(no subject)
HAVE SOME TIGER & BUNNY FIC? Layne and I are leaving for a while.
Delicious Untitled Kotetsu Angst
Tiger & Bunny, gen, 1,300ish words, PG-13
It wasn't like Kotetsu hadn't felt this feeling before.
He had paced the length of his apartment twice, in a pair of boxers and a faded, stained undershirt before he realized the blinds were pulled, the darkened streets outside like a mirror. He didn't notice until he caught something from the corner of his eye moving, his own reflection, barefoot and hands wrapped around arms in an almost comical gesture of thought. He didn't care what the neighbors thought at this point, and really, had not since he'd moved in. A bigger space was needed to walk and for that only did he get hastily dressed.
It wasn't like this feeling was foreign. It was unwelcome, but not unfamiliar. Dissatisfaction. Malcontent. He wondered what it was this time, but it seemed the apartment was filled to the brim with emotions, ghosts stirring. He wouldn't have been surprised to look up at his reflection in the window and see something thick as smoke billowing behind him, pressing against the glass.
He dug for a coat in the closet, a thicker one with a hood. The closet was full of strange bits of junk, clothes from winter, a stack of board games he played with his daughter a long time ago, their boxes warped and yellowed, and missing pieces. He settled for something, no longer feeling like burying himself alive in storage. A lighter jacket with a surprise five dollar bill in the pocket. It was laying not on a wire hanger, but on top of a CD he didn't know why he kept because he couldn't remember a single song on it. He was getting to that age where things he'd enjoyed in his young were classic. Music, clothes. I'm not there yet, he thought, brushing dust from his sleeve. The CD was covered in layers of dust from years and disuse and distastefully, he realized that's what he felt like. Old.
Kotetsu heard his mother's voice as he locked the door and shoved his hands in his pockets, running a finger over the crumpled money.
"You're going to get too old to do this," she'd said, mostly in jest. He could see her face on the other end of the line, hear her mouth quirk and then turn serious. She'd asked him when he was going to see Kaede.
"I don't know."
She'd wondered whether being a hero was more important than being a father. It upset him that none of his first answers were "no" so much that he'd ended the call shortly. He felt useless at both, if he wanted to be honest, but didn't let his mother know that. There were so many things he wanted to ask his daughter before they spoke, but stalled when her voice came on the line. What did he know about her life, really know about it? Did it bother him that he didn't? Of course it did, he'd argued with himself many times. Did it really bother him enough to try? He didn't have an answer and that in itself was damning.
The weather was chilly outside, or at least the wind was, beneath a moonless cloudy sky and he'd walked farther than he'd anticipated at this point, walking quickly in a short while, but kept going towards an older neighborhood he knew well. Hole-in-the-wall spaghetti places and a few coffee shops with grimy Formica counters and always hot, if not drinkable coffee. It had this run-down, beat-up charm of an old leather sofa.
There was more than that, though. There always was more on his mind when Kotetsu was in a mood where he didn't know what he wanted, what to do with himself. In the apartment he felt hot, then cold and couldn't find a comfortable place for his arms beneath him in bed, so he stood up and didn't realize he'd paced as he thought. It wasn't a familiar habit, he had just felt like walking.
He kept seeing that kid's face. He looked perfect the night they introduced him. Perfect was such a strange choice of words, but he felt that type of jealousy ones feels that goes for a second into reverence and hatred and then back into plain sullen resentment. Barnaby Brooks Jr.
Did real people really look like that? Barnaby looked like a movie star in his red suit, perfect hair (perfect) and wore boldness like warpaint, sans mask and revealing his name. Someone new. It didn't so much grind on Kotetsu's nerves tonight as make him just feel worn out.
He would keep going back to the images of Barnaby in his head, slicing like a beacon of doubt through what little confidence he could feel. So he was a lousy father who replaced his former life with being a lousy hero. What did he have now? He couldn't start a list of things he was good at if he tried, and it wasn't even a lack of self-approval, he felt, just fact. He was never any good at selling himself and no one really ever bought anyway.
"What then?" he said, and his own voice in the quiet streets surprised him, having not meant to say it aloud. He was answered by the sound of bass thumping in a song from a car far away. And then silence.
The shops were mostly closed, and the good, earnest Italian place on the corner still had its sign lit, one of the letters flickering. The pizza place next to it advertised prices, and handmade Cannoli, the latter of which was handwritten and misspelled. But it had charm, things that weren't shiny and new and just too perfect.
It took him less time to circle back and go home than it did to walk down the street in the first place. His mood didn't lift, but his head felt lighter and he honestly felt like too much movement with too little sleep. He could go home to a bed, or to instant noodles he didn't feel like eating. He could make coffee -- the coffee shop had been closed since midnight -- or he could go to bed.
The apartment was filled with ghosts and they all seemed active tonight -- the ghosts of old thoughts, feelings, resentment, sadness, whatever else could be thrown in a stew of self ... not loathing, but self-not-quite-okay-with.
Ten past two, he stirred on the couch, naked beer bottle sitting on a table. It'd been years since he used a coaster, and the wet ring left behind from the drink added to the story of the wooden table, nicks, stains. He didn't feel like finishing the drink, but ran a finger down the condensation on the side, leaving a shiny trail.
Feeling like the only person who gave a shit about the people of the city got old so quickly, too. It did! It wasn't that he was high-minded about it, he didn't guess, he hoped. But you put too much in and fuck it up, and who cares? He was responsible for his pocket of this world. He could be the only damn one who really and truly was, and he would still being doing it for the reward of putting his powers to good use. Saving people. Number one, he thought, and reached for the bottle again.
"Number one," he said to himself, and took a drink. On the list of things I'm good at .... The thought petered away as soon as he set the bottle back on the table and flopped on his stomach. Tonight, tonight. What a night.
Barnaby probably didn't care. Barnaby was too novel to.
"Who cares what that kid cares about?" he told the bottle, his reflection warped in the glass, cheek pressed against a couch cushion. Kotetsu obviously did and didn't like that.
It wasn't like he hadn't felt old, washed-up and useless before. He just hadn't felt it so keenly, his own self-worth staring him in the face. Tomorrow was another day, and the day after that was another day, and he'd keep going, he promised himself.
Things only get better with time, right? he thought as he drifted off and this thought seemed to comfort him to sleep. A certain patina things get, hmmm, worn, and imperfect, a beat-up charm ...
The Metric System
Tiger & Bunny, gen, 2,000ish words, PG
Kotetsu wasn't going to beg.
Thankfully, Barnaby had said yes, so he didn't have to be offended. Offense took so much trouble, and he didn't feel up to it this afternoon, not really.
He'd leaned over the slight partition between their desks and tried not to look at what his partner was doing on the computer, and waited for the right moment. If Barnaby noticed and asked, it would look suspicious, so he settled for clearing his throat and raising his eyebrows with a smile when Barnaby finally looked. It wasn't much of a look of acknowledgement as it was a slight roll of the eyes to the side.
"What?"
"I was wondering if you were hungry." That wasn't what he meant to ask. "Would you like to go out for lunch?" That was it.
"Are you really asking me this?" Barnaby answered Kotetsu. He could feel the eyes of the secretary on the back of his head, and wondered if she was anticipating an argument. A few had broken out between them in the office, as they were wont to do everywhere, and always over such mundane things.
"Absolutely," Kotetsu replied. Barnaby made a noncommital noise, shrugged and Kotetsu didn't mind if he was doing this to appease him, he'd said yes. It didn't matter so incredibly much that he'd wanted to have lunch today as it did that Kotetsu didn't look stupid. And damn it, he thought, today is going to be a good day. The word "friends" came into his head, along with other, related words like "pals", "frenemies" and "partners." Partners was good. The word was amiable and neighborly without expecting too much.
*
Kotetsu didn't have a plan per se, but there was a nice little place down the street, the kind of sprawling restaurant that spilled out onto the street with wire chairs beneath umbrellas. They took a spot inside, near a window. Barnaby didn't make it easy to like him and Kotetsu was sure that he made it that way on purpose, but little things like this were nice. “It's nice, isn't it” sounded like something someone's mother would say. Kotetsu's mother probably had. He almost felt the words on his lips before he realized how trite and drossy they'd be. The smartly-dressed waitress interrupted his thoughts, to take drink orders. They'd both ordered water at the same time; Barnaby requested lemon.
"This is nice, isn't it?" Dammit. "I mean, this restaurant." Kotetsu rested his fingers lightly on the edge of the table and smiled. He hadn't planned this far, and "this far" meaning conversation. It seemed every time he opened his mouth to say something wise, something fatherly and dopey came out. When he meant to say something funny, it ended up being too obvious. Barnaby just made it hard to like him, that's all. At least they weren't arguing.
"I've been here before," Barnaby answered, looking at the menu. "I usually eat lunch alone."
"Isn't that lonely?"
"It's a good time to think."
"This chicken sandwich is good." Kotetsu pointed to the picture on his own menu.
"I need to watch the time," Barnaby replied. "I have an engagement at two."
"Ah, well, thanks for penciling me in." It came out a little more sarcastic than Kotetsu meant; he'd meant it to be a joke and Barnaby seemed to take no notice but instead turned his attention to the waitress with the drinks. The ice in the water glittered in the sunlight pouring in from the window.
Kotetsu watched Barnaby squeeze the lemon into his drink, juice running down his fingers, as he contemplated his menu.
"The chicken sandwich is good, Bunny." Kotetsu gave a big smile to the waitress and Barnaby and looked down at his own menu, feeling a bit stupid.
Barnaby ordered a salad instead and Kotetsu ordered the chicken sandwich. As soon as the girl had turned her back, Barnaby glared. "Don't call me 'Bunny' in public."
"Ahhhhh then what else should I call you?"
"... maybe Barnaby?"
Bunny had a funny way of making things not fun. Kotetsu blew his bangs out of his face in exasperation. At least he'd added "in public" because Kotetsu had no intention of calling him anything but Bunny. He was always Bunny. It had become less of a needling, teasing thing to piss off his partner and more of a term of endearment now. Barnaby called him "old man" because he probably didn't want to get too familiar. Hopefully that would become a nickname too.
*
"I don't know," said Nathan. He took a sip of his half-empty bottle of water and drained it in one sip. "I mean, I understand you're trying to make friends, but I'm going to be honest. When you were young, would you want to be friends with someone's father? It's the same situation."
Kotetsu bristled. "How old do you think I am?"
"Different generations."
"I'm not that old."
"It's not about that." Nathan drummed his fingers on the empty bottle of water.
"Then, what is it about?" Kotetsu sat up on the weight bench then frowned. "Sorry, I don't mean to always ask like that, I know you get sick of advice --"
"It comes with the territory," replied Nathan, batting his lashes.
"I just want to get along with Bunny." It sounded simple, but he didn't like being thought of as so old and useless. Barnaby was the hero of the zeitgeist, of the new age of emerging crime fighters. He didn't have to be so ornery, though, Kotetsu reckoned.
"Maybe I am too old," he conceded.
"Really," said Nathan and it wasn't a question so much as the end of the conversation.
"As long as you try and not do that thing you do to him," said Karina beside Kotetsu, "maybe you guys could get along better. It's a thought." He hadn't known she was listening.
"Huh? What thing?"
"That thing where ..." Karina looked a little regretful for a second, as though worried of hurting his feelings, but finished her sentence anyway: "you get into people's business."
"Huh?"
"It's a dad sort of thing," she said delicately. Nathan nodded and that irritated Kotetsu.
"Ah, so I do it to you guys too huh?" Kotetsu cradled his chin in his hand and thought of adding, "But you like me anyway!" That was childish.
"Hmmm, Handsome doesn't seem to be the type to be taken care of."
"Yep." Karina had said this in a way that seemed to settle the matter, and it was driving Kotetsu a little more insane.
Over in the corner, the treadmill Keith was using turned down from a full run to a light jog, to what Kotetsu thought of as a "talking run." "I don't see a problem with trying to make friends!" Keith said with a smile.
"Reaching out is a good way to make teams stronger."
"Thank you!" Kotetsu opened his hands, the words, "you see?" hanging between them unspoken.
"Yes, of course being friends is a good way to make teamwork better," said Keith and he looked at the ceiling thinking for a moment. Keith had that way of speaking that made people stop and listen, a commanding presence. People listened to Keith no matter if what he was saying was good or not.
"You know," Keith continued, "there's more to being a hero than saving people and earning points."
Kotetsu was pleasantly shocked.
"There's giving interviews," Keith went on, confident in his point, "and signing autographs."
"And?" Kotetsu raised an eyebrow, his pleasant shock deflated.
"That's reaching out to people too."
"Oh."
"I gave an interview a few weeks ago," said Keith and flipped the switch on the treadmill, allowing it to come to a stop as he added, "And I said, 'I couldn't do it without the help of teamwork!'"
"Which interview was that?" asked Nathan.
"The one where I went through my day getting ready to be Sky High!" Keith smiled again. "I stressed the importance of a good breakfast. I think it's the key to getting ready for a good day." He stepped off the treadmill and picked up his bottle of water, his eyes still smiling.
Karina looked on the verge of rolling her eyes. "I'm the only one here in school, still doing hero work and ... and uh, other things. I couldn't have breakfast if I woke up before dawn. And I do. Who has time for breakfast?"
Keith looked offended.
"I mean, the key is balance," she went on. "Balancing one thing without another so you don't get overwhelmed. Anyway, I have a ton of homework. I shouldn't be here arguing about how much I have to do."
"I thought you were getting help for schoolwork?" Nathan asked and Karina shrugged.
"I had to read a book before this week and do a really long report. You know what I haven't done?" she asked.
"Hmmmm?"
"Even touched the book. I don't know the name of the book."
"Well, that's what the internet's for," Nathan replied with a laugh and Keith and Karina laughed too. Kotetsu was the only one who didn't feel like laughing. No one remembered he was there. How childish was that?
He felt in that moment like the middle sister from an old sitcom. Karina Karina Karina. He wanted to help her and give her advice too, but apparently when he did it he was being a meddlesome dad. When Fire Emblem and Sky High did it, they were buddies.
*
Kotetsu was surprised when he was contacted at six that night, curled up barefoot on the couch, remote in hand. He wanted to watch nothing on television, but there wasn't much else to do tonight until he was needed. His answer to the call was eager and he was surprised to see ol' Bunny on the other end. Barnaby didn't look apologetic or sheepish, or anything but himself. Kotetsu didn't know why he expected him to call back and apologize for earlier that day. Barnaby had left halfway through their lunch date.
"Are you busy?"
"Is everything fine?"
"It is."
This was awkward. Kotetsu felt a smile on his face, but kept it from his partner. "Would you like to go to dinner?"
"I suppose."
"Isn't that why you called?"
"I'll meet you ..."
"I know a good restaurant," Kotetsu interrupted. "No chicken sandwiches."
"How far is it from the office?"
"Is that where you are?"
"No, but I can navigate from there."
Barnaby was there first and Kotetsu saw him before Barnaby noticed he was there. Standing at ease, Kotetsu was relieved to notice, not much tension in his shoulders. Barnaby picked a blond hair absently off his sleeve and watched it float away on the wind. He didn't look impatient either, just kind of sad.
Not sad, really, Kotetsu correctly himself, just kind of lonely outside by himself, the streetlight illuminating his hair to almost a whiteness. Maybe he was lonely.
Kotetsu started towards him but bit his lip, wondering what he'd say when he greeted Barnaby. Greet him as a friend, a colleague? Take his coat like a proper gentlemen? Kotetsu grinned to himself.
Of course, even if they were in public, outside a busy restaurant, he was going to walk up and call him Bunny.
And even if Bunny, Kotetsu thought, now that he was on a roll with a good, genial mood, was to become the new standard and Kotetsu was left behind in the dust, Kotetsu would keep doing what he did best -- trying to do right and save people. That was all. He didn't care if Barnaby felt his way was old or useless. Or if Barnaby felt his methods of ... well, affection were obnoxious or overbearing.
It didn't mean he had to like the current hero status quo, or even the new system by which heroes operated -- even if he was old and old-fashioned, even if they were the metric system and he was the customary, the only one clinging to the stodgy ways of justice, it didn't matter. They could still be partners, couldn't they?
Friends, pals, something like that.
Kotetsu straightened his tie. He hoped Bunny felt the same way one day, and he didn't want to keep him waiting.
Delicious Untitled Kotetsu Angst
Tiger & Bunny, gen, 1,300ish words, PG-13
It wasn't like Kotetsu hadn't felt this feeling before.
He had paced the length of his apartment twice, in a pair of boxers and a faded, stained undershirt before he realized the blinds were pulled, the darkened streets outside like a mirror. He didn't notice until he caught something from the corner of his eye moving, his own reflection, barefoot and hands wrapped around arms in an almost comical gesture of thought. He didn't care what the neighbors thought at this point, and really, had not since he'd moved in. A bigger space was needed to walk and for that only did he get hastily dressed.
It wasn't like this feeling was foreign. It was unwelcome, but not unfamiliar. Dissatisfaction. Malcontent. He wondered what it was this time, but it seemed the apartment was filled to the brim with emotions, ghosts stirring. He wouldn't have been surprised to look up at his reflection in the window and see something thick as smoke billowing behind him, pressing against the glass.
He dug for a coat in the closet, a thicker one with a hood. The closet was full of strange bits of junk, clothes from winter, a stack of board games he played with his daughter a long time ago, their boxes warped and yellowed, and missing pieces. He settled for something, no longer feeling like burying himself alive in storage. A lighter jacket with a surprise five dollar bill in the pocket. It was laying not on a wire hanger, but on top of a CD he didn't know why he kept because he couldn't remember a single song on it. He was getting to that age where things he'd enjoyed in his young were classic. Music, clothes. I'm not there yet, he thought, brushing dust from his sleeve. The CD was covered in layers of dust from years and disuse and distastefully, he realized that's what he felt like. Old.
Kotetsu heard his mother's voice as he locked the door and shoved his hands in his pockets, running a finger over the crumpled money.
"You're going to get too old to do this," she'd said, mostly in jest. He could see her face on the other end of the line, hear her mouth quirk and then turn serious. She'd asked him when he was going to see Kaede.
"I don't know."
She'd wondered whether being a hero was more important than being a father. It upset him that none of his first answers were "no" so much that he'd ended the call shortly. He felt useless at both, if he wanted to be honest, but didn't let his mother know that. There were so many things he wanted to ask his daughter before they spoke, but stalled when her voice came on the line. What did he know about her life, really know about it? Did it bother him that he didn't? Of course it did, he'd argued with himself many times. Did it really bother him enough to try? He didn't have an answer and that in itself was damning.
The weather was chilly outside, or at least the wind was, beneath a moonless cloudy sky and he'd walked farther than he'd anticipated at this point, walking quickly in a short while, but kept going towards an older neighborhood he knew well. Hole-in-the-wall spaghetti places and a few coffee shops with grimy Formica counters and always hot, if not drinkable coffee. It had this run-down, beat-up charm of an old leather sofa.
There was more than that, though. There always was more on his mind when Kotetsu was in a mood where he didn't know what he wanted, what to do with himself. In the apartment he felt hot, then cold and couldn't find a comfortable place for his arms beneath him in bed, so he stood up and didn't realize he'd paced as he thought. It wasn't a familiar habit, he had just felt like walking.
He kept seeing that kid's face. He looked perfect the night they introduced him. Perfect was such a strange choice of words, but he felt that type of jealousy ones feels that goes for a second into reverence and hatred and then back into plain sullen resentment. Barnaby Brooks Jr.
Did real people really look like that? Barnaby looked like a movie star in his red suit, perfect hair (perfect) and wore boldness like warpaint, sans mask and revealing his name. Someone new. It didn't so much grind on Kotetsu's nerves tonight as make him just feel worn out.
He would keep going back to the images of Barnaby in his head, slicing like a beacon of doubt through what little confidence he could feel. So he was a lousy father who replaced his former life with being a lousy hero. What did he have now? He couldn't start a list of things he was good at if he tried, and it wasn't even a lack of self-approval, he felt, just fact. He was never any good at selling himself and no one really ever bought anyway.
"What then?" he said, and his own voice in the quiet streets surprised him, having not meant to say it aloud. He was answered by the sound of bass thumping in a song from a car far away. And then silence.
The shops were mostly closed, and the good, earnest Italian place on the corner still had its sign lit, one of the letters flickering. The pizza place next to it advertised prices, and handmade Cannoli, the latter of which was handwritten and misspelled. But it had charm, things that weren't shiny and new and just too perfect.
It took him less time to circle back and go home than it did to walk down the street in the first place. His mood didn't lift, but his head felt lighter and he honestly felt like too much movement with too little sleep. He could go home to a bed, or to instant noodles he didn't feel like eating. He could make coffee -- the coffee shop had been closed since midnight -- or he could go to bed.
The apartment was filled with ghosts and they all seemed active tonight -- the ghosts of old thoughts, feelings, resentment, sadness, whatever else could be thrown in a stew of self ... not loathing, but self-not-quite-okay-with.
Ten past two, he stirred on the couch, naked beer bottle sitting on a table. It'd been years since he used a coaster, and the wet ring left behind from the drink added to the story of the wooden table, nicks, stains. He didn't feel like finishing the drink, but ran a finger down the condensation on the side, leaving a shiny trail.
Feeling like the only person who gave a shit about the people of the city got old so quickly, too. It did! It wasn't that he was high-minded about it, he didn't guess, he hoped. But you put too much in and fuck it up, and who cares? He was responsible for his pocket of this world. He could be the only damn one who really and truly was, and he would still being doing it for the reward of putting his powers to good use. Saving people. Number one, he thought, and reached for the bottle again.
"Number one," he said to himself, and took a drink. On the list of things I'm good at .... The thought petered away as soon as he set the bottle back on the table and flopped on his stomach. Tonight, tonight. What a night.
Barnaby probably didn't care. Barnaby was too novel to.
"Who cares what that kid cares about?" he told the bottle, his reflection warped in the glass, cheek pressed against a couch cushion. Kotetsu obviously did and didn't like that.
It wasn't like he hadn't felt old, washed-up and useless before. He just hadn't felt it so keenly, his own self-worth staring him in the face. Tomorrow was another day, and the day after that was another day, and he'd keep going, he promised himself.
Things only get better with time, right? he thought as he drifted off and this thought seemed to comfort him to sleep. A certain patina things get, hmmm, worn, and imperfect, a beat-up charm ...
The Metric System
Tiger & Bunny, gen, 2,000ish words, PG
Kotetsu wasn't going to beg.
Thankfully, Barnaby had said yes, so he didn't have to be offended. Offense took so much trouble, and he didn't feel up to it this afternoon, not really.
He'd leaned over the slight partition between their desks and tried not to look at what his partner was doing on the computer, and waited for the right moment. If Barnaby noticed and asked, it would look suspicious, so he settled for clearing his throat and raising his eyebrows with a smile when Barnaby finally looked. It wasn't much of a look of acknowledgement as it was a slight roll of the eyes to the side.
"What?"
"I was wondering if you were hungry." That wasn't what he meant to ask. "Would you like to go out for lunch?" That was it.
"Are you really asking me this?" Barnaby answered Kotetsu. He could feel the eyes of the secretary on the back of his head, and wondered if she was anticipating an argument. A few had broken out between them in the office, as they were wont to do everywhere, and always over such mundane things.
"Absolutely," Kotetsu replied. Barnaby made a noncommital noise, shrugged and Kotetsu didn't mind if he was doing this to appease him, he'd said yes. It didn't matter so incredibly much that he'd wanted to have lunch today as it did that Kotetsu didn't look stupid. And damn it, he thought, today is going to be a good day. The word "friends" came into his head, along with other, related words like "pals", "frenemies" and "partners." Partners was good. The word was amiable and neighborly without expecting too much.
*
Kotetsu didn't have a plan per se, but there was a nice little place down the street, the kind of sprawling restaurant that spilled out onto the street with wire chairs beneath umbrellas. They took a spot inside, near a window. Barnaby didn't make it easy to like him and Kotetsu was sure that he made it that way on purpose, but little things like this were nice. “It's nice, isn't it” sounded like something someone's mother would say. Kotetsu's mother probably had. He almost felt the words on his lips before he realized how trite and drossy they'd be. The smartly-dressed waitress interrupted his thoughts, to take drink orders. They'd both ordered water at the same time; Barnaby requested lemon.
"This is nice, isn't it?" Dammit. "I mean, this restaurant." Kotetsu rested his fingers lightly on the edge of the table and smiled. He hadn't planned this far, and "this far" meaning conversation. It seemed every time he opened his mouth to say something wise, something fatherly and dopey came out. When he meant to say something funny, it ended up being too obvious. Barnaby just made it hard to like him, that's all. At least they weren't arguing.
"I've been here before," Barnaby answered, looking at the menu. "I usually eat lunch alone."
"Isn't that lonely?"
"It's a good time to think."
"This chicken sandwich is good." Kotetsu pointed to the picture on his own menu.
"I need to watch the time," Barnaby replied. "I have an engagement at two."
"Ah, well, thanks for penciling me in." It came out a little more sarcastic than Kotetsu meant; he'd meant it to be a joke and Barnaby seemed to take no notice but instead turned his attention to the waitress with the drinks. The ice in the water glittered in the sunlight pouring in from the window.
Kotetsu watched Barnaby squeeze the lemon into his drink, juice running down his fingers, as he contemplated his menu.
"The chicken sandwich is good, Bunny." Kotetsu gave a big smile to the waitress and Barnaby and looked down at his own menu, feeling a bit stupid.
Barnaby ordered a salad instead and Kotetsu ordered the chicken sandwich. As soon as the girl had turned her back, Barnaby glared. "Don't call me 'Bunny' in public."
"Ahhhhh then what else should I call you?"
"... maybe Barnaby?"
Bunny had a funny way of making things not fun. Kotetsu blew his bangs out of his face in exasperation. At least he'd added "in public" because Kotetsu had no intention of calling him anything but Bunny. He was always Bunny. It had become less of a needling, teasing thing to piss off his partner and more of a term of endearment now. Barnaby called him "old man" because he probably didn't want to get too familiar. Hopefully that would become a nickname too.
*
"I don't know," said Nathan. He took a sip of his half-empty bottle of water and drained it in one sip. "I mean, I understand you're trying to make friends, but I'm going to be honest. When you were young, would you want to be friends with someone's father? It's the same situation."
Kotetsu bristled. "How old do you think I am?"
"Different generations."
"I'm not that old."
"It's not about that." Nathan drummed his fingers on the empty bottle of water.
"Then, what is it about?" Kotetsu sat up on the weight bench then frowned. "Sorry, I don't mean to always ask like that, I know you get sick of advice --"
"It comes with the territory," replied Nathan, batting his lashes.
"I just want to get along with Bunny." It sounded simple, but he didn't like being thought of as so old and useless. Barnaby was the hero of the zeitgeist, of the new age of emerging crime fighters. He didn't have to be so ornery, though, Kotetsu reckoned.
"Maybe I am too old," he conceded.
"Really," said Nathan and it wasn't a question so much as the end of the conversation.
"As long as you try and not do that thing you do to him," said Karina beside Kotetsu, "maybe you guys could get along better. It's a thought." He hadn't known she was listening.
"Huh? What thing?"
"That thing where ..." Karina looked a little regretful for a second, as though worried of hurting his feelings, but finished her sentence anyway: "you get into people's business."
"Huh?"
"It's a dad sort of thing," she said delicately. Nathan nodded and that irritated Kotetsu.
"Ah, so I do it to you guys too huh?" Kotetsu cradled his chin in his hand and thought of adding, "But you like me anyway!" That was childish.
"Hmmm, Handsome doesn't seem to be the type to be taken care of."
"Yep." Karina had said this in a way that seemed to settle the matter, and it was driving Kotetsu a little more insane.
Over in the corner, the treadmill Keith was using turned down from a full run to a light jog, to what Kotetsu thought of as a "talking run." "I don't see a problem with trying to make friends!" Keith said with a smile.
"Reaching out is a good way to make teams stronger."
"Thank you!" Kotetsu opened his hands, the words, "you see?" hanging between them unspoken.
"Yes, of course being friends is a good way to make teamwork better," said Keith and he looked at the ceiling thinking for a moment. Keith had that way of speaking that made people stop and listen, a commanding presence. People listened to Keith no matter if what he was saying was good or not.
"You know," Keith continued, "there's more to being a hero than saving people and earning points."
Kotetsu was pleasantly shocked.
"There's giving interviews," Keith went on, confident in his point, "and signing autographs."
"And?" Kotetsu raised an eyebrow, his pleasant shock deflated.
"That's reaching out to people too."
"Oh."
"I gave an interview a few weeks ago," said Keith and flipped the switch on the treadmill, allowing it to come to a stop as he added, "And I said, 'I couldn't do it without the help of teamwork!'"
"Which interview was that?" asked Nathan.
"The one where I went through my day getting ready to be Sky High!" Keith smiled again. "I stressed the importance of a good breakfast. I think it's the key to getting ready for a good day." He stepped off the treadmill and picked up his bottle of water, his eyes still smiling.
Karina looked on the verge of rolling her eyes. "I'm the only one here in school, still doing hero work and ... and uh, other things. I couldn't have breakfast if I woke up before dawn. And I do. Who has time for breakfast?"
Keith looked offended.
"I mean, the key is balance," she went on. "Balancing one thing without another so you don't get overwhelmed. Anyway, I have a ton of homework. I shouldn't be here arguing about how much I have to do."
"I thought you were getting help for schoolwork?" Nathan asked and Karina shrugged.
"I had to read a book before this week and do a really long report. You know what I haven't done?" she asked.
"Hmmmm?"
"Even touched the book. I don't know the name of the book."
"Well, that's what the internet's for," Nathan replied with a laugh and Keith and Karina laughed too. Kotetsu was the only one who didn't feel like laughing. No one remembered he was there. How childish was that?
He felt in that moment like the middle sister from an old sitcom. Karina Karina Karina. He wanted to help her and give her advice too, but apparently when he did it he was being a meddlesome dad. When Fire Emblem and Sky High did it, they were buddies.
*
Kotetsu was surprised when he was contacted at six that night, curled up barefoot on the couch, remote in hand. He wanted to watch nothing on television, but there wasn't much else to do tonight until he was needed. His answer to the call was eager and he was surprised to see ol' Bunny on the other end. Barnaby didn't look apologetic or sheepish, or anything but himself. Kotetsu didn't know why he expected him to call back and apologize for earlier that day. Barnaby had left halfway through their lunch date.
"Are you busy?"
"Is everything fine?"
"It is."
This was awkward. Kotetsu felt a smile on his face, but kept it from his partner. "Would you like to go to dinner?"
"I suppose."
"Isn't that why you called?"
"I'll meet you ..."
"I know a good restaurant," Kotetsu interrupted. "No chicken sandwiches."
"How far is it from the office?"
"Is that where you are?"
"No, but I can navigate from there."
Barnaby was there first and Kotetsu saw him before Barnaby noticed he was there. Standing at ease, Kotetsu was relieved to notice, not much tension in his shoulders. Barnaby picked a blond hair absently off his sleeve and watched it float away on the wind. He didn't look impatient either, just kind of sad.
Not sad, really, Kotetsu correctly himself, just kind of lonely outside by himself, the streetlight illuminating his hair to almost a whiteness. Maybe he was lonely.
Kotetsu started towards him but bit his lip, wondering what he'd say when he greeted Barnaby. Greet him as a friend, a colleague? Take his coat like a proper gentlemen? Kotetsu grinned to himself.
Of course, even if they were in public, outside a busy restaurant, he was going to walk up and call him Bunny.
And even if Bunny, Kotetsu thought, now that he was on a roll with a good, genial mood, was to become the new standard and Kotetsu was left behind in the dust, Kotetsu would keep doing what he did best -- trying to do right and save people. That was all. He didn't care if Barnaby felt his way was old or useless. Or if Barnaby felt his methods of ... well, affection were obnoxious or overbearing.
It didn't mean he had to like the current hero status quo, or even the new system by which heroes operated -- even if he was old and old-fashioned, even if they were the metric system and he was the customary, the only one clinging to the stodgy ways of justice, it didn't matter. They could still be partners, couldn't they?
Friends, pals, something like that.
Kotetsu straightened his tie. He hoped Bunny felt the same way one day, and he didn't want to keep him waiting.