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Chris wasn’t used to being left behind. The tortuga always felt different when no one else was there- Quiet, and frankly, kind of unnerving. Being alone can be nice when you actually *chose* it, but being sick, feeling gross, useless, and left out while the rest of the crew is probably having a good time with awesome creatures, or at least fighting some villain, which is infinitely more interesting than staying at home moping all day, would put anyone in a bad mood.
He curled up under the covers, cold sweat and a shiver making him dizzy, or was it the lack of oxygen in his brain due to his stuffy nose? He doesn't know, he feels like his head is filled with swamp water, with frog eggs and all. His feverish mind starts to derail into that thought (that's better than the moping right?).
He thinks of frog eggs and the slime that surrounds them, and giggles remembering the time when his brother ate some and, obviously, regretted it; he also thinks of the algae, the fish, the mud… oh yes, the mud, how nasty it is to try and walk there with his boots on, like walking on quicksand- even then, being in a swamp right now would be much better…the fresh water would soothe the temperature of his body, nothing much happens in a swamp anyways, right? It wouldn't be much more different besides being less unbearable to die in.
Okay, he admits he's being a bit dramatic, but come on, give him a break! His mind is just doing whatever at this point and honestly he doesn't mind at all, as long as it keeps him distracted from his current, and painfully uneventful situation, he's fine with anything his feverish dear brain can come up with right now.
He was almost asleep, his imagination effectively distracting him, until he started hearing a loud noise coming from somewhere he couldn't figure out for a while, thinking it was still his head spinning and doing weird things. Until he opens up his eyes really wide as he realizes it is, in fact, a very real banging noise coming from the main entrance of the Tortuga.
Chris’ heart jumped. He nearly fell straight into the floor as he stumbled out of bed, vision going black with millions of little colored dots that made him pause for a moment to regain his composure before he finally hurried to get to the door, thinking the team was already back and he wouldn'twouldnt suffer this awful loneliness anymore.
Before opening, and now a bit more conscious, finally he was able to reason a little and he realized it was way too early for it to be his friends and his brother, and they would have let him know they were already on their way if it was actually them, so he decides to check the main screens and see the outside cameras. And if he wasn't already fully awake after rushing all the way there, he was now- as what was in front of him made him nearly choke on his own breath.
Squinting with disbelief and confusion (and because the screen makes his eyes sting and his head hurt), he sees Gourmand, standing there. No net, no dough guns, no kitchen utensils. Just… him? Fidgeting clumsily while holding in his hands something that Chris couldn't make out.
Chris frowned. This HAS to be some sort of trick, or a new planned scheme, a distraction perhaps-? Wouldn't be the first time more than one of their usual villains team up to try and take the Wild Kratts down, to this point a strategy like this wouldn't surprise him.
But… something about him seemed way off. Uncharacteristically awkward, even sheepish.
Against better judgement, he walked over to the gate and opened it just enough to peek out.
They both stood there for a second, Gourmand looked up at him, then away, in a desperate attempt to find a way to act unbothered and pretend that this wasn't the weirdest moment of his entire villain career. Or his entire life. He cleared his throat.
“You look like a mess,” Gourmand said, as a failed attempt to ease up the tension.
Chris narrowed his eyes, feeling just barely self conscious now that he does, in fact, look terrible. “Gee, thanks,” he muttered, already regretting coming to the door. “Did you come all the way here just to make fun of me?”
Gourmand shifted uncomfortably, glancing to the side. “Err… I, uh- I ran into that loudmouth brother of yours earlier today” He muttered, the mention of his brother making Chris tense up, thinking the worst had happened. He couldn't react, as Gourmand continued “He was going on about some skunk or whatever, and during all his yapping he let slip that you were under the weather. So i brought you this”
Chris stared at him, shocked, confused, with a raised eyebrow. Still wondering if this was all a part of some bigger plan, and thinking it must be something big if Gaston Gourmand was willing to put himself through this humiliation for it.
While Chris processed, looking a bit slow. Gourmand lifted the paper bag he was holding in his hands and offered it to him, with his terribly concealed expression of embarrassment. “It's chicken soup”
Okay, this just got weirder. And his face must've had an automatic reaction because Gourmand continued- “Oh chill out,” he huffed before Chris could even speak. “It’s just store-bought chicken. From the grocery store. No frogs’ legs, no monkey tails, no endangered critters, no nothin’. Just normal soup.”
Chris stared at the bag that was being held in front of him, then at Gourmand, still holding it, growing noticeably impatient with Chris' lack of a proper response that didn’t consist of a weirded out expression, suspicion still lingering.
Until a growl of his stomach betrayed him.
“... Alright,” Chris said, almostsaid almost whispering, reaching carefully for the bag, which Gourmand passed delicately into his hand.
‘I can probably just scan it in Aviva's lab to check if there's anything sketchy-’ he thought to himself
“It’s not poisoned, by the way” Gourmand said with a light chuckle, still seeing the puzzled expression of the nature guy, trying (and failing) to ease up the tension.
Oh he'll DEFINITELY check for poison now.
Chris still watched him warily, with the bag in his hands. “Thank you…” Saying that to a villain felt weird.
The chef shrugged. “Whatever. Just get better, alright? You're more fun to fight than your brother, that guy really gets on my nerves.”
And with that, he turned around and started to walk away without so much as a backwards glance and a nod as Chris awkwardly waved him goodbye.
He then got back inside, shutting the door behind him and walked to the closest chair he could find to sit there in stunned silence for a few minutes that felt like hours.
Snapping back from his trance, he immediately took the soup to Aviva's workstation and started running some simple tests. The results were nothing like he expected. No poisons or foreign chemicals. And after also checking on their animal tissue database he found the only match to be for chicken, nothing else.
Well, there was clearly nothing wrong with the soup, it was still weird that Gourmand would come all the way just to give it to him, but at this point, having eased up from the stress of the possible components of the soup, his brain now was only working in response to his growling stomach.
He poured the soup into a pot and warmed it over low heat, and when he finally sat down at the dinner table and started eating it, it was absolutely delicious. The flavor was perfect, it would bring anyone to tears with the amount of comfort it was able to convey, the warm liquid soothed his hurting throat as it made its way through his esophagus, and the steam cleared up his nostrils allowing him to breathe comfortably for the first time in the past few days he's spent in this state.
He sat in his place, with an arm around the container like a sort of weird hug as if it was a very precious and delicate thing, which honestly? It kind of was. A tired smile crept into his lips as he finished the last spoonful. His cheeks felt warm- not just from the fever anymore.
This man has tried multiple times to cook endangered species and mess around with the balance of the environment, they're enemies. And yet he had just brought him chicken soup, voluntarily, to supposedly help him get better.
Chris shook his head and chuckled softly to himself as he walked back into the kitchen to wash the utensils he just used. “What even is today-?”
Suddenly, the Tortuga’s door whooshed open suddenly, he must've missed their calls to let him know they were already on their way, since he left his creature pod back in the nest that his bed has turned into. So all of a sudden, the unusual loneliness of home turned back to itsit's normal warmth with everyone coming in with laughter and going over the highlights of today's mission.
Chris waved at them from where he was still sitting, as Martin hurried towards him “Chris!” His voice rang excitedly, clearly wanting to chew his brother's ears off telling him about the awesome creatures he missed out on after he checks up on him. “Hey buddy, how’re you holding up? Haven't kicked the bucket yet I see” he chuckled.
“I'm fine, I’m fine” Chris said with a raspy laugh while gently grabbing Martin’s hand as it reached for his forehead “you know fully well this won't kill me, you goofball, it's just a cold!”
Chris stared at his brother softly, knowing he's trying to act chill while in reality he worries more than he should. It had always been like this between the two, so he's used to it and knows to differentiate when he starts to get too anxious or worried. “Really, i'm good, relax” he said as he gave his hand a soft squeeze before finally letting go.
Martin sighed and gave him a flustered smile, always getting a bit embarrassed when his little brother catches on to his mother-hen-ish concern “Yeah, yeah, I know you're a tough one, but still- you look a lot better. What was it? A good nap? The medicine? Magic beyond human comprehension?”
Chris giggles and then starts scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “Soup, actually. Helped a lot.” and trying to not being much attention to the inexplicable broth he adds “Also i've been asleep almost all day, if i'm being honest”
Martin nodded as he walked past him to the kitchen, grabbing a water bottle. Then he paused, staring at the plastic container drying on the otherwise empty rack.
“Oh hey, did Mom send that?” He asked, squinting. “Looks a bit different from her usual containers-”
Chris' eyes widened. He forced a laugh that mixed with a cough. “Uh… Yeah! You know how she is, always overreacting when one of us is sick-”
Martin rolled his eyes playfully “Uh huh. And you say *i'm* the exaggerated one”
Chris shrugged with a grin, and Martin poked him in the cheek with his finger. Chris laughs as he hides the relief he felt seeing that Martin didn’t think much more of it, but he hopes that the lie won't come back later to bite him in the ass. And if it happens, well, he could always play dumb.
_
Later that evening, after Koki and Jimmy had basically dragged Chris to force him back to bed, and Aviva had threatened to build a restraint system to keep him in place of he didn't stay put, Chris finally gave in and accepted his destiny, he was laying in the dark, with his blanket up to his chest, staring at the ceiling like it owed him money.
He wasn't coughing anymore, The chills were almost fully gone too. But his brain kept spinning.
‘Why on earth would he do that?’ he kept asking himself.
There hadn't been any witnesses, or an evil plan behind it, no snarky and villainy comments, no bragging or gloating. Nothing. Just… and awkward interaction and a peace offering that seemed to come from nowhere.
Had it come from a place of genuine understandment and care? It surely seems like it, but then… why?
It's not about the soup, of course, anyone could give someone else a bowl of soup and it wouldn't be a big deal, he even feels silly thinking so hard about it. But it's not so simple, it's about the implications, the meaning, the reason, where did it come from?
There was no reason for it, and they have never ever had a positive interaction in the time they've known each other, so this was, of course, particularly strange.
Chris presses the back of his hand to his forehead. Maybe the whole thing was just a fever dream, it really did feel like it with how bizarre and extremely out of character it was. He surely wishes it was the case, that way he wouldn't have to think too hard about it or question anything.
But no, it had been real, he's very much awake and the container in the kitchen had been haunting him all evening before he was forced into quarantine again. And so had been Gourmand’s words: “Get better so i can keep fighting you”
The phrasing, and his tone, made it feel like to him it was more than a simple rivalry, or a hero and a villain bantering, who would want someone who keeps ruining their plans to get better so their dynamic can stay the same? In fact he should feel happy about him not doing well, and having less people getting in his way. But it felt more complicated than that now. Weirdly personal, even.
Maybe, just maybe, to some point, it consisted of some sort of mutual respect, buried under layers and layers of sarcasm, shouting, poorly executed schemes, fooled plans and snarky remarks.
Seems that Gourmand had come to a conclusion Chris had never approached before. Perhaps this wasn't just about fighting to defend their own reasons regardless of who's actually right anymore. Maybe, after all this time, the chases, figuring plans to catch him red handed, freeing animals from his grasp, with lots of close calls, it has reached a point where they've inevitably becomes part of each other’s lives, whether they like it or not, in a twist of events that neither of them expected.
Chris turned into his side, pulling the blanket up to his face like a cocoon. His breathing was even, the pressure in his head eased. He thought about Gourmand standing out there alone, awkward and fidgeting, with nothing to gain, and nothing to prove, and no reason to be there besides… besides what?
He chuckled softly in the dark. Of all the people to show up when he was feeling like absolute garbage, it had been no one else but the man who once went crazy and tried to cook a literal *giant* lobster. Life really didn't follow any kind of script.
But maybe that's the point…
Not everything needs to make perfect sense for you to accept it, sometimes the unexpected just… happens. And you find yourself after a shitty morning opening the door to a villain, one of the worst people you know, who came to you for the sole purpose of giving you a soup, made specifically with you in mind so you will actually accept it. You get better. You don't say a word about it to anyone. You stay up trying to make sense of it to no avail. But the world keeps spinning.
And maybe the next time they cross paths, Chris wouldn't just see an enemy, and neither would Gourmand.
Maybe they'll see in each other a silent agreement, someone who occasionally, grudgingly, understands this strange newfound dynamic.
And that was enough
With a smile and a sigh, Chris finally let himself sleep.