Chapter Text
The screaming started before Skipper even realized what was happening. One second, he was hunched over his textbook at the kitchen table, trying to make sense of the dense military history passage he was reading and the next—chaos.
A loud crash rattled the walls, followed by the unmistakable sound of furious yelling. The kind that meant something had been broken—or someone was about to be.
- Idiota! - Rico's high-pitched voice rang through the house, sharp with both anger and frustration.
His words ricocheted off the walls, followed immediately by a heavy thud—something, maybe a chair or a book, slamming hard against the wall with enough force to make the table tremble beneath Skipper’s elbows.
He inhaled slowly through his nose, forcing himself to count to five before exhaling. He froze. His grip on the pen tightened until his knuckles turned white, his jaw locking so hard it ached. It didn’t help. The pounding in his temples only grew sharper, more insistent. Not now. Not tonight.
For the love of—
- No, YOU'RE the idiot! - Kowalski's hands curled into fists at his sides, his whole body bristling. His face was a storm—brows drawn tight, nostrils flaring, eyes wild with outrage. A furious flush burned across his cheeks, his breath coming in ragged bursts. With a sharp motion, he yanked up his sleeves as if physically preparing for battle. - This was my homework!
- No me importa! - Rico yelled, stomping his foot against the floor.
- Oh, you don't care? You DON'T CARE?! - Kowalski’s voice hit a new octave, his whole body tensing like a wound-up coil ready to snap. His hands shook with barely-contained fury. - Do you have any idea how long I spent on this?!
- Ugly! - Rico shot back, crossing his arms with an exaggerated scowl, lips curling in something that was far too smug for someone who had just committed academic sabotage. - Boring!
Kowalski sucked in a sharp breath, his body vibrating with sheer indignation. His fingers flexed at his sides, itching to throttle Rico right then and there.
- Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize my SCIENCE assignment needed artistic improvement! - he shrieked sarcastically.
Rico grabbed a crayon off the table and brandished it in the air like a weapon, fingers smudged with leftover colors. His eyes gleamed with something wild—something infuriatingly pleased with himself.
- Mejor ahora! - he snapped.
Kowalski gasped in sheer outrage, his eyes going impossibly wide, as if Rico had just spat on the laws of physics themselves. His grip tightened around the crumpled paper in his hand, knuckles going white, fingers trembling with fury.
- Oh, that’s IT! - he yelled, his voice almost cracking as he lunged forward, his fists clenched.
Every muscle in his body coiled like a spring about to snap, every rational thought drowned beneath a tidal wave of raw, burning rage. But before he could get his hands on him, Rico was gone—slipping away like a greased-up ferret, giggling as he bolted for the door.
- Come back here! - Kowalski roared, tearing after him.
The house erupted into a war zone. Their footsteps thundered down the hall, ricocheting off the walls like gunfire. Rico was fast—annoyingly fast—but Kowalski was fueled by unfiltered fury, propelling himself forward with reckless determination. His heart hammered in his chest, his breath coming in sharp, furious bursts as he dodged furniture, leapt over a chair, and narrowly avoided slipping on the rug Rico had deliberately kicked up in his path.
- You RUINED it! You completely RUINED it! - Kowalski fired, his voice shrill with fury.
The chase was chaotic, a blur of scrambling limbs and wild shouting, each boy hell-bent on reaching Skipper first. Downstairs, he barely had time to register the oncoming storm before Kowalski burst into the kitchen like a man possessed, panting, seething, and shoving the defiled worksheet right into his face. Skipper's patience was already hanging by a thread—these exams weren’t just any exams. Passing them meant everything. It was his one shot at getting into Red Hat training, his only real chance at securing a future that wasn’t trapped inside the colony’s decaying, suffocating walls.He had just been trying to study—was that too much to ask?
Clearly, it was.
The sharp whump of his textbook slamming shut sent vibrations across the kitchen table, rattling silverware and shaking his untouched cup of coffee. His chair screeched against the floor as he shoved it back, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he forced himself to breathe through the boiling frustration.
- LOOK! Look at what he did! - Kowalski’s voice practically cracked with fury as he shoved the crumpled paper right into Skipper’s face. - I spent two hours on this!
His face was flushed with rage, breath coming in quick, sharp bursts.
Hot on his heels, Rico skidded into the room, practically crashing into Kowalski’s back. His expression was just as fiery, though not from guilt—not even close. He stomped his foot, his face twisted into a stubborn scowl.
- No es mi culpa! - he barked, crossing his arms tightly.
Skipper, already stretched thin from the weight of his own responsibilities, exhaled sharply, his patience wearing down to its final splintering edge. The pounding ache behind his temples grew sharper, angrier, a dull pulse in the background of his thoughts. He did not have time for this. He pressed his fingers hard against his temples, squeezing his eyes shut for a brief second before glaring at them both.
- Both of you, shut up - he ordered, his voice tight, clipped, dangerously close to breaking. - One at a time. - He sucked in a breath, trying—failing—to rein in his irritation. - Kowalski—breathe. Rico—English. Now, what happened?
Kowalski opened his mouth to shove the ruined homework in Skipper’s face, but before he could say a word, Rico lunged at him, trying to snatch it back. The paper crinkled violently between them, two sets of hands locked in a furious tug-of-war, neither willing to let go.
- No - Rico yelled, grabbing a fistful of the paper.
He dug his heels into the floor, his face contorted in determination. He refused to surrender. Kowalski clung to his assignment like a lifeline, the muscles in his arms straining as they wrestled over the already-ruined sheet.
- Let go, you menace! - he shrieked.
Rico didn’t let go. His grip tightened, knuckles turning white as he yanked harder, refusing to back down. Kowalski growled in frustration, his own fingers curling like claws around the ruined paper, neither of them willing to surrender. The tension between them snapped like a rubber band—Rico lunged, throwing his full weight into Kowalski, knocking him off balance.
With a yelp, Kowalski crashed backward, dragging Rico with him. The two hit the kitchen floor in a tangle of limbs, the scuffle exploding into pure chaos. Flailing arms, wild kicks, furious yelling—papers fluttered through the air like panicked birds. Rico scrambled for the upper hand, but Kowalski fought back, determined to get him off. Elbows jabbed, feet skidded against the tiles, and the deafening screech of chair legs scraping against the floor only added to the mess.
Skipper barely had time to register the movement before a blur of motion caught his eye—Kowalski, in a fit of blind, reckless rage, ripped off his shoe and launched it full force across the room.
- BOTH OF YOU—CUT IT OUT!
The roar of Skipper’s voice ripped through the kitchen like a thunderclap, reverberating against the walls. Rico ducked instinctively, the sneaker whizzing past his head so close he could probably feel the air shift. It collided with the fridge with a dull, sickening thunk, then tumbled to the floor in a sad, defeated flop.
The room froze.
Rico’s wild, furious expression twitched—caught somewhere between defiance and genuine shock. Kowalski, still panting like a cornered animal, stood stiff with rage, his fists shaking at his sides.
Skipper was done.
With a sharp, decisive movement, he shoved himself between them, one hand grabbing the back of Kowalski’s shirt, the other forcefully pushing Rico away. He wasn’t gentle about it.
- What the hell is going on?! Both of you—cut it out! - his voice boomed, carrying every ounce of authority he could summon.
Kowalski ripped the paper from Rico’s hands, his grip crushing it into even more of a crumpled mess. With a furious jerk, he shoved it toward Skipper, practically shaking with frustration. His face was red, not from exertion but pure, undiluted rage, his chest heaving with every breath.
- HE DREW ALL OVER MY HOMEWORK! - Kowalski shouted, shaking the vandalized paper in his hand like a piece of damning evidence. - I spent two hours on this, and he—he—LOOK!
Skipper snatched the paper from him and examined it. Sure enough, among the carefully written answers and diagrams, intricate, detailed sketches filled the margins. Sharp lines formed an impressively lifelike dinosaur, mid-roar, surrounded by tiny, chaotic explosions and what looked like a spaceship hovering overhead. The shading was surprisingly well done, almost professional, but it did nothing to ease Kowalski’s fury.
Skipper let out a slow, controlled breath through his nose, his fingers tightening slightly around the page. His temples throbbed, a dull, persistent ache that only grew with every second these two wouldn’t stop screaming. His patience was already stretched thin, fraying at the edges. He didn’t have time for this.
He dragged a hand down his face, willing himself to stay calm.
- Rico… - he started, his voice strained, as if holding back the weight of everything.
His fingers pressed hard against his temples, as if he could physically massage the stress away.
- No es mi culpa! - Rico protested, crossing his arms tightly. - No entiendo nada!
- English, Rico - he reminded him, rubbing his temples. - How many times do I have to tell you? You need to learn and you won’t learn if you won’t speak it…
Rico muttered something rapid and angry in Spanish under his breath, frustration rolling off him in waves, before finally blurting out—
- I was—helping!
- HELPING?! - Kowalski’s voice cracked so sharply that it could have shattered glass. His expression twisted in pure, unfiltered outrage. - HOW is THIS helping?!
- Boring! - Rico snapped, waving his arms dramatically. He jabbed a finger toward the ruined paper. - Now—dinosaurs!
Kowalski let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a groan and a scream, his hands balling into fists at his sides. Skipper sighed heavily, rubbing his face harder this time. He didn’t like the turn this conversation took.
- Kowalski, he's younger than you. You should know better. You can rewrite it, is it really worth all of this?
Kowalski gawked at him, as if Skipper had just suggested burning the entire assignment himself. His mouth opened and closed like a fish.
- You're taking HIS side?!
Skipper groaned, rubbing his face harder this time, as though trying to physically wipe away the headache threatening to split his skull.
- I’m saying he’s eight, and you’re twelve. He doesn’t understand why this is such a big deal to you!
Kowalski let out an exasperated groan and threw his hands up.
- This is UNBELIEVABLE! What if he did it to YOUR assignment? You'd be fuming! You wouldn't be so nice!
- Enough - Skipper said, his patience wearing thin. - Both of you—you're grounded.
- What?! - Kowalski looked personally offended. - What did I do?!
- You screamed loud enough for the neighbors to hear, threw things, and nearly gave me an aneurysm. So yeah, you too. - Skipper pointed toward the hallway, his expression leaving no room for argument. - Both of you—upstairs. Go to your rooms now!
- I would love to go to MY room, - Kowalski clenched his fists - but the problem is that I SHARE it with this idiot!