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The hiss of a bottle of soda opening makes the two kids in the tattered old red booth glance up. Fun Ghoul and Kobra Kid are sitting side by side, a map spread out before them, red marker highlighting different locations on the paper. Cherri Cola stands at the end of the booth, a dusty glass Coke bottle in one hand and three dirty and smudged glasses balancing in the other.
“Coke?” Cherri asks, a smile dancing across his lips. “We can share.”
“Sign me up,” Ghoul sets down the marker, taking one of the glasses out of Cherri’s hand.
“Where’d you find this, Cher?” Kobra takes a glass, watching the Coke pour out of the bottle into the cup.
Cherri shrugs, his smile unwavering. “Oh, you know. Just laying around.” He sits down in the booth across from them, gazing down at the map. “What are you two doing?”
“Trying to plot out places that haven’t been looted yet. Trying to get Jet a birthday present.” Ghoul takes a drink of his Coke and wrinkles his nose. “Flat?”
“If you want new carbonated drinks, you gotta go right up to the City,” Cherri replies. “This one’s old as shit, but it works.”
Kobra pushes the glass away from him, and Cherri takes it and pours the remainder into his own glass. Ghoul hesitates, then drinks the rest of his Coke in one swift go. He wrinkles his nose, but continues talking. “Hopefully this gift’ll repay Jet for all the times he saved our asses out there. Witch knows we owe him.”
Kobra glares at the wood grain of the table from behind his sunglasses, pale fingers tapping on the edge. “He deserves more than a lousy present, but it’s our only idea.”
“Parties aren’t his thing,” Ghoul explains, “and dust-ups aren’t his idea of fun.”
“What does he like? I could write him a poem. Read it on air. I did it for Party once.” Cherri sounds interested, which is surprising, since he usually doesn’t show when he cares about something. He’ll hide behind dry smiles and meaningless metaphors, but won’t show real emotion till he’s in too deep.
“Dunno if Jet would like the attention…” Kobra muses. “He’s not really the on-air type.” He takes the glass back and holds it in his hand, studying Cherri’s figure through the warped glass. “We could do some kinda song for him. Record it. We’d have to get Party in on it, though, cause I can’t do vocals for shit.”
Ghoul groans, “Do we have to?”
Cherri raises an eyebrow. “You tired of them? Never thought I’d see the day.”
“I am not ‘tired of them’”, Ghoul uses air quotes with his words. “But they can’t keep a secret to save my life.” He leans back against the peeling red leather of the booth, biting his lip.
“Hurtful,” Party remarks, sliding into the booth next to Cherri, their hair freshly dyed and dressed to boot in a fluffy used-to-be-white bathrobe. “Why don’t you just break up with me already if you’re so tired of me?”
“I am not tired of you,” Ghoul grits his teeth. “Cherri’s just being a dick again.”
“Nice to see nothing’s changed,” Party smirks, nudging Cherri with their shoulder.
“Why would it?” The glass slips through Kobra’s fingers, hits the table, and shatters into a million pieces, spraying glass everywhere.
Party lets out a string of swears, raising their arms to cover their face. “What the fuck, Kobra?”
Cherri flicks blood off his cheek, his smile popping back in place. “You good there, Kid?”
Ghoul dusts off the shoulders of his jacket and continues like nothing happened. “Party, I’m just not sure we can trust you.”
“Wow, okay,” Party crosses their arms. A thin line of blood is trickling down their cheek from a shallow cut, and they don’t bother to wipe it away. “I am really feeling the love today, huh?”
“Not like that,” Ghoul whines. “Just - remember Cherri’s wedding?”
“His what?” Kobra Kid’s head snaps up.
Cherri sighs. “Kid, it wasn’t real. It was a failed attempt, anyway.” He reaches up, tugging at his hair like he does when he’s nervous - Kobra knows all of Cherri’s tells, especially ‘cause Cherri’s had lots of cause to be nervous around him. “I was tryin’ to get the incessant love letters and marriage proposals to stop, cause apparently there’s a lot of folks who like my poetry-”
“And some other things of his that begin with ‘p’,” Party mutters, their eyes dancing with humor despite their frown.
“- And I was trying to get them to leave me alone, so I spread a rumor that I was a married man, and Party and Ghoul were s’posed to help, but Party screwed up and wound up telling everyone that I wasn’t married, effectively negating all the work Ghoul and I did. And it doesn’t help that they’re one of the best gossips of the Zones.”
Kobra stares at the other three kids at the table for a second, then bursts into laughter. “You - you told everybody that y’were married?” He chokes out, clutching his chest, shoulders shaking. “And - and you thought - you thought they would believe it!” Kobra wipes at the tears of mirth forming in the corners of his eyes, almost slipping out of the booth because he’s laughing so hard. “Cherri - you’re like, impossible to pin down - and you thought that would work?”
Cherri’s laughing now, too, even though Kobra’s laughing at him and his ego should have taken a hit. “I didn’t know what else to do! People were ghosting each other for a chance to kiss me, and I didn’t want that to happen!” He forgets the facade for a moment, and Kobra admires his laugh, dusty and loud, with his mouth open wide and his face red, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I just - I didn’t have any other choice!”
“Did you at least say who you were married to?” Kobra’s covering his mouth so the others can’t see his smile in its full capacity, self-conscious to the end. “Or did you just assume they wouldn’t ask?”
“I - I didn’t think that far ahead, no,” Cherri admits, his cheeks red, but still laughing. “I should have, but -”
“Witch, Cherri,” Kobra breathes, “you’re so stupid.”
Cherri’s lips part in a little round O. “But you like that about me, right? You think my relentless brainlessness is hot, right?”
Kobra begins to laugh again. “Definitely.”
Ghoul and Party exchange a look, one that definitely says ‘our brothers are flirting dangerously again’. It hasn’t been the first time, and it won’t be the last, that Fun Ghoul and Party Poison find themselves forced to watch Cherri Cola and the Kobra Kid slowly fall for each other. Party makes a mental note to bring popcorn next time.
Aaaand now they’re looking away and blushing. You would think this was their first time being in love. Party sighs, pulling the sleeve of their bathrobe up over their fist and brushing broken glass off the table onto the floor with their arm. “Back to the matter at hand?”
“Right.” Cherri blinks, like he’s coming out of a trance. Kobra is staring doggedly at his lap. “So we’re writing a song for Jet? I can take care of the writing bit… I wrote some Mad Gear and the Missile Kid songs a while back.”
“You did not,” Kobra lifts his eyes from his bleached jeans for a split second to make eye contact with Cherri. “Which ones?”
Cherri shrugs. “Can’t remember. Probably the ones with the most cowboyish twang, I’d say. I do have a bit of a Midas Touch of cowboyism.” He allows himself a proud little smile, like sounding like Randy Travis every time he begins to read is a good thing.
“Oh my Destroya, we have a job to do,” Party rolls their eyes, “so could you two stop fucking each other with your eyes and think about Jet for once?”
“Right.” It’s Cherri’s turn to stare at his lap, and Kobra’s turn to glare at Party like it’s his job.
“I’ll do vocals, since I’m the only one that doesn’t sound like a strangled cat when I sing,” Party picks up the red marker and gestures with it. “You all can figure what you want to do yourselves. I have to go get dressed before Jet cuts up my pants for bandages again.” They stand up and walk away as dignified as they can with blood trickling down their face and their bathrobe.
Ghoul stands up, running his hands through greasy long hair. “I need to go check on Gracie and Hot Chimp… Make sure they haven’t destroyed anything without me. I’ll see you guys later.” He smirks, pushing the door open and shooting them finger guns. “Use protection.”
Kobra and Cherri turn to each other, determinedly not looking each other right in the eyes.
“They’re nuts,” Kobra mutters. “Don’t know what they’re talking about.” He can practically feel Cherri’s face light up. It’s like the fucking sun. “Oh, put that away,” he says distastefully. “Don’t get your charm all over me, cowboy.”
“Wasn’t planning to,” Cherri’s grin widens. He is truly awful. A disgrace to radio cowboys everywhere. Somehow, his grin gets wider. Kobra, he’s doing this to spite you. Don’t let him touch you. Don’t do it. He raises his arms and tucks his hands behind his head, flexing considerably.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” Kobra whines. He’s ticcing again - two hard blinks, and then he scowls. “Stop it.”
Cherri leans back further, his smile incessantly annoying. “Stop what? I’m just sitting here.”
“No, you’re sitting like that.”
“Like what? You have to be a bit clearer, Kobra Kid.” He’s like a raging fire - drawing you in, telling you it’s okay because he’s so pretty, and then he hurts you. Burns you. And you knew it was going to happen all along, but you couldn’t resist. You couldn’t stay away.
Kobra Kid, stay away. “Like, with your arms like that,” Kobra swallows. He’s sure his cheeks are bright red. Cherri does have that effect. “Behind your head.”
Cherri brings his arms down. He’s dusted pink, too, but Kobra doesn’t notice. Too busy staring at his lap. Those jeans must sure be interesting. Cherri tilts his head to the side, studying Kobra intently. The only time he feels comfortable enough to watch Kobra is when Kobra isn’t looking back at him… Sounds stalkery, yes, but Cherri just likes watching candid Kobra. Kobra in his comfort zone, choppy blond hair in his gray-spangled eyes, the chain of his necklace peeking out at his collar, crooked fingers tapping rhythmically on the table…
Kobra glances up. “What?”
“Nothing,” Cherri replies, as smoothly as he can, but still glancing down at the scuffed red leather of the seat.
“You okay, Cher?” Kobra leans forward, not noticing the broken glass digging into his forearms: he’s much too busy with Cherri. “You look pale.”
Cherri’s smile slides back in place. “Don’t worry about me, Kid. I'm as shiny as ever.” He leans forward across the table, too, just as oblivious to the glass embedding itself in his arms.
They sit like that for a while, grinning at each other, bleeding onto the table, the sun setting outside the window, till the front door slams and Ghoul waltzes through, holding Gracie’s hand.
“Hey guys - oh shit, kid, back up and give them some space.”
“Are they yearning again?” The Girl is staring at them, her smile fading. “Are they pining? Is there anything we can do?”
Ghoul lets out a fake sob. “I’m afraid not, Nurse Grace. We must let nature do its course and wait for them to make out.”
Gracie giggles. “Doctor Dad, this is a very serious problem we have here. What if it infects the rest of the Zones and everyone starts pining for each other?”
Kobra huffs. “Ghoul, get your kid outta here.”
“I’m your kid, too!” Gracie sticks her tongue out at him.
Cherri’s smile turns on to full power as he turns to Gracie. “The situation is gravely serious, Nurse Grace. So serious, that we must quarantine the patients before even the doctors are infected. We can’t have Ghoul get mushy on us, can we? And you’re the strongest, least mushy kid I know.” He leans forward, poking Gracie in the stomach. “So you must leave before you get sick too!” He play-growls, wiggling his fingers in a tickling motion.
Gracie shrieks in response and pulls on Ghoul’s hand, dragging him out of the room. “C’mon, I don’t wanna get sick, Dad!”
Ghoul salutes to Cherri and Kobra on his way out, stumbling after Gracie. “See you, yearners!”
Kobra huffs, turning back to Cherri, who’s still grinning like a lightbulb. “You shouldn’t egg them on.”
Still smiling, Cherri says, “why not?”
Kobra freezes. Only Cherri’s brave enough to challenge the hot-tempered Kobra Kid, and only Cherri can render him so speechless. “I - well, they don’t need you making them feel like they can - keep on, uh, teasing -”
Cherri raises his eyebrows.
Kobra blusters, then gives up. He glares down at his hands, yanking them away from Cherri’s quickly, seemingly coming to his senses. “You should probably go.”
“Why?”
Kobra blinks, then comes out with the truth, unexpectedly, “Because I don’t know what I’ll do if you stay.”
“Would that be such a bad thing?” Cherri tilts his head back, the red plastic booth creaking beneath his cowboy-muscle weight.
Kobra mutters, “yes.” He lifts his eyes to Cherri’s, daring him to say something. Cherri stays silent, examining the bleached-blonde crash-queen across from him with piercing blue eyes. Kobra distractedly wonders if his eyes are natural- they’re so pale and blue against Cherri’s sunburned and tanned skin.
“I know exactly what I would do,” Cherri says. “Y’wanna hear?”
Kobra gives a noncommittal shrug.
“I would stand up. You’d walk me to the door. I’d smile, and you’d say ‘get out, Cherri, you nuisance,’ and I’d put my hands on your hips and kiss you like I’ve wanted to since we met.” Cherri’s lips curl into another flashbulb smile, delightedly wicked. What a tease.
Kobra flushes, and, before he can stop himself, he says, “alright. Stand up, then, and I’ll walk you to the door.”
Cherri’s smile is too big for his face.Witch, he’s beautiful. He stands up, and Kobra stands as well. They walk to the door, and Kobra goes, “get out, Cherri, you nuisance,” and Cherri grins wider and puts his hands on Kobra’s hips and their lips connect, an explosion of color and all of Kobra’s neurons firing like crazy in an effort to keep him in control, and Cherri pulling him closer and laughing in his face quietly, his incessant, annoying, terrible smile the biggest it had ever been.