Work Text:
Waking up from a nap to what appeared to be an empty hideout always unnerved you a little bit. It wasn’t like everybody would up and leave without telling you, so it always struck a bit of fear into you— maybe something happened while you were asleep.
…Then your head cleared up enough to hear the voices coming from inside the kitchen, so you forced yourself onto your feet, padding that way.
“…break it, you fix it!” Poison’s voice became clear as you cracked open the door.
“But I didn’t break it— how many times do I have to say that??” Ghoul’s voice immediately followed. When you pushed the door open completely, you spotted them both along with Jet, huddled around something on the counter. Your eyes flitted around, trying to see if it was just the three of them.
“Well it wasn’t broken before you used it!” Poison argued.
“Aren’t you supposed to be good at fixing stuff?” Jet weighed in. “This is the only good appliance we have. Fix the toaster.”
“I make explosives— I do tech stuff! I don’t fix kitchen appliances! Just use the blowtorch for your stupid pop tart, or whatever the hell—“
“A blowtorch? Are you out of your mind??”
“Are you? I don’t know how to fix a toaster—“
…They happened to notice you standing there when you let the door slip from your hands, and it clicked shut behind you.
Poison dragged his hand down his face, rubbing at his eyes like all the energy had been sucked out of them. “Hey.”
“Hey…”
“Can you help with the toaster?” Ghoul blurted, and received a smack to the bicep from Poison.
“You broke it, idiot.”
“Maybe they know somethin’ about this stuff, though!”
You grimaced at all of them, far too tired to pretend to care about whatever this was.
“Kobra’s outside,” Jet supplied, before the question could even slip from your mouth.
“…How’d you know that’s what I was gonna say?” You huffed, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. Jet just grinned at you, like he knew something you didn’t.
You decided you didn’t really want the answer to that question, so you just headed for the kitchen’s side door.
Pushing the door open, you pulled your sunglasses from where they hung on your shirt and slipped them over your eyes. It was sweltering as usual; you physically cringed at the wave of heat that crashed against your skin.
As you rounded the corner into the one shaded spot the infrastructure provided, you were greeted with the visual of Kobra knelt on the concrete, tinkering with his bike. Oh.
He had taken a pretty rough tumble out by the crash track in the day previous, so it made sense that he’d be out looking over his motorcycle as soon as possible, despite the injuries he sustained. That thing was his baby.
His hands were slicked in motor oil, and his brow was furrowed in concentration— but his head twitched your way at the sound of your approach.
“Hey,” he spoke gruffly, and you hummed back.
…
You just watched him quietly for a few seconds in contemplation.
“You sure you should be out here doin’ this right now?” You muttered, and he huffed, like he expected you to say that.
“The pain isn’t unbearable… and Jet said I’m good as long as the scratches stay wrapped and covered ‘n stuff,” he grunted, “Just makin’ sure stuff’s good with the engine.”
“Mm.”
You stepped back to sit yourself on his workbench, on the only clear part of the surface.
You were good now, content. It was always embarrassing how quickly your nervous system worked you up into anxiety the moment something’s different, but you were really trying to keep yourself regulated lately.
…Being around Kobra always helped, as much as it killed you to admit that to yourself.
You gazed at him through the dark tint of your sunglasses, taking in the view as he worked. His sweat dampened hair stuck to his forehead, along with the thin fabric of his loose tank top that clung to pieces of his torso. You could imagine he was only really wearing it as an added layer of protection on top of his bandages.
His arms and hands flexed as he did… whatever it was he was doing. His concentration was palpable. You really didn’t know much about vehicles, but you could watch him work on his, anytime.
…
You didn’t really catch that he paused to look your way, until he had been still for about 7 seconds.
“…You could help, y’know.” His tone was flat, but you knew he was joking with you.
“The engine would blow up if I even looked at it.”
“Sounds like excuses.”
You scooted further up the bench, lightly taking the inside of your cheek between your teeth. He stood up himself, and went to grab for the rag on the surface right next to you.
You wrinkled your nose as he got closer. “You stink.”
Kobra rolled his eyes, and lightly whacked you with the towel. “I’m the one doing manual labor, you’re sittin’ there lookin’ pretty.”
You watched him wipe his hands off on the rag; something about Kobra just made him easy to look at, no matter what he was doing. Maybe you’d gone soft. Or maybe you were always that way.
He glanced over at you. Maybe he wasn’t looking you right in the eye, since the tint of your glasses was too dark to see through from the other side, but the intention was there.
“You eat anythin’ other than coffee yet?” You asked, as he dropped the rag back onto the workbench.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Are you trying to get heat stroke?” You chided, nudging his shin with your foot. “S’like you’re allergic to doing healthy things.”
“Look who’s talking.”
Kobra turned back around towards his bike, getting on his knees once again, so you went back to staring. He was just a nice place for your eyes to rest in the middle of the wasteland you called home. That was the easier thing to tell yourself, when you found your mind revolving around him all day, all night. At least he never seemed to mind your company much— you were naturally quiet. Your presence wasn’t overbearing in the way his brother’s or Jet’s could be, or overwhelming like Ghoul’s. You were a true neutral.
“When’d you wake up?” You heard him ask, as he reached for some tool at his left. Not like you knew what it was.
“Right before I came out here.”
“Mm.”
He peeked at you over his shoulder. “Y’wanna try again with the telescope later?”
…That made you perk up a bit.
“Yeah,” you murmured, washed over with a sensation akin to your insides getting tied up into a bow. “If you want.”
“Maybe Ghoul can help us with that one weird piece,” he continued, adjusting his body so he could check the underside of the bike. “Y’know. The finnicky one.”
You could feel yourself making a face.
“Uh… I guess… I don’t know if he’ll do much of anything…” You cleared your throat. “I mean. I think we can figure it out. Us two.”
As the words slipped from your mouth, your skin started to tingle in a way that wasn’t necessarily comparable to a sunburn… but you didn’t care to dwell on it.
“…Alright,” Kobra chuckled. “No Ghoul, then.”
You smiled, though corralling it before it grew too big, and looked down at your swinging feet that hung off of the bench.
“He was telling me that you were upset, and stuff…” Kobra spoke again. “At the race. The other day.”
You blinked owlishly, failing to draw up an idea of what he was talking about; Kobra glanced at you again, the faintest of grins pulling at the corners of his lips.
“Something about the person with the pink helmet,” he added, turning his head back to his bike. Oh.
“Oh— upset?” You scoffed, stiffly tucking your arms against your chest. “I wasn’t upset about anythin’. They were— I mean, like, y’know— kind of. A little annoying, but I wasn’t upset.”
“They say something to you?” He hummed, getting up again to grab for his water bottle.
“No… I just. Got weird vibes,” you muttered, staring down at your hands. “I mean. They came on kind of strong, didn’t they? Like. Grabbing you all weird.”
Even though he wasn’t fully facing you, you could see the smile on his face spread by the way his ears moved, as he drank from his thermos.
When he lowered it from his lips, he wiped at his mouth. “I guess. You were complaining, though?”
…You wanted to melt into the floor.
“Not complaining— god, what did Ghoul say to you? He’s making it sound like I care. I don’t care, I was just saying that, like, if I were you, I would be annoyed. Cause that was— they were kinda… touchy-feely, and like, I know you don’t care for that kind of thing, and stuff. But I wasn’t upset. If you are into that with them or whatever then cool. I really don’t care, honestly.”
Your eyes flickered upwards, to the mortifying view of Kobra Kid holding back laughter.
How he managed to swallow it all was a mystery, but he nodded, set his bottle down, and got back to his bike. “Alright. Just curious.”
…
“So…” you coughed. “Are you, like… into them, though? Or…”
He did actually laugh that time. Just a little.
“I thought you didn’t care,” he teased. “No, I’m not,” he answered before you could jump in with a defense.
You nodded, and looked off towards the distance. “Cool.”
…
You pushed yourself back onto your feet, headed back for the door you came from.
“Where’re you going?” Kobra called after you.
“I need to talk to Ghoul, actually,” you replied, tasting your pulse on your tongue. “I’ll be back. Maybe.”