Work Text:
Badd is out of town on some conference hosted by the tools at the HA, so Garou’s hanging around the house, pretty bored. According to Badd, whatever event he’s at is apparently as boring as shit too, so Garou can at least get some spiteful satisfaction that he’s not enjoying being away or anything.
He’d wasted the morning stalking through the local backroads and then spent the afternoon fucking around in the woods — but now he has to stay put and be with Zenko for the evening. Badd hadn’t told him he had to go pick her up or take her to any appointments, so he just has to bum around at home until she gets back.
He has to pass the time somehow, so naturally, Garou’s sprawled across the couch, busy texting Badd dick pics.
When he hears the clatter on the porch and the sound of the door opening and shutting, he doesn’t look up. That’s Zenko home from school, taking off her shoes and hanging her coat up. Noisy kid — although, not as noisy as when Badd goes to meet her and they get back together. Badd walks like he’s got lead feet.
Zenko comes in at last, albeit without her usual trot. She’s dragging her legs, and comes to a stop in the middle of the floor, staring at him glumly. Garou suppresses a groan. She’s always disappointed when Badd isn’t there and she’s stuck with just him.
Which kinda’ sucks a little, because he thinks they usually get along pretty nice. Badd wins the brother contest because he does literally whatever Zenko wants, but Garou’s the bad influence, and a bad influence can be fun for a kid sometimes. She’s too smart to go along with everything he says, like, say, vandalism — which is to be expected from a kid raised by a hero — but sometimes he can convince her to do harmless mischief with him, stuff that wins her over because Badd wouldn’t let her get away with it otherwise. They once screwed around outside the house making an elaborate trap for this bird that always shits on the front steps, and they were at it for like an hour before Badd caught them. They like playing with the cat together too. There’s also the timeless ‘hide Badd’s hair gel and watch him tear up the house’ prank. Classic.
Sometimes though, when she’d been expecting Badd and just finds him there, she gets this fucking attitude and it’s impossible not to tell that she wants Badd and not him.
Fine, okay?! It’s not like he’s her actual brother, and she’s never gonna’ like him as much as the real thing, but it just… makes his stomach feel weird. What is this… Is this… guilt? Inadequacy?
Nah. Can't be. It's just weird.
“Sup’, Little Bat,” he greets when she just keeps standing there.
“Where’s Big Bro?” is the first thing out of her mouth. Of course.
“Work,” Garou grumbles shortly, and she starts shoving her lip out in that obstinate pout that really makes her look like Badd. Garou sneers back, because he’s not happy about it either. At least they agree on that.
She doesn’t say anything else, but she doesn’t go about her business like usual. Homework or fixing a snack or playing in her room, whatever else she does when Badd’s gone and she doesn’t feel like interacting with the stranger that lives in her house — and part of him wonders, when’s he going to stop feeling like an intruder, it’s been over a year now, so when’s he going to be accepted and feel it? Two years?
A bleak thought strikes him that the answer might be never and that’s just tough shit, but he doesn’t want to think on that too hard. Even after meeting Saitama and his whole change thing, he still doesn’t like self-reflection. Too much feeling involved — takes so much damn effort, y’know? Besides, it's not like he'll uncover anything that isn't dark and disgusting, and he'd rather go on ignoring those things rather than relive past pains and humiliations.
“You need somethin’?” he mutters, looking up from the phone Badd got him.
Now that he’s looking at her, he notices that her eyebrows are scrunching and her beetle eyes squint a little, but not in her usual mad way that she does when she’s irritated with him and Badd screwing around. It looks like… physical pain, almost? Her color looks kind of weird too, actually. She isn’t red or anything, but her face is damp with sweat.
“I don’t feel good,” she says, like she has to squeeze out the words.
“Huh?” And that’s when she vomits.
Like, standing up. Right there in the living room. On the floor, on herself.
Garou kind of stares, open-mouthed, unmoving. He doesn’t know how to react, really, so he just stares at her, trying to take it in. “ . . . Oh,” he finally says.
Zenko holds her stomach, and starts coughing and sniffing. They both look at each other, kind of surprised.
“Uhhh…” He tries again to say something worth saying, but just comes away with, “Woah.”
Then she starts to cry.
Garou’s eyebrows shoot up and he finally stands, leaping off the couch, because that snaps him out of it. Zenko’s good at manipulating Badd with tears, but this is real crying. She tries not to, but her face turns red and big fat tears spill out, sobs sputtering past her tightly clenched lips.
He approaches a little, squatting down to her level, not too close — y’know, in case she spews some more.
She’s embarrassed and clearly doesn’t know what to do. She tries a couple times to wipe her face with her sleeves, but she's just smearing vomit all over herself and she starts to really lose it. Her face is wet and blotchy and she just stands there rooted to the spot and cries, covered in throw-up.
He doesn’t know if she’s more upset at having ruined her clothes, or if she’s grossed out, or if she’s just crying because she’s little and she feels like shit, but Garou’s flipping out.
“. . . I dunno’ what to do,” he says out loud, then blinks, because it takes a second to realize that he’s the only one here to handle this. It's not like he can just leave her like that. Badd isn't here to help her.
“Uhh, come this way,” he tries, but then backtracks. “Wait no, don’t move. Just…”
He straightens up and stares down at her, stomach clenching like crazy because she just keeps crying like that, fuck, he hates dealing with crying kids — seeing them, hearing them, anything.
He tries to think things through over the sound of her sputtery wails, grinding his teeth back and forth. ‘If she walks around, she’ll just track it through the house — I could just put her in the shower and hose her down. Ugh, I don’t wanna’ pick her up.’
“Ahh…” Shit, he really doesn’t know what to do with her. He can’t just wait for Badd to come home. Can’t make her fend for herself. But he… can’t take care of her either.
‘Fuck it,’ he thinks. ‘I’m calling Badd.’
Dragging a chair out from the table in the dining room, he tells her, “Siddown’.” She shuffles over and sits, head hung in shame. He pours her a glass of water and sets it next to her. She doesn’t take it, sniffing, chin on her chest.
“Uhhh… I’ll be right back,” he mutters, feeling kind of like a headless chicken. “Stay here.”
He leaves Zenko in the kitchen and tries to cool his head. Probably should wipe up the barf before it ruins the floor — easier than dealing with her. He slaps down a wet dishtowel in the living room and kind of shoves it around with his foot while he dials Badd up. It's squishy between his toes; like monster guts. Nasty.
The whole reason Badd got him a phone was that apparently he got worried when Garou was out for too long. Badd called it ‘disappearing for days like a stray cat,’ but Garou doesn’t know what he’s talking about. In any case, Badd wants to be able to check in on him when he’s out, and Garou’s got free reign to text whenever he wants.
But he’s not supposed to call when Badd’s at work unless it’s an emergency. Even in that case, Badd’s of the mind that Garou's already survived taking on a ton of S-class heroes and the entire HA targeting him for execution, and since he got out of that alive, unless he gets into a situation that’s somehow worse, it doesn’t qualify as an emergency, so just deal with it and don’t fucking call while I’m at work.
He gets pissed if Garou calls for anything less than, I’m dying, or I’m already dead.
That is, unless it’s about Zenko.
He listens to the dial tone, and once Badd picks up, he doesn’t even give him a chance to say anything, just plows right over him before he can get annoyed—
“Man, what the fuck, you need to come home right — now,” he demands, and he must sound serious, because Badd skips right over being annoyed and goes straight to concern.
“What? Why?”
“Zenko’s sick. She just threw up everywhere, man. You gotta’ come back.” There’s no other options.
“Shit,” Badd mutters, and he’s quiet for a second, like he’s thinking. Garou just listens, holding the phone to his ear and then looking down. He squats and pinches the edges of the towel around the rest of the splash zone and scrubs it up.
“Look, I can’t get away,” Badd finally says, resigned and torn up. “This thing runs until tomorrow.”
Garou pretty much shuts down. “Badd,” he repeats, because his boyfriend clearly doesn’t understand. “You have to come back.”
He wants to tell him that he can’t handle this. How is he supposed to handle this. Why would Badd ever think he's able to handle this. Doesn’t Badd get that he can’t take care of his fucking sister and she might as well be alone for how good a job he’s gonna’ do?
“I know. I know, I’ll do my best. As soon as I can—” Badd lets out a rough sigh, stressed out, clearly wanting to be home, but clearly still stuck not being able to get home. “Tonight. Okay? I’ll try for tonight. Real late. But tomorrow morning for sure.”
“Well the fuck do I do till then?!” Garou snaps, because that’s not good enough.
“Listen to me—”
“She’s got puke in her fucking hair—”
“Garou.”
Garou tries to listen, because he’s slowly accepting that Badd isn’t coming home and he’s going to have to deal with this alone. Whatever advice Badd is going to give him, he has to remember it.
Badd raises his voice in a way that told him he was freaking out enough that it was freaking Badd out too and he had to get it the fuck together— “Dude, knock it off. You’re all she’s got right now. You’ve gotta’ get through tonight.”
Garou clams up and throw his head back, seething and staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, teeth clenched — because he already tried to fucking tell Badd that he can’t get through this. Badd sighed and then tried again, “You listenin’a’ me?” Garou pinches the top of his nose, shutting his eyes. Okay. Okay, just a few hours, he can survive that— “You don’t have to do much. I’ll be back soon.”
“Okay I fucking heard you, but I’m tryin’a’ tell you I can’t take care of a vomiting kid,” he grits out, and Badd’s trying to cut him off, but Garou blurts louder, “I don’t know what the fuck to do with her until then!”
“Babe. Just get her in the bath and put her to bed, okay?” Garou stands up with the dishtowel, brow clenched, because the words sound simple but it doesn’t feel simple. “That’s all.”
“Bath?” he mumbled, uncertain. “... You sure I should?” Badd runs Zenko’s bath all the time, but he’s not Badd.
“This is what big bros do,” Badd insists, and then his tone changes, almost like he’s pleading with him somehow. He sounds desperate, like he wants to be there and it’s tearing him up that he can’t be with her himself.
“She’s little. You gotta’ take care of her,” he says, and Garou screws his eyes shut, that guilty inadequate stomach feeling coming back.
“Okay,” he grumbles. Fuck you, using that voice on me— “Fuck. Okay.”
“Can you feel her forehead?” Badd instructs. “How’s her color lookin’.”
It’s easy enough being told what to do. Garou goes back in and checks on her, because she’s been on her own a couple minutes and he hasn’t really heard anything. She’s still sitting at the table, looking grosser than when he left, vomit drying and clumping up in her clothes and on her hair and face. Ah, god, he doesn’t know how to help her, and not having the means to stop her feeling that miserable feels kind of like getting punched in the gut. Why can’t Badd be here. She doesn’t fucking deserve to have to deal with Garou’s bullshit.
She’s crying again, holding her stomach, little face screwed up miserably. Garou throws the rag in the sink and then stands next to her, looking her over. He touches the back of his hand to her forehead. “...” He adjusts the phone on his shoulder.
“Feels like… wet meat,” he reports.
“Warm?”
He’s got cold hands like always, but she does feel abnormally warm. “Yeah.”
She’s weeping really pitifully, and Garou can practically hear the cracks splitting Badd’s heart. “Put her on the phone.”
Garou holds the cellphone out to her wordlessly, and she takes it after a second, grabbing it in one slimy little hand, and the dam breaks. She bawls and blubbers, snot popping out of her nose, her face slick with tears.
“Big Bro,” she sobs, “Come hooo-ome.” She keeps crying like that, bending forward with her arm around her front. “Come home, come home,” she begs, voice dissolving into tears.
If there’s any chance of Badd throwing up everything and coming home, it’ll be after hearing that. Man, he’d be surprised if his crybaby boyfriend isn’t tearing up too. Garou stands there awkwardly, hoping that there’s still an offchance Badd might show up, ‘cause shit, he feels bad for her. She’s so sick and Garou doesn’t think he has a hope of making her feel better.
As much as they pretend that he’s her second brother now after the year or so he’s been hanging around, he knows he’s not a substitute for Badd. He and Zenko get along, but she’s never warmed to him the way she is with Badd. He’s never gonna’ be the one she wants when she’s feeling scared or sad or pukey. Badd’s the one she wants for comfort, and it’s always gonna’ be that way. He feels bad that she has to do without him this time.
Badd’s saying something. From what Garou can hear, he’s trying to comfort her. He’s probably telling her that Garou’s gonna’ take really good care of her ‘till he gets back, you’re gonna’ be okay, keep your chin up Girlie, just a little longer—
“O— okay,” she hiccups, trying to stop crying but she just can’t.
Garou takes the phone back, holding it a little ways from his ear so he doesn't get vomit and snot on his face— “I’ll be back soon,” Badd says, strained, and yeah, choked up.
“Take care of her like she’s your own, okay?” he asks, after clearing his throat. Garou looks at his feet, silent for a moment, finally pulling himself together.
“She is,” he mutters under his breath, fist tightening in determination.
“Thanks babe,” Badd says, and he actually sounds relieved, like he really thinks Garou’ll do a good job, but then his boyfriend’s always been kinda dumb like that. “Thank you. I promise to hurry.”
“Okay.”
“Gotta’ go now. You can text me for help, I’ll be here. Love you.”
“Same. Bye.”
Garou hangs up, and for a second he just stands there and lets out a long breath.
This shouldn’t be as hard as it is. He and Zenko have been alone before. He and Badd are pretty far along in their relationship at this point. In the beginning, it was kind of a slow process, since Badd was wary to let him come around Zenko too much, wanting them to get used to each other and making sure he could be trusted with her. Things changed over time though, and before he knew it, Garou was sleeping over for weeks at a time and babysitting her for short periods.
By now, Garou fucking lives here for godsake, so he and Zenko are together a lot. Thing is, she’s usually self-sufficient, so it’s not like he ever has to do much. He just has to physically be there, and she pretty much takes care of herself.
This is the first time she’s really going to need him the way she needs Badd. He’d better not fuck this one up too badly or he’s just gonna’ blow all her trust. And Badd’s. And then it’s back to being a lone wolf.
Zenko doesn’t say anything. She just keeps hiccuping and starts scrubbing her eyes with her grimy wrists. She’s starting to get hysterical again, humiliated and disgusted with the cold vomit coating her like scum on a tub.
Shit, don’t let her get herself going again or she’ll still be crying when Badd gets back tomorrow.
Garou squats next to her. “... Zenko,” he tries, okay, good start. There’s not really a reaction. She sniffs and sniffs, trying to stop crying, but sobs keep busting out of her, uncontainable. “Kid, stop before you get a headache.”
He nudges the untouched glass of water at her and she takes it, taking a couple swallows, sputtering and coughing through it when she’s unable to calm her hitching chest enough. Then he hands her some tissues, which immediately stick to her disgusting face.
“Wow, you’re pretty nasty,” he notes, and when she just keeps wiping on her own, completely ineffective, he tentatively reaches out and pinches a couple tissues around her nose and mouth, wiping off the worst of it in one swipe. She lets him do it, so that’s good. Okay, we’re doing okay—
“What hurts.” Badd always says that one. She points at her stomach. The top, not the bottom. Ah geez. “You… you feel a little better after— ya’ know?” He mimes barfing.
She nods, screwing her fists into her eyes over and over, and her crying picks up a little. “How come you keep cryin' then?” he grunts, glaring. How’s he supposed to talk to somebody who won’t stop fucking crying? She’s not even answering him really, other than nodding her head.
“I threw up on my dre-hehss,” she blurts, blubbering a little more, new tears rolling down.
“It’s fine,” he says in a confused deadpan, because it’s literally fine. That’s seriously not a big deal, who cares about her clothes. “Little Bat, it’s fine. We can wash you off.” She tries to stop, closing her mouth, but that just sends snot out her nose again. Man, kids are nasty the way they can't control their bodies.
“Kid, seriously, it’s no big deal,” he tries, because it occurs to him then that on some level maybe she thinks she’s in trouble, or that he’s mad at her for not throwing up in the toilet. Or she’s embarrassed that he saw her.
He gives half a smile. “Not like I’m gonna’ tell anyone.”
That actually seems to help a lot. She’s still shuddering every once in a while, hiccuping, but she wipes her eyes with her hands and mumbles, “Promise?”
“Yeah sure. But it’s no big deal. I barf all the time after I eat stuff’m not supposed to — man, Badd hates that — so who’m I gonna’ tell.” She doesn’t take her fists away from her eyes, still screwing them in over and over, but her lips form a tiny little watery smile.
He feels almost exhausted with relief. Good. Time to get things moving then.
“Kay. Let’s try and clean up before Badd comes, a’right?”
“Okay,” she croaks, sitting up.
“You gonna’ throw up again?” he asks warily, but she shakes her head. “Okay. C’mon buddy.” She stands up slowly and then shuffles to the bathroom with him.
She sits down on the little stool in the shower area while he runs the tub. Garou turns the showerhead on and tests the water like Badd does for her. The occasional hiccup echoes off the tiles behind him. “Okay, wash off. Make sure your hair's clean before you get in.”
Then he waits outside while she scrubs, calling to her occasionally to check on her. Once she gets in the bath, he slides the door open a little and pulls her clothes out while she huddles away from him in the tub, sniffling.
He tries to do a better job cleaning that patch of floor in the living room, spraying the mat with that stuff they use when Tama pees there instead of the litter box for who knows what fucking reason. When he’s done with that, he throws her clothes in the laundry unit and heads back to the bathroom, knocking on the door.
“Okay in there?”
“When’s Big Bro coming?” she calls miserably, but at least she’s pulled herself together, thank fuck.
“Soon. I dunno’. You done?” he calls. “Here’s a towel.” He slides the door open and puts the towel in. She’s in a little ball in the bathtub, knees pulled in and arms wrapped around. He shuts the door and waits. “You gettin’ out?”
“I need my pajamas,” she says, kind of muffled, like she’s drying her hair.
“Okay.” The worst is over. She’s already done with her bath, the worst is over with. “Okay, where.”
After her instructions, he goes into her room and pulls out one drawer of a small dresser, then the next. He eventually collects a pajama bottoms, a shirt, a little panties, and two socks. Then he proceeds to wait forever while she gets dressed in there.
She comes out with her clothes damp and sticking onto her. If he’d been Badd, he would’ve helped her dry off better beforehand. For that matter, Badd would’ve gone in there with her and hosed her off — but he’s not Badd.
“When is Big Bro Badd gonna’ get here,” she asks again as they wander out into the hall.
“Stop asking me that, I don’t know!” he snaps in frustration, then groans, because he doesn’t even know why the hell he’s yelling. Fuck, he is so stressed out. This must be what worrying is like. Badd’s always pissed at him when he’s worried too.
“Lemme’ feel your head.” She does, closing her eyes as he puts his palm flat on her forehead. She’s burning up. “Shit, d’you feel hot? Want some water?”
“Big Bro always makes me soup.”
“I dunno’ what to tell you, kid. He’s not here,” Garou says bluntly, because he doesn’t know how to make that sick-soup Badd makes, even though he’s pretty sure it’s from a can anyways. “Why not just get in bed. Aren’t you supposed to be resting if you’re sick?”
Her lip starts wobbling a little and Garou just about rips his hair out.
“Zenko, I can’t make soup, okay?” Grasping at straws, something to keep her from starting to fucking cry again, he tries, “How about hot chocolate mix. I’ll bring it to your room.” That won’t be good for an upset stomach but it might comfort her temporarily.
“I wanna’ stay up and wait for Big Bro,” she says stubbornly, and he is so not in the mood for a tantrum right now.
“No way, Badd said you gotta’ get in bed. You don’t have to go to sleep right away,” he amends, “but…”
Thankfully, she doesn’t throw a fit and lets him usher her down the hall a little ways, but her eyes fill with tears. Fucking hell. He rolls his eyes upwards. ‘Great.’
She climbs into bed, and Garou kind of hangs into the doorway, watching her… because, that’s it, right? He did his job — but somehow he feels like he can’t just leave.
“Big Bro always tucks me in,” she mumbles. Garou takes two steps in and then pulls the blankets up to her neck like Badd does. They kind of stare at each other for a second and then she starts sniveling again.
“Oh my god, what is it now?” he explodes.
She opens her mouth and cries, “I want Big Bro.”
“Kid, he’s not coming!” he snaps, feeling completely hysterical. He did everything he was supposed to and she’s still not happy! He knew all along it wasn’t gonna’ be good enough, because the only thing she really wants is Badd.
“I can’t make him get here any faster! You gotta’ settle for bro number two right now!”
That’s when her stupid fucking crying goes from misery to anger. “You’re not my brother!” she bawls, and she actually gives this little enraged scream, and lashes out at him, punching him in the chest.
Physically, he barely feels it, because she’s tiny and she couldn’t hurt him if she tried — but his body still goes into high gear, fight-or-flight, and this engine that runs on wrath that still lives in gut kickstarts like the ripcord yanked out of a chainsaw.
‘Oh, you did not just hit me. You did not just fucking say that — you’re not gonna’ do this to me now.’
He knows what’s coming, and he should be ready for it, really. She’s just gonna’ confirm what he’s always suspected, and that’s that she’d prefer it if it was just her and Badd again. She’s only tolerated him because she had to. Badd’s the one who’s actually loved him. But not her. She’s never wanted him here.
“Hey,” he snaps, dark and vicious, and he’s always tried his hardest to never be scary around her, but suddenly there’s this instinct there— that maybe if he can make her scared of him, he can stop her before she can say something to really hurt him.
“Knock it off,” he barks, and she does shrink back, seeming to have immediately regretted hitting him— like she thinks he’ll hit back— but she sure doesn’t regret screaming, because she does it again.
“I hate you!” she screeches as loud as she fucking can. “I wish you’d never came here!”
Garou recoiled, standing there and staring down at her. She's staring back, chest heaving, like she's waiting to see what he's going to do about that. He tries to take it in, but all he can do for several long seconds is just stare at her in silence, throat refusing to work. Deep down, there’s this thing that’s always made him wonder if she just thinks he’s competition for Badd’s attention, but he’d never thought she’d resented him that much.
Hate you. Hate you. Hate you. Yeah. Well, he’d already known that. Why shouldn’t she. He’s nothing like Badd.
If he was a better person he wouldn’t let a sick little shit get to him. He would know that she’s just saying bullshit because she’s mad. If he was a better person, he wouldn’t be out of patience. He would just brush it off and wouldn’t think twice about it. But he’s never been a good person.
He grits his teeth and clenches his fists. “You’re just a fucking brat,” he finally growls, because Badd’s not here to catch him cursing at her. Badd’s not here to see him being fucking awful, so he doesn’t have to pretend that he’s a nice guy. He doesn’t have to hide that he’s still just a piece of shit. She’s apparently known that all along.
Goddamnit, he’s so mad. Really mad, like— he wants to wreck something, hurt something, so that he’s not the one who’s hurt— What, so she really hates him, huh? Wants him to go?
“Whatever,” he breathes, low and nasty. “Take care of yourself then.”
He fucking leaves. It’s spiteful and it’s a horrible immature thing to do, but he doesn’t even care. He slams her bedroom door behind him with his foot and then he gets the fuck out of that stupid house. It’s already dark out, so he wanders two or three streetlights down the road, seething.
He doesn’t go far, because even though he’s really pissed and messed up, he can’t leave her like that. Not really leave. He knows that. What if something happened. It doesn’t matter if they’re mad at each other or if they hate each other — he still wouldn’t let something happen to her.
But he’s not dealing with her anymore, that’s for sure. Ungrateful fucking brat.
He wandered around outside for a while. He paced the alley behind their building. He perched on the fence and raged a little more. He watched the neighborhood cats fight. Does anything that doesn’t involve thinking about what she said and how that shit made him feel like he was sick too. Because if he does, he’ll have to acknowledge that she actually managed to hurt his feelings. She must have. Why would he be so mad otherwise.
After half an hour or so, he starts thinking that he should probably just go back. Badd’ll be pissed if he finds out he left her alone, and Zenko’ll probably tell on him for everything he did tonight anyways. And besides that, she’s just a kid. Even if she’s a total brat, she doesn’t deserve to be on her own while she’s sick.
He can't stop thinking about how disappointed Badd's gonna' be.
Whenever Garou's in a bad place or really gotten himself in deep, Badd's the one who tells him that he's in control of how things turn out for him, that he can change his life if he wants to. That he's already come so far. It just makes him remember what Saitama had said to him when he'd lost everything he'd spent his life trying to accomplish. What do I do now?
Do whatever you want— he remembers the way it felt to live with all this pent-up hurt and rage at being bullied, wanting revenge, being the representative of every underdog, everyone who's been hated and hasn't deserved to lose. He remembers the way it felt for all of that drive he had to suddenly leave him in a rush, only a void left behind— emptiness, what do I do now, what do I do with the rest of my life if that was all for nothing?—
And he remembers the way it felt to put all that effort into doing something good, for the first time. It felt good to rescue that little snot of a kid. It felt good to love Badd and Zenko and Tama. It felt good to set foot in the dojo again.
He holds grudges and he does crazy shit sometimes. But Badd says that even though he does the wrong thing sometimes, his heart's in the right place. He's got a good heart, he says. Garou's never known how to tell him that he's wrong. Badd trusts him, he's such an idiot for wasting that trust on a guy like him over and over again. He lets Garou get away with so much because he keeps saying he's got a good heart. He must really believe it or something. Badd's always been kinda' dumb.
He's never known when Badd would finally realize that he can't live up to those expectations. It's not like he can keep hiding in sheep's clothing forever. He pretends to be a good person around Badd, but he'll only ever let him down.
Zenko's already seen through him because she's smart. She's seen his true colors, and Badd will too. Eventually.
He should probably go back, but he doesn’t want to talk to her. He doesn’t know how he’s going to face her after today, now that she’s finally admitted it — you’re not my brother. How’s he supposed to keep living in her house knowing that’s what she really thinks. If Badd knows, is he gonna’ stop wanting him here too? God knows that guy’s always gonna’ love Zenko more than him.
Well whatever. She’s just a kid. Why should he let some shitty kid bother him. Why should that hurt his feelings. Who fucking cares if she wants him as her brother or not.
He'd already known. He's always known, so why is it such a bitter pill to swallow.
Badd has texted and called a bunch of times, asking about Zenko, getting more worried and frustrated when he doesn’t answer. It’s buzzing in his pocket, this annoying reminder that he has to get through the rest of tonight whether or not he and Zenko are getting along.
When Garou gets over himself, he starts to head back, trudging up to the house. By the time he nears the steps, he thinks he can hear something.
Zenko’s crying. It’s far away. She must still be in her room, and she’s crying inconsolably.
“Garou?” he can faintly hear. “Garou-niisan?” she weeps, timidly calling out for him. Who knows how long she’s been doing that.
“Shit,” he hisses, gut knotting up as he races inside.
When he comes to her room and opens the door, he freezes in the doorway. Her blankets are over her head, and when she hears the latch click open, she goes quiet, like she’s too scared to even breathe. Garou stands there and stares into the dark room, hand clenched on the knob.
Heart in his throat, Garou approached the bedside. She starts to cry under there, panicked little sobs shaking the covers. He rushes to sit on the mattress and put his hand on her back, because dread hits him like a jolt of lighting— she knows it’s only him, right?
“Hey, it’s me,” he says. Why are his hands shaking. “Hey. Shhh. Come out, it’s me.”
She comes out, puffy-faced and trembling. “Sorry,” he blurts, and it felt like fucking vomiting. “Sorry. That was really rotten.” She lets out these little huffy breaths like she’s been crying for hours and the muscles in her chest are spasming from it.
“Zenko, I’m a total jerk. I wouldn’t leave you like that. I wouldn’t leave you all by yourself,” he rattles on, shit, he’s really messed up bad. Look at her! Fuck, he must’ve really spooked her, ditching her that way.
“I’d never do that,” he says, even though he doesn’t know how she’s supposed to trust him. Why would she believe him. Fuck, he feels like shit. This is what guilt is like, isn’t it. It's the knowledge that you're never gonna' be able to fix what you did, no matter how much you try. Because it's too late.
“Sorry— I was— was mean to you,” she manages to hiccup out, and his chest turns into a garbage compactor around his heart. Oh fuck, he’s the most despicable guy alive. He deserved everything he got.
“Nah, forget it,” he sighs. “I just got frustrated is all.”
“‘Cause I’m a brat?” she blubbers out, so thick and watery that he can hardly understand her. “Is that how come you don’t want me as your little sister?”
Garou opens his mouth, then pauses, feeling like the victim of some jedi mind-trick, because this had taken a complete one-eighty. What? Wait—
“Who says?” he finally blurts, vicious about it, because there’s no way she thinks that. Does she think that?
“You always only wanna’ be with Big Bro,” she whimpers, fuck, she does think that! “An’ you get mad when I make him play with me an’ not you.”
Okay, this is all starting to make sense suddenly. Then she sniffles, “You’d like it better if it was just you an’ Big Bro.”
Garou just stares silently, wide-eyed.
“Zenko. That’s horseshit,” he says flatly.
“Why would you think that?” She shrugs a little bit, picking at her blankets, sniffing. Garou closes his eyes and sighs. “Little Bat, are you kidding me right now? You an’ Badd are all I’ve got,” he breathes, defeated. She’s quiet after he says that.
He knows he’s not a real part of the family and he’s no substitute for her real big brother, but he’s tried his best. Things have felt almost normal. Sometimes he can even forget that he’s out of place. He’d never suspected that Zenko thought he didn’t really want her — that he only wanted to be around Badd and not her. He’s always thought it was the other way around.
Garou props his chin on his hand, elbow on his knee, and mutters, “I know I do bad stuff sometimes. But I know you guys'll always let me back in no matter how mad you get. So you gotta’ know you can count on me too.” He clears his throat, and amends, “If you want.”
“Really?” she sniffs.
“Yeah,” he says. “Don’t tell Badd I said horseshit.”
She sniffs again, and then sits up— and… she’s hugging him. Why is she hugging him. He holds really still, arms up, not really knowing what to do. He’s never noticed just how tiny she is until this moment, maybe because she’s never hugged him before. Her little hands can’t even go all the way around him.
He’s kind of uncomfortable, maybe because he hates self reflection, and just as much as having hurt feelings makes him angry, this also kind of spooks him. Fuck, he doesn’t like this. This can’t be good. Something inside him feels soft, all of a sudden—
She snuggles her head in, squeezing him a little more. Like she does Badd. And his cold villainous heart melts into a pathetic little puddle. He hugs her back.
“Are you gonna be my big bro now?” he hears her mumble into his shirt. He hums a little and lets her go, staring off into space. This is weird. This feels weird. Is this what it’s like to feel accepted? He feels a thousand pounds lighter.
"Yeah sure, kid." It’s kinda’ nice. Ugh, it’s disgusting.
“I’ve never had two big bros,” she says aloud, like this is of some note and not completely obvious.
“Me neither.” It is kind of a weird thought, but he gets why she’d said it. He never had a boyfriend before Badd either, and he remembers now how weird certain things had been to get used to. When he’d first moved in here, so much had changed — but he’d thought he’d gotten used to this new life. Looks like there’s still some surprises left.
“I’ve never had any brothers or sisters. I'll probably get things wrong. So you an’ Badd’ll have to teach me. Kay?” She nods a little, looking almost like her usual self.
“Kay."
“Guess we haven’t done that great a job so far, huh.”
“We were fighting,” she whispered suddenly, going quiet. “. . . Please don’t tell Big Bro I hit you.”
“Pff-” he snorts, breaking into a smirk, and suddenly everything is a million times better. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
Garou sticks the blankets in around her legs and feet nice and tight, tucking her in like a mummy before squatting next to the head of her bed. “There. Sorry I don’t tuck like Badd.”
“That’s okay,” she peeps, still really sick, but hey, she’s not such a bad kid, is she.
“You tuck good.” She puts her little hands up to his face and makes bird lips, smooching his cheek, and for a second, he knows exactly what it feels like to be Badd.
‘Aw sheesh.’
In the end, Garou stays up in the living room because Zenko insisted that Badd always kept the monsters away, and since he’s gone, he has to guard the house.
‘I dunno’ what to tell you kid, you got a monster right here,’ he told her, but she was stubborn about it, blabbing some nonsense about how Badd says he’s not a monster anymore — what a load of shit — so of course, he caves.
She ended up konking out within a couple minutes. He put a bucket by her bedside and left her door open, the light on in the hall, and he gets up to peek in at her every couple hours. Eventually, he sprawls across the couch with an arm over his forehead. He’s completely wiped.
He’s not feeling so good, honestly — so he shuts his eyes and drifts off.
. . .
Garou wakes up to a hand brushing his hair. He cracks an eye open, immediately squinting it shut and groaning. Badd is home. It must be early in the morning.
“Hey Champ.” It’s definitely Badd. He’d never say so, but it’s so good to hear his voice.
“You’re back,” he breathed, feeling overwhelmingly relieved.
“Yeah, got an early train.”
Garou’s hips and shoulders are sore from sleeping on the couch. He sat up to stretch and immediately felt a rush to the head, vision clouded by black spots. He slowly eased back down. “Ah, goddamnit,” he groans, getting a view of Badd on the other side of the room, glancing back at him with an eyebrow quirked in concern.
“You good?”
“Mhm,” he grumbles, throwing his arm across his forehead again and settling deeper across the sofa. “When’d you get back.” He must’ve been back a while. He’s in a t-shirt and sweats and he never wears that on the job.
“Couple hours ago…” Badd’s scrutinizing him now, shit, he’s probably going to realize in a few seconds. It's a good thing he's stupid or he would've already guessed.
“Why didn’t you greet me.”
“You looked pretty whacked. Had to’ve been, you didn’t wake up when I came in.” That’s when he knows for sure that something’s wrong, because he’s a really light sleeper. Badd must’ve caught on at the same time, because he’s approaching, fuck, don’t approach— “Babe, you don’t look so hot,” he muttered.
‘Aw fuck me, am I getting sick—’
That puts him in a bad mood right off the bat — hah — because he’s never been sick other than those times after he’s really gotten his ass kicked and his immune system is weak. Is this because he cleaned Zenko’s vomit or…?
The kiss.
This is total bullshit.
“Fuck if I care what you think I look like,” he snaps, getting cranky. Badd isn’t having it, leveling him with a suspicious glare before he stomps the rest of the way over to him and tries to feel his forehead.
Garou blocks at lightning speed, locking Badd’s joints and poising to pinch the nerve in his arm. They glare at each other for a second before Badd takes his hand away. “G, chill out,” he grumbles. “And quit being a fucking baby.”
Badd catches him off guard when he goes for it a second time and maybe he just hadn’t expected Badd to move that quick, because he can’t stop him that time — he quickly compensates by shoving his hands in his armpits, like he’d meant to let him and was just sulking.
“Garou, you’re burning up.”
“Fuck off me, Badd,” he groans.
“...” Badd squints for a second and then shouts, “Dude!”
“Oh my god, Badd. Shut up.” He’s not in the mood for a fight or to be fucking scolded, so he just cuts him off and admits it before Badd can try to make him. “I musta’ caught Zenko’s fucking bug, okay? It’s not a big deal so just don’t even fucking start with me — I just need to sleep it off.”
That seems to placate him a bit, because his shoulders drop after a second even though he keeps glaring. “Fine,” he mutters, still giving him the side-eye, leaning his hip on the arm of the couch, right by his face. Garou doesn’t complain, snaking an arm around Badd’s leg, tightening his grip until his thick thigh is cushioning his cheek. Nice.
“How’d last night go?”
Garou’s eyes pop open and he sits up too fast, swaying from another rush of vertigo. “Zenko!” he blurts. He’d totally forgotten about her. No— no, it’s fine, Badd’s back. He must’ve already checked on her when he got back. “How’s she doing?” he mutters, letting out a slow breath to quell the wave of nausea whooshing up the back of his skull like paint fumes.
“She’s up. We tried not to wake you — but you didn’t budge anyways. Man, you must really feel like ass.”
“Yep. Sounds good to me.” He settles back, pillowing his face next to Badd’s butt. He’s always in the mood for ass. Badd feels his forehead again while he’s got his eyes shut. Jerk, taking advantage of a defenseless guy.
“Whatever, Slim. Now that I’m back, how bout’ you go get in bed,” he urges softly. Garou just shifts on the couch, settling in. He can’t bring himself to care enough about being uncomfortable that it seems worth getting up — not like Badd’s gonna’ carry him there, so what’s the point in wasting all that effort.
Badd pets his hair for a second and Garou lets out a long hum. He must be getting a fever, because Badd’s hand felt cool for once. “Fine then. We’ll keep it down. But don’t come cryin’ if you can’t get any rest.”
That’s funny after last night. “Pff. Cryin’,” he thinks he mutters, but he’s not sure to be honest. He’s so fucking tired.
Badd digs through his hair a little more and then eventually leaves him be. He cracks his eye open when Zenko comes out in jammies and her blanket poncho, hood up. She’s looking better at least.
“Garou take good care a’ you last night?” he hears Badd mutter, voice low.
“Yep,” she chirps. “Big Bro?”
“Whazzat.”
“How come you never tuck my blankets like a mummy? Garou-bro does.”
“Ugh, I dunno’ Sis,” Badd groans, annoyed, and Garou smirks a tiny bit. “Ya’ want breakfast?”
“Mhm.”
“Kay. Why don’t you go sit with Garou an’ watch TV. Not too loud, he’s sleepin.’ Take him this towel.”
Garou quickly shuts his eye when she tiptoes over to him and does her best to carefully climb onto the couch with him, trying not to disturb him. She still sinks her hand into his gut a couple times on her way over, and then he felt her carefully place a wet towel onto his forehead. With some thought, she reaches out a couple more times to slightly adjust it.
He peeks an eye open, which surprises her, like she really thought she was being that stealthy. "Oh. Sorry," she whispers, shoulders up by her ears. He smirks a little bit.
“Thanks Little Bat,” he mutters, poking her on the nose. Then he pulls the towel over his brow, blocking out the light. He shifts to settle on his back, stretching his legs out over the rest of the couch, and after a second, he can feel a little monkey crawling her way down to his feet.
She turns her kid’s show on really quiet and later as he starts to doze, he can hear her snacking on her breakfast. Badd wanders in and out; he can hear him talking to Zenko, but Garou’s spacing out. He’s vaguely aware of Badd leaning over to check him wordlessly, like he wants to ask him how he is but doesn’t want to wake him.
Eventually he finishes whatever he’s doing around the house and pops the footrests on the couch to make more room. He scoots in next to him, slowly easing his arm underneath him until Garou twists to accommodate him.
He sighs in bliss as his boyfriend comes to comfort him, pressing his firm plush body in next to him. Badd kisses his hair but Garou just hums, turning his nose into his warm chest, enjoying the smell of Badd’s freshly laundered t-shirt. “Thanks for yesterday. I know it was a lot to ask. Glad I can count on you like that, babe,” he thinks he hears Badd say to him, and he makes a noise in response.
Maybe he should say he was an idiot for counting on him, but things turned out all right this time.
This fever’s giving him a weird concept of time, because once he gets the effort to crack his eye open a tiny bit, he sees that Badd is napping next to him, sick mask strapped over his mouth and nose, one arm behind his head.
His legs are asleep, and Zenko’s squirming around again with her little bony butt, glued to the TV. Not so bad though. Like having the cat in his lap.