Chapter Text
Ben groaned, tromping up the stairs to their shitty apartment. His back ached and sweat drenched every part of him. For a city as dark as Gotham was, he hadn’t expected it to be so hot. However, he should have known with the rampant pollution that the heat would be trapped and thickened with misery.
Finally making it to his floor, Ben dragged his feet down the hall to the apartment. He grimaced when intense pain ruptured in his chest. With a grunt, he shuffled the few bags of groceries he had to clutch at his heart. The gunshot wound that had ended him in another life throbbed, reminding him of his penance for trying to live again.
Like I had a choice, Ben grumbled in his mind, gritting his teeth. After a couple more seconds of pain, it slowly ebbed away. The agony lingered like it always did, but the youth was no longer paralyzed in place. He continued his trek back to his home.
Of course, his woes continued. Ben gave a deadpan glare to the door. On the splintered surface staring back at him was a slip of paper. “Notice!” blared across the top.
Ben didn’t need to read the rest of the small text. He briefly caught sight of the landlord’s signature at the bottom before tearing away and smashing it in his first. He cursed to Thor as he fumbled with his keys, jamming it into the lock.
Exactly what I need right now, Ben thought sarcastically, unlocking the door and kicking it inward. First I had to short out on groceries for the meds. Ben still wanted to smash his fist in the dealer’s face for upping the price. But the variant didn’t really have any other choice but to comply, since he couldn’t get an actual prescription from a doctor. Not without being an actual citizen. And now the rent. Gotta love Parker Luck. Whatever will it do ne-
Stumbling through the entryway, Ben barely got the door closed when one of the paper grocery bags decided it was done and tore, spilling all the contents on the stained wood floor.
“You're kidding me,” Ben bemoaned, shoulders slumping. Clenching his fists, he softly banged his head against the doorframe. He stayed there a second, wanting everything to end. He soaked in his misery, letting the feeling of sweat, aching limbs, and chronic pain overstimulate him.
Counting to ten, Ben took a deep breath before standing up straight again. He rolled his shoulders before glancing over one. “Richie!” He yelled, stooping over to pick up the bag’s spilled contents. “Get over here and help me with the groceries!”
“Coming!” His jubilant younger brother called. There was a thump and a curse, then Richie opened the door to the bathroom.
Ben’s breath still hitched after over a year of seeing his dead brother’s face grinning back at him. His old wound throbbed deeper whenever he saw the scars marring Richie’s golden skin. If Ben’s gunshot wound hurt him, he couldn’t imagine the pain Richie went through.
The awe left Ben when his eyes snagged on what his younger brother was holding. “Where the fuck did you get that dagger, Rick?” He accused. His nostrils flared at the blood still streaking the surface.
Richie scoffed, giving the blade a flippant spin. “Someone tried to mug me with it. Can you believe it?” Richie huffed before holding up the dagger to the light, eyes roving over the gleaming metal. “Such an amateur, didn’t even know how to pick a good mark. His fighting stance sucked too. Laughed my ass off at him, but the blade’s nice. Well balanced. Want to test it?”
Ben wasn’t paying attention to Richie’s mutterings. He merely rolled his eyes and got back to picking up the food. He wrinkled his nose at the tomatoes that had gone splat on the hardwood floor. Another smell and stain to deal with in this shitty apartment.
Suddenly, the cool hilt of the dagger was booping Ben upside the head. Eyes widening with a twitch, Ben snapped his hand up to grab the weapon before it dared to touch him again. He whipped his head around to glare at his brother.
“I swear,” Ben started after a pregnant pause, “if you touch me again, I will-”
“Okay, geez,” Richie let go of the dagger and put both his hands up in surrender, taking half a step back. “If I knew you’d be on your period, I wouldn’t have bothered.”
Oh, Thor, give me strength. Ben thought, looking up at the ceiling. It took everything in him not to strangle his brother.
Richie’s presence was a blessing. Ben never thought he’d see his little brother ever again. His last moments blasted over live television was all Ben thought he’d get. To see and interact with him now, even as his teenage self, was a miracle. One Ben could never take for granted.
That being said…
“Here,” Ben picked up the remaining sack and thrust it toward Richie. “Put those away.”
“Aye aye, captain,” Richie said with a cheeky grin. Just the sight irritated Ben.
But his brother did his task without any complaint. Ben watched him putt around the kitchen for a moment before sighing heavily. He looked at the dagger now in his grasp. Richie was right, the blade was nice. Expensive. No amateur mugger should have gotten a hold of it.
Not my problem. Ben immediately deleted his thought process, going back to picking up the groceries. Once he got a good hold of everything, he stumbled his way to the kitchen.
“Once you’re done with that bag, can you clean up the mess by the door?” Ben asked off-handedly as he started putting away his own armful of stuff.
“Sure. I’m used to cleaning up your messes anyway, Benji,” Richie beamed.
Ben just scoffed. More like the other way around.
With Richie going back to the entryway, Ben got the kitchen to himself. Although the apartment was really only one room with second-hand furniture making up the barriers to the bedroom, dining room, living room, and kitchen, the space still allowed Ben to relax. He absently listened to Richie humming to himself as he tidied away their sustenance for this week. As he was finishing, he saw Richie had picked up the newspaper while he was out.
Going over to the coffee pot, Ben poured the remains into a mug before taking out the bottle of pills he got from the dealer. It was by no means the usual bottle one would find at the pharmacy. The little cartoon zombie grinning on the cap was a dead giveaway. Ben just rolled his eyes at the marketing before twisting the cap off. He spilled two of the capsules in his hand before setting the open container on the counter.
Taking them with a swig of coffee, Ben went over to the dining room table. “Got more medicine,” he threw over his shoulder. “I left it open in the kitchen; remember to drink something with them.”
“...right,” Richie’s hesitant voice claimed. Ben didn’t question it. He knew his brother was uneasy about taking the strange pills, but it helped with their chronic pain. Nothing else put a dent into it like zombirejef.
Sipping from his mug again, Ben opened up the Gotham Gazette. A wave of nostalgia washed over him. It reminded Ben of Saturday mornings back in Queens. May would be making zucchini bread in the kitchen while Peter ran around with his toys or watched some documentary on the tv. The kid would bounce back and forth from the living and dining room to ask Ben random questions.
By Thor, Ben hoped Peter and May were alright. After Richie and Mary… passed, things at home got tight. With Ben’s death…
Don’t worry about it, Ben scolded himself, roughly turning the page. He absently read the articles. The daily news wasn’t as entertaining to his teenage-self as it was his elder counterpart, but he had to focus. Gotham wasn’t a place where he could be obliviously uninformed. The last year and a half has taught him that.
As of early this morning, Ben and Richie were out of funds. The meds price going up had been unexpected. However, at least they have a bottle’s worth to tie them over.
Then again, one bottle was supposed to be for a person. 40 pills in each bottle should roughly last one person a month. Two knocks that time in half. Ben has a little over a week to come up with the money for the next dosage.
I could get off them. Ben thought. He wasn’t going to ask Richie to. Although he tried to hide it, Ben knew his younger brother barely got by with the dosage he was already taking. Ben wished they had the resources and IDs to get him the shot, but until they registered, that was never going to happen. So pills it was.
Besides their meds, Ben also had to figure out their basics. Food and shelter. They got their food, but who knew how long it’ll last feeding two teenage boys. But that was future-Ben’s problem.
So shelter. With the final notice and no means of actually paying their landlord, Ben and Richie were going to be kicked out onto the street before the week was up. Usually, the actual eviction took a while to process with the courts involved. However, Gotham was a different beast. Ben was surprised the locks haven’t been changed yet. By morning, their landlord could be barging in with a shotgun for all he knew.
They needed funds yesterday. But two underaged Zombies weren’t going to find work. Nothing that was clean, anyway.
“Did you see that one exhibit being set up in the Diamond Distinct?” Richie’s voice broke Ben out of his musings.
Flipping a side of the newspaper down to watch his brother scrub at the wood floor, Ben frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Richie smirked. The grin left an uneasy feeling in Ben’s stomach. That was Richie’s signature for trouble.
“First page, dummy,” Richie snarked. Ben folded the newspaper over, skimming the headline. “Apparently, it’s this ridiculously expensive art exhibit. Paintings, mostly. They were discovered in some dead billionaire’s basement, thought to be lost to time. Now that they’ve been found, they’ve been going around to different museums all over the country.”
Ben looked over the article, confirming Richie’s claim. He narrowed his eyes on a picture of the exhibit.
“Now what kind of lunatic would want to set up the display in Gotham of all places?” Richie inquired. “I mean, seriously? You really want to tango with the Crime Capital of America right after getting all these artifacts back?”
As Ben continued reading, there was a thump and groan of wood. He looked up and found Richie crouching on the rickety table, an evil grin making his eyes sparkle as he stared down at him.
“I’d say it's the perfect environment for a heist, right?” Richie waggled his eyebrows.
Ben felt the corner of his mouth turn down. “No.” He turned his attention back to the newspaper.
Richie scoffed, maneuvering so he sat properly on the table with his legs dangling. He started kicking them like a little kid, his left foot coming up to brush against Ben each time. Ben set his jaw, ignoring Richie’s antics.
“Why not? My pickpocketing and your odd jobs can only get us so far. We need money and just one of those paintings could set us up for a few months at least.”
Ben didn’t look up, staring holes into the flimsy paper between his fingers.
“It’s not like we wouldn’t be able to find buyers,” Richie continued conversationally. He leaned back on his hands, still absently kicking. “The black market around here is substantial. Plus, with our exotic experiences, I’m sure evading security would be a cake walk.”
He could feel his younger brother staring expectantly at him. Clenching his teeth, Ben resolved not to answer Richie.
“I don’t get it,” Richie finally said after a silent moment. This time, the kick Ben received actually jostled him. He couldn’t help but glance up and glare at Richie. “What’s got your asshole squeaked tight? This is low stakes, high rewards. Why don’t you-”
“I’m not leading us down a road of crime, Rick,” Ben finally spoke up. He glanced away, cheeks burning slightly. “It’s bad enough you’re resorting to stealing from passer-bys. We’re not going to fucking break into a museum just to-”
“Survive?” Richie interrupted, raising a brow. “Really? You’re so caught up because of a moral crisis. C’mon-”
Grunting, Ben shoved Richie as hard as he dared. It made his younger brother sprawl out on the table, making the flimsy furniture groan again. Getting up out of his chair, Ben stalked over to their “bed.” He threw himself on the stained mattress, burying his face in his arms and trying not to get annoyed at the spring now digging into his ribs.
The apartment was filled with Richie sputtering as he got up. Ben was pretty sure he heard his brother say something along the lines of, “you can take the precinct away from the cop, but not the cop out of the precinct.” Which, rude. At least Ben never signed up for S.H.I.E.L.D.
Suddenly, a weight was thrown on top of Ben. His head came up as he groaned, trying to knock Richie off of him.
They both squirmed around until Richie relaxed into Ben’s right side, limbs thrown over him to keep him in place. Ben didn’t mind. Although sometimes it was trying living in the same cramped space with his brother, he actually enjoyed snuggling with Richie at night. It helped to have his brother softly snoring in his ear when the bad thoughts threaten to drown Ben.
He knew it was shared. Some nights he’ll wake up to arms snaking around his back to clutch at him like a stuffed animal, soft gasping breaths filling the room and tears making his shoulder wet. Ben wished he could take Richie’s pain, both the new and old. However, it seemed like his brother would forever be scarred by their dismal, ugly past.
“Look,” Richie finally said with a huff, burrowing down deeper into Ben’s side. “Just think about it, okay? The exhibit is only here until the day after tomorrow. If we want to strike, we won’t have much time.”
Instead of answering, Ben shifted so he laid on his side, facing Richie. He wrapped his arms around his little brother, holding him close. The meds were kicking in now, so the ache in his chest had dulled. Still, Ben would take any reason to cling to his brother.
Just take it one day at a time. Ben reminded himself, closing his eyes. It didn’t matter that he woke up before the sun to meet the dealer. That this day wasn’t even halfway over. He fisted his hand into Richie’s hair, breathing in deeply. They could afford to take a small break.
It took everything in him not to glance back at the door, where the crumbled notice note lay.