Work Text:
California, 2018
Party’s scolding him again.
It’s a dance the two of them have done a million times. When Party was six and Kobra was barely four and he knocked over their building-block monster; when Party was ten and Kobra was seven and bored, bothering their parents when they were trying to sleep; when Party was twelve and Kobra was ten and he made them late for school; when Party was fourteen and Kobra was almost twelve and too curious for his own good, poking his nose where it didn’t belong; now, when Kobra is sixteen and Party’s seventeen, and they’re scolding him for trying to make a friend.
“I don’t get what the problem is,” Kobra says. He’s grouchy, a combination of sleeplessness and frustration from trying to talk to the Girl. She’s scared of him—scared of everyone, really, except Jet. She hasn’t even warmed up to Party. They don’t seem to mind.
Party’s grouchy too. Kobra could hear them pacing last night, mumbling to Jet about something, constantly worried about the Girl. “She’s six years old, of course she’s scared of us. You need to be patient, Kobra, you’ll make it worse.”
Kobra bites back his resentment. He’s been getting good at that since Jet dragged the Girl to the diner. “I was just trying to help.”
“Well,” Party says, “you didn’t.”
Somewhere along the way, between Fun Ghoul joining them and the Girl showing up, Kobra suddenly found himself at the bottom of Party’s list. Well, he amends, maybe second from the bottom. There’s not a lot of love for Ghoul, either.
It’s the Girl, first and foremost, because Party has to take care of everyone who can’t take care of themselves. Jet’s in second place, because Party’s disgustingly codependent and probably in love and totally convinced that no one but Jet can ever help them deal with their shit. Behind all of that, Party’s keeping an eye on Kobra and making sure Ghoul doesn't get them all killed.
Kobra doesn’t need to be at the top of the list. He can take care of himself, he’s older now than Party was when they left the city. He can protect them all—he watched Party do it for years. He can entertain himself—he learned how to do that while Party slept all day and worked all night. He can handle not being Party’s number one; Jet crawled his way to first after Bombay Beach. So he doesn’t know why there’s so much anger when he watches Party try to play with the Girl and so much annoyance when Party tells him off for just trying to help.
He takes a page from Ghoul’s book and shoots empty cans until he can talk to his brother without wringing their neck.
When Kobra walks in the door, Party’s sharpening the colored pencils with their pocket knife.
Kobra’s pencils are long gone, worn to stubs and lost somewhere in the shuffle from squat to squat. He’s too old to color now anyway. The Girl’s pencils are grubby, but they’re newer than Kobra’s were, still long, still plenty of room for her to grasp them. He doesn’t like the weird sense of pleasure he feels knowing that the paper she draws on is just as dingy as his paper was.
He looks over her shoulder.
She’s drawing a gun.
Party’s gonna be so pissed.
Jet finds the drawing a few days later, mixed in with her skies and rainbows and robots, but he doesn’t say anything. He just slides it out of the stack, shakes his head at Kobra, and tucks it away in his jacket.
Jet’s always been the mediator, level-headed in a way that Party could never quite manage, though they tried. Back when Jet first joined them, Kobra couldn’t wrap his head around it. Jet’s always been on Kobra’s side, even when he was really on Party’s. Kobra remembers a million fights that only Jet seemed able to stop, even when he was in the middle of them.
It makes sense that Jet’s the one the Girl latched on to. He saved her, yeah, but he’s also the only person who’s consistent and stable and kind, who doesn’t go outside to kick rocks because he’s jealous that someone else is getting Party’s attention. Party’s too frantic and jittery, Ghoul’s too wild, and Kobra’s too angry.
Kobra’s trying, though. If she’s going to stick around, he needs to try.
“What are you drawing?” Kobra asks, sitting next to Jet. The Girl is on the other side of the table, staring determinedly at her paper. She doesn’t reply.
“The Trans Am,” Jet says for her. “She likes the spider on the front.”
Kobra groans. He hates the spider. Fun Ghoul added it a few months after they moved in with him, using black paint from who knows where and a stencil made out of a plastic sheet cut to match Jet’s jacket design. Kobra liked the car better when it was grey-brown from dirt and inconspicuous. “Well,” he says, trying to hide his annoyance, “it looks good, kid.”
Jet puts a hand on his shoulder and leans in. “She’ll warm up to you eventually,” he whispers. “Keep hanging out with us. She’ll pick up that we’re family soon.” He squeezes and goes back to the Girl, praising her as she draws the lopsided spider.
“How do you stand it?” he asks Party one morning. They’re holed up in the defunct walk-in freezer that serves as their room, staring at the ceiling with the face that Kobra privately calls ‘post-nightmare numbness.’ They lift their head slightly and pat the spot next to them on the bed. Kobra climbs in, letting Party press two fingers to his neck and pull him in close. It must have been a bad one if they’re back to checking his pulse. “Are you okay?”
Party kisses the top of Kobra’s head. “I’m good. Just a rough night.” They sigh and squeeze him, their arm wrapping around his middle. “How do I stand what?”
“The Girl not talking to us. It’s really annoying.”
Party hums. “I don’t know. I trust Jet to handle her, and at some point, she’ll figure out that Jet trusts us. You just have to remember that she’s been alone for a long time. She has to adjust.”
“She talked to people before, though,” Kobra reminds them. “She was talking to people in the store Jet found her in.”
“I don’t think she had a choice.” Party rubs his arm. “She’ll warm up to us eventually.”
“That’s what Jet said,” Kobra grumbles, but he lets the subject drop. He starts to sit up, but Party whines.
“Hang out with me for a while.” Their arms tighten around him. “I never see you anymore. You’re always off doing stuff with Ghoul.”
Whose fault is that? Kobra thinks, but he lays back down and lets Party hold him.
Jet and Party left the diner to look for something—they weren’t clear on what—when the Girl starts sobbing in the dining room.
Kobra runs out of his makeshift room, a little curtained-off corner of the kitchen, and drops down next to her. “What happened, kid?”
She just keeps crying, bent over and cradling her foot in both hands.
“Did you stub your toe?” Kobra asks.
She nods. It’s the closest she’s ever come to talking to him.
“Can I see?” he asks slowly.
She shakes her head, still wailing.
He sighs and touches her shoulder, soft and gentle like Jet does. “I can’t help you if I can’t see it, kid. Will you let me see it?” She doesn’t reply, but her sobs are slowing down. “It’s okay,” he tells her. “If you don’t want me to help, Jet Star will be back soon, and he will. Jet Star’s my friend,” he adds quickly. Maybe it’ll get her to talk to him. “He’s helped me a ton of times. One time, I hurt my ankle, and he wrapped it up with one of his old shirts. And this other time…”
He talks and talks, telling story after story about Jet stepping in to help with his usual calm composure. There are some that Kobra had forgotten, like the time Party burnt their arm making a fire, or Kobra’s near miss with the Trans Am and a bush while they were exploring without Party. Others he’ll remember forever, like the huge thorn Jet pulled out of Kobra’s foot when Party was too squeamish, and the way Jet dropped everything for two messed up kids he’d only just met because he knew they needed help. The same way he had for her.
The Girl calms down eventually. By the time Jet and Party come home, the stubbed toe is nothing but a bad memory.
Jet notices her tear-stained face and looks at Kobra with worry before crouching down to hug her.
“She’s fine,” Kobra says. “Just a little stubbed toe. I took care of it.”
Party looks hopeful. “She’s talking to you?”
Kobra shakes his head. “No, but she likes hearing about Jet Star. Calmed right down.”
Party smiles. “Well, that’s something, if she let you hang out with her while she was hurt.”
Jet nods in agreement, standing up with the Girl’s hand in his. “We trust him,” he reminds the Girl. “See how nice he was when we were gone?”
The Girl nods and smiles slightly.
It’s something.
Someone shakes Kobra awake a week later. “What the hell?” he mumbles sleepily.
“Scoot over,” Party whispers. “I got kicked out.”
Kobra groans, but he makes room. “What, your boyfriend mad at you?”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Party says, laying down on their back. They sound a little dejected about it. “And no. The Girl had a nightmare, so she wants to sleep with Jet.”
Kobra smiles. “You’re totally in love with him.”
“Shut up,” Party grumbles. “I am not in love with him.” They pause before quietly adding, “Even if I was, he doesn’t like me like that, so it doesn’t matter.”
Kobra starts giggling. “Oh my gods, Party, you are such an idiot. I thought you had a psychic connection with him. You two are the most annoying people in the world. You’re, like, obsessed with each other.”
“Shut.” They hit him in the arm lightly. “ Up .” They hit him again.
Kobra giggles. It’s been a while since he’s talked to Party like this. He missed it. “Whatever, dude.”
Party sighs and rolls onto their stomach. “Anyways,” they say glumly, “she’s started talking to me a little bit, but we aren’t quite at the point where I can help her with stuff like this. So.”
Kobra pats the top of their head awkwardly and tries to do an impression of their mom. He doesn’t really remember the sound of her voice anymore, and it comes out more goofy than anything else, but Party still smiles when he says, “There, there.”
“Mom didn’t sound that stupid,” Party says with a giggle, “but that was pretty close.” They ruffle his hair. “It’ll be fine. We’re making progress. She’s starting to trust me, and she already lets you hang out with her. I don’t know about Ghoul, though.…”
Kobra hums. “Maybe if he lets her play with the bazooka.”
Party groans. “Over my dead body.”
Kobra laughs. They’re both quiet for a while after that, trying to get back to sleep. Party scoots down a bit to lay their head on Kobra’s chest, absently tapping their fingers in time with his heartbeat, like they need the reminder that he’s alive.
“I love you so much, Mikey,” they say after a while. “I know I don’t tell you enough. I’m sorry.”
Kobra freezes. His real name is saved for special occasions, like his birthday, or when he’s really freaked out. It’s startling to hear after four years as Kobra Kid.
Party wraps an arm around him and squeezes. “You’re the best brother anyone could ask for. Thank you for being so understanding about everything with the Girl. I know it must be hard.”
“It’s okay,” Mikey says carefully. “I mean, it’s weird as hell that you adopted a kid, but it’s okay.” Party laughs and rubs his side. “I love you too, Gerard.”
Party sighs, content. “We should go to sleep. It’s late.”
They haven’t had an easy, silly conversation in too long, and he doesn’t know how long it will be before they talk like this again. He’s not going to take this for granted. “No,” Kobra says, “let’s just hang out for a while.”