Chapter Text
Feb, 14th, X016
Time seemed to slow into a crawl for Katana at this very moment. Scratch that, the whole Inpherno was waiting on his call, his decision. A shaky hand hovering over the entrance door. Darting eyes speeding to look at the nearby street, some passers-by strolling on their evening walks, anything to delay the nerves and confronting questions that were rapidly approaching him;
What was he doing here?
Sure, you could say he was about to approach Slingshot during closing hours of the café Thieves Rest that he ran with his roommates and coworkers Shuriken and Vinestaff, but was that really all there was to the answer? No; the dilemma laid before him was much more complex.
It was the darkening bags that hung under his eyes, the yawns he didn’t bother to hide. The way his tail dragged itself across the white tiled floor. The repetitive, almost brain-dead motion of wiping the same spot on the front counter that only pushed around dried crumbs.
Everything from Slingshot was done with enthusiasm.
With open arms.
With eagerness to take on the next challenge that awaited him.
With a caring smile that could comfort anyone no matter what troubles they were facing.
Which only made his unfiltered fatigue all the more concerning to Katana.
This wasn’t normal or healthy for Slingshot, especially with how busy the café had been throughout the past few weeks thanks to this month’s Phestival. Featuring the Midnight Crows against the Morning Doves, the season drew in hordes of customers hoping to get their fills of caffeine and sweets while they rooted and cheered for their teams. He longed to call out to Slingshot on the spot, to sit him down for rest.
(How ironic, how they’ve tried to make him rest when he’d finally reveal his shaky form- on the verge of collapsing. All the while insisting he look after them instead, too.)
But what if Katana was intruding? What if Slingshot wanted time alone to himself and he ruined that fleeting moment of peace that they both knew didn’t come by every day? He couldn’t do that to the smaller, younger inphernal working tirelessly (and so much more for his age-) before him to support his dream and roommates (they’re his family now-) and now Katana’s left wondering if he should just turn around and never mention this to him again-
“Katan! You’re just who I needed to see today!”
An exhausted, but relieved laugh slips out from behind the front counter through the open window.
…Nevermind.
Pattering feet and an unrestrained tug on his wrist is all Katana can process before he’s pulled behind closed doors with a jingle of chimes.
In seconds, Katana gets spun into a chair left out next to a freshly cleaned table. The lingering smell of lemon disinfectant hits him first, strong but not enough to assault his nose, fortunately. But he could only register (and breathe out) a sigh of relief as the seat squeaked in protest before ultimately supporting his weight.
That could’ve ended much worse.
Slingshot himself moves to the next seat over, pulling his feet into a cross and melting into the cushions- he must've been on his feet for too long.
“So!” He claps, “Day of Devotion! How have you been?”
The question is met with silence.
“Right, um… Not in a.. talking mood?”
“No, I just- ” Katana sighs again, running a hand through his loose hair, tangling at the ends. If he knew his words were to stumble over themselves now, he would’ve dug his grave yesterday.
“I’m here to ask you a favour.”
Slingshot’s ears perk up drastically at the sound as he snaps his head to face Katana. Pupils dilating, he leans onto the back rest of the chair.
That’s a way to catch his interest, Katana muses as Slingshot’s smile stretches further across his face.
“Really? What type of favour?” He almost teases.
“One that requires your utmost secrecy and cooperation.” Katana stresses back. It’ll be better to tell Slingshot late than never; he cannot mess this up.
“Let’s cut to the chase already, Kata-”
“I need cupcakes.”
Now it’s Slingshot’s turn to go quiet.
“…So a special order. You want me to make a box of cupcakes for.. what exactly?” He finally says, eyes almost glimmering in anticipation.
Katana's cheeks rise in warmth to his blasted thoughts painting a rather, ahem, distracting image of his ‘what’ Slingshot must’ve been thinking of. If he’s gone this far already, there’s no backing out now.
“For Hyperlaser’s spawnday, on the first of March.” He mutters out somehow.
“For Hyper?” Slingshot queries back.
He suspects Slingshot heard him perfectly well, the question only to confirm his suspicions. He nods in agreement any ways, heart racing much harder than it should be.
“Oh, for Hyper.” He repeats. “Cool.”
Cool? Is that all Slingshot can say to his feelings? Cool?!
Katana clears his throat before he speaks again. “Really? What do you mean?”
“Uh, Shuri doesn’t really trust the guy because of the mercenary business and Korblox-” Slingshot points a hand at their living quarters upstairs, referring to the siblings inside. “But me and Vine are happy if you are!”
That quickly derails Katana’s train of thought.
“I’m sorry, Shuriken doesn’t what now?”
“ANYWAYS-!”
Slingshot abruptly calls out louder than necessary, “How do you know all that? I’m not sure Hyper’s the type of guy to tell people ‘bout that kinda stuff.”
“Well, about that…” Katana sucks in a breath, hesitating briefly before he begins explaining. He details how he’d been growing concerned for Hyperlaser, who he couldn’t contact for the past few weeks, and only learnt why from his employer Subspace.
And according to Subspace, Hyperlaser was “catching up on some institution work” to earn the single holiday he had this year on his spawnday, keeping him busy for the time being.
What the fuck?
No, seriously. Just one holiday?
No wonder Hyperlaser had been making the most of the little drinking sessions they had, which he played off as wanting to spend more time with the ronin.
And by “making the most” of their drinking sessions, of course the mercenary had meant ordering the strongest cocktails the bar could whip up and downing them while the witnessing staff eyed them (and each other) in concern.
Those were some… fun nights, as Katana could put as kindly as humanly possible. He had seen past the excuses, but only when Subspace explained it did they truly click into place.
Slingshot listens with consideration, making noises of affirmation every so often. Taking in each element in Katana’s retelling of the encounter. Sure, he does feel selfish for venting all these frustrations towards someone who'd never asked for any of this; but it took a great weight off his shoulders.
Holding onto hope someone would listen to him, an ear to lend, a shoulder to lean on. Why hadn't he left the Church earlier? He could've met these amazing kids sooner and spent more time in their warmth, even if it took time and some serious growing pains to accept it. (Leaving was a virtue in itself, but a man can dream for a kinder fate.)
Finding the first rentable home he could, moving the few belongings he'd managed to take from base. Katana wonders how he would've turned out if he'd moved into another place, without this café at his fingertips. He imagines a cold, closed off, shell of a man who refused to let anyone close- someone paranoid of poisonings and knocking Church grunts at his door.
To think what would've happened those three years ago, if Slingshot hadn't greeted his new neighbour with housewarming cookies the week he moved in. It's not a pretty image, he'd tell you that much.
They'd flipped his whole world, those kids. To imagine a few years ago he'd be here, requesting such a frivolous service from the very baker he'd previously sworn to keep as strangers over friends, then acquaintances when he wouldn't quit- his younger self wouldn't have dreamt it.
But that's the life he was living, and he certainly wasn't complaining now.
“Now that I’m thinking, I don’t have a forest flavoured anything on stock,” Slingshot adds, “-just the usual strawberry, raspberry, and blueberry stuff. Blackberries? Maybe- but nothing I can’t reliably get in Crossroads.”
“Do you think you can help figure out the finer details, Katan?”
Oh, he's asking if you could pick up your slack and make yourself useful for once.
(No, not like that.)
“I.. think.. I can.” Katana mumbles, stretching out the words as a means to force his brain to catch up.
Slingshot doesn't pay notice to the hesitation, at least he doesn't mention it. "Great! I'll get the box ready before the day and you can pick it up and give it to him! I'll probably have it ready by nine so you'll have time to store it somewhere safe, are you taking the train to the arcade?"
If only it were that simple. If he'd been able to hand over the gift in person, how would Hyperlaser react? Would he turn it down? Would he take it into stride? Would he question how in the hell he even knew-
He would've tried to insist he didn't need to go so far to celebrate something as small as a single day. Not for a weapon like himself.
No. Katana couldn't have that. Not for something as special as his spawnday.
But what if he didn't know? What if he'd gotten the package from someone who hadn't made themselves known, only that they cared? Would he be okay with that?
There was one way to find out.
This was the only way he could maybe, get his feelings onto paper and into the open before they consumed him whole. Before they burned him any longer than they already have. Before he stayed up another night thinking of their touches, pretending everything was fine like he did in the corruptions' clutches.
Except pretending wasn't an option anymore.
Maybe then he could finally take a risk of his own for once and get back some choice the Church had stolen from him all those years ago. Other than the battle he took to escape, but that was out of survival.
In it's own roundabout way, it made sense to leave his name out of the package.
“As.. much as it pains me, I fear he might refuse out of shame or such. Do you think we could arrange an.. alternative approach?”
(No, it's definitely something he wouldn't do. Totally. Banish the multiple thoughts of him trying to return Slingshot's past housewarming cookies with the recycled excuses of "I can't pay you back." Replaying in his mind. "And yet you keep eating them!" Slingshot argued would respond with a upturned grin, just before he lets Katana take the bag and eat it over the week.)
( 'There is no war in Ba Sing Se', as Shuriken loved to quote each time Vinestaff rewatched that particular season of The Final Heights. He was recommended the show in the past for it's graceful handling of sensitive subjects and riveting storyline, he should watch it sometime.)
“Wait- I can do that!” Slingshot beams, “We’re actually gonna be in the same Phight on the day if I remember correctly. I might be able to gift it to him there, win-win!”
That did sound somewhat like a plan, but…
"How should I pay you?"
"What?"
"The order. What do you normally charge for something like this?"
"I…" Slingshot hesitates for a moment, "thirty or so bux for a custom box of twelve I think, I need to check the site again though…" pulling his phone from his pocket, a browser is opened despite his heavy eyes nodding off. It doesn't spare Katana the mercy of missing the worry that flashes in his eyes, as he did when the older man denied himself grace freely given like breathing. Like he didn't deserve it.
Right. Another reason to worry. This "plan" you've got is going nowhere for certain. He's going to realise how unprepared, poorly thought out, childish this idea truly is, you may as well have asked him if he could-
"Yeah, it's thirty per box. I can do it."
Oh. He may have needed that. (Desperately, even? Don't tell Slingshot he said that, though.)
Katana stares back dumbly. "That... thank you."
Slingshot just smiles back. "Anytime, Katan."
"I still think we could do this sometime after the broadcast, or in reference to it somehow? I don't know, I'm probably grasping at straws by now..." Katana grumbles, mostly to himself.
“Oooooh! Like the time he knocked Skate back into spawn with his railgun melee style?" Slingshot exclaims, "That shit had never stopped being cool. Even if it's months old by now- I still have the clip Boombox recorded in my broadcast album, actually."
Katana makes no move to stop Slingshot from pulling his chair closer to show him the aforementioned video. He could let the baker reminisce on the good experiences he had, before they slipped away into memories.
The video itself wasn't very high quality, which consisted of the shaky portrait recording of Boombox watching the match in his apartment and panned to show some other friends at the scene. If Katana compared Slingshot's past descriptions- from the video game consoles and musical trinkets cluttered around the TV, that must've been where it was captured.
The cheers and laughter that followed from the moment Hyperlaser's gear made contact with Skateboard's face had rendered the video partially unviewable from how it was shaken. But the reel had solidified itself as a classic- and became Crossroads' hottest topic among the younger generations for the next few weeks.
He never really cared how viral the moment had gotten, nor how many people saw the display. If the cameras had caught the secret exchange they had, no press had mentioned it; which didn't make any difference. Only the sparkle in his eyes when he looked back for Katana's reaction, the rare, awed smile he just knew was behind the glass. Like even he'd discovered this new-founded strength the other knew he had all along. Surely, nothing could've prepared him for that smile- almost reserved for him.
Let everyone else marvel in the show, the demonstration of raw, refined skill the mercenary had underneath his sleeves; Katana much rathered the amazement and wonder of-
“Look, Katan-" Slingshot points an open hand to Katana, reeling at the dreamy look in his eyes he was certain he’d taken.
“-I had a feeling you had something going on, but a special someone is a whole other thing I wasn’t ready for!”
Right. Back to reality, then.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want, I can take it.” He forces a scowl underneath the mask- it doesn’t last long, replacing itself with a huff and an unmistakeable grin shifting underneath.
Katana however, can’t complain. With how juvenile he’s been sounding- like a school kid swooning over their crush, mind you- it was bound to warrant some sort of remark. Maybe even an outside perspective and a reason to laugh away the nerves.
But ultimately, he was willing to let it slide this time. The kid deserved it.
“Now, back on schedule..” Slingshot pulls out a notepad from his apron pocket,
“What flavours does your lucky donee like?”