I wanted revenge for my parents and Maverick only encouraged that. For twenty years, that's all I was good for."
Kotetsu shook his head and set aside his glass. "No, it wasn't. Bunny, you're more than that."
Barnaby turned and jabbed his finger into Kotetsu's chest. "Because. Of. You."
Kotetsu stared at him in shock, and for once, didn't seem to have anything to say.
Barnaby took it as an invitation to keep going. "You were the first person in twenty years to see me as something other than an instrument for vengeance. You were the one who showed me what it really meant to be a hero. You were the first person in two decades to actually care about me—not as a hero or as some object you could manipulate, but as a person—and you are the only person I love that Maverick didn't take away from me even though he fucking tried."
Kotetsu's eyes went wide. "Bunny—"
Barnaby ignored the interruption. "The only reason I'm the hero I am is because of you. The only reason I'm the person I am is because of you." He turned back to face the city, fists clenched against the stone railing, fighting the tears burning his eyes. "So don't you dare stand there and tell me I don't need you, Kotetsu. You're the most important person in my life."
It was probably too much to admit, even now, but Barnaby was tired of not saying it. And if this was what it took to get it through Kotetsu's skull what he meant to him, well, so be it. He could only hope it wouldn't ruin everything, not when they'd just started to fix things.
But the longer Kotetsu said nothing, the more Barnaby wondered if it had. He couldn't bring himself to look at him, for fear of what he might see on Kotetsu's face.
He started to push off the railing to head back inside—alcohol sounded fantastic right about now—but Kotetsu covered his fist with his hand and ran his thumb over Barnaby's knuckles.
Barnaby froze. It wasn't as though they'd never touched before, but there was something more...intimate about this.
Maybe things weren't ruined, after all.
Kotetsu stared at their hands, a bittersweet half-smile on his lips. "I have a bad habit of hiding things from the people I love because I don't want them to worry about me. I've done it since I was a kid. Tomoe used to kick my ass for it. She'd tell me just because I was stronger, it didn't mean I needed to carry everything by myself."
Barnaby's heart stuttered to a stop. He wasn't sure which surprised him more—that Kotetsu was talking about his wife without prompting, or the phrase I have a bad habit of hiding things from the people I love. Which apparently included Barnaby.
Oh.
"I got better about it for a while, at least with her, but after she got sick..." He trailed off and shrugged. "She had bigger things to worry about than me."
Barnaby slowly unclenched his fist, turning his hand so their palms were pressed together. An invitation, if Kotetsu wanted to take it.
Kotetsu threaded their fingers together, and the missing piece in Barnaby's chest finally slotted into place. For the first time since that stupid press conference, he could breathe easier.
"It's never been because I don't trust you," Kotetsu said softly. "I do. I just..."
"Didn't want me to worry about you?" Barnaby asked. "Or didn't think you were worth worrying about?"
Kotetsu sighed. "A little of both. You had bigger things to worry about than me."
Barnaby squeezed his hand. "I worry about you regardless. You might as well tell me the truth so I worry about the right thing."
"Heh." Kotetsu rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll keep that in mind."
Barnaby slowly rested his head on Kotetsu's shoulder, and after a moment, he felt Kotetsu rest his cheek on his head. So this was where they stood, then. That was good.
"Did you really come out here to get away from the karaoke?" Barnaby asked.
"That was part of it," Kotetsu admitted.
"And the rest?" Barnaby prodded when an answer didn't appear to be forthcoming.
He swore he could feel Kotetsu squirming. "Well, it feels kind of silly to bring it up now..."
"Kotetsu," Barnaby said sharply.
"Fine, fine," Kotetsu muttered. "I...wasn't sure if you meant it when you said you wanted to be partners again."
That was surprising. "Why would you think I didn't mean it? You're the one who said we should go our separate ways."
Something that still stung, though less now that they were holding hands and Kotetsu showed no sign of letting him go.
"I know how your interviews go." Kotetsu rubbed his thumb over the back of Barnaby's hand. "Half the answers are made up. You tell people what you think they want to hear."
"The public, yes," Barnaby said. "Not you."
Really, Kotetsu was the only person he didn't hide things from at this point. Even with the other heroes—and he could probably call them friends now—Barnaby tended to be reserved. But Kotetsu had just drawn him in, elbowing his way into Barnaby's life the way he shoved his way into everything, and now Barnaby couldn't picture living without him.
"Yeah, I can see that now," Kotetsu said. "But you...can handle things without me."
"Kotetsu—"
"Hey, you said your piece. Let me say mine," Kotetsu chided him. "And you can't tell me I'm wrong. You can handle things without me. Hell, you never really needed a partner in the first place. I was just supposed to be your assistant, after all."
Barnaby hadn't thought about that in years, because despite the initial intention, he and Kotetsu had never actually worked that way. Hell, he'd had no idea Kotetsu even remembered that.
Kotetsu continued to idly rub his hand. "It would be selfish of me to keep you from being your best just because I didn't want to let you go. If you really didn't want to be partners again, I wouldn't fight you on it."
Barnaby had a few arguments for that, but he pressed his lips together to keep from saying anything.
"Watching you out there...you're amazing, Bunny," Kotetsu said softly. "You're like the sun. You can't blame me for wanting to get out of the way to let you shine."
Barnaby was torn between kissing him and shaking him, this stupid, wonderful man. How could Kotetsu look at himself every single day and not see anything that Barnaby did?
"I'm not the sun." Barnaby looked up at the night sky, and the full moon hanging bright over the city. "If anything, I'm the moon. I'm just reflecting light."
Kotetsu made an affronted noise. "Hey, that's not—"
Barnaby cut him off. "People can look at the moon, because it doesn't shine too brightly. It only stands out because everything else is dark. They talk about how beautiful it is because they can see it. The sun, they complain about because it's too bright or too hot and they can't ever look up to it. They forget that the only reason they can see the moon is because of the sun. And if the sun were ever to go away completely, they would notice. They did notice."
He squeezed Kotetsu's hand, willing him to understand what he was saying. "I'm only the moon, reflecting the light from someone who's brighter than I'll ever be."
Kotetsu cleared his throat. "It's no fair when you show me up when I'm trying to be romantic."
Barnaby rolled his eyes. "It's not a competition."
Kotetsu scoffed. "Shows what you know."
Barnaby decided to let that comment slide. "You do remember the only reason I came back to hero work was to be your partner, right?"
"I remember." Kotetsu sounded grumpy about it.
"That hasn't changed," Barnaby said. "Is that what you want?"
Because, it occurred to him, he had no idea what Kotetsu really wanted.
"Of course I want that," Kotetsu said. "I want to be a hero until I can't anymore, and I want to be partners with you. But more than that, I want you to be happy. Even if that's without me. You deserve to be happy, Bunny."
If Barnaby had not already been foolishly gone on this man, that would have done it. "Idiot. Don't you realize by now I'm happiest when I'm with you?"
He felt the curve of Kotetsu's smile against his head. "I do now."
Barnaby smiled. "Good."
He closed his eyes and relished the warmth of Kotetsu's hand in his and the steady comfort of his shoulder. It had been too long since he'd gotten to just be with Kotetsu, and now that he knew this was allowed, Barnaby was disinclined to move ever again.
"I missed you," he whispered, and somehow that felt like more of an admission than anything else he'd said tonight.
Kotetsu pressed his lips into Barnaby's hair and exhaled softly. "I missed you, too. I thought about calling you a dozen times, but I didn't want to hear how much better off you were with your new partner."
Barnaby shuddered. "Don't mention him."
Kotetsu laughed. "Was it that bad? You two made a good team."
"We could work together, but he was terrible," Barnaby said. "He only cared about himself and getting points."
Kotetsu snorted.
Barnaby glared, even though he knew damn well Kotetsu couldn't see it. "Don't say a word."
Kotetsu's shoulder shook with badly repressed laughter. "Like 'oh, that sounds familiar'?"
Barnaby elbowed him, which was difficult when he was still holding Kotetsu's hand. "I told you not to say a word."
Kotetsu kissed his head again. "I really am rubbing off on you, Bunny-chan."
At least that nickname was more tolerable than Junior. Barnaby sighed. "I already told you that, old man."
Kotetsu was still laughing, little huffs of breath into Barnaby's hair, and it made something in his chest loosen and fall away. It was easier to laugh about it now, since Ryan was gone and Kotetsu was here and Kotetsu was staying.
And first thing Monday morning, Barnaby was going to get Ben and Lloyds to revise his contract so he'd never have to be partnered with anyone else ever again.
"Sounds like they've finally stopped singing," Kotetsu said. "Do you want to go back inside?"
Barnaby nestled into Kotetsu's shoulder. "Not really."
"You're going to hurt your neck like that," Kotetsu scolded.
He lifted their hands so he could kiss the back of Kotetsu's. "I'm fine."
Kotetsu grumbled, but he sounded strangely pleased, and Barnaby wondered if he was blushing. "Well, fine, I guess we can stay out here a little longer."
Barnaby smiled, satisfied. He didn't mind the idea of going back inside to the others, but right now, he just wanted to stay with Kotetsu as long as he could.
He looked out over the city, the bright lights sprawled out before them, and felt...peaceful. Settled, like everything in his life that had been out of alignment had finally clicked back into place.
For the first time in days, Barnaby was right where he belonged.