Chapter Text
It was ten o’clock on a Saturday night. Garou could feel the cash of the first paycheck in his life burning a hole in his pocket. He felt like his body was vibrating from the intensity of his excitement towards the new ground he was uncovering. His first job. His first pay. His first night out. His first bar.
The bitter sting of his failure to achieve Absolute Evil was soothed with every step forward. Bit by bit, he was discovering new sides of himself, and while he still had no answer as to what he wanted in life, there was the faintest gleam of hope in the wide potential before him.
Did he miss the steady assurance of his old purpose? Absolutely. Most days he ached for that comforting security in his identity, his aspirations, but they were gone now. Dismantled by that powerful punch. And destroyed forever by the even more powerful words that followed it.
So here he was, honoring the command of the man, the hero, who had defeated him.
So Garou did what he wanted and stepped into a neon lit bar to his right.
It was dim on the inside, the primary source of light coming from the sconces along the walls and the back wall of the bar. The lighting, while sparce, was a bright bubblegum pink that cast its neon glow upon the patrons scattered throughout.
One patron in particular, sitting at the bar on the far end of the room, was particularly ethereal under the filter. The pink brought an almost blue undertone out from his inky black hair, and the dragon embroidered across the bar of his jacket was a bright red that seemed to draw Garou’s attention like a signal flare sent up into the night sky.
So he followed it.
Garou approached to the man, taking in the slope of his broad shoulders as he leaned his forearms against the bar top. The closer he got, the more textures he noticed. The rough denim of his jeans, the slippery sheen to his bomber jacket, the silken hair he ached to grab a fistful of.
He was nearly upon the man when he realized he was completely at a loss for what to say.
Should he go for some kinda pick-up line? He remembers seeing those in the TV shows he’d always roll his eyes and skip (only to go back to them because literally nothing else was on). But, like, he knew they were a thing but couldn’t actually remember any of them. Er, there was one about a library book and, and, fuck what was even the punchline?
Okay, nevermind. New plan. Just…just…
Oh shit, he was already there. Right beside him. Say something!
“Uh, hello,”
Good, keep going!
“So uh, hey I say you from across the bar and, uh, I thought you were um, very prett- er, very handsome, you know, so I was wondering if I could, I don’t know, buy you a drink sometime. Uh, that is, I mean, now, buy you a drink now because, we’re, ahem, at a bar.”
The other regarded him flatly and blinked once, very purposefully. He gave a long pull from the straw of his drink until it was empty, the ice rattling from the suction.
Garou was just about to leave with a snarling comment about being a silent asshole when the man pulled off the straw with an obnoxious smack of his lips, dark eyes still fixed on Garou.
“So is being stupid a pre-requisite for being a Hero Hunter, or are you the exception?” The man drawled, his voice as unimpressed as his face.
That voice. The low tone and the slight rumble of pulling words up deep from the speaker’s gut. It was familiar, vaguely so, but- wait, what did he just say?
“Hero Hunter?” Garou echoed, and the man nodded once. One corner of his mouth pulled up slightly.
“So you know who I am?” Garou asked.
“Sure do. Don’t know whether or not to be insulted you don’t remember me though. Then again, you did just come onto me, which is pretty flattering regardless of who-”
“Wait, wait, wait, remember you? I’ve met you before?” How could I ever forget a face like that, part of him wanted to drawl, but he was so thoroughly stumped by the problem that he’d mostly forgotten the whole reason he’d approached the bar in the first place.
“Ah, haven’t put two and two together yet? Hang on,” the man set down his glass and used both of his hands to push back his mop of dark hair into a sort of up-do. “This help at all? Or do I gotta find another giant centipede to toss me halfway ‘cross the city?”
Centipede? Oh. Ohhhhhhh.
“Metal Bat.” Garou intoned, feeling his stomach simultaneously twist in embarrassment and sink in disappointment. It almost felt like how a flushing toilet looked. A swirly for his soul, if you will.
“Ding, ding, ding,” the hero lazily sang as he dropped his hair back to graze the top of his broad shoulders. The bartender appeared behind the counter and dutifully cleared Metal Bat’s empty cup. With barely a pause, Metal Bat signaled the bartender for another and received a curt nod in response. His dark eyes flicked back to Garou with a distinctly amused gleam.
“Like I said, don’t know whether or not to be upset you didn’t recognize me.”
“Well, I’ve so thoroughly trashed so many heroes that it’s hard to keep track of them all,” Garou sneered, letting a touch of the humiliation he felt propel his vitriol to new heights.
To his utter bafflement, which seemed to happen far too often around this particular hero, Metal Bat only laughed. He didn’t even pause when the bartender appeared to set down a new glass at his elbow.
He did, however, seem to sense Garou’s rightful confusion and began to apologize between chuckles. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just that, I mean, all I can think about is the look on your face right before my little sister showed up. You remember? When I nearly cracked your skull in two?”
“Well, it says a lot when the only chance you had in landing a hit was when my back was turned.”
Metal Bat cocked a brow, and his lips followed the cant. “Oh, hang on, so you’re saying, as a martial artist, that my attack doesn’t count because your guard was down?”
Garou felt his eye twitch from the dig, juvenile as it was, and it made him all the more irritated.
“Tch, seems like those cheap shots are all you know how to do.”
“This coming from the guy whose opening strike was a cheap shot.” Metal Bat grumbled. Garou must have made some kind of face at the accusation –though he wasn’t sure what kind since he didn’t consciously change his expression— because with a furrow of his brow, which made Metal Bat look slightly more familiar, he continued.
“There I was, in the middle of bigger and better things and then you come waltzing up and attack me just for telling you to evacuate. Everyone and their mother’s ganging up on me but you don’t see me complaining about fucking cheap shots. Get the fuck outa here with that bullshit.”
Garou, a bit struck at the sudden, but admittedly warranted, hostility stood up to leave without another word.
“What, I didn’t mean that literally, you dope.”
“Really?” Garou asked, still half perched on the stool with one foot on the sticky floor. “You want the Human Monster to stick around and be your drinking buddy?”
“Well, you ain’t exactly a monster anymore, now are ya? Besides, I thought you said you were gonna buy me a drink?”
“Oh, um,” he glanced down at the half-full drink in Metal Bat’s hands and, perhaps he noticed, because in a second it was down the hatch and set down onto the bar, empty.
Feeling a bit emboldened by the clear invitation, Garou waved the bartender over and asked for two more of whatever the hell Metal Bat had ordered. He had no idea what the younger teen drank, so more of the same was probably safer. As for himself, well, he’d never been that big of a fan of alcohol to begin with, so it was all more or less the same to him.
He noticed Metal Bat’s overtly raised eyebrows as he handed the cash over to the bartender.
“What?” He snapped once the man was busy fixing their drinks.
“Nothing.” Metal Bat replied, and if his smirk wasn’t obvious enough then his voice practically broadcasted the something hidden behind the reply. Just what exactly could this asshole be judging him for?
He seemed eager to share though, because even though Garou made no reply, Metal Bat leaned in and explained, with an amused grin, “I just didn’t think you actually, like, had money.”
Garou couldn’t stop that little flare of anger at the insult, petty though it was. “And you were going to let me buy you a drink anyway?”
“I was gonna let you sweat it out a bit before paying myself.” Metal Bat chuckled. It looked like he was going to add more but was distracted by the bartender placing down fresh drinks in front of them.
Metal Bat picked up the short glass with a grip from the top and held it out. Garou, a bit unsure at first, mimicked Metal Bat’s hold on the cup and watched him touch the bottom of his glass to Garou’s. The clink of glass was hidden beneath the music that blared throughout the bar, but Garou could feel the vibrations of the collision buzz slightly in his fingertips.
The mouth of the glass was nearly as wide as it was tall, so there was plenty of space for Metal Bat to sip from the rim without moving his hand. It was a strange disconnect, seeing this hero barely over the cusp of being a child drinking in a rowdy bar with the casual manner of a yakuza boss.
Garou took a sip and found the drink to be better than what he remembered stealing from his father’s cabinet as a curious, snot-nosed brat. It was sweeter, but retained the bite of liquor that, in combination with the mixer, made the burn more bracing than painful.
He suddenly felt the weight of eyes on him and glanced over to catch Metal Bat staring, unashamedly, at him. Garou could feel his muscles tense on instinct, but forced his voice to remain cool. “What?”
“You cut your hair.” Metal Bat said, unhelpfully gesturing to his own to get the point across.
“Yeah. Got a lot of people looking for me, in case you didn’t know.”
Metal Bat nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. He shook his head a bit, similar to the teachers who always followed up such a gesture with a you should have known better, but the look in his dark eyes almost seemed to commiserate with Garou’s situation.
“Them’s the breaks man. But least you don’t look like a cat boy anymore.”
A what?
“A what?”
“Cat boy,” Metal Bat repeated, louder, as if that were the problem.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Cat boy,” he repeated, and Garou was this close to punching him before Metal Bat explained by holding his hands up to his head with his palms facing out. “You know, like they have in those tv shows and shit. They’re people who’ve got, like, cat ears coming out their head.”
Garou took in the description and the image in front of him. Then paired that with the last time he saw himself in the mirror. Put it all together and…
“I wasn’t a fucking cat boy!”
“But you kind of were,” Metal Bat replied between his peals of laughter, only for his eyes to widen like a revelation just struck him. “Oh man, you actually totally were! The first time I met you, I was in the middle of something, and you came waltzing up and demanding my attention! You’re just like a cat!”
“No, I’m not.” Garou bit back.
Either he had really lost his edge since becoming human again, or Metal Bat really had no sense of self preservation, which, considering his preferred fighting style, Garou would put his newly acquired money on the latter.
“Relax man,” Metal Bat replied once his laughter had finally died down. “It’s okay. I actually really like cats.”
He knocked back the rest of his drink and, not one to be outpaced, Garou did the same. It burned a little going down, but just enough to make the sensation more pleasant than painful.
Oh shit. He didn’t think this through. They finished their drinks, but now what? Was he supposed to stick around? Buy another? Or did they go somewhere else? This was all happening a little fast. Sure, Garou initially approached with the intention to maybe do something, but not right fucking now-
“Hey,” Metal Bat nudged Garou in the arm with his elbow. “You want another? My treat?”
Garou settled down, calmed his heart, and fixed a lazy smirk across his face. He was fine. He could do this. He was better than this. Flirting was easy; people literally did it all the time. And so could he. I mean, he was a genius after all.
“Yeah, sure, Surprise me.”
And if he had a bit of trouble steadying his heart again after the look Metal Bat sent his way, then, well, that was his business.