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“What. The fuck. Are you doing here.” Turbo seethed at you through gritted teeth, the grey of his cheeks turning to red as you cheesed back at him from your sprawled position in his go-kart. You had been waiting for him here, having snuck into TurboTime mere minutes ago as soon as you were free to leave your game for the night.
“The arcade closed like five minutes ago, dude. What does it look like I’m doing? I’m taking a well-deserved break!” You closed your eyes and stretched your limbs in an attempt to take up even more space and topped it off with a fake yawn to really sell the bit. You waited a beat before deciding to take a peek at the fuming man with one eye, and it took everything in you not to burst into laughter. It was as if his very code had crashed – he just stood there, frozen with a rage he didn’t know what to do with. He was pissed, sure, but there seemed to be something else there that prevented him from acting on his anger like he usually did for anyone else. He simply stared you down, jaw clenched and fingers curling and squeezing the life out of the air in front of him.
“You’re taking your ‘break’ in my kart. Again. After I’ve specifically told you to not touch it.” He finally spat, taking a few heavy and bold steps forward before pausing within a hair’s breadth of the kart and by extension, you. Anyone else might’ve flinched from his threatening aura, let alone the manner in which he approached - but not you. You knew he was full of shit… when it came to you, that is.
“So… are you gonna do something about it?” You teased, sticking your tongue out at him. One of your favorite pastimes these days was to bother Turbo like this. It didn’t start intentionally; he used to never even give a damn about you; or so you thought. Over time, you noticed that any little thing you did when he was around would set him off – and yet… not, at the same time. The level of bullying you would receive for accidentally treading on his shoe or even daring to look in his direction – while definitely undeserved – was markedly different than the punishments others received doing the same. While you certainly got your fair share of manhandling, he never went quite as all-out as he did on, say, the twins from his game, or any other person who he deemed beneath him and in his way. The anger he expressed towards you was almost, well… dare you say, flustered in nature? You didn’t know if you wanted to process that train of thought. Whatever it was, it made you feel as if you had total immunity from all consequences, and so you started to flirt with his limits for fun. And this? Where you were now? This was your favorite part of poking the angry bear. The part wher-
You were lifted up by a pair of strong arms like a sack of potatoes and unceremoniously dumped onto the ground next to one of the kart’s large rear tires. You were disoriented and dazed… but otherwise unharmed. Vaguely aware of the calloused hands that now boxed you in above your shoulders, you blinked a few times to clear your confusion as the reality of what happened began to sink in.
And you laughed.
You laughed until there was a new pain in your ribs that wasn’t bruising from the fall and your lungs began to burn for air. All the while Turbo glowered down from his position over you, his chest heaving slightly from exertion and from… well, from being plain pissed. And maybe… from a little something else?
When you finally began to come down from your fit, you got a good look at the red and white clad racer that hovered above you. He was staring at you with all the vitriolic fury someone of his stature could muster at another person. He was hard to read at times like this; where you weren’t sure if too much was too much and you were finally about to receive every single asswhooping you had so narrowly avoided all at once. Yet, old habits die hard.
“You want to kiss me sooo bad right now.” Your tone of voice paired perfectly with the shit-eating grin on your face, but the warm blush creeping up your cheeks told a second story. You only said that because it was the funniest thing to say given your current position, and you were sure to get one hell of a reaction out of Turbo with it!
While a hell of a reaction you did get, it certainly wasn’t one you were expecting. In the span of time it took for you to blink, Turbo had leaned down uncomfortably close. You felt the rise and fall of his chest as it ever-so-slightly grazed yours, while his warm, ragged breaths tickled against your ear. You lay still as a statue underneath the raging storm of a man, these waters unknown. He’s never blown up this bad before!
“I. Fucking. Hate you.” He growled at last,
“I will always hate you. I hate you more than anyone. More than anything, when will you get that through that thick skull of yours?” You stared up at him as he ranted, his lisp seemingly getting heavier with his fervency. Now that the shock of being pinned down had worn off, you resumed your nonchalant demeanor. Although you understood his question to be rhetorical, you thought of an idea for an answer that just might be the worst you’d ever had.
“When you beat me up.”
“You. You want me to kick your ass??” Turbo balked at your words, jerking back to his previous position. You actually weren’t expecting him to react with such surprise. It was as if hadn’t ever even considered the concept of causing you real harm.
“If you hate me so much, then it shouldn’t be hard, right? Just beat me up like you would anyone else.” For once, Turbo was quiet. He just stared at you like you were a math problem, and you felt compelled to fill the silence.
“Look, no one is here. You could punch me right now and no one would stop you. So do it.” He physically recoiled this time, as if your suggestion stung.
“W-well now I don’t want to, since you’re being such a fucking weirdo about it!” Turbo’s stutter did not go unnoticed by you. His entire persona was breaking down right before you, and it was a sight you never thought you’d see in a million years. You wondered – as you do – how far you could push this. You threw the dice.
“Fucking do it-!”
“You’re such a goddamn freak! Who the hell begs to be hit?!”
“You won’t do it.” Tough guy Turbo, arcade menace, was trying to find any excuse in the world not to hit someone. You couldn’t believe it!
“You’re not worth the energy. Just get out of my sight.” He had started to slowly withdraw from his position pinning you down, his gaze now settling off to the side but you weren’t about to let this go that easily.
“You know, I don’t get you, Turbo. For a guy who says he hates me so much, you sure have a weird way of showing it.” His eyes snapped back to your face with predatory precision. You felt a bolt of something course through your veins at that locked-in piercing stare, like a cross between satisfaction and fear.
“You talk so big about how much you don’t like me, yet you hardly lay a finger on me compared to others.”
“You want a taste of these hands that bad? Not a fuckin’ problem,” He sneered, and for a split second you wondered if you were about to regret calling his bluff for so long. Then he grabbed you, and you remembered who you were dealing with.
He held you tight to his body but without particular care, resulting in minor bumps and scrapes to your person as he lifted himself – and you - off the ground. The hammering in his chest seemed to mimic your own as you felt all too aware of every point of contact between your body and his. He marched quickly across the track, and you thought about how strong he must be to carry another person so effortlessly.
“What are you-“
“Shut up.” He snarled, cutting you off almost instantly and clutching you even tighter. Your stomach lit up with butterflies.
Before you knew it you were at the exit leading out of TurboTime and back into Game Central Station. Turbo dangled you above the rickety old rail car that had initially ferried you in, but seemed to hesitate in letting you go. That brief moment allowed you to brace for impact, and as if waiting for you to do just that, Turbo readily dropped you in.
“Show your face here again and I really will kick your ass.” His voice was dark gravelly, but given all the effort he went through just to not do any such thing, the threat felt extremely empty. He left you no time to respond as he had already pushed off the edge of the car with one foot, giving it all the momentum it needed to begin its journey back.
You sat there in the rail car in silence even as it pulled into the station and squeaked to a halt, hardly registering Surge as he blipped into view to fuss over you, complaining about how one of these days you won’t come back out of there alive and whatnot. You simply stared into the abyss of TurboTime’s plug, your head tilted curiously as the last of the heat left your cheeks.
He never hit you.
He didn’t even want to hit you.
Maybe this was the start of something special.