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The damn lights couldn't stay still.
Badd shuffled down the street, alternating between tilting his head up to see and avoid the jostling crowd and tucking his chin down to quell the nausea brought about by the harsh glare of lights.
And he'd thought the sun had been bad. Bright and piercing and painful in its demanding presence, Badd had crouched in the shade in a nearby alley for nearly an hour before moving again. And at that point, he'd only moved out of fear that he'd accidentally succumb to the exhaustion that wracked through his body.
So even though, now, the stabbing pain in his brain has subsided once the sun had finally set, his moving around and the stark contrast of a dark night and fluorescent signs brought swirling eddies of nausea to his gut, his head, damn even his lungs felt twisted and sloppy.
Badd coughed and hacked a bloody loogie into the nearest storm drain. Okay, yeah, so maybe he couldn't blame everything on the stupid lights. That first tiger class might've been a joke, and the demon class after it too, but the fourth -and strongest- monster had put up a bit of a scrap.
Its bite wasn't nothing to sneeze at either, if the blood still dribbling down his left leg in a half-congealed mess meant anything. Badd really hoped the thing hadn't been venomous. He didn't remember it (her? because despite being serpentine in form it had boobs??) bragging about his impending demise either (though not like he gave it/her much of a chance during the beating he'd doled out).
Well, if he hadn't kicked the bucket yet, then he was probably fine.
He remembered reading something though, or maybe he'd seen it on TV, about an animal whose bite wounds never sealed shut. Something about its saliva being special? Badd wondered if his current wound was facing something similar as a quick correction in his gait to sidestep an old lady with a grocery buggie forced a fresh spurt of blood out of an hour old wound.
It was too damn hot and humid for this tacky mess to be all over his leg. At least he'd lost his jacket and half a shirt sleeve during the third monster attack, otherwise he'd probably be risking something like heat stroke in this weather.
This dumb, disgustingly hot weather.
With stupidly bright suns.
And annoyingly busy streets.
Hopefully it'd rain tomorrow.
Everyone would stay inside.
It'd be dark.
Quiet.
He could rest...
.
.
.
"Oi, you dead?"
Badd opened his eyes (he didn't remember closing them?) and saw a face that brought a hot surge of adrenaline through his body.
"Garou," he yelled, or tried to. His mouth seemed as sluggish as the rest of him and the result could best be approximated as a garbled mess.
Getting to his feet (and when in the hell had he sat down?) was a struggle and a half, but manageable in the end with the help of his bat.
Garou, meanwhile, didn't move at all, except to take a single step back.Though, going by the confused quirk of his brow, the slight retreat hadn't been made out of fear.
"What'm I doin' here," he asked, glancing around the dim alleyway they were in.
"That's my line," Garou sneered. "I was just heading into the city and ran into you. Literally. Like a sack of garbage."
Shit. Had he wandered here to escape the bright lights? Sat down maybe to abate the nausea caused by them?
"Can't be sleepin'," Badd mumbled to himself as he looked around for a familiar storefront or landmark. Seeing none, and therefore uncertain of which direction to head for home, he stumbled out and to the left.
"What, don't want to be caught lazing while on the clock?"
"Done for the day," his words were slick and heavy, tumbling out of his mouth like marbles from a loose grip.
Garou, however, remained as light and airy as ever. "Tch, must be nice for a hero. Monsters never get a day off, you know."
"Ya wanna go now then?!"
He snarled this all while his head ached in protest, threatening to split in two from the growls tearing through his throat. But Badd had zero patience for this guy's bullshit right now. What he wanted was to throw-up, pass out, and die. There wasn't exactly any room in the schedule for "beating the shit out of punks".
"Heh, right, when a stiff breeze could do you in?"
The worst part was that he wasn't necessarily wrong.
Oh, there was the ice-cream parlor he took Zenko to a couple months ago after a piano recital. Which meant home was...home was, ugh, fuck it hurt to think.
"So, what, you just get lost on the way to your secret entrance to the Bat Cave?" Garou jeered, following him as Badd took the next right.
Just great. He could barely stand, could hardly think, and had gained one particularly annoying shadow.
"So, where are you going then?"
"Fuck off,"
"Huh, never been there."
"Doesn't surprise me. Ya don't know how to take a hint!"
"I don't take any shit from anybody."
Even if he could think straight, Badd doubted this lunatic would make any more sense.
"But seriously, are you lost?"
He didn't reply, too concerned about not throwing up when he passed by a yakisoba stand. It was a struggle made all the worse when his stomach growled, starving for food it couldn't keep down.
"It's okay if you are," Garou continued, prattling on like always. "I bet it takes all your brainpower just to put one foot in front of the other."
Again, not entirely wrong. And, while perhaps not in the exact way Garou had intended the insult, that didn't lessen his irritation at the fact.
"So, do you actually have a Bat Ca-"
"Don't ya have somewhere to be?!"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
"No. I don't. Because I'm not obsessed with you."
"Who said anything about obsessed? I just happen to be headed in the same direction." He explained with a grin that immediately casted his claim into doubt.
"Uh-huh," Badd grunted as he reached an intersection he didn't recognize. Street sign was all blurry too.
"It's for a special mission, actually."
"Mhm," well crap, squinting his eyes really fucked with his sense of balance. Note to self, don't fucking do that.
"A mission from a Class-S hero."
"Cool," he grunted and turned left.
"From Silver Fang. The Class-S, rank 3 hero?"
"Yeah,"
"I'm basically his apprentice now."
"Okay,"
"Might even take your spot soon."
"Alright,"
"Is there actually something wrong with you?"
"Sure,"
"...you know, you could join me with, I mean, like, if you wanted to come along I wouldn't stop you."
The thought of more work physically repulsed him, and even though Garou wasn't anywhere near the level he'd been against that dumbass Sage Centipede, the guy was still plenty strong enough to handle most monster threats.
Then again, it was probably in the best interest of Silver Fang, the H.A., the city, and humanity in general that Badd follow and keep an eye on Garou.
"Fine. Whatever."
"You don't sound too enthused. Maybe you shouldn't tag along after all."
"Awesome. I'm so excited."
"Aw, well if you're just going to beg me," Garou cackled as he changed directions to double back down the street they just came.
Badd hesitated for a moment, but eventually followed. He tried to keep pace with Garou, grinding his teeth to swallow down the pain of his leg, until they stopped outside some shitty little conveyor belt diner.
For a brief instant, Badd had thought Garou maybe stopped out of consideration for Badd's injuries. And Badd was getting ready to tell Garou exactly where he could shove his damn pity when Garou opened the door to the diner and stepped in.
Off-set by the suddenness of this action, Badd couldn't think of what else to do but follow him in.
"Yer special mission was to get sushi?" Badd asked after easing himself down in the plastic chair across from Garou.
"Ha! So you were listening!" Garou plucked an incoming yellowtail off the belt and tore into it with a viscous bite. "I was actually supposed to be getting some groceries."
"A task worthy of yer skill," Badd grumbled as he morosely watched a salmon nigiri ease on by.
"Heh, you're lucky I don't hunt anymore, hero." He moved to put his empty plate back into the belt, but Badd managed to snatch Garou's wrist in time.
"If I hafta see one more person put a Goddamn plate back, someone's dying."
"Yeah. You, dipshit." Garou snorted, but acquiesced to Badd's grip and placed the plate back onto the table
He tore through several more plates in the ensuing silence. Probably wasn't even really tasting them, but with a cheap chain like this that could very well have been his intention.
And normally Badd wouldn't mind all that much either and be packing it away with the best of them. But, with his head pounding away at his skull and the blaring lights overhead swaying like ocean waves, the mere thought of food was enough to bring the acrid taste of bile to the back of his throat.
"You gonna eat anything, or just sit there and be anemic?"
Fuck, that's right. He'd lost a decent amount of blood. And lunch had been awfully light. He probably really needed the calories, the vitamins and all that shit. There had to be something mild enough keep down.
He scanned the menu on the table and used the tablet to order a rice pudding. It came around the bend suspiciously quickly, but Badd really didn't have it in him to be critiquing the health and safety standards of the place.
Badd plucked the pudding bowl off the belt and stared down at it with more determination than any of his battles that day.
He could do this. He needed to do this. His stomach ached at the thought of food. It wanted. It yearned. All while threatening the worst if Badd gave in to its contradictory demands.
His tongue sat slimy in his mouth while his throat went dry and spasmed in a warning, but he dug his spoon into the creamy dessert regardless. And Badd, to his credit, managed to choke down about half of the bowl before his stomach rebelled.
He shot up from his seat and raced towards the back, where toilets in this place usually were. His wounded leg protested the strain. His brain rolled in dizzying waves. And he barely remembered to latch the door behind himself before heaving his guts out into the bowl.
Heaving wretches wracked through his body. A slippery bile bubbled up from his stomach and surged from his mouth, relentless and uncaring for his own disgust in the action.
His body trembled from the aftershocks. At some point, legs slid out from underneath a body that felt ten times heavier.
He flinched when his foot knocked into something, and in an instant realized it was his bat. Lunging across the bathroom to catch it before it could clang embarrassingly loud against the linoleum brought a new wave of nausea, churning his stomach like a monsoon.
After dealing with the latest surge of puke, he sat there, his body shaking, as he waited for the room to stop spinning. He pressed the cool metal of his weapon against his forehead to try and help, until the next round forced him back to the bowl.
After a few minutes of anxious silence passed, Badd flushed the toilet and stood on wobbly kegs. He hobbled towards the sink and rinsed his mouth out, gargling and swishing the best he could, but the acid clung to the back of his throat. He had a looming feeling that the bitter stench was engulfing him like a cloud of noxious fumes as he headed back to the table.
Badd ignored Garou's stare as he sat back down at the table and took measured sips from his tepid water. His throat stung with every swallow, but he forced an air of casual indifference, as if he frequently ran to bathrooms between pudding bites.
He studiously ignored Garou's stare by feigning interest in the various concert posters and job listings stapled to the nearby corkboard. As he was reading about cheap lawn services (one of the phone number tabs had actually been taken, wonder if it was any good) he heard another plate touch the table and risked a glance.
Garou was eating again, and more importantly not looking at him, but he didn't stay quiet for long.
"You know, I think a good meal solves just about everything."
Well, Badd would hesitate to call this a good meal. Frankly he'd be uncomfortable placing it on the same grading scale, but he wasn't ever much of a picky eater and would rather participate than not if given the option.
"Sleep's better."
"So then just do that," Garou snorted, the thinly sliced yellowtail flopping in his hand as he shrugged, "like I'd give a shit about table manners."
"Can't,"
Garou chewed his nigiri slowly, his golden eyes sharp and shrewd. Badd had a feeling he'd be a difficult person to keep up with even if his cranium were firing on all cylinders.
He ignored Garou's stare with another sip of water.
"You need a hospital or something?"
The suggestion, blasé and yet so insulting because of that, made Badd tense instinctively. Years of arguments with a little sister who panicked too easily (or probably the normal amount for someone who saw her big brother come home broken and bleeding more than any kid ought to) made him defensive on impulse.
And even now, his actions were laid bare to the self-proclaimed (and, admittedly proven) martial-arts genius.
"Okay, so no hospital."
He snatched two plates, one salmon roe and one unagi, and shoveled both down his gullet.
But he didn't stop staring at him.
"Concussion," Badd admitted, "not serious."
Garou nodded with a hum and grabbed a tuna. "Figured your skull would be too thick to get one."
"Thick skull's the problem," Badd mumbled and rubbed the creeping sleep out of his eyes. "Brain is soft, inertia and shit, hits my skull and-"
He slammed his palm onto the table, jolting most of the diners around them. Garou stared impassively with a half eaten tuna still sticking out between his teeth.
Badd could feel his head slouching down, seeking comfort on the table with the tantalizing promise to rest his eyes against the glaring fluorescents for just a second but he caught himself and aborted with a flinch.
"Been ages since I had a concussion," Garou replied, tilting his head to the side and casting his eyes up in memory. "At least, a concussion that I remember. But you have to stay awake cuz of comas or something, right?"
"My Ma'd say that. Doctor said not really. More risk for, for...crap, what was that term, uh, brain problem things, like, something going wrong, something else,"
The back of his neck warmed from not having the words on hand to describe his own damn injury, but Garou didn't take advantage of the opening like Badd had feared.
"Okay, so you gotta stay awake. How long?"
"Dunno, rest of the night?"
Fuck, how much longer was that even? He'd called Zenko to tell her that he'd be late at around...7 or so. Then he'd walked around a bit. And apparently had fallen asleep for some immeasurable amount. Then this dinner. So then he had about...
"It's only, like, 9." Garou reported after checking his phone.
"Fuck," he couldn't risk laying his head on the table so settled for slouching in his rickety seat.
Garou whistled lowly and chuckled. "Yeah, sucks for you."
"You still huntin'? Wanna put me outa my misery?" Badd clutched his head as a new, sudden throbbing pain reverberated throughout his skull.
"Nah, if you do something well, don't do it for free~"
"Then what the fuck was that back in S-City?"
"Hmmm, a free sample,"
Unbidden, the image of Garou standing at the entrance to a grocery store in a uniform and stupid company visor stuffed over his hair with a sign reading "free ass-kicking".
At Garou's inquisitive stare, he explained the idea between snickers.
He took it with greater humor than Badd would have expected, as a sharp grin overtook his features.
"Tch, I wish I could just work at a grocery store. Could take home all the expiring food for free, no more stupid fucking dojo rules-"
Badd interrupted Garou ticking off all the positives, "-wait a second, dojo? Ya mean Silver Fang took ya back?"
Badd couldn't quite make out the precise expression Garou made. Something about the pinched eyebrows and down turned lip suggested annoyance, at Badd or Silver Fang though he had no idea. However the scoff Garou paired with it managed to cast the irritation in a more humorous light.
"What can you do. Old man came looking for me and strong armed me into coming back. Must be getting lonely in his old age."
"And what, you couldn't fight him back with your Water Roaring Circle Jerk Demon Fisting Strike-"
"Better finisher than Savage Dragon or whatever you named that dumbass spinning you do."
"Whatever you call it, can't you just use that?"
Garou crossed his arms and looked askance. Badd could laugh at how similar he looked to Zenko when she didn't want to admit her forgotten chores.
"I, I just don't want to accidentally kill the old fart, you know?"
"Yeah, sure," Badd replied, trying hard to inject how much he 'totally believed' Garou's stellar acting in his tone.
Garou shrugged him off and plucked the next plate, tuna again, with the laziness of someone looking to eat more from boredom than hunger. "He's getting up there in years, you know. Quit being a hero and everything."
Badd nodded, having heard about Silver Fang's resignation during the fallout of the Monster Association mess. Badd may've been pretty zonked out on painkillers, but he at least remembered that much during the last Class-S briefing.
In fact, there were a lot of things changed by this Monster Association. Darkshine lacked his bombastic confidence. Child Emperor seemed so stressed. Zombieman carried this intensity that was borderline manic. Even Puri Puri had this air of focus about him that he normally lacked.
And while it was by no means entirely Garou's fault, it still felt a bit surreal to be sitting across from a major reason it had all gone the way it had.
Badd remembered the scout who had visited him after patrol last week and pitched to him this new organization. One dedicated to protecting the lives of people above all else, and promised everything from equipment to training in order to achieve it.
They had promised to usher in a new era of heroes.
Badd finished his water while Garou stood up and headed to the cashier to settle the tab.
They stepped outside into the hot and humid night, and Badd took a moment to consider which way was the route home. Though it didn't take very much effort before he confirmed that, nope, deep thought was definitely still a pipedream at this point. He tucked the bat into his belt and struggled to figure out what the hell to do next.
"Hey, let's take a walk." Garou suggested beside him.
"To where?"
Garou dove his hands into his pants pockets and hiked his shoulders up. "I don't know, just fucking, like, walk. You still have enough brain cells to know what that is, don't you?"
"Yeah, and I've got a few left over to know that this," and he gestured to his bloody leg, "probably shouldn't be going on any marathons."
Garou clicked his teeth and rolled his eyes skyward. Like Badd's injury was such a huge fucking inconvenience to him.
"Come on then, I know a place."
"I already told ya, I ain't goin' to any hospital!"
"Like I give a shit enough to take you to one. Just come on, it's not far."
Without any other options on hand, and with his brain too muddled and uncooperative to try and supply one, Badd silently followed Garou. The streets got less populated and the light fixtures more infrequent the further they traveled until a right turn eventually spat them out at the entrance to a little park.
Garou gestured with a jerk of his head towards a bench, and Badd didn't argue the invitation to take a seat. His leg throbbed, protesting from the short journey and showed its disgruntlement by continuing to bleed sluggishly.
Badd slouched down and cast his head back until his neck was propped against the back of the bench. He stared up at the sky, any stars hidden by the warm glow of the lone park streetlight perched directly in the center of the park. It was far enough into his peripherals not to bring any new nausea, so Badd was careful not to adjust his head and change that fact.
His peace was broken when Garou appeared, upside down, above him.
"Roll up your pant leg."
"Huh?"
"What, your language center go to rot? I said roll up your pant leg," and he held up a crinkled plastic bottle of water like that would help explain anything.
Badd groaned as he shifted upright and then leaned down, moving slowly to keep his aching head from jostling. He couldn't manage the dexterity to cuff his hakama with any semblance of order, so he just shoved the hem up until his bloody left calf was fully exposed.
With the mess of old blood (a rusted brown) and new (bright scarlet) smeared all over, one had to really look close to make out the (admittedly concerning) hue of blackish -purple the skin around the bite had gone.
Necrotizing, the word drifted to the front of his mind, like a piece of flotsam floating up from a shipwreck.
"Gross," Garou noted, staring down at his leg.
"It's just the lighting," Badd defended, trying to convince both himself and Garou.
Garou looked at the water bottle in hand and back down to his leg. "I can find a knife or saw or something instead."
It took a few seconds until Badd's molasses of a thought progress could register what exactly Garou was suggesting. "It's not dead yet, asshole. I can still feel it!"
"And what's it feel like," Garou asked as he knelt down onto the dirt beside his leg.
"Fucking fantastic, whadaya think?"
"Well I mean, if it's burning you may need, like, antibiotics or something?"
"How would antibiotics help that?"
"I don't know; I'm not a fucking doctor, am I?"
Garou's hand suddenly grasped his ankle. His fingers were long and slender, but were deceptively strong, as Badd's instinctive flinch was completely restricted under Garou's grip.
His touch was a cool balm against skin that Badd hadn't realized was feverish until he felt its opposite. The bite of his nails, not sharpened to a point but a bit longer than normal, distracted Badd so much that he didn't register the "hold still" until Garou was already pouring the water over his wound.
Again, Garou's grip held fast as Badd jerked from the sensation of lukewarm water running over exposed skin and muscle and, oh, was that bone? How fucking deep had that bite mark gone?
Garou was methodical, pouring the water at a steady pace and going in a careful, sweeping motion. Left to right, from top to bottom, in order to flush out the area.
It was kinda soothing, actually, and Badd relaxed into the curve of the bench as an unintentional sigh slipped out from his lips.
"I need your sleeve,"
"Huh?"
Again, before he could understand the words, Garou acted. This time, tearing his right (and only undamaged) shirt sleeve clean off at the shoulder.
"What the fuck, man?" Badd asked, too tired to muster up the proper indignation such a dick move warranted.
"Need a bandage," Garou explained as he methodically tore the sleeve until it was a single long strip of red fabric.
His eyes flicked up to Badd's briefly before going back to focusing on winding the makeshift bandage around his calf. "What did you expect me to use?"
"I dunno, but not my fucking shirt, dickhead. I mean, a sleeveless turtleneck? I look fucking stupid."
"Now, now, don't blame the shirt for that. You look stupid all on your own." He glanced back up at Badd again with a textbook shit-eating grin. "You could always just take the rest of it off if it bothers you that much."
"And end up with a citation for indecent exposure or some shit? No thanks."
"Aw drat, you saw through my dastardly scheme to get you arrested." Garou's smirked as his eyes ran up and down Badd's exposed arms before tracing the parts of his chest still covered. Probably categorically memorizing the ridiculous sight in front of him for future mockery.
Badd crossed his arms over his chest to block his view. "Why'd ya even need to wrap it anyways? Not even bleedin' that much."
Garou finally took his eyes away and looked back down as he fastened the wrappings in a secure, if unprofessional, knot. "No, but it's been bleeding for a while, yeah? This might help keep some of it in until it finally scabs over."
He set down Badd's leg, so gingerly that Badd was briefly stunned into silence, before taking a seat beside him on the bench.
"I think the bite may've been like that animal with that saliva that keeps wounds open, ya know? Like an, ah, what's it called. Anti-somethin'. Anti-aggulate?"
"Anti-coagulant, I think." Garou tried, his own voice surprisingly hesitant. Like he wasn't, for once, proclaiming that he was certain of every statement pouring from his mouth.
"Yeah, that. Monster was a snake-thing, and I think some snakes can do that."
"Cobras or some shit," Garou added, and kicked a stray pebble. It skidded across the dirt until it collided with the base of the streetlight with a soft plink. "Remember that from some Animal Planet show."
"Most Extreme, maybe?" Badd tried to cast his mind back to a period in his life when he had more time for TV. It was a fuzzy static, but he faintly recalled the show's intro theme and cheesy computer graphics.
"Oh yeah! Forgot about that show," Garou smiled. "Didn't they once have, like, the Most Extreme Gross animals?"
Badd could feel the chuckle rumble through his chest more than he heard it. "What? How would ya even measure that?"
Garou half turned towards him, his arms coming up and hands tracing the air as he spoke. "You know, like that frog that spits up it's stomach, or that lizard that squirts blood out of its eyes!"
His eyes were wide and bright, and while the smile stretched across his lean face still carried a certain manic undertone, its viciousness was tempered by near childlike excitement imbued in his words.
"Figured you'd like weird animals like that."
"Oh what, don't tell me your favorite animals are like, turtles or something."
"Hey now, turtles ain't that bad. But my favorite lists usually involved sharks, I think."
Garou hummed and nodded carefully. "Not bad, not bad. Alright, you pass, for now."
"Oh good, I was worried for a second," Badd huffed, but couldn't suppress the smile creeping across his face. "So alright then, what's your favorite animal?"
"Hmm, hornets," he concluded with a serrated grin.
Badd let out a startled chuckle, yet wasn't completely surprised. "Those bastards? What, ya feel some kinda kinship with 'em?"
"Maybe," Garou teased as he rocked his head side to side. "Maybe they're incredibly misunderstood members of the ecosystem."
"Maybe they're viscous little bugs that gotta stop takin' everything personally. Just cuz I walked by your fucking nest doesn't mean I'm tryin' to stomp ya,"
Garou's smile twisted, becoming sharp and dangerous and, Badd wasn't sure how else to describe it, not entirely there. Or maybe more accurately, not really directed at him.
"Well maybe if hornets weren't constantly being squashed and gassed and hated by everyone, they wouldn't be so defensive."
Garou's fist, the furthest from him and one that Garou maybe thought Badd couldn't see, was clenched tightly, the veins bulging out the pale skin from the strain. His jaw was tight, his eyes trained on some far off memory.
"Ah, troubled childhood," Badd hummed.
"Wha-" Garou blinked and turned towards him. His fist loosened so that he could point at Badd, and his jaw relaxed so he could open his stupid mouth to yell.
"What are you fucking talking about, shithead? Huh? Spewing some bullshit out of nowhere like that! You really must've knocked your head hard if you think for one second that you have any clue about anything, or anyone! Let alone me!"
Ugh, he should've kept his mouth shut. This was so fucking irritating.
"Just shut up for a second," Badd groaned. He tried to massage his temple, but it did nothing to help the growing pressure in his skull.
"You're the one who fucking started it, asshole! So don't you tell me to shut up!"
"Holy shit dude, calm down. So your childhood sucked, big fucking whoop. It sucks for a lotta people."
"Don't you belittle me."
"I'm not, just tellin' ya that it's not a big deal if it sucked. I mean, I won't lie and say I had it worse, cuz I probably didn't. But like, it's over with. You're here. So stop actin' like I'm the one who did anythin' to ya!"
A tense silence settled between them as they both deflated into the curve of the bench. Neither spoke. Neither looked at each other, or at least Badd didn't look at Garou. Fucker dragged him all the way out here, ripped apart his shirt, and had been screaming right by his ear.
But then again, he'd at least cleaned and dressed his leg. Pretty competently too. So, whatever.
His throat was tight and dry from all the talking though. Could really use some water.
Badd sat up slightly and gave a cursory glance around the area for the heavenly glow of a vending machine, but found no such blessing in the area.
"By the way, where's the vendin' machine?"
Garou gave him a perplexed look, "what vending machine?"
"The one ya got the water bottle from."
"I got it from the trash," he went so far as to point out the wire basket a few feet away.
"What the- ya cleaned my wound with trash water?!"
"Hey, the water was clean. I got it from the sinks," he adjusted his finger and now pointed towards the public toilets.
"That doesn't make it better! Ya probably infected my leg with mouth germs!"
"Okay, yeah, but like, I got out the dirt germs. So it balances out."
Jesus Christ. How was this guy fucking alive?
"You want more?" Garou asked, with the fucking audacity to hold up the crumpled bottle that, now that Badd was looking, was missing its label.
"Forget it, I'll just drink from the tap," Badd huffed before taking a second to mentally prepare himself and standing up.
He didn't stumble, per say, but his movements could definitely be called stiff as he made his way towards the public toilets. The interior was exactly what he'd expected, dubious but not biohazardous, but the water was clear so that was good enough.
A few handfuls of water later, and Badd exited the toilet and saw Garou standing near the doorway, polishing off the bottle of trash water without complaint.
"What're you doin'?"
Garou made a point to not look directly at him as he shrugged. "Wanted to make sure you didn't pass out or anything."
"Thought ya didn't care," Badd side stepped Garou and shuffled back towards the bench.
Garou tossed the bottle away (hopefully its second attempt at finding a home in the rubbish bin would be more successful) and walked beside him. Each step Garou took remained annoyingly light, only emphasizing Badd's graceless lumbering. "I don't, but I went through the effort to fix your leg and all."
"With trash water and my own shirt sleeve!"
"It was a team effort!" Garou grinned, going so far as to give him a thumbs up.
Badd responded with a different finger.
They had reached the bench by then, but sitting down again so soon was unappealing, so he continued shuffling down the path. Garou didn't say a word, thank god, and only quietly followed just slightly behind.
They walked in a lazy circle around the perimeter of the park until, eventually, parking themselves on the swing set tucked between a jungle gym and sandbox.
Badd gently swayed back and forth, allowing the old memories of his parents teaching him to swing, height competitions between friends, and mastering the backflip dismount to wash over him with the indolent speed of an incoming tide.
Garou, meanwhile, stared at the jungle gym beside them. His mouth was curled down into a frown while his teeth absently chewed the inside of his cheek. Like before, it was almost like his stare was focused on something beyond what he was looking at. If not a different place, then maybe a different time.
"Ya wanna go down the slide or something?" Badd teased, leaning over to jerk his elbow into Garou's exposed side.
He blinked a few times, his eyes coming back into focus. "Huh?"
Badd gestured to the jungle gym. "The slide. You wanna go? I won't judge ya, I promise."
"No, ah, no I don't-" he cut himself off and swayed slightly from digging the toe of his shoe into the mulch below.
Badd stared for a moment, giving Garou the chance to finish his sentence, but when no continuation was forthcoming, he turned his gaze back up to the sky he couldn't find any stars in.
"You ever watch Sentai?" Garou broke the silence.
"...that shit with the tentacles?"
Garou paused, his brows furrowed and mouth slightly agape, until his eyebrows shot up in realization. "Not hen- that, idiot. Sentai. Sen-tai."
The upper slopes of his cheeks had gone pink in his frustration. Heh. Kinda cute.
Wait. Cute? Damn. His concussion must've been getting worse.
"It's the group of heroes in costume that beat up monsters."
"Oh, like Power Rangers, right?"
"Tch, if you like the lame version, sure."
"Well, if it wasn't obvious. No. I never really watched that. I preferred cartoons. Naruto and One Piece and all that. That or baseball."
Badd cocked his head to the side, considering this new information and how it fit alongside what he already knew about the previously proclaimed "Human Monster" beside him.
"Wouldn't've figured ya to be a fan though, what with how monster crazy ya are."
"I can like other things," Garou huffed, surprisingly petulant for a man who viscously and efficiently tore through many a hero and monster mere months ago. "Besides, didn't say I always rooted for the heroes to win."
"Why would ya ever want the monsters to win?"
"Because, they tried so hard. They were there, alone, against four, five heroes. Everyone was against them and they gave it their all. It's not fair that they always lose."
"Okay, but like, if they won, it'd be the end of the world, wouldn't it? So it's kinda important that they don't win."
"Not necessarily. Sometimes they're fighting because their home got polluted, or they're protecting their clan, or because they were just sent there by someone else."
"Alright, but sometimes they're child eating monsters who kick puppies and burn down forests. That's kinda why they're getting beat up."
"But it's still not fair."
"Life's not fair."
Garou growled, more in his chest than his throat, and the sound made the hairs on the back of Badd's neck stand up.
He grabbed the handle of his bat on instinct, but didn't pull it from his belt.
Not yet.
"If I have to hear that stupid fucking line one more goddamn time..."
"You'll what," Badd asked, when it seemed like Garou wasn't going to finish.
His lips curled in like there was a nasty taste across his tongue, exposing the tips of his canines in the process. He stared over at Badd, his eyes like steel. "Someone's going to die."
Badd met his gaze. "Right. Cuz that's fair?"
Garou snarled and looked away, back down to between his feet. His grip on the chains tightened. "People use that excuse to explain away all the shit in the world. It's not life that's unfair, it's people."
"It's both. Life is unfair, yeah, and there are people who'll take advantage of that to make it worse. But hunting down the people who are trying to help isn't doin' fuckin' anything."
"It does when those sorry excuse for heroes are perpetuating a system that allows for people to take advantage of the unfairness of life."
Ugh, too many fucking words. This wasn't an argument he'd have wanted even if his brain wasn't a puddle of Precambrian goo, and now each word sank into the murk with a gurgle and the effort to pull them out and craft a response was so monumental that he was half-tempted to concede for the sake of peace and quiet.
The only thing that kept him tethered to the surface, was the identity of this particular annoyance beside him.
"And how's that gonna change the system? You're basically bitching at the waitress about a 50 dollar steak. She doesn't set the price, idiot. If ya really got a problem, you take it to the top."
Garou relaxed marginally as he raised a slender eyebrow at him. "Are you really suggesting I ask to speak to a manager?"
"I'm suggestin' that if ya want a system to change, then ya gotta target the people who can change it. Fuck man, I'm not saying I'm perfect, but did ya really think cleanin' my clock was gonna solve anythin'?"
Garou stopped and grinned over at Badd: half threatening, half teasing, entirely amused. "That's why I was becoming a monster!"
"Huh?"
Garou let go of the swing chains and twisted his body at the waist to face Badd a little better. "Because, what brings heroes together? A threat! And if the threat is big enough, any issues can be overcome for the sake of survival! No more prejudice with class or race or gender or anything! One humanity against one monster!"
Badd wanted to say: that's fucking stupid.
He wanted to say: nothing is ever that simple.
He really wanted to say: you mean well, but you haven't met with those hero execs, most of them really will hang everyone out to dry for their own skin
But Garou was staring at him with such brightness in his eyes. Staring at Badd as he explained this incredibly tragic idea that, with his death, the world would be better.
And Badd just couldn't find it in him to smother that terribly placed optimism.
"Okay... let's say that would work. Why did that monster have to be you?"
Garou blinked, perhaps startled that Badd was humoring him, but recovered smoothly. A supercilious little smirk stretched across his face, like it should have been really fucking obvious why Garou's life meant less.
"Well, I was always a monster, you know. I've practically been born for this."
"Born to be destroyed?"
Garou's humor was snuffed out. He glared at Badd as though he had personally rained on his pitiful parade. "No, born to be the greatest threat to humanity the Earth has ever seen."
"Okay, and then destroyed, right? When humanity puts aside their class and race and whatever to survive against the threat, when there is peace between people and everything is fair, it's because they came together to defeat you."
Garou's scowl twisted in on itself as Badd spoke, like he'd bitten into an especially sour lemon, or had realized he'd stepped in a pile of dog crap and it'd smeared into every nook of his sole.
"So then," Badd finished. "Why would ya wanna be a monster?"
Garou turned back in his seat, facing forward. His hands carefully came up to clutch the chains in a loose grip. "Because that's just what I am, okay?"
His voice echoed across the playground. Hollow. Empty. The recitation of a rote phrase long ago memorized.
"You're human, Garou. So why would ya wanna call yourself-"
"Because that's just what I am okay!" Garou snapped. His gaze was lazer-focused on the ground between his feet, but Badd could sense the intensity radiating off his hunched over body: ready and willing to attack on the slightest provocation.
Badd sat there, waiting for Garou to settle, but as time stretched on, his hands only tightened around the chain, trembling from the strain of the grip.
"Just shut up, okay," he eventually hissed. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"I don't?"
"No. You don't. People like you can't understand what it's like. No matter what I did, I was fucking wrong. Just because I was a little weird, a little weak, a little ugly, I was the one who had to be defeated. It didn't matter what I wanted, I was just there for them to play with and throw aside when they were done. And if I tried to make them stop-"
His hands clenched and Garou jumped in time before the snapping chain could dump him ass first onto the ground.
"I was always the bad guy. The loser. The monster."
He radiated a malice full of twisted killing intent. His body trembled, tense and anxious and ready to unleash its pent up fury on something, anything.
And, like an idiot, Badd opened his mouth and made himself a target.
"So ya decided to prove them right."
Garou whipped around to face him. His eyes were focused, his hands were perched to strike, but he froze. Staring down at Badd.
Badd didn't know what Garou was waiting on, and couldn't muster the energy to figure it out, so he left that to the person amongst them who wasn't nursing a brain injury.
"I guess I did." Garou eventually said, soft and delicate. Like if he said it any louder it might crumble apart.
Badd nodded, slow and careful so as to not jostle his head. "And did it feel good?"
Garou went quiet again. Somehow even moreso than before.
And Badd let him stew in his thoughts. He understood what it was like when the brain was a slippery mess that refused to be coordinated into anything resembling a sequence of thought.
A slow, tepid, watery mess unable (and unwilling) to get itself together.
Because that's what his brain was like.
Right now.
So he could understand why Garou would want to stop thinking.
If just for a bit.
And just sit there.
In the silence.
In the dark.
Quiet.
Peaceful.
.
.
.
Badd jerked awake when he felt hands push against his back.
"Wha- hey!" He clutched the chains, their metal links digging into his palms, to keep himself on the seat as Garou pushed him forward.
"Tch, heavy aren't you," he laughed, pushing him again, harder.
Badd glared at him over his shoulder. "Ya threw a fucking helicopter, I don't wanna hear it!"
Garou laughed and pushed him again. He was starting to get some height now. The flow of air racing through his hair was cooling, and the whistling past his ears was soothing, but it wasn't long until the rocking motion started to build and build until it was less relaxing hammock and more ship in a monsoon.
Badd let go of the chains and kicked off the seat at the apex of his arc. He made sure to land on his right leg, only struggling a little as he shifted his weight to remain upright.
"What, no flip?" Garou smirked.
"Not at that height," Badd shuffled back towards the swing set and gestured at Garou and the empty seat. "Your turn."
"Huh? With the state you're in?"
"I'm disoriented, not invalid. Sit yer ass down."
Garou did as commanded and eased himself down onto the seat Badd had vacated. He craned his neck around to watch Badd, though capitulated easily enough when Badd pressed a hand on his cheek to push his face forward and away from his.
He gave Garou a nudge, testing both his own strength and Garou's comfort. When both seemed solid enough, he gave a harder shove on Garou's next swing.
Harder and harder.
Higher and higher.
Badd usually didn't push Zenko anymore, not for the past few years, and never had he done it with this kind of force. It was actually kind of fun to put a bit of effort into it. To feel the firmness of someone's body underneath his hand, and to lean his weight behind every push. To see someone get propelled higher with your effort, and to try and outdo yourself each time.
After a bit, Garou launched himself off at the peak and neatly completed two front flips before alighting gracefully onto the mulch. Though, strangely, he decided the let the momentum carry him further into a somersault that landed him flat onto his back.
Badd walked towards him, mulch shushing underfoot, until he stood above Garou's head.
He stared down at Garou.
Garou stared back up.
His face was slack, but his eyes were wide open. Twin rings of gold looked up at Badd, or maybe something behind him? Badd glanced over his shoulder but saw nothing. Just an empty park lit by the lone street lamp.
He looked back down at Garou, brushing aside the loose hair that had slipped across his forehead from the movement, and was met with a stare that could almost be called surprised. Fucking weirdo.
"Hey Metal Bat,"
"Badd," he instinctively corrected, before he could even think about whether he wanted Garou to call him by his name.
Garou swallowed.
"Badd," he tried, and Badd was surprised by how much he liked the shape of his name in Garou's voice, "I, I think I would like to go down the slide."
Badd could feel the smile stretching across his face. He offered a hand down, and wrapped his fingers around Garou's accepting hand.
"Heh, called it."
They moved at a sedate pace, from section to section. Their enthusiasm was by no means diminished despite their unhurried movements. If anything, it only gave them time to poke and tease and joke with each other while they visited each attraction the jungle gym offered.
While they went down the slide (and climbed back up, exactly as they'd been told not to), they talked about their least favorite songs.
Crossing the monkey bars, skipping every other with their long arms and reaching the other side in only two swings, they practically fell into hysterics while imitating various primates.
On the rope climb, they shared ridiculous fears. The kinds of things they weren't really afraid of, no siree, just made a little uneasy by or went out of their way to avoid.
Tucked in the tunnel, Badd related his exact grievances with Amai Mask and the public sphere of hero work in general, and Garou hesitantly recounted his issues with this one brat from school in particular.
Badd had no idea how long they'd been at the park, but he body was heavy and sluggish as he trudged back to the park bench from before.
He sighed as he tilted his head back, so he wouldn't have to hold up its heavy weight, and absently brushed his hand across his throat, thinking he probably should have gotten a bit more water while he had still been upright.
Too late now though. Badd's body craved stillness, and since he couldn't grant it the full rest of unconsciousness, he could at least sit down.
"Thirsty again?" Garou asked. He hadn't sat down yet and looked down at Badd with a hand resting on a cocked out hip. "Jeez, such high maintenance."
"Says the guy who nearly- wait, where're you going?"
Garou was already a few steps down the path, having moved just as Badd started speaking, and continued with a lazy wave behind him. "I'll be back in a sec."
Badd felt like he should have been worried, like maybe he was supposed to get up and stop Garou from leaving and getting into trouble, whether it be against hero or monster. But, and maybe it was concussion talking, he really didn't feel like that was necessary.
Maybe it was the concussion talking, but he really didn't think Garou was up to anything nefarious.
Maybe it was the concussion talking, but Garou was maybe, possibly, a good guy.
Yeah. It was the concussion talking.
Badd relaxed against the bench and glanced at his phone. Nearly 4 AM. Sun would be up soon. And while he didn't exactly feel good, he also didn't exactly feel like he was going to die. So. He was probably in the clear by now. Right?
I mean. He'd had a busy day.
And the day before that too.
And the day before that.
And before that.
Day after day.
It's been years since he'd had to step up and be more than just a brother. And over a year since he'd had to add "hero" to that list of titles. You'd think he'd be used to it by now.
And yet, it was less like getting used to hot water and more like carrying a heavy load.
So, it was kind of nice to just sit down, clear the head, and breathe.
Set down the load.
Free up his shoulders.
And just.
Breathe.
.
.
.
There was something touching him.
Something warm. Something soft.
Gentle.
Right against his lips.
It disappeared.
Had he imagined it?
He felt a tiny gust of air.
Warm air, but made cool when it touched the faint dampness of his mouth.
There was a presence near him, over him. Not dangerous, but there. Close.
It came closer.
Something warm. Something soft.
Gentle.
Right against his lips.
Badd opened his eyes.
And was met with twin rings of gold staring back at him.
"Wha-wait, hold on-"
Badd acted before his brain could fully catch up, as slow as it was being that night, and reached out to clutch the back of Garou's neck and pull him back in. Back to warmth and softness, though perhaps lacking in the gentleness of before as Badd pressed against Garou from both ends.
Garou's dry lips capitulated beneath his and opened up to Badd's insistence. He surged forward, sinking his tongue and stroking against Garou's in a way that felt so indescribably amazing. Even if he had more than half of his brain online, Badd could never have the words to describe the feel, the taste, the electricity racing up and down his spine as he continued to kiss Garou until his head was spinning again.
His hand, acting on a mind of its own with the big-man upstairs checked out, snaked up to clutch the back of Garou's skull and tangle his fingers in downy hair. He gave a gentle tug, not enough to pull Garou away, but enough to make him aware of his hand. The corners of Badd's mouth curled up in a grin at Garou's answering moan, and he tugged one last time, with the force necessary to separate them before Badd really did pass out.
Garou stared back at him, eyes half lidded in a sultry daze, and tilted his chin towards him, instinctively searching to reconnect. Badd watched as Garou realized his own eagerness and aborted the act with widened eyes and a dusting of pink across his cheekbones.
Fuck whatever brain injury he had. That really was too damn cute.
"W-what's wrong with you!" Garou shrieked as he pulled himself away from Badd's grip.
And Badd sat there, bereft of understanding and hot-guy. "Uh, the fuck are ya talkin' about?"
Garou's cheeks only got darker as the blush spread across his cheeks to the tips of his ears.
Doubly cute.
"You kissed me?!" He shouted, already starting to pace in a tight little back and forth. "Why?! Why would you do that?!"
"Why would I- well I've got a head injury, what's your excuse?!"
"I'm a fucking weirdo! That's my excuse!"
They stood there, or rather, Badd sat there while Garou continued to fume and mutter to himself. Badd realized there was something cold against his leg and glanced down to see a water bottle beside him on the bench: condensation running down the sides, label intact, and -he realized upon opening- fully sealed. Huh. So that's where he disappeared off to.
Badd took a deep drink while Garou tired himself out with his nonsensical ranting. Something about monsters not feeling things.
He glanced at his phone. 4:47.
"Hey, dumbass."
"What." Garou snapped, irritated either by the interruption or the nickname. Honestly, Badd was just amused that he bothered to respond to the insult at all.
"Let's get going."
Badd chugged most of the water and pocketed it to save for later. He eased himself up onto his feet and, after checking that his bat was secured, started hobbling over towards the park entrance.
"Fucking where?"
Badd paused to glance over his shoulder. "Ya said ya had a special mission, right? Well, lucky for you, ya ran into a hero to help accomplish it."
Garou stared back at him, his dopey expression the picture definition of confused, but ultimately followed him out of the park.
"Do you even know where you're going, genius?" Garou sneered as they made there way down the block.
"Sorta, the nap actually kinda helped a bit. I think if we take a left here and follow it down to the next intersection, we'll eventually," and they reached the street in question to see a major road. Further down which, sat a corner store.
Badd glanced to his right to catch Garou staring at the store, his face hardening into understanding.
"Can't let ya go back empty handed, now can I?" Badd teased as he elbowed Garou in the side. "What kinda hero would I be?"
"A fucking lousy one if you're actually helping someone in need." Garou smirked as he started walking across the empty street, crosswalk down on the corner be damned.
After glancing both ways, Badd followed him.
The stood in a somewhat tense silence, Badd finishing up his water bottle, until the store opened at 5. Once in, Badd showcased his expertise and led Garou up and down the aisle, pointing out the off-brand items that were just as good as name-brand, teaching the best way to pick out ripe peaches, detailing the concept of cost per ounce, and otherwise coaching Garou in the fine art of the meal prep. Between the coupons Bang had given Garou and Badd's membership card, they were able to make up for the cost of cheap sushi and vending machine water.
But once the work was finished, a silence descended back over the two as they walked down the streets. Badd wasn't sure where they were going. He wasn't sure when they were going to get there. And he didn't really know if he could broach the subject. He'd played it cool back in the park, when it seemed that a distraction was what Garou had needed. But with that task complete, there was nothing left to shield them from the elephant bearing down upon them (apparently having never heard of the concept of sitting patiently in the corner or, perhaps, not caring of the tradition in the least).
He glanced over to Garou, who walked with careful steps and his gaze firmly held on the concrete ahead. The bag of groceries dangled from his left hand, leaving the space between them unoccupied.
Badd wanted to close that distance.
His hand twitched.
But remained empty.
Fuck he was so tired.
"So, um, thanks."
Badd blinked and refocused his attention on Garou, who was still in a staring match with the sidewalk.
"For, uh, for the, you know, the shopping."
The quiet sincerity of Garou's words struck him more forcefully than any of the hunter's punches ever had. "Oh, um no problem. Thanks for the, uh, for the water."
"And your leg," Garou added, nodding to the appendage.
"Pft, if I somehow wake up tomorrow without any gangrene, then maybe I'll thank you for my leg."
"So we'll be seeing each other tomorrow then?" Garou asked, the corner of his lips raising high enough for Badd to make out a canine.
He could still remember the feel of it against his bottom lip. Without thinking, his tongue flicked out, searching for any lingering taste to accompany the phantom pressure.
Garou followed his tongue with a ferocious intensity.
Like Tama with the laser pointer.
"Heh, yeah, okay. Tomorrow."
Garou blinked, eyes going wide and reeling back slightly. "Wait, really?"
"Yeah, in fact, how 'bout here?"
They stopped, just a few feet away from the one-bajillion steps that led up to a dojo squatting upon a mountain. Garou cast a glance up the steps and back to Badd, his eyebrows accomplishing an impressive arch of disbelief. "You're serious?"
"What, ya think I'm the type to back out of a promise?"
"Noooo," Garou drawled; cautious, like a wounded animal faced with an outstretched hand, "more like the type to not remember the shit he did while concussed."
Badd reached out with an open hand, inching closer and closer to the neck he'd gripped tightly hours ago. Garou watched, tense, as Badd's hand alighted on his shoulder, and he capitulated, wide eyed, when Badd gave him a gentle tug forward.
Their foreheads nearly touched.
Their lips shared a breath.
"Better give me a little reminder tomorrow then," Badd teased before pulling away.
Garou watched him, his breathing and blinking an syncopated mess that Badd took great joy in cataloguing every minute detail of. He absently wondered if he could get Garou to be an even worse wreak.
Something to look forward to then.
"Right, yeah, sounds like a plan," Garou choked out, his voice so rough, so sexy. Shit. Did he even know what he was doing to Badd?
The lurid fantasies battles for dominance with the residual nausea in his soupy brain, enough for his headache to return with a sick vengeance. Better to back out now, with some dignity, than collapse on the spot.
They said their final goodbyes at the foot of a dummy high stairwell-
("want to walk me to my door" *wink*)
("fuck no")
-and they parted ways there. Garou hiking up and Badd hobbling away. It was a long trek, with the sun fully above the horizon and scorching the land of any remaining dew by the time he got home.
But the feeling of Garou's mouth against his still remained. Even as he collapsed in bed, fully clothed, and relinquished himself to the blissful realm of dreams, he could faintly taste the remnants of cheap sushi and trash water.
And he could hardly wait to taste it again.