Work Text:
It was always the same.
Bowser's nostrils flared as he looked down at his adversary, large teeth curled into a smile. He always acted the part. He was the big bad villain, taking down a pipsqueak hero: the expected good guy.
He liked the role he played. It meant he was feared. It meant he was respected!
Mario, on the other claw, was all parts of what he wasn't. Mario was a hero. He was kind-hearted, selfless, and optimistic, and no matter what happened, he'd stay cool under pressure. Whatever Bowser threw at the twerpish goody-two-shoes, he managed to bounce right over it, hop over his head, and put an end to his tyranny. What a pushover. He knew that no matter what he did, Mario would find a way to put an end to it. He'd tried everything. He'd even tried on the good guy act for a bit, for the "greater good"... or something cliche and gag-worthy like that.
The very thought of Mario sent Bowser's blood boiling.
Grambi, how he hated him.
Toads fawned over him without a second thought, and even some of his own troops would sing the praises of the hero in red. They'd get a fiery talking-to obviously, but that didn't change the fact that everyone loved him. He couldn't think of a single person that so much as disliked Mario. Except for him. Maybe the villains from years past hated him, but they came and went. They were actually... "defeated"... in a sense. Bowser never received that kind of treatment. Mario seemed to like him enough, so much so that he would invite him to kart races and parties and junk. He liked him enough to keep him around.
Maybe he liked the attention. I mean, who wouldn't like a bit of praise now and then? He liked getting the chance to go up against the nerds in the Mushroom Kingdom. It was... eugh... fun, in a way. It gave him a chance to step down from villainy, even if it was just a one-time thing. Next week, he could stage a kidnapping or attack a local village if he so pleased! No one could tell him what to do. It was his choice that he wanted to go to these things, not because Mario asked him to or anything. He would go even if he didn't have an invitation, just to stick it to them for not inviting him! That would show them.
He grunted, shaking his head.
Please.
As if he cared about what Mario thought!
He snapped back to the present moment, where Mario hopped around mere inches away from him. He leaped over Bowser's head, like always, and rescued Peach, like always, dodging every attack, like always. He picked up Peach in his arms and vacated the dreary final castle. He even said goodbye to Bowser on his way out, out of some innate sportmanslike conduct. That polite demeanor sent Bowser up a wall with rage. His face burned.
Every time Mario bested him, even though a part of him expected it, he still had to keep himself from frothing at the mouth with a boiling anger. Every piece of him was ashamed, hurt, embarrassed... but a mysterious other piece of him felt something else entirely. Confronting that emotion was something he didn't need on his agenda right now. He had work to do, troops to tend to, Junior to take care of, Kamek to answer to... blah, blah, blah. He had better things to do than worry about what Mario thought. What Mario did. What Mario—
What was he thinking?
The day went on, and he mended his wounds and tidied up his dungeons and gave a firm speech to his minions, but he couldn't stop thinking about it. About him. He thought about how he would smile and wave at him, even after he'd thrown him into hoards of Dry Bones and Koopa Troopas. He thought about how he would always give him a second chance. He thought about his constant optimism, his neverending drive and determination. Even when Bowser wasn't the big bad, Mario still kept at it and gave his one-hundred percent... at least he could admit that made him jealous.
Why did he even care? Why did his head keep sprialing back to that dumb hero? He was a villain; he was the KING of the Koopas, for crying out loud! Villains didn't care about what other people thought. They were ruthless! They defied anyone who stood in their way. Even portly little plumbers.
Bowser thought about it. Maybe the feeling bubbling inside his core wasn't shame or humiliation, but the feeling like he was being made a fool of. Mario was obviously doing something to him, something he couldn't see yet. Maybe a tiny, minisucle piece of him registered that when his face burned or his heart raced, it was something else that made him feel that way. But he didn't accept that.
Mario was just another obstacle in his way for kingdom conquest, nothing more and nothing less.
Stupid Mario. Right. That's who he was.
He didn't want to admit that he kept in this cycle of kidnap/destroy/attack-and-rescue/save/rebuild plots with Mario and Peach and the kingdom at large, just so the red-clad hero would be forced to come save the day. Because that meant that Bowser would have a chance to see Mario, and that he could prove his worth once again. He didn't want to admit that Princess Peach was just another way for Bowser to get Mario involved. He didn't want to admit any of that. That would mean he was weak. He didn't want to admit how he felt when Mario and Peach embraced, or how excited the two got when they saw each other. He didn't want to admit how—
Smoke billowed from his nostrils. He huffed. He didn't want to say how much he wanted to prove himself to Mario. He was his number-one enemy, it was only natural to feel this way, wasn't it?
Wasn't it?
He grumbled, retreating back to his room. He called it a night early, slamming the doors behind him in a huff. He needed time to think.
Fire burned inside his chest.