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“You c-can’t come,” Barnaby chided. He lightly pushed on Kotetsu’s nose, but his muzzle stayed firmly planted in the way of the door. In fact, Kotetsu wiggled his face out a little further. He stared at Barnaby with his deep brown eyes, then popped his tongue out, making the face dogs to when they look like they’re smiling.
Barnaby sighed affectionately. He gave his companion a little rub behind the ears. “Y-you want a t-treat, buddy?” He unzipped the pack that rested on his hips, pulled out a dog biscuit, and tossed it into his apartment.
Kotetsu was unfazed. He didn’t so much as glance at the treat as it flew behind him and bounced off the floor. He continued to stare at Barnaby instead.
“C-can’t fool you,” Barnaby said, kneeling and pressing his forehead to Kotetsu’s. Barnaby loved how Kotetsu was warm, and wide, and strong, like it would be fine if he just laid his whole weight into the dog’s soft fur. “I love you, t-too, b-but if I bring you, Alex will n-never let me leave, a-a-and I’d prefer n-not to stay.”
Kotetsu whined, nosing Barnaby off his head so he could leave a small kiss on Barnaby’s chin. He awkwardly shuffled backwards into the apartment, giving a hopeful tail wag.
“I’ll be back s-soon,” Barnaby promised. He tore his eyes away from Kotetsu’s sweet face, trying to rip the band-aid off. He was determined not to look as he closed the door and locked it behind him. It took a few tries to get the key in the lock; his hands were already shaking.
He heard the massive dog flop to the ground with a whumpf, and he smiled a bit. The mirth left his face pretty quickly when a burning dread gripped his stomach again. This…this was not going to be fun.
He forced himself to take a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. He could do this. He was a hero, after all. He swallowed and resolutely marched down the hallway and up the stairs – he knew if he took the elevator, he would just spin himself into a jumbled mess of nerves. It was good to keep moving.
Once he got to the top floor, he passed a few bare doors on the way to Morgan’s. Barnaby knew Morgan kept the nearby units empty. Morgan liked it quiet. Although, Barnaby had to wonder if that was true, given the company they kept.
He stopped in front of the door with the sloppily painted sign that read ‘Landlord’ is my father’s name, call me Morgan. Barnaby wasn’t even really sure what that was supposed to mean, but he didn’t have time to worry about it. He clenched his jaw and tapped out a quick, soft knock on the door.
The door opened on its own, and Barnaby opened and closed their palms anxiously, standing at the threshold. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to go inside or wait out there. The apartment smelled a little bit like moth balls and smoke, but also like freshly baked bread.
Alex was the only person in sight – they were comfortably spread out over the worn-out sofa, reading the ‘Nose Jobs Gone Wrong’ section of a gossip column like some sitcom diva. They glanced up at Barnaby, then looked back down at their magazine.
“Morgan!” Alex yelled at the pages. “Are you finished with the death trap?! Barnaby’s here!”
Morgan entered from the kitchen, wiping off their hands with a raggedy dish towel before throwing it over their shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous; Barnaby would never stumble into one of my death traps.” Morgan grinned, warmth lighting up their face. Barnaby’s heart stuttered. “What’s up, Dog Boy?”
Barnaby’s stomach sunk into the cold recesses of self-pity. Why did he have to ask Morgan this, and in front of Alex? But he was here now. He braced himself, trying to ignore the heat rising to his face. “I-it’s about r-rent this month.”
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Morgan morphed their confident smirk into something that was hopefully a little gentler. God, Barnaby was so fucking nice. Morgan wished that, just once, Barnaby would cash in the favor Morgan owed them from so long ago, or, hell, strongarm them by pointing out Barnaby was doing them a favor by not making their location common knowledge. But Morgan knew better, so they tried to brace themself for how this conversation was about to go.
Alex dropped the magazine. “He lives here?”
Oh, and that. “Of course, he lives here,” Morgan said. “How do you think he found me?” And the next question would be…
“Why didn’t he bring the dog?” Yup.
“Why don’t you ask him?” Morgan frowned. “He’s standing right there. You can come in, by the way,” they added. Barnaby tentatively crossed the threshold and closed the door behind them.
Alex sat up from where they were lounging on the couch, lifting themself up over the backing. They tilted their head to the side. “I still don’t understand why he’s here,” they said, continuing to address Morgan instead of Barnaby. “Your tenants can pay rent online, unless they have to defer – ohhh,” Alex said, realizing the problem. Barnaby stared at the floor. Alex grinned. “Oh, that’s fucking beautiful. This is pretty sad, even for you. Doesn’t the Fairness Association give you a stipend?”
Out of the corner of their mouth, Morgan muttered, “They give sidekicks and D-Listers basic health insurance and a check for every criminal they apprehend.”
Morgan knew if they started explaining how fucked up it was – that this backwards system only rewarded jailing civilians, but not helping them, that they pretended Barnaby wasn’t worth paying because he spent most of his efforts doing search and rescue – Morgan knew that they would never stop talking, so they had to stop themself there.
Alex’s pupils widened, like a cat watching its prey. “Oh, so you didn’t manage to catch enough bad guys this month, huh? How pitiful…and delicious,” Alex sneered, not even bothering to hide their glee. They popped their elbows on the head of the couch and leaned their chin into their palms, as if waiting for a juicy story. Morgan was pretty sure that if Alex was in cat-form, their tail would be flicking back and forth.
“Be nice,” Morgan hissed.
Alex’s smile dropped. “He didn’t bring the dog. I can be as cruel as I like.”
Morgan rolled their eyes.
“I-I-I’m good for f-five hundred,” Barnaby told Morgan, taking a stack of cash out of his pocket. About half of the notes were crisp and flat, but the other half were crumbled and creased in odd places. “I j-just need to d-defer the other th-three.”
“Only three hundred, huh? Maybe you should try shaking down a 7-11,” Alex snickered.
Barnaby steeled himself. “Y-you know, one day you’ll s-see! Doing the right thing p-pays off!”
“No, it doesn’t,” Morgan and Alex replied in unison. Morgan continued, “Barnaby, you’re one of my better tenants. Why don’t we just drop it this month? I don’t care if you can’t make rent.”
Barnaby’s face reddened. “I-I-I don’t n-need your pity, M-Morgan.”
Morgan clenched their fists and silently went over to their desk. They opened top right drawer, shuffling around papers and spare postage until they found the folder they were looking for. “This is the problem with all you heroes; you’re too damn proud.” They tossed a packet of paperwork, and Barnaby fumbled trying to catch it. One of the sheets slipped out and fell to the floor, and Barnaby scrambled to pick it up. “Bet it would be pretty lowly to ask for help, huh?” Morgan scowled.
When Barnaby stood back up and shuffled the papers back together, Morgan could see that his eyes were starting to water. Morgan’s conscience twinged. They took it too far. This wasn’t about them.
“Y-y-you,” Barnaby swallowed. “Kn-know that’s not what I meant. I-I wasn’t trying to –”
“Yeah, I know,” Morgan sighed. They leaned into the couch, tactfully ignoring Alex’s face. “I’m sorry. Just sign the stupid thing already.”
A few minutes of awkward silence passed as Barnaby filled out the contact info, checked a few boxes, and signed at the bottom. He tucked the stack of cash into the folder, trying to get it all to fit under the paperclip holding the packet together. He bit his lip as he handed the folder back to Morgan, not meeting their eyes.
Morgan stared down at the folder in their hands, wishing they knew what to say. I wish people treated you better. It’s amazing that you’re still kind. It’s not fair that I ended up here and you ended up… “Take care of yourself, okay?” Morgan told him instead.
“Y-you, too.” Barnaby opened the door, turning to leave.
Without a shred of remorse, Alex added, “And bring the dog next time.”
Morgan and Barnaby both gave them a look, as if to say, really? Alex didn’t even have the decency to look guilty about it.
Once the door was closed, Morgan buried their feelings deep in their chest and tucked the file under their arm.
Alex stared at it hungrily. “I don’t suppose you have plans for that?” they asked.
Morgan shrugged, making their way back over to their desk. “I heard a couple of St. Bernard fans pooled some donations together to Venmo him a thank-you gift.”
“Ugh,” Alex said, flopping back onto the couch cushions. “You’re such a sucker.” They picked up their magazine, lazily flipping through it.
Morgan filed the deference paperwork and tucked their cash and a deposit slip into their wallet. “You know if he goes broke, he won’t be able to buy toys for Kotetsu, right?”
“…I’ll help.”