Chapter Text
"You could've at least cleaned up after yourselves!" Tippy snapped. "Look at this mess!"
He picked a doorman's uniform off the floor to fold quickly and move on to the next. It looked as if the entire contents of his closet were strewn about the room, and he didn't try to suppress a groan when he realized his bookshelves had been gone through, too. He threw a glare at the two people his stepfather had insisted on sending as an escort, as if he needed to be watched over like a child.
The man and woman glanced at each other. "Sorry," said Betty, flashing an awkward smile. "It wasn't us who did this, it was Fendrich's new hires. You know we wouldn't have left your place like this, Tippy."
"Let us help," said Hank, and he put his hacksaw aside and picked up one of the red uniforms. Tippy watched as he struggled to fold it, then sighed and snatched it out of his hands.
"I might as well do it myself," he said. "I need to change out of these prison clothes, anyhow. Though it's a wonder if I'll ever be allowed to resume my duties as a noble doorman…"
He sat down on his bed, clutching the uniform to his chest. Betty shook her head and shoved Hank out of the way to sit next to Tippy.
"Honestly?" she said. "Don't worry about it. Speaking as a crook myself, your first offense isn't enough to brand you a criminal for life."
"Unless it's, like, super bad," Hank added, sitting on Tippy's other side. "Like sabotaging a Mars mission and trying to take over the world."
Tippy groaned and slumped over. Betty rubbed his back. "Look," she said, "the city's full of forgiving folks, and no one got hurt. Go get some fresh clothes and go to sleep."
"Why should I?"
"'Cause," Hank said, "you're a good kid, your family loves you, and you look like, really tired, dude."
Tippy didn't respond.
"We've gotta head out," Betty said after a long moment. "Take care of yourself, kid."
"I'm twenty-seven," Tippy grumbled.
"Eh. You'll always be the kid Fendrich had us babysit. See you later, Tippy."
She stood up. After giving Tippy a hard pat on the back, Hank joined her. Tippy lifted his head up just enough to watch them go. Betty paused at the door and looked back.
"Love you, Tippy," she said, and left.
Tippy exhaled and stood up. He might as well get dressed for bed.
The prison clothes went straight into the trash. Dressed in a comfortable shirt and pants, Tippy felt a little better, though he still desperately needed a shower. He washed his face and considered that enough for the time being. Once his apartment was picked up, he got in bed and closed his eyes.
After a minute, he rolled over and pressed the pillow over his head.
It took a few minutes longer to identify the problem.
Tippy had spent the last few months in space, accompanied by at least one other person at all times. Every time he closed his eyes, he expected to hear soft breathing next to him, wanted to feel a presence with him. He was back on Earth, in a city with millions of people, and he yet he was so utterly alone.
A police siren blared outside, fading into the distance. Tippy groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for sleep to come.
After he was chosen for the Mars mission, Tippy had set up a leave of absence with his job. After he sabotaged the Mars mission and nearly destroyed the city in his attempt at world domination, he expected to be fired. Surprisingly, he was not. There was a voicemail on his phone informing him that his leave of absence had been extended for another month, but he was not fired. Tippy almost wanted to quit, but he decided to wait the month and see how he felt then.
In the meantime, he would lock himself in his apartment and be miserable.
At least, that was the plan, except he had little food left in his apartment. Tippy sighed, staring into his empty refrigerator. He had some dry, stale cereal for breakfast, got dressed in a fresh uniform, and set out for the grocery store.
He did his best to ignore the people whispering to each other when he left the building, pretended not to see how they crossed the street to avoid him. He was just getting groceries, he told himself. He could face the shame of his tarnished reputation for just one short trip. The good news was, no one was trying to talk to him –
"Hey, Tippy!"
He flinched. The police car screeched to a halt and the officer inside lowered his sunglasses to grin at him. Tippy took a deep breath.
"Hello, Duke," he said.
"Don't worry, I'm not here to arrest you." Duke pushed his sunglasses back up, paused, then took them off. "I just wanted to let you know that I talked with the judge and some other people – don't know who they were, but they definitely looked official – and your prison sentence is considered over, so don't worry about those six hours, alright?"
Tippy frowned. "So for sabotaging the first manned mission to Mars and trying to take over the world, I got… two hours of prison time."
Duke shrugged. "Eh, we all agreed you had been through enough, what with like, every criminal in the city coming after you. Plus, the video feeds showed you were broken out against your will, so, y'know, it wasn't like you wanted to get in more trouble."
"You're… not wrong." Tippy felt the passersby's eyes on him. "Is that all? I was on my way to the grocery store, so –"
"Oh, cool! Want a lift?"
"With your driving? I –" Tippy thought about walking the rest of the way to the grocery store while everyone pointed at him and whispered. "– well, I don't want to impose, but if you're offering…"
"No problem!" Duke leaned over and popped the passenger's door open. "Hop in!"
He barely waited for Tippy to climb in before slamming on the gas. Tippy yelped and grabbed his seatbelt. "We're not being chased! Is this really necessary?!"
"What?" Duke took a sharp turn and nearly flung Tippy into the window. "Buckle up!"
They made it to the grocery store in one piece. "I'll be right here to drive you back," Duke said while Tippy forced air in and out of his lungs. "Unless I'm needed somewhere else, in which case you'll have to walk. Sorry!"
Tippy pressed a hand over his racing heart and managed to collect himself enough to speak. "Not a problem," he said. "Thank you for your help yesterday."
"Hey, don't mention it. That's my job, y'know?"
"Well, I'm going to get groceries." Tippy opened the door and got out. "See you around, Duke."
Duke waved as he entered the grocery store. Moments later, Tippy heard police sirens and Duke yelling over the speakers. He sighed. He supposed he'd be walking home.
He bought his groceries without incident. When he carried the bags in front of him, he could barely see people staring at him, though he knew they were. He could also barely see anything else.
"Hello, person I can't see behind all those groceries! Do you need help!"
Tippy stumbled and fell to the ground, spilling his groceries everywhere. "Oh no!" the man said, jumping off his cart and running over. "Are you alright? I – oh."
Harl stopped in front of him. Tippy stared at the beat-up shoes of the man who had foiled his plans, then groaned and let his face fall on the pavement.
A hand tapped his shoulder. "Uh… Tippy?" Harl said. "You probably shouldn't keep lying there. Here, I'll help pick these up."
Tippy didn't move. He heard Harl's movements as he picked up the groceries and put them back in their bags, chatting all the while. "Some of the eggs are cracked," he said, "but I have some tape in my cart. Uh, I think your vegetables are ok… you're not hurt, are you? You're not saying anything."
"I'm surprised you're willing to give me the time of day," Tippy said.
"What? Why wouldn't I?"
Tippy raised his head to look at him. "Because I tried to take over the world," he said dryly, "and almost destroyed the city in the process."
"Yeah," Harl said, "but I stopped you, and no one got hurt, so it's okay! Do you need help getting back up?"
Tippy got to his feet himself and brushed off his uniform. "Where are my bags?" he asked, looking around.
"I put them on my cart," Harl said, pointing at them precariously balanced on top. "Can I give you a ride to your apartment?"
Tippy sighed. "I suppose so," he said. "Do you know where it is?"
"Nope!"
Tippy gave him the address and they set off. Harl didn't pay much attention to the people they passed on the street, which Tippy thought was odd – wasn't it his mission to help as many people as possible, whether they wanted it or not? Maybe he thought stopping Tippy was enough help for a lifetime. Tippy sighed and stared at the back of Harl's head.
"You alright?" Harl said midway through the ride. "You're awfully quiet."
"I'm fine, Harl," Tippy said. "As fine as I can be, anyhow."
"Yeah," Harl said, and didn't press the matter. They went over a bump in the road and Tippy heard something clatter on the pavement. Hopefully it wasn't any of his groceries.
Somehow, the sun was setting. Tippy hadn't been aware of the time when he left his apartment, but when Duke picked him up, it must've already been late afternoon. He expected Harl to drop him off and leave and was prepared to take the groceries from him.
"Nope!" Harl said, pulling the bags away. "I'll carry these in for you!"
"Really?" Tippy said. "Why?"
"I want to help!"
Tippy sighed. "Very well then," he said. "After you."
He opened the door with a flourish. Harl giggled and walked in. "You've still got it!" he said. "That must feel good, right?"
Tippy frowned. "Did you think I had… lost it?"
"Haha! I'm not going to answer that question!"
Harl walked into the building and headed for the elevator. Tippy shook his head and followed.
At his apartment, Tippy unlocked the door and let himself and Harl in. "You can put the groceries on the counter," he said, pointing. "Thank you for your help."
Harl put the bags down, and Tippy started taking out the groceries to put away. When Harl moved to help, Tippy raised a hand to stop him. "You don't have to stay for this part," he said. "In fact, I'd rather you leave as soon as possible."
"Oh," Harl said. "Well, to be honest… I didn't just come in to help you, Tippy."
Tippy froze in the middle of putting bread in the freezer. "What other reason did you have?" he said, slowly turning to look at him.
Harl shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "We need to talk," he said. "About… a lot of things."
"We could," Tippy said, "or we could never speak of anything that happened on that space mission ever again."
"I don't think that would be very helpful."
"It would certainly help me get out of this situation."
Harl opened his mouth, then hesitated. Tippy put the bread away and slammed the freezer door shut. "Harl," he said, "I would like you to leave."
"No!" Harl said, then blinked, as if surprised by the force in his own voice. "We need to talk," he continued, "and I'm not leaving until we do."
Tippy stared at him. Harl set his jaw and stared right back.
"Fine," Tippy said. "Take a seat."
They sat across from each other at the table. It was still covered in dust – TIppy made a mental note to wipe it down later, once Harl was gone. The other man bit his lip and traced lines on the table, tapping his foot.
"It's hard dealing with gravity again," he finally said. "I keep dropping things, 'cause I forget they're gonna fall. Do you have that problem?"
"I feel the weight of the world," Tippy said. "It's impossible for me to forget, even for a moment."
"That sounds tough."
"Is this what you wanted to talk about?"
Harl looked up and met his eyes. "I miss you," he said.
Tippy's face flushed and he struggled to find a response. "It's natural," he said, trying to keep his cool. "We were each other's only company for so long. I'm not surprised we're… missing that."
A grin spread across Harl's face. "So you feel the same way?"
"I didn't say that."
The grin vanished. "Oh."
Tippy tapped his fingers on the table. "I didn't not say it, either," he said carefully. "It depends on how you feel."
"Oh!" Harl jumped to his feet. "I like you," he said. "I like you a lot, actually!" He continued babbling as Tippy slowly stood up. "I've always thought you were cool, and you had a nice voice, and you were, uh, attractive, and you were right, we shouldn't have talked about this, I'm going to run away forever now!"
Tippy got to the door just in time to block his progress. Harl changed direction and went for the window. "Harl!" Tippy shouted, and grabbed the back of his shirt just before he dove through. "I live on the fourth story, Harl!"
"I know how to fall!" Harl said. "I used to do parkour! I only broke seven bones!"
Tippy pulled him back and sat him back down at the table, pulling his own chair next to him. "You like me," he said. "After everything I did to you?"
"Well, yeah," Harl said. "It wasn't all bad, you know. And then I locked you in the back of the spaceship and you got sent to prison for two hours, so I think we're even."
"That's not –" Tippy pinched the bridge of his nose. "Is that why you said you were going to seduce me to get the code on day eighteen?"
Harl's face reddened. "Well, I chickened out, so –"
"I thought you were joking. Were you?"
"Sort of? I didn't think I'd be very good at seducing. Were you counting the days?"
"Until we arrived on Earth so I could lead all of humanity into Paradoors? Yes."
Harl frowned. "And if you did that…"
"This isn't about me," Tippy said firmly. "This is about you having a crush on me. Why?"
"What do you mean, why?" Harl tilted his head. "I told you why."
"I could understand it before I revealed my plans to take over the world," Tippy said, "but now? After everything that's happened? Why would you want to be around me?"
"I think you're a nice person," Harl said. "Deep down, I mean. You were nice to me when we were on the spaceship."
Tippy snorted. "I wasn't trying to be."
"Were you?"
"I'm sorry, Harl," Tippy said, "but I believe you need more time to think this over, and I cannot return your feelings at this moment. Now, it's getting late, and I want to sleep. Goodnight, Harl." Never mind that he wasn't tired, having woken up so late.
Harl didn't move. "Well?" Tippy said.
"I don't want to sleep alone," Harl blurted out. "I'm all alone in my apartment, and I didn't get any sleep last night, and I'm really tired, and – and –"
He should say no. Harl was clearly not in the right frame of mind. Instead, Tippy gestured to the couch. "Just for tonight," he said. "I'll get you some blankets."
Harl started snoring soon after the lights were off. Tippy stared at him through the darkness, then sighed and pulled the covers over his head.
He woke up to the smell of something burning.
Tippy lay there trying to process what his senses were telling him, then forced himself to sit up. "Harl?" he called out, the events of last night coming back to him. "Are you trying to cook?"
"Just being helpful!" Harl called back. "No need to call the fire department!"
Tippy slid out of bed and took a moment to note that he slept in his clothes. Oh well. He stood up and went to the kitchen to investigate what Harl was doing and judge for himself whether anyone needed to be called.
Harl was cooking something in a pan. It smelled somewhat like bacon but decidedly did not look the part. Tippy stared at him, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "I'm not letting you eat that," he said.
"That's okay, I made it for you!"
Tippy shook his head. "This is awfully forward considering I rejected you."
Harl looked back with a frown. "Does that mean we can't be friends?"
"Do friends cook for each other?"
"Are they not supposed to?"
The unidentified meat caught fire. Harl yelled and jumped back. "Ah! Water!"
Tippy grabbed his arm. "No water! It's a grease fire – I'll take care of it."
He grabbed the lid and carefully inched it over the pan. After a moment, he took it away, and the fire was gone. Belatedly, he turned off the stove. "I'm having cereal," he said, moving the pan to the sink. "You're welcome to have some, too."
Harl looked sadly at the still-smoking remains. "Okay…"
They had cereal. Tippy turned on the TV, only to turn it back off when he realized they were recapping the Mars mission. Harl didn't comment. "Do you have a radio?" he asked. "There's a station I listen to in the morning that I think you might like!"
"I don't really listen to the radio," Tippy said. "I prefer choosing the music I listen to."
"Huh. Okay! I should probably check the traffic today, though. I'm gonna go get the radio from my cart."
Harl drank the milk out of his bowl and put it in the sink. Tippy got up and opened the door for him. "Are you coming back afterwards?" he asked.
"If you'll let me!" Harl said brightly. "I have to go out soon and see if anyone needs my help, but I still have time before then."
"Very well. I'll unlock the door for you when you get back."
"Okay!"
Harl left. Tippy waited by the door for half a minute before deciding he couldn't wait at the door for the entire time. What did he normally do in the morning? He sat down at his computer and checked his email; the messages had really piled up during the months he'd been away. He started at the beginning and went through them one by one.
He was still working when Harl knocked. "Just a moment!" Tippy said, standing up and nearly tripping over himself in his haste to get the door. "Sorry, Harl," he said as he opened it. "I got distracted. It won't happen again."
Harl giggled. "You take your job really seriously!" he said, walking in with the radio. "But you don't need to be so serious, you're not working right now!"
"A doorman's duties are never-ending," Tippy said. "If you're going to play that in here, please keep the volume down."
While Harl listened to the radio, Tippy went back to the emails. Most of them were spam or corporate promotions, and he deleted them with barely another glance. One of them, though, was from an address he didn't recognize. He frowned and opened it.
He closed it as soon as he read the first line.
"Tippy, you okay?"
Tippy took a deep breath and looked back at Harl, who had turned the radio off. "You don't look too good," he said. "Did you read something upsetting online? That happens to me all the time."
"Not… exactly," Tippy croaked. "My sister…"
"Oh no! Did something happen to her?"
"No, it's just…" Tippy looked back at his screen. "I haven't spoken to her in years, and while I going to Mars, she… emailed me."
"Oh no!" Harl frowned. "Wait, isn't that a good thing?"
"I don't know. I haven't read the email."
"Do you need help?"
Tippy shook his head. "I don't think you can help me with this, Harl."
"Sure I can!" Harl dragged a chair over and grinned at him. "I can read it for you and tell you what it says! Unless it's something mean, then I'll just say it's mean and you don't have to know what it is."
Tippy sighed and turned the screen towards him. "Okay!" Harl chirped. "Let's see… her name is Evelyn? That's a pretty name!"
"Please, no live commentary."
"Oh, okay."
Harl read the email in silence. Tippy could feel his heart pounding. After all these years, Evelyn had reached out to him. He had barely been an adult when she stopped all communications. Almost ten years – what was she like now? What made her reach out? There had been no contact when he had been chosen for the Mars mission, though Tippy knew that had been broadcasted far and wide.
"Okay," Harl said. "This all looks good, I think?"
Tippy swallowed hard. "What did she say?"
"Well, first she said she wanted to congratulate you on getting on the Mars mission, until, uh, she found out you sabotaged it. But I don't think she's mad? She wrote all this other stuff, too!"
"Like what?"
"That your uncle's doing well, and that she wants to meet up and have lunch, because, uh, some things are better talked about in person. She left her phone number, too! She said you could call her whenever, 'cause you might be in jail for a while, but you're out, now, so you should probably do it soon."
Tippy's hands were shaking. Evelyn wanted to see him again. He could still remember the last time they spoke, just a short goodbye and an awkward hug before she got on the bus. It had been a shock when she cut off contact with him and their uncle. Why? She never explained.
Why did she want to see him now, after all this time?
"Don't worry!" Harl said, taking out his phone. "I can help!"
"Harl, if you call my sister, so help me –"
"Hi, Evelyn! I'm Tippy's friend, Harl Hubbs!"
Tippy tackled him.
After a minor skirmish, Tippy pinned Harl beneath him, pressed his face against the floor, and wrenched the phone out of his grip with his free hand. "I am so sorry," he said, putting the phone to his ear. "I tried to tell him not to, but –"
"Tippy? Is that you?"
Tippy went stiff. He cleared his throat and managed to speak. "Yes, Evelyn, it is."
"Can you get off me?" Harl said, his voice muffled by the carpet.
He could hear Evelyn laugh on the other end of the line. "It's good to know you have friends," she said. "You were pretty isolated when we were kids. You got my email, huh? How are you doing?"
"I, uh…" Tippy released Harl's head to pick at his collar. "I'm doing as well as I can be," he decided on saying. "How are you?"
"Fine, fine," Evelyn said. "But I'd rather talk about the details face to face. Does tomorrow work for our lunch? You're not on house arrest or anything, are you?"
"No, I… I can do tomorrow. Did you have a place in mind?"
"I haven't been down in a long time. Your choice."
"How about the diner?" Harl said. "It's pretty nice!"
"The diner sounds good," Tippy said. "It's, uh, I can… email you the address?"
"Text me instead, that way I'll have your number instead of your friend's."
"Right, of course. I'll… see you then?"
"See you then, Tippy. I look forward to it."
She hung up.
Tippy sat on top of Harl for a few moments longer, still holding the phone to his face. Harl squirmed underneath him. "Uh, Tippy? I want my phone back."
Once Harl was freed and his phone was returned, he stood up and flashed a smile at Tippy. "I'd love to help some more," he said, "but I need to go see if anyone else needs my help. Can I come back tonight?"
Tippy sighed. "We can't do this forever," he said. "We should get used to spending time apart."
"Oh, I know," said Harl, "but I had a really good night's sleep late night, and the night before I barely slept at all, so maybe we can ease into it. One more night couldn't hurt, right?"
"I suppose not. I'll need to be well-rested for Evelyn, anyhow."
"Great!" Harl picked up his radio and waved. "See you tonight, Tippy!"
He left. Tippy sat back down at his computer and began clicking through emails again. Tomorrow would come sooner rather than later, but he had the rest of today to emotionally prepare for the lunch.
"Hi, Duke!" Harl said, waving to the police officer as he walked to his cart. "Do you need anything? I'm about to leave, but I have time to help!"
"Oh," Duke said. "I was actually about to give you a ticket for illegal cart-parking."
Harl's shoulders sagged. "Oh, whoops…"
Duke looked at him and handed him the ticket. "Just a warning for today," he said, "but you need a permit to park here overnight. You live above the car wash, right? Why were you here?"
"I was visiting Tippy," Harl said. "Just for the night. Sorry, I forgot about the permit…"
Duke raised an eyebrow. "You spent the night with Tippy?"
"On his couch, yeah." Harl laughed nervously. "I gave him a ride home from the grocery store, and then it was late, and also I can't sleep alone anymore."
"Huh," Duke said. "Well, that's good. That you were with him, I mean. I was going to check on him, but it looks like you did that for me."
"You wanted to check on him? Why?"
"Just to see how he's holding up, y'know?" Duke shrugged. "And also make sure there aren't any more criminals after him, 'cause wow, I do not envy him after the other day."
Harl nodded. "Yeah, that must've been tough for him. But he's doing good! Uh, for future reference, where can I park overnight?"
"Oh, there's a garage just down the street. It should have a bike rack. Why do you ask?"
"No reason!" Harl hopped on his cart. "Bye, Duke!"
He set his music playing and rode away. Duke watched him go, then shrugged and got back in his car. It was good that Harl didn't have any hard feelings towards Tippy, he supposed – though it was difficult to imagine Harl having hard feelings towards anyone. He chuckled to himself and resumed his patrol.