Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Heavy clouds of dust were lifted off the desert ground as the Trans Am sped through the sandy expanse. Music blasting out of the car’s cheap speakers, none of the passengers caring much about what kind of unwanted crowd it could possibly attract.

Without any warning, a gloved hand appeared from the backseat, turning the radio off.

“Kobra, what the fuck, you know that’s my favorite song!” Party protested, sending a death glare at their brother. Said brother who simply shrugged, unphased.

Scowling, Party let go of the wheel, ready to turn the music back on, but Jet spoke up, a hint of concern in his voice. “Uh, dude, hang on, I think Kobra was onto something. Do you hear that?”

The four of them shut up, the music long forgotten, and looked around, trying to spot a patrol, but the only disturbance in the horizon was the dark shape of an abandoned building—a house, perhaps.With the motor going on strong, however, the teenagers had no way to know if trouble was coming their way. They shared a look, silently nodding, and the car screeched to a halt.

Ghoul was the first one out of the Trans Am, tucking his jet black hair behind his ears before taking his green ray gun out of its holster. Once the three other killjoys had followed him outside, he declared, “Guys, nobody’s there.”

Even though the boy had given his verdict, they stayed in place, throwing nervous glances around, Ghoul included. Jet and Kobra had noticed something unusual, surely they had to be missing an important detail. Party was about to say ‘fuck it’ and head back in the car—to speed out of there, that is—but their eyes zeroed in on the dilapidated building. “There,” they whispered, realization dawning on them.

The three boys’ heads snapped at the structure, as if they expected an enemy to jump out of it. Which would’ve been really unfortunate, considering they’d been roaming the desert in search of medicine and other health products. To put it briefly, they definitely weren’t equipped for a fight.

“Well, let’s go, then,” Party said, and that was it. They’d never really discussed it, but Party Poison was their unofficial leader, and chances were that if they said something, the four of them would end up doing it.

Party took purposeful strides towards the house, the others trailing behind, ray guns on the ready, growing more confident with each step they took. The four of them stopped in front of what appeared to be the main entrance, feeling the adrenaline pumping in their veins. From the looks of it, no one had been in there for a long time. With a bit of luck, they could hopefully raid the place, maybe stock up on all the things they were out of.

The red-haired killjoy grabbed the nearest arm—Jet’s—and went left, signaling the remaining two boys to go right. They’d get their perimeter sweep done quicker that way.

Party thought they were doing a great job at hiding their worry, but about ten seconds in, Jet started talking in a calming tone. “We’re far in the zones, I highly doubt Dracs are hiding out in this abandoned place in the off chance that killjoys are going to venture in there. Besides, the heat is off the charts, no one in their right mind would stay outside more than an hour at this temperature.”

“It really is fucking hot,” Party agreed, chuckling. They were glad they’d ended up doing the sweep with Jet—they loved the other boys so much, but, in a stressful situation, the curly haired killjoy was much more reassuring. Their brother would either laugh at them or try to conceal his own concern and Ghoul… well. Ghoul would just suggest bombing the place. Party loved the little shits, but that was also the point: in the nicest way possible, the two of them were absolute bastards.

Jet Star, on the other hand, was, all things considered, the group’s mom friend. Also the only one with a functioning brain cell at all times, if Party did say so themself. Also, they were arguably the best shot, so a selfish part of Party Poison telled itself that should trouble come knocking their way, at least they had a pretty good chance of walking out unscathed.

They’d almost finished their half of the house when Party heard a faraway scream. They spun around, alarmed, looking at Jet with wide eyes, making sure the boy had heard it too, but their eyes met a blank stare.

“Did you not catch that?” they inquired, brows furrowed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jet answered, an unasked question visible on his tanned face.

“I—there was a noise. I’m on edge, though, it’s probably nothing.”

“Party, in all the time that I’ve known you, it’s literally never been nothing. Except maybe that time Ghoul hid your sequined stilettos and you were distressed for a week.”

“Excuse you, those high heels are my most prized possession, fucker. And anyway, that’s not even what we were talking about.”

That effectively sobered Jet up. “We should meet up with the guys,” he suggested, tugging on his curly brown hair.

They didn’t run, but their pace certainly was faster than it had been a mere minute ago. When they reached Kobra and Ghoul, both killjoys were panting. Partly due to the heat, but mostly because they’d speedwalked there.
Kobra raised an eyebrow, silently asking them what was up. He looked composed, but Party knew that underneath the black sunglasses, one eye was ajar and the other was open wide: their brother was quite literally unable to cock an eyebrow without pulling an idiotic face, which made it hard to take him seriously in times like this.

“Party heard a noise,” Jet answered when he noticed the other wasn’t speaking up.

Party snapped back from their thoughts and nodded. “Yeah, it sounded like a scream? It was pretty muffled, though.”

Kobra frowned, his eyebrows disappearing under his dark shades, and suggested each duo did the other’s half so they’d meet up again at the entrance.

“No need,” Ghoul yelled from up the house’s patio. “There’s a perfectly fine door here!” he said, pulling on the doorknob before kicking the door in when it wouldn’t budge.

“You had to push!” Party screamed from down the stairs leading to the wooden platform.

“I did push,” Ghoul screamed back.

“With your boot!” they pointed out, just a tad exasperated.

“With my boot,” he agreed sheepishly.

Kobra sighed. “I mean, it’s open, now.” And so they went into the house.

The inside was disgustingly stuffy, and sweat soon pearled on the killjoys’ skin.

“Fucking Phoenix Witch, Party, did you hallucinate or something? ‘Cause no way in hell is someone alive in that slum,” Kobra complained.

Party would've told him to kindly shut up, but Jet beat him to it. “Even if no one’s here—which wouldn’t be bad, by the way—we might find useful supplies. And Destroya knows we need them.”

“Worst case scenario, we find these cool guns from ‘ye olden days’,” Ghoul interjected, a mad glint in his eyes.

“Ghoul, you can’t even shoot with a ray gun, I hope we don’t find one with bullets,” Kobra told him.

“Hey! I’ll let you know I am an awesome ray gun shooter.”

“Sure you are,” Party laughed, ruffling the smaller boy’s hair.

Ghoul managed to keep his glare for two seconds before his expression melted into an affectionate one.

Kobra cleared his throat. “Okay, let’s move on, shall we?”

The four of them picked up the pace, scouting the place. They regrouped next to the stairs leading to the basement. They did not, in fact, look very inviting. And that was a major understatement. From the looks of it, they were one footstep away from collapsing.

“Do we really think going down there is worth it?” Jet asked. “Because we’re really short on medicine and I don’t want to waste the last of our bandages on a fall-related injury. Especially if there’s nothing downstairs.”

“And that, my dear Jet Star, is why you have me,” Ghoul said, patting his back.

“Ghoul, what the fuck does that mean?” Jet sounded far from reassured. “No, seriously, what the fuck does that mean?” he repeated, alarmed, when Ghoul wouldn’t answer.

“Ah,” the short boy said with a wink before practically flinging himself down the stairs.

A string of ‘Ghoul!’s varying from distressed to angry resonated in the building.

For a handful of horrible seconds, only silence answered. Party squinted, trying to spot him in the darkness, growing more and more worried. If the fucker had gotten himself in danger—or worse, injured—Party was going to kick him where it hurt so bad.

“Um, guys? I think you might want to get down there.”

The four of them rushed down the stairs, almost tripping each other on their way to meet Ghoul.

Jet was the first there, a single, “oh,” slipping from his mouth.

“What, what?” Party shrieked, growing more concerned by the minute. What the fuck was down there anyway and why wouldn’t Kobra just fucking speed up?

“Dude, relaaaaa—oh, my fucking—”

Now, that was just plain mean. “Kobra, for the love of fuck, just move the fuck out of the way.” Without waiting for him to do so, Party grabbed him and—gently—shoved him to the side.

Finally able to see what the huge deal was, Party took a look at their friends and saw they were staring down. Curious, they followed their stare and….

Oh, indeed.

Because, looking up at them, was a kid.

No, actually, kid was too broad of a term. Looking up at them was a real fucking baby, and Party and no idea what to do with it.

“Uh, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“I hurt my head on the way down, but not that hard, Party,” Ghoul whispered back. Normally, Party would’ve thrown a fit or something because what was he thinking jumping down the fucking stairs, he could’ve gotten hurt, but, right now, they were too gobsmacked by the infant in front of them to say anything about it.

“Okay, but Earth to you fuckers, what do we do with it?” Kobra asked. He still had the decency to lower his tone as to not freak the kid out, which was appreciated, in Party’s opinion. The very last thing they needed right now was it starting to scream like a fucking firetruck or some shit.

Jet, bless him, warmly smiled at it. “Guys,” he said through his teeth, “just follow my lead, we want it to feel welcome.”

The remaining three exchanged a look before listening to Jet, uncertain smiles creeping up on their faces. Like, sure, the kid was adorable, but what the fresh fuck were they supposed to do? Had some ‘joy settled down in this half-destroyed building? And why would they leave their child alone like that? It was literally laying there, in its bundle, and Party was out of ideas.

The kid was staring at them, fear painted in its eyes, and Party prayed to the Phoenix Witch it wouldn’t start crying. It looked so out of place, lost, confused… there were way too many emotions on that face for a kid its age, the teen decided.

“So… we’re adopting it, right?”

“Jet, what the fuck?” Kobra asked, disbelieving.

“Ah, yes, an abandoned baby. The best course of action is adoption, obviously. Naturally. You know, as you do,” Ghoul scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t see what choice we have here, guys!” Jet defended himself. “It’s not like we can just leave it here. Party, a little help?”

“I don’t know, man. Its mom or parent or whatever is maybe just gone for the day. We can’t just steal a kid from the house we broke into.”

“So what, you want to bolt and go back to the diner when we know there’s a very much alive, thank you, kid right here?”

“Do we really have a choice?” Kobra pointed out. “We’re already low on stuff, we can’t take on somebody else. And even less a baby for that fucking matter, too!”

“So we take it to Doctor D,” Party decided.

They were quiet for a moment, and then…

“Yeah, okay.”

“Doctor D it is.”

“Fine.”

They settled into silence once again, the four of them in complentative moods.

As if on cue, they spoke at the same time: “We should wait a bit.”

“Yeah,” they all agreed.

“If its parent—or parents—”

“If there are two parents, leaving a kid alone without any supervision is pretty dumb, me thinks,” Party pointed out.

“That’s not the point,” Jet continued. “As I was saying, if it has at least a parental figure, we can’t just kidnap their kid.”

“Uh-huh, cool, but how long exactly are we talking? Because it’s going to be dark out soon,” Kobra said. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not feeling a nighttime Drac attack.”

“So we stay the night?” Party suggested.

They settled down, doing their best to get comfortable on the concrete floor and horrid air conditions. Jet set himself on some box laying around, Kobra took off his jacket to soften the floor, Party sat down against the wall and Ghoul laid his head on Party’s leg.

Party whispered a warning: “If you drool on my jeans, I will kill you.”

The boy didn’t answer, simply nesting himself further against Party. They sighed, realizing the black haired ‘joy was gone for the night.

Party could feel sleep was about to take them away, could smell the sweet, sweet smell of victory, also known as finally falling asleep, when the worst fucking shriek that they’d ever did hear pierced the silent night.

The motherfucking baby.

“Phoenix Witch, make it stop,” Kobra pleaded.

“Ugh, I’d finally slumbered off,” Jet whined.

“Jet, your kid won’t fucking stop crying, do something!” Kobra insisted.

No matter what Jet did, the kid did not, in fact, stop crying.

Party could feel Ghoul stirring, the baby’s cries winning over his sleepy state.

“Wha—”

If Party had to guess, Ghoul still hadn’t fully woken up. He looked a bit lost, unsure of where he was. Party’s hypothesis was confirmed when realization dawned on his face and he groaned, “Fuuuuuuuuuck meeeeeeeeeee.”

After a few minutes of incessant screams, Party gave up and rested their head back against the wall. This was going to be such a long, long night.

Chapter Text

Kobra woke up with a fucking crink in the neck. Okay, sure, maybe going to sleep straight—ha! Straight. That was a good one—on the floor—minus a leather jacket—hadn't been the brightest idea ever, but it was either that or adopting some random baby they'd found lying on the floor, so, really, what had Kobra been supposed to do?

To make matters worse, the kid had started fucking crying again and Kobra really just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry because, really, what did a boy have to do to get a real night of sleep?

Also, why the fuck was Jet cooing at the hellspawn of a baby? Because yes, he was very much so doing just that.

“Aww, yes, who's a good kid? Yeah, you are. Yeah, you are. You are so adorable, it's ridiculous.”

Kobra groaned and pushed himself off the floor. “So? Has any parent stopped by?”

The disheartened look that Jet shot him told him that no, in fact, no parent had come to collect their baby in the night.

Kobra risked another glance at the infant. Even though it was proving to be more of a bother than anything, he had to admit it looked pretty pathetic. The least they could do was bring it to Doctor D. Maybe the man could mention the kid on the radio and its parent or parents could claim it. Kobra would have to give them a piece of his mind, too. Leaving their kid all alone like that….

As if he were reading his thoughts, Jet sadly said, “Such a cute baby, too. I can't believe that someone would just abandon it. Are you sure we can't keep it?”

Kobra wanted to say no, put his foot down like Party did so well, but now that the kid wasn't crying, he had to admit it was pretty adorable. Its chubby pink cheeks were just begging to be pinched. Yeah, Kobra really, really wished he was his sibling.

Speaking of. They were curled up against Ghoul, having entangled their limbs further during the night. All of a sudden, Kobra was really glad he wasn't them.

Staring at his sibling and Fun Fucking Ghoul gave him a headache, though, so he redirected his glance, eyes falling back on the baby again. It had fallen into a seemingly deep sleep and Kobra didn't know if he wanted to thank the Phoenix Witch or be resentful because couldn't it have done that when Kobra was still sleeping?

“Should we wake them up?” Kobra asked, pointing at the still sleeping killjoys.

“Nah, let them sleep,” Jet answered with a fond smile.

“Fine, but I don't like it.”

Jet amiably rolled his eyes, lowly chuckling.

It looked as though he was about to add something else, but then Ghoul started squirming and extricating himself from Party, and wasn't that just the funniest thing?

He'd wake up, still in a sleepy haze, and look around, unsure of his surroundings. Then, he'd notice Party, because of fucking course he would. His face would light up for a pure moment of bliss and then reality would come crashing down. He'd get away, putting as much distance as possible between him and Kobra's sibling, because Destroya forbids Party found out about his stupid crush on them.

And Kobra just had to witness it all, obviously. He'd really hoped by now the stupid crush would've faded away, but he wasn't so lucky, very apparently.

"Hello, Fun Ghoul. Had a good time feeling up my sibling?” Kobra asked, because, yeah, he was cheeky like that.

Also, the way Ghoul's face fell was way too hilarious to pass up. A heavy blush crept up his cheeks and the boy stared at him with big eyes, almost terrified.

“I—I wasn't, I don't—no.”

“Destroya, Kobra, you don't have to come at him like that,” Jet reprimanded. “Ghoul, he's only kidding. We both know it gets cold in the desert. Right, Kobra?”

The blonde boy muttered his agreement, which seemingly calmed Ghoul down. “Yeah, man, just teasing. It's not like you like Party or anything.”

Ghoul tried to subtly look away, blushing even harder. Jet hit him in the back of the head but it was so worth it, in Kobra's opinion. Torturing Ghoul in a friendly manner was one of his favorite hobbies.

When would he stop? When Ghoul would move on or something, find another 'joy to be gay for. Him crushing on Party wasn't good for anyone. Kobra used to think it was just a fling, but now he was starting to lose hope that the feelings would fade away.

Kobra was pulled from his thoughts when Party awoke.

“Morning, Party,” Jet greeted.

The redhead grunted in response, still foggy.

As nice as his sibling waking up was, Kobra was ready to get a move on. “Not to rush you or anything, but what do we do now? Have we waited enough for you guys, because I'm starving and we don't even have food. Since we were on a supply errand, y'know?”

“Doctor D will have some Power Pup laying around, I'm sure,” Jet reassured him.

“Well, let's go, then,” Ghoul said, jumping up and clapping his hands before speeding past them.

Kobra grabbed his red jacket and slipped in it, following his friends out. Only when they were halfway up the stairs did Jet speak up, realizing the grave mistake they'd made.

“Wait, guys, we forgot the kid!”

∼

When they finally reached the Trans Am, they met another issue: they were not equipped to travel with a baby.

“Uhhh,” Party let out.

Jet tightened his grip on the child. “I’ll hold it close, just drive slowly, yeah?”

For a lack of a better solution, they settled in the car. For once, no one protested when Jet told them to buckle up.

“We have a fucking kid on board and I’ll be damned if it dies because it got crushed by your body in a crash.”

“I think that our bodies will be the least of its problems if we get into a fucking car crash,” Party countered, but they obeyed nonetheless.

The drive to the radio station was awkward, to say the least. Ghoul tried to crack some jokes, but it was obvious even he was feeling pretty out of it. Their slow pace made them an easy target, and they were all aware of it. Kobra did his best to stay calm, but his hand was tight around his red ray gun.

The station finally came into view and Kobra let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Truth was, Kobra Kid had a fucking reputation and he’d let Party drive him over with the Trans Am before he tainted it. He did not do extreme shows of emotions, he’d left that to his sibling, and he’d throttle anyone who said otherwise until they believed him.

The five of them had barely even made it to the front porch when Doctor Death Defying made his appearance, pushed by Show Pony.

“If it isn’t my favorite killjoys!” he exclaimed. Kobra could pinpoint the exact moment he spotted the addition to the mix, his happy expression melting into confusion. “And… a baby?”

Which one of you idiots got a ‘joy pregnant? You’re kids, Pony signed, only half-kidding.

“Destroya, no!” Ghoul exclaimed, looking outraged by the very possibility. “We just found it in a house we were raiding.”

Doctor D blinked once. Twice. “So you found a child in a house and just left with it?”

“Well, when you put it like that it sounds bad!” Jet protested. “We stayed the whole night waiting for someone to come back.”

“Besides, we were thinking you could do an announcement on the radio, let someone claim it,” Party added.

Which was great and all, but Kobra was fucking starving. The deed was done, the child was delivered and Kobra was beginning to grow attached so they needed to leave before doing so hurt. “Do you have something to eat?” he asked.

Show Pony shook their head, hiding a smile. They skated away, probably to look around their pantry, and Kobra followed, letting his friends discuss the kid situation.

So, how did you even manage to stumble upon some random kid? Show Pony wondered.

Dunno, we were driving and I thought I’d heard something, so we stopped to investigate and spotted the house. It looked abandoned, like no one had been there in a while, so I don’t really know how the baby got there. Anyway, Jet wanted to adopt it, but that got vetoed real fast, Kobra signed back.

Hold up, he wanted to what? Show Pony asked, incredulous.

I know. We elected to bring it here, in the end, so, here we are, Kobra mimed. Don’t know what we’re gonna do if no one claims it, though.

Fuck, you guys have a way with shit like that.

“Tell me about it,” Kobra mumbled to himself.

Suddenly, a box hit Kobra on the side of the head. He whirled around, facing Pony. I signed a warning.

I wasn’t looking at you.

Showpony raised their arms, as if to say ‘not my fault.’ Kobra rolled his eyes, but he was still wearing sunglasses, so he doubted the other noticed.

He smiled when he picked up the box from the floor. Crackers. They were a solid ten years expired, but Kobra had grown used to ignoring the dates on these things. He saw them as… suggestions.

Thanking Pony, he made his way back to the Fab Four and Doctor Death, only to be met with incessant arguing.

“No one answered the radio ad, she’s all alone!”

“It’s only been five minutes, Jet, give it rest.”

“I just think she’d be better off with us, is all!”

The conversation went on some more, but Kobra was still stuck on the ‘she’ part of it. “She?”

Ghoul nodded. “Yeah, Cherri dropped by and changed her diaper.”

Party and Jet agreed, unphased by the implications that sentence held.

“Why did Cherri even have diapers?” Kobra asked, confused.

“We’ve seen our share of ‘joys in need of help with their babies in our years here,” Doctor D explained.

And just like that, the arguing resumed. Jet seemed hellbent on keeping it, Ghoul was trying to reason with him, and Party was swinging both ways. Doctor death was mostly listening, sometimes closing his eyes, as if it would shut the teens up.

“I think—and I can’t believe I’m about to say this—Ghoul is right,” Kobra declared.

“Hey! Wait, what?”

“Jet, you have to give the parents the chance to pick her up. Besides, maybe their radio isn’t on 24/7, just give them a chance.”

Once they’d reached an agreement, Doctor Death suggested they eat, for they had spent a long time without doing so.

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Party tried, but it was obvious they were hungry.

“Nonsense,” Doctor D assured him. “Our entire purpose is helping out ‘joys in need, it’d be pretty pathetic of me to send you home on an empty stomach.”

The seven of them headed to the small kitchenette, the girl nestled tight in Jet’s arms. Show Pony once again dug around the pantry, fishing out everything they could afford giving their visitors. As soon at the food had been set on the table, the killjoys devoured the canned goods. It had been almost a day since they hadn’t eaten—not the worst they’d done, but definitely not an ideal situation either.

“Next time you’re starving, you can come to us, you know?” Doctor D said in between bites. “Not that I’m not grateful you found the kid, but you can ask for help before you grow desperate. Ain’t no shame in asking for a little support.”

“Aw, just admit you love us,” Party cooed.

You? Not so much. Your faces, though… Pony signed. Laughing giddily, Ghoul blew them a kiss and Party ran a hand through their bright red hair.

“Don’t encourage them,” Kobra mouthed.

They almost got through the meal without the baby crying. Kobra was finishing his last mouthfuls of Power Pup when she went off like a siren.

“Hush, baby, you’re good.” Jet’s soothing tone did nothing to appease her, though. Panicked, the boy shot a desperate look at Doctor D, silently begging for guidance.

“You said you found her yesterday afternoon? And she hasn’t eaten since then? Poor thing’s probably just hungry.”

“Well, fuck,” Party said, and that summed up what they were all thinking.

“Any chance you have powdered milk stashed somewhere here?” Jet asked, but he didn’t look like he expected a positive answer.

About that, Show Pony answered. She looks about a year old, she could probably manage with Power Pup.

The four teenagers simultaneously let out a relieved sigh. That is, until they added, I mean, you should still give her cow milk or something, she can’t live off dog food, either.

Meanwhile, the girl still hadn’t stopped screaming, and Jet seemed at his rope’s end.

“Here, just—give her to me.” Jet looked at Party, reluctant, but gave in, putting the baby in their arms.
Party slowly rocked her, whispering words of comfort. She looked at them with big round eyes, slowly gulping down her sobs. “Oh,” they softly let out when the girl fell asleep in their embrace.

Everyone in the room stared at the scene unfolding, silently praying for the girl to remain in her unconscious state.

None the wiser as to what was happening, Agent Cherri Cola barged into the room, already halfway in his sentence. “—and they told me that—”

“No!” they all shout-whispered at him. His eyes fell on Party and understanding followed. He slapped a hand to his mouth, eyes wide, before talking again, only in a lower voice this time.

“People answered the radio announcement and the house you found the girl in? The ‘joy that used to live there has been dead for a while.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jet asked.

“It means we have no idea where she,” Cherri said, pointing at the girl, “came from.”

∼

After spending the better part of the day at the radio station, the four killjoys had gone back to the diner, the girl in tow. It had been decided that they would care for her as long as no one claimed her as their own. Even though none of them—Jet notwithstanding—had really been inclined to truly adopt her, Kobra knew the matter was settled when Party had first held her. The way their face had melted into one of pure happiness, there was just no way they were ever letting go. They’d even been reluctant to give her back to Jet when it was time to drive back home.

The first few hours in their predilection place had been hectic, to say the least. Babyproofing it had proved harder than anticipated, with the ray guns laying around and various certified-baby-choking-objects.

Ghoul had volunteered his pillow for the newest addition to the Fabulous Four to sleep on. When asked why, he’d simply answered, “I’ll sleep on Jet instead.”

“Ugh,” Kobra had grunted.

“Sorry, Kobes, you’re too bony.”

Party had participated in the offering, too. They’d given old shirts of them to ‘charity,’ as they’d called it. That way, the baby would have clothes and blankets to keep her warm during the cold desert nights.

While the two of them were looking for stuff they had no use for anymore or could easily do without, Kobra and Jet had teamed up and built a cradle out of scrap. Granted, it didn’t really look like one, but it would do the job, and, in the end, that was what mattered.

Once they were done, the four of them crashed on the floor, exhausted. Maybe they still didn’t have the supplies they’d gone looking for, but they’d found something—someone—much more precious on the way.

“Guys, what if it never was about the medicine? What if, all that time, it was about the friends we made along the way?”

“Shut up, Ghoul,” was Kobra’s answer.

The boy scoffed, but didn’t protest further, instead falling asleep right there on the dirty diner floor. Jet smiled at him fondly, gently placing Ghoul’s head on his stomach, and Party rested their own on the fluffy-haired killjoy’s shoulder, a sleepy grin printed on their face. Kobra stared at the trio, meeting Jet’s eyes.

“Good night,” he mouthed, but Jet was gone before he could answer. Kobra allowed himself one last loving look before standing up to go shut the light, letting darkness invade the diner.

Chapter Text

“She shat on my fucking arm, dude!”

“Fucking wipe it, Destroya.”

“I can never look at Power Pup the same way,” Ghoul grumbled.

It had been a few weeks since the killjoys had unofficially adopted The Girl—they'd started referring to her as such and had never stopped. Said weeks had been filled with adventures and a blatant lack of sleep. Like Ghoul had put it, he ‘had eye bags bigger than his brain.’ 

Should someone ask him if, given the chance, he'd make the same choice of keeping the child, he'd always say yes, though. The four of them hadn't had the girl for long, but already couldn't imagine their lives without her. As fast as she'd tumbled into them, she'd made a home for herself in the teenagers' hearts.

Right now, however, the tatted boy was regretting his entire mother of a fucking life. His arm was quite literally covered of, well, baby shit and he was straight up not having a good time. Not that he was straight or anything, either, but still . His point still stood.

Kobra was no help, either. It just so happened that the only show of emotion he'd had in days—save from mild annoyance at The Girl waking him up—was wheezing at Ghoul's poop-induced state.

“I'll wipe it on your ugly yellow leopard print tank top, see how you like it,” he sneered.

The other protectively hugged his shirt, earning himself a curious look from Jet when he walked into the main room. 

“The hell happened here?”

In lieu of an answer, Ghoul brandished his arm, waving it in front of Jet, who turned a bit green.

“I'll, er, go fetch some diapers for you.”

Muttering about baby excrements, Ghoul went on with the task at hand under the eye of Kobra, who didn't lift a finger to help. Not that Ghoul would've helped in his place. The four of them had a rotation for various baby duties and they stuck to it.

“Guys?” Jet's worried voice called from the other room.

Ghoul and Kobra shared a look: that tone meant nothing good.

Their suspicions were confirmed a few moments later. “I think we're out of diapers.”

As if on cue, Party barged in, informing that, by the way, they'd used the last diaper on The Girl during the night.

Ghoul shot them a betrayed look, and Party had the audacity to laugh. The boy only let it slide because they were hot. And also because Party's laughter was one of the prettiest sounds in the whole damn radioactive desert, in Ghoul's humble and totally unbiased opinion.

“So what does this mean?” Jet asked, taking an unsubtle look at Ghoul’s arm.

“It means you’ll hold the devilspawn—and I’m saying this with love—while I clean myself. At least twelve times.”

Once he was free of the kid, Ghoul made his way to the bathroom and began frantically scrubbing. His arm felt raw and and, when he looked down, he half-expected his tattoos to have been scratched off.

A solid ten minutes later, he came out of the room, feeling clean enough. His three friends were waiting for him, in various states of patience: Kobra’s arms were folded, Party didn’t seem too bothered and Jet, well. He was carefully holding the kid, eyeing her as if he feared she’d let loose once again.

“Ah, there you are!” Party exclaimed when they saw him. “Come on, we’re raiding Chow Mein.”

Ghoul’s brain went, ‘wait, what?’ for a moment, but, hey, he wasn’t one to turn down a raid. “Hell yeah!”

“See?” Party told Jet, a shit-eating grin plastered on their face. “I knew he’d side with us,” they declared, throwing an arm over Ghoul’s shoulders.

Teasing Jet, the five of them walked to the car—or, in The Girl’s case, was carried—ready to cause chaos in the capitalistic shop.

∼

Tommy Chow Mein’s shop didn’t look like much from the outside, but the teens knew better: it could easily be qualified as a gold mine, for the products it contained could rival with Better Living Industries’. Alas, the older man had the dislikable tendency of overpricing them, which, to the killjoys, was the equivalent of putting up a ‘Rob Me’ sign in front of the building. Also, it didn’t help that he was, to put it nicely, a major ass turd.

The small bell over the door dangled as Party and Ghoul stepped in, signaling their arrival. Jet and Kobra had stayed in the car so The Girl wouldn’t have to be brought in. Things could get… feisty, and they didn’t want her partaking in that. 

“Hey, Tom, long time no see,” Ghoul greeted with a smirk.

At the sight of the smaller boy, the man grew red like a tomato, infuriated. “I swear to the Phoenix Witch, if you fuckers so much as breathe on my products, I will have your ass dusted so fast you won’t even have the time to say ‘Chow Mein.’”

“Nah, we’d never do that.” Party said. “Look at us, we’re too adorable to steal.”

To prove their point, they drew Ghoul closer and squished their cheeks together.

“Look, I don’t want trouble.” And Party fucking snickered. Way to be subtle , Ghoul thought before continuing, “We’re just looking around, searching for food, bandages, diapers, gas—”

“Wait, what was that?”

“Gas?”

“No, before.”

“Food?”

“ No , after.”

“Oh yeah, didn’t we tell you?” Party asked. “I’m pregnant.”

Sadly, Tommy didn’t buy into it. “You can’t even get pregnant, dipshit.” 

Ghoul and Party did their best to keep a poker face, but burst into laughter mere seconds later. “Fuck,” Party wheezed, “I should’ve said Kobra.”

“Ew, no,” Ghoul protested in between fits. “I don’t wanna fuck your brother.”

“Who said you did the fucking?” Party replied. “It could’ve been…” They paused, looking for someone. When no one came to mind, they decided on Jet and they both started laughing again, because that was just impossible.

Someone cleared their throat, and, startled, they both jumped, remembering Tommy and the task at hand.

“Right,” Ghoul said. “Groceries.”

Still laughing, Ghoul took Party’s hand gentleman style and led him towards the rows. Because he wanted to annoy Tommy—and because he was an absolute fool who was too gay for his own good—he put his hand to the redhead’s stomach. “Careful, don’t wanna upset the baby.”

Party chortled—honest to fucking Destroya chortled—swatting his hand away, and, oh boy was Ghoul a goner. Still, he forcefully pushed the thought out of his mind. He had to focus, and focus he would.

As they roamed around the aisles, Party slid various objects into their jacket’s pockets, a mischievous grin on their face. Finally, they’d collected the last of what they’d come for—it was Ghoul’s time to shine.

“Fuck!” he yelled, throwing himself on loaded boxes of merchandise, alerting the owner who hurried in aisle 7. 

Taking in the damage, he shot Ghoul a murderous look. “Empty your pockets. And I better not find something of mine in there,” he warned.

Ghoul mustered his best shameful look, but Chow Mein was unmovable. “Either you show me what you’re hiding or I go digging around, your choice.”

Quickly standing up, Ghoul flashed a smile, holding his hands up. “Now, I know I’m very pretty, but don’t you think you’re a bit old?”

Tommy grew even redder, choking on nothing. “You—I—no, that’s not what’s happening here!”

Taking advantage of the man’s distracted state, the boy slowly backed down towards the exit.

“Hey, wait, where’s that friend of yours?”

Well, fuck.  “Uh… giving birth?”

Tommy Chow Mein leaped towards him, enraged, and Ghoul didn’t waste any time getting the fuck out of there. “Start the fucking car”, he yelled.

He heard the distinctive sound of the Trans Am’s motor and jumped in the car, not even bothering to buckle—sorry, Jet. As soon as Ghoul’s butt had touched the seat, Party slammed the gas pedal, speeding away from a furious Tommy Chow Mein and his shop.

They’d been driving for about ten minutes when the all too familiar tell of brakes against the desert ground put a halt to their laughter. Sure enough, a shiny white car had pulled up to their left, soon followed by three more, circling the killjoys.

Ghoul heard Party swear and, yeah, he agreed with that. Normally, a whole convoy of Dracs would do for a good battle, but with The Girl? Their safety, the four could compromise, but they’d never do anything to hurt the baby.

They all looked around, but there wasn’t enough space for the Trans Am to slip between the enemy cars. Exchanging grim looks, they came to the conclusion that they’d have to get out and fight. As the boys in the backseat covered The Girl under Jet’s jacket, Ghoul took out his neon green ray gun and unlatched the safety. Time to blow out some motherfucking brains.

Ghoul’s feet landed on the sand and laser beams instantly started flying. He barely even had time to duck, the projectile aimed at his chest hitting the Trans Am.

“Oh, it is so on,” growled Party.

They fired at the culprit, headshotting it. The Drac fell to the ground, defeated, and Party grinned like a feral animal. Ghoul wanted to kiss it off their face so bad—wait, no . Bad brain , Ghoul chided himself. Now was not the time to have gay thoughts about his best friend. 

He could have them later. As a treat.

Anyway . Ghoul distracted himself by firing at the white suits. And it made for a good distraction, really. He wasn’t even thinking about Party’s lips anymore—wait, fuck .

A shot grazing his cheek brought him back pretty fast, though. Shaking his head clear of a particular train of thought, he tightened his grip around his gun and aimed for the head.

The four of them fell into an easy rhythm, shooting off Dracs one by one. The killjoys had circled the Trans Am, a human barrier protecting The Girl from the danger outside the car. Ghoul was pretty sure he’d been hit on the leg, but he was so determined on making sure no Dracs reached the kid, he didn’t even feel it. Besides. Who needed legs anyway?

At least half the Dracs had been taken care of, but the remaining one were vicious, determined to go out with a bang. And Ghoul? Well, Ghoul wouldn’t allow that.

“Jet?”

The boy glanced over in between shots. “Yeah, what?”

“Hand me the bazooka.”

Not bothering to check if Jet had understood, he gave the fight his full attention, hitting a Drac straight in the face. Bullseye , he thought.

Right after he’d made his face, Jet screamed, “Ghoul, catch!”

By some miracle, the short boy managed not to receive the weapon in the same place he’d shot that last Drac, catching it in time. Laughing in a way some people might call crazy, he aimed the gun at the biggest concentration of Dracs and pulled the trigger. The detonation threw him backwards and he slammed into the Trans Am, still laughing like a madman as the shot blasted the last of their opposants. 

Before reinforcements could arrive, the four of them piled themselves in the car. The Girl gave them a bright holey smile, and Ghoul didn’t think much of it until Jet said, “Hey!”

His curiosity piqued, he glanced at the backseat once again, only then noticing what the fuss was about: The Girl had dislodged her head from the cheap homemade bundle the guys had made for her with Jet’s jacket, and was thus staring at them.

Chuckling softly, Kobra ruffled her head while Party pushed the pedal, launching the Trans Am as the sparkly sound of The Girl’s laughter filled the desert.

Chapter Text

Jet Star wasn’t sure exactly at what age babies were supposed to say their first word, but he sure did know there was no way The Girl’s wouldn’t be ‘Jet.’ And so this led to many sleepless nights during which Jet would train her, prepare her for the big moment.

Tonight, like the last month or so—a.k.a ever since he’d noticed her babbles had started to sound more and more intelligent—he threw his ratty cover off him and got up, glancing around, making sure he was the only one awake. He made his way to the cradle, slowly lifting The Girl out of it so as to not make the construction creak.

“Okay, you can do it!” he cheered the girl once they were out of earshot.

She looked at him with those huge eyes of hers, and Jet knew there was a shimmer of intelligence… somewhere….

He just needed to find it.

The problem was, it was like she knew what he wanted, but played dumb. This was some twisted game to her, and the prize was seeing Jet’s face fall, his heart, crumpled. But that was probably Jet’s sleep deprivation talking. The only thing that kept him going was the satisfaction he knew he would get when The Girl would finally speak that sweet, sweet syllable.

“Go on, Jet. J-E-T. Jeeeeet. Jet!”

When she wouldn’t do anything but helplessly stare at him, he hung his head, sighing. He mentally gave himself some encouragement before looking at The Girl again and, proving his point from earlier, there she was, a bright smile on her face. Jet maybe would’ve been annoyed if the little giggle she produced wasn’t the cutest thing he’d ever heard.

Right. So maybe Jet needed to change his approach. If she saw this as a game, then he was going to turn it into one.

Grabbing the nearest object—his ray gun—he held it in front of her eyes. “Gun.” Then, he put it back on the floor. “Where’s the gun, honey?”

Smiling brightly, she reached for the blue weapon, but Jet put it out of her reach, congratulating her. He repeated the maneuver for a few other items, delighted when The Girl got it. If the DJs’ observations were true, that would make her about a year old, maybe more, old enough for associating objects to words. Technically, it also should’ve made her old enough to sprout simple words like ‘Jet,’ but if she hadn’t been exposed to dialogue before the group of killjoys had found her, her natural development could've been affected. 

After she’d passed Jet’s small quiz with flying colors, he decided it was time to bring out the big guns, so to speak. Motioning at himself, he said, “Jet.” He waited a few instants before asking, “Where’s Jet?”

The Girl made grabby hands at him, a radiant smile on her chubby baby face. And wasn’t that the most adorable sight Jet had ever seen. The only thing that could possibly fulfill him further would be hearing her little voice saying his name. All in due time , he told himself.

And so the nights went on, every day growing a little closer to the fateful time The Girl would let out a small 'Jet.' The boy would walk around the diner, training The Girl's memory. He could see her becoming better and better as time went by. If the others had any suspicions as to what took place during the late hours of the night, they didn't say anything about it.

One morning, Jet woke up after a solid two hours of sleep, ready to seize the day or whatever awake people did—it had been so long since he’d had a full night of sleep, he couldn’t remember. He entered the main area, where his friends were already roaming around, either playing with the girl or polishing their ray gun or eating. Or doing all three, in Party’s case.

He stepped over the several baby items littering the diner floor, making his way to them, when a peanut hit him in the head. Narrowing his eyes, he turned to look in that direction, where a sheepish Kobra saluted him, a bag of peanuts in his hands.

“Wha—” he began, but Kobra simply pointed at Ghoul, who was scrubbing his dirty ray gun with a rag on the other side of the room. He then threw another peanut that way, Ghoul setting his gun aside and  jumping sideways to catch the piece of food in his mouth. Ah , Jet thought. Explained why there were so many fallen peanuts next to Ghoul.

“They’ve been at it for an hour, don’t ask,” Party informed him. They seemed serious, so Jet listened and didn’t question it. He was too tired to deal with this.

“We wouldn’t have had to if someone had woken up sooner,” Ghoul pointed out.

“Yeah, you’ve been sleeping in a lot these days,” Kobra said. “Everything okay?”

“Of course. I’ve just been a bit restless, with The Girl and all. I’ve woken up quite a bit, if you will.” That’s one way to put it.

“Aw, my bad,” Party told him. “I haven’t woken up, like, once in a month, I just assumed that she was sleeping nights because I didn’t hear her.” They actually looked a bit apologetic, and Jet felt a bit bad, especially when a chorus of ‘same’ followed.

“No, I don’t mind!” He assured them. “I’m fine with waking up, I’m just a bit more tired than usual, apparently,” he chuckled, hoping they wouldn’t see through his bluff. He loved his friends, he really did, but he really wanted The Girl’s first word to be ‘Jet.’

They all told him that it didn’t bother them that he was waking up later than usual, since it wasn’t like they were going on missions or raids or anything these days.

“I kinda miss it, to be honest,” Ghoul mused. “Like, I love The Girl, don’t get me wrong, and I’d never want to replace her, but I enjoyed making BL/ind explode so much .”

“Maybe a bit too much,” Party mumbled, a smirk on their lips.

“ Definitely too much,” Jet told them, and Kobra rolled his eyes, amused.

“Well, the fuckers deserve it,” Ghoul declared.

And yeah, Jet agreed, but also, “ Language !” He was so not going to let his efforts be ruined by Ghoul’s abundant use of swear words.

“Oh, for fu—nix Witch’s sake,” the boy grumbled, catching himself at the last second, making Party giggle and Kobra roll his eyes once again.

Jet shot him a warning look, but appreciated his efforts.

“We should do something again soon,” Kobra thought aloud.

“Serpent Boy, I like the way you think,” Ghoul said, grinning. “Assuming you’re thinking the same thing I’m thinking.”

“First off, never say that again and second off, if you’re thinking blowing shit up, then hell yeah!”

Jet opened his mouth to scold him about swearing, but Party spoke up before he could. “As much as I would love that, what are we going to do about The Girl? Because running into a Dracs convoy isn’t something I’m eager to reproduce.”

As much as Jet didn’t want to leave her alone, he could see that the inactivity was wearing down his friends—Kobra and Ghoul’s main source of distraction was flinging peanuts across the room, he had to put a stop to this. “I’m sure The DJs wouldn’t mind looking after The Girl if we asked them.”

“Oh, sh—shoot, you’re right!” Ghoul exclaimed, jumping off the countertop he'd perched himself on.

“Wait, if Kobra’s Serpent Boy, what does that make me?” Party belatedly wondered.

“Fiesta Venom,” Ghoul answered instantly. 

“Thank Destroya you weren’t around when I named myself,” they laughed. The laughter only doubled when Ghoul amiably punched him.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he protested.

“Sure thing, Pleasant Zombie,” they retorted, and Kobra groaned.

“Wow, you suck at this,” Ghoul noted. “Okay, so Jet’s would be… this is harder than I thought. Er, Stream Sun?”

“Well, we are never changing our names ever,” Kobra decided. “And I’m going to forcefully keep you away when it’s time for The Girl to find a name she likes.”

“Okay, okay , I see how it is. If Stream Sun was letting us say one particular word I will not say, I’d be cussing you out so bad right now.”

“Please don’t call me Stream Sun,” Jet demanded, massaging his temples, trying to fight off the forming headache. He left the bickering three killjoys to go hang out with The Girl. She, at least, wasn’t very talkative. She was more… noise-y, but she had cuteness on her side. Cuteness his friends did not have, no matter what they said about it.

He played with her for a bit, but Kobra yelling “I could be the bestest drag queen out there if I wanted to, Party Poison, you’re not special!” caught his attention—against his will, Jet felt the need to specify.

Anyway, his suspicion was quickly confirmed when he made his way back to the booth where they were now sitting: leaving them alone maybe, probably, definitely wasn’t a good idea.

“See, I’m like a dragon,” Ghoul was saying, literally laying on Party’s legs. “I will hoard you, motherfucker.”

Under Jet’s concerned eyes, Party then started petting him, as if he were a dog of some kind, and Jet made the mental note never to leave them alone again. Looking at Kobra, trying to get an explanation, he met his eyes and found a silent plea for help. Well, well, well, look who didn’t want to be a drag queen anymore.

Jet opened his mouth to speak, but Ghoul beat him to it—being ‘interrupted’ before he could start talking seemed to be a constant, apparently. “Don’t worry, sugar bear , I can hoard two things,” he cooed, reaching out to grab Kobra’s hand, who retracted his hand so quickly Jet would’ve thought Ghoul had the rage or something.

“Guys, what the everloving word-I-will-not-say-because-of-The-Girl? I leave for five minutes and come back to this ?” Jet finally cut in, growing more and more disturbed by the situation. He truly had no idea how they’d managed to swerve the conversation that way in the short lapse of time he’d been absent.

“I have space for you, too,” Party declared, patting their thigh.

“And I don’t want that, thank you very much. All I want is to understand how you got there.”

The three of them shared a look before turning back to him, simultaneously shrugging. They then began throwing random words at him, and Jet gave up when he heard ‘lap dance’ and ‘lizard’ in the same sentence.

“I swear to the Phoenix Witch, you guys.” He retreated back to the child as his three friends burst out laughing.

∼

“Jet.”

It was once again nighttime and Jet was once again begging The Girl to say his name. The more time he spent convincing her of doing so, the more he was convinced that he was right in thinking this was a game to her. The loveable she-devil giggled every time his face fell. This time, though, she didn’t produce her usual little sound. Instead, her face brightened up as she looked just a bit to Jet’s right. So slightly he almost didn’t notice. Suddenly growing suspicious, he turned around, biting back a small shriek when he found himself face to face with a betrayed-looking Party Poison.

“I can’t believe you’d do that!” They didn’t look mad, per se. Mostly surprised, with a dash of amusement. “Jet fucking Star, you motherfucker!”

“Party, language! The Girl ,” he hissed through his teeth.

“Wait, that’s why you didn’t want us to swear? I mean, yeah, okay, fair, I don’t want her swearing either, but really ? Dude, I don’t know whether to be offended or proud.”

“Understandable, but also you’ve said it yourself, you didn’t wake up a single day for at least a month! That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Party broke out laughing before yelling, “Ghoul! Kobra! Get your asses down here, you’ll never believe it!”

Groaning, Jet buried his face in his hands as the two boys ran to them.

“You better have a good effing explanation,” Kobra threatened, smoothing out his bed hair.

“Okay, so you know how Jet was telling us he didn’t mind waking up for The Girl? Well, I felt bad, so I told myself I’d sacrifice my beauty sleep and stay up with her tonight, for a change. So imagine my surprise when I find out this funny guy was never woken up to begin with, but instead woke her up to make her say ‘Jet.’”

Kobra blinked once. Twice. “I’m going back to sleep, but just know that I will cherish this information forever. And laugh at you. In the morning. When I can form coherent thoughts. Goodnight.”

He walked back to his room, laughing to himself, and Jet dared to look at Ghoul, wondering what his verdict would be. “ Dude , I have to agree with Kobes, this is hilarious . But also I’m so tired right now, how did you even manage that? Like, woah.” His woah turned into a yawn and he seemingly took it as a sign he should go back to bed, for he headed back to his designated sleeping place moments later.

Still gloating from his find, Party ruffled Jet’s afro. “I’m going back to sleep too, and I suggest you do the same. Gig’s up, anyway,” they pointed out, shrugging.

“I can’t believe my demise was you trying to be helpful,” Jet thought aloud, baffled. Both of them laughed before heading back to bed, and Jet would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the extra hours of sleep.

He was sadly woken up mere hours later by a certain blonde who, true to his words, graced him with a five-minute long belly laugh. Well, Jet may have exaggerated for storytelling purposes, but that was outside the point entirely.

“You wanted her first word to be your name so bad you lost countless hours of sleep because of it,” Kobra stated in between laughs.

“What about it?” Jet protectively said, feeling the need to defend himself.

“I just—ha!”

Making his way to the main room was like a walk of shame, in Jet’s opinion. Not that he’d ever done one of those, but still. All three pairs of eyes were on him, The Girl still sleeping on her makeshift mattress.

They spent the entire breakfast making fun of him, but he refused to stoop down to their level, taking the higher road of silence. Once he was done eating, he walked to the now awake kid.

“Jet,” he said, lifting her out of the cradle before setting her down in front of him. “J-E-T, Come on, I know you can say it.”

Having heard him—and obviously finding it funny—Kobra said, “Ha. Nah, say ‘Kobra.’”

Finally cluing in on what their brother was trying to accomplish, Party exclaimed, “NO, NO, PARTY! SAY PARTY!!!”

Jet pouted, but then The Girl’s mouth opened, and his breath caught.

“F—fuck!”

Jet felt as though a bucket of freezing water had been dumped on him. He felt his soul leave his body, all the sleepless nights he’d spent fly away. It was silent for one long, torturous moment, before Jet, Kobra and Party’s heads whirled towards an alarmed Fun Ghoul.

“ Heh ,” was the only thing he got out, raising both his hands up, smiling tentatively.

Jet narrowed his eyes, and if looks could kill, the short boy would've dropped dead five seconds ago.

“ Run .”

Chapter Text

Party Poison awoke, and they were cold. It was in the dead of the night, and their toes were frozen, keeping them from falling back asleep. They tossed and turned for a while, but eventually gave up on ignoring the freezing temperature, begrudgingly getting up and trudging their feet to Jet. Jet was warm and wouldn’t mind hugging them… except Jet needed his sleep. Even though The Girl’s first word hadn’t been what he’d wanted it to be, he was still spending so much time with her, and, most nights, he’d wake up whenever she started crying. So it wouldn’t really be fair to wake him up just because they were cold. He already had a child to take care of, after all.

Party guessed they could go to Kobra, but also, their brother wasn’t the most cuddly, per se, and Party didn’t exactly enjoy the prospect of getting punched in the stomach. The other option would’ve been stealing his jacket, but it wasn’t all that comfortable and, again, they didn’t want to get hit.

Which only left Ghoul. And it wasn’t bad, really. It could be considered mutually beneficial, even: Ghoul liked hugs and Party wanted a hug, so, by all means, it should’ve been the first thing to come to mind. The only issue was that, well, Ghoul was short. And Party was really fucking cold, and Ghoul wouldn’t fully cover their body. They went over all of their options once again and decided that it would have to do. A tiny-sized hug was better than the desert’s freezing bite.

Grabbing their pillow, they made their way to the corner where Ghoul slept, nudging him with their ice-cold toes. Ghoul hissed before opening an eye, still sleep-ridden. “Wh—Party?”

Still tired, Party didn’t do anything but sit down next to him.

“What are you doing?” he whispered, confused.

Party slid down the covers and hugged him, and they felt Ghoul relax, melt into it. “ Oh ,” he let out, nestling himself in Party’s arms—which wasn’t exactly what they were looking for, but it warmed them nonetheless.

So that’s how sleep came to them, entangled with the smaller boy, his puffy breaths hitting their collarbone. They were just about to fall asleep when they felt Ghoul tense and shiver, as though he’d held back a silent sob. Party meant to ask him about it, but sleep’s cruel claw closed on them before they could and their vision went black

∼

If they were being honest, Party was growing quite tired of being woken up by a blatant lack of heat. They’d been in that in-between limbo, that cozy place where you’re awake but not quite, and it had suddenly been snatched away when the warmth left, despite the low whine they emitted in protest.

In a last-ditch effort to keep it close, Party reached out and their hand closed around… a wrist ? Just like that, the events of the night came tumbling down on them, down to the way Ghoul—who they now realized was the one the wrist belonged to—had felt like he was crying.

Pulling the boy back next to them, they gave him a concerned look. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, a smile on his face. It seemed a bit too hesitant for the Ghoul they knew, though, Party noted.

“I don’t know, you tell me. Were you crying yesterday? Or tonight? Well, whatever, that’s not my point. Were you?”

Ghoul frowned, confused. “I—I don’t recall.” His eyebrows scrunched closer together before he spoke up. “I must’ve been asleep. Nightmare.”

Now Party just felt dumb. “Aw, shit, those suck, I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

Party smiled, getting up, and offered him a hand, pulling him to his feet. “Shall we?” they asked, giving him their arm like in those old timey movies they’d once watched. Ghoul, giggling, accepted, leaning on him as they made their way to the main room where Jet and Kobra already were.

At the sight of them, Kobra grabbed his can of Power Pup and left, face as emotionless as usual.

“What’s his deal?” Party mouthed at Jet.

“It’s Kobra,” he mouthed back, as if to say, ‘who knows?’

Them and Ghoul sat down to eat their own Power Pup can and chat with Jet. The Girl eventually crawled to them, making herself known when she tugged on Party’s grey jeans. They lifted her up, placing her on their thigh. 

“Who’s a good girl, huh?”

Ghoul snickered. “Remember when I used to be exactly where she stands? Good times, man, good times.”

“Replaced you with a newer model,” Party retorted, smiling brightly.

Jet coughed and Ghoul jumped, returning his attention to the man sitting in front of him while Party went back to braiding the short strands of The Girl’s crazy hair, still smiling.

“Hey, Jet?”

The other hummed, acknowledging the killjoy.

“Remember when you said we could ask the DJs to look after The Girl?”

That got Jet to raise his eyes, giving Party an interrogative look. “What about it?”

“So I’ve been thinking—”

“That’s never a good thing,” Kobra said, barging in.

“ Bitch ,” Party told him, covering The Girl’s ears. “ Anyway . There’s a party next weekend and I wanted to know if we could go.” Even though Party was the Fabulous Four’s leader of sorts, Jet was still the mom friend, thus had the power of veto, in Party’s odd unwritten book of rules.

Kobra groaned, but Party knew that groan. That was his I-really-wanna-go-but-won’t-admit-it-because-I-don’t-want-to-seem-lame groan.

“So Kobra’s in,” Jet noted, laughing when Kobra groaned some more.

“Kobra jargon is like those very cryptic noises that only a handful of people understand and we’ve been blessed with the gift of doing so after spending so much time with the fucker,” Ghoul said, which was absolutely right.

“Ghoul?” Jet asked as a way to seal the deal on whether or not the four of them would be attending that party.

The boy shot Party a look and they raised an eyebrow—the can’t-raise-an-eyebrow gene had skipped them, something for which they were eternally grateful.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Ghoul answered, quickly looking away from Party, leaving them even more confused. Said confusion was short-lived, though, because, hell yeah, party! 

“Dude, I’m so happy I could kiss you right now,” they declared, grinning broadly.

“Please don’t,” Ghoul squeaked, causing Kobra to burst out laughing, receiving a glare from Jet.

Once he'd calmed down, Party’s brother told them, “But seriously, please don’t.”

Party simply laughed, glancing at the black-haired boy, who’d grown a noticeable shade of red. “No worries, no one’s gonna touch those pretty lips of yours,” they said, ruffling his hair. Ghoul allowed it before swatting his hand away a few seconds later, still red all over. Party found it quite funny, actually. The other blushed at anything. 

The four of them continued their light banter while Party and Ghoul finished their Power Pup. When they were done eating, the former suggested they visit the DJs, to inform them of their upcoming plans.

They got in the car, Party turned the music—not loud enough to disturb The Girl—and they pressed the gas pedal, launching their crew into the now-scorching hot desert. The ride to the radio station wasn’t too long, no obstacles being thrown in their way. Nevertheless, the child onboard managed to find sleep in the small amount of time they were on the road, no matter the sound blasted from the speakers.

That’s how Jet found himself carrying a sleeping baby into a radio building, soon followed by his three friends. The four of them were warmly greeted by Dr Death Defying.

“My favorite killjoys! What brings you here on this sunny day?”

Jet motioned at Party, so they happily explained the situation to the man in the wheelchair, pushing him around the station per his demand. 

“Ah, of course. Enjoy being teenagers while you still can,” Dr D said, smiling wisely.

Eventually, they circled back to the main room, where a crowd of DJs had settled down, cooing over The Girl, who was now fully up, examining the strangers with her shiny big eyes. Cherri Cola was kneeled in front of her, playing the toddler version of hide and seek, and The Girl simply seemed to love it. Party made a mental note to try it with her some other time. NewsAGoGo and DJ Hot Chimp were standing a bit further in the back, trying to catch the kid’s attention. Since she was too absorbed in Cherri’s game, they gave up and sat down on the couch. Well, Hot Chimp sat down and NewsAGoGo sat on her, but that was just a detail.

When they started sharing kisses, Party looked away, feeling a bit like an intruder. Their eyes wandered before falling on Ghoul, who, on the other hand, was still looking at the two girls, transfixed. As in, if Party didn’t know he was gay as shit, they would’ve seriously considered the possibility of him having the hots for one of them. He was staring, and Party doubted he realized it. His expression was forlorn,  and Party was reminded of the last night, when they thought he might’ve been crying, or at least holding back cries. They’d have to stage an intervention, because, well, this was Ghoul .

Ghoul didn’t do that whole longing thing, he usually wasn’t all deep and tortured artist-like, which, frankly, slightly concerned Party. He was their best friend, and seeing him so down made Party sad.

His eyes focused back and caught Party staring. Surprised, as if he’d been the one doing the staring, he looked away, his cheeks heating up. Party made a move to walk up to him, but the boy hurried away, slipping between Show Pony and Dr Death.

The former scrunched their eyebrows together, shooting Party a glare. What did you do? they signed.

Opening their mouth in protest—or maybe offense, if they were being honest—Party held their hands up, jutting out their chin, confusion evident on their face: What ?

Motherfucker , Pony answered, following after Ghoul.

Party really wanted to run after Ghoul, but if he wanted space, they were willing to wait until he was ready to talk. No point in pissing him off any further. They just wished they knew what they’d done to begin with.

Hot Chimp yelped, pulling Party from their thoughts. She was looking at her feet—or rather, her hot pink boots—Party was jealous —on which The Girl had regurgitated the last food she’d ingested.

“Phoenix Witch, I am so sorry,” Jet said, taking the kid back into his arms, mortified.

“Aw, babe, I’ll go get you a napkin,” Newsie told Hot Chimp, soothingly rubbing her back.

Once DJ Hot Chimp’s boots had been cleaned off, it was decided that it was maybe best for the Fab Four to head back home. The Girl was growing tired and they didn’t want to risk causing another accident. The DJs tried telling Jet it was no big deal, but Party could see he was still extremely embarrassed, so they seconded driving back to the diner. Besides, they’d gotten what they’d come there for.

Also, Party needed to talk to Ghoul, but that only concerned the two of them. 

Well, for now. Maybe Ghoul was just feeling down, in which case Party would include the rest of the crew. Either way,the DJ crew wasn’t required, so the five of them left the radio station, ready to call it a day.

∼

The sun had set when Party finally managed to get a moment with Ghoul alone. When the boy spotted them, he looked ready to flee, but they grabbed their arm, silently begging him to stay. Ghoul thus stood his ground, expectantly looking at them. 

Leading him outside, Party started to speak. “Are you okay? Because one nightmare does not turn into—” they gestured around, “— this. ”

“It’s nothing, really, I just—”

“Ghoulie, did I do something?”

Ghoul looked like he’d been slapped. “ What ? No, of course not! It’s not you. Per se. No, actually, it’s just, no, you didn’t. No .”

“What the fresh fuck is it, then? ‘Cause you’ve been avoiding me and I can’t make things better if I don’t even know what’s wrong!”

“You can’t make it better!” he told them, slumping down on the Trans Am’s hood. “But it’s not your fault, really. I have no one to blame but myself.”

Party nodded, not wanting to push him any more than they already had. Bathed in starlight, their friend seemed so fragile, like he could break at any instant. Unsure of what else to do, Party wrapped their arms around him, hugging him tightly. They remained silent for a while, Ghoul enveloped in Party’s arms, before he resumed talking, his voice muffled in Party’s tank top.

“I’ve been thinking lately. About life, and the choices I’ve taken. Going over my life decisions, basically. And I guess the reality of it hit me, y’know? Like when you look back on everything and you think, ‘wow, I never thought this is where I’d wind up.’”

Dislodging themself a little so they could look Ghoul in the eye, Party asked, “Do you… regret it?”

“Aw, hell no. I could never. I have you, and Kobra, and Jet, and The Girl, and I could never give up on that.”

“That’s a relief,” they chuckled. “Here I was thinking you were, like, actively avoiding me because you were mad or something.” They paused. “You aren’t right? I know you said y—”

“Pois, I mean it, I’m not mad at you. And I wasn’t avoiding you , specifically. I just wanted some time to think—or rather, not think. I needed to be alone, is all.”

“Destroya, Ghoul, you could’ve told me! I spent all day trying to talk to you, I never would’ve otherwise. Fuck, I’m so sorry.” Great, so Party fucking sucked, glad that was established. They shut their eyes, trying to will the emotions away. Ghoul, they were here for Ghoul, now was not the time to make it about themself.

“No, you’re getting this all wrong, I don’t want you to leave , I—” he interrupted himself, and Party opened their eyes. 

“You what?”

“Nothing. I needed time for myself, but that doesn’t mean I wanted you away. I needed space, but I don’t want you to give up on me.” And he sounded so sad, it broke Party’s heart. Just smashed it into pieces.

“Ghoulie! I could never . You’d have to, like, explicitly tell me off in order for me to leave you alone.” 

Ghoul didn’t answer, only snorted.

“What’s so funny?” Party asked, jokingly ‘offended.’

“You’re such a dork,” Ghoul declared with a lopsided grin.

The quiet settled back once again, and Party whispered, “Seriously, though, tell me if I do something wrong. And you can come to me anytime, okay? I’m here for you, and I don’t want you repressing all that shit.”

Ghoul fervently nodded and squeezed them before relaxing into the hug. Not breaking the embrace, Party pressed a fond kiss to Fun Ghoul’s forehead, smiling warmly when he looked up at them with those green eyes of him.

They remembered the first time they’d given Ghoul a forehead kiss, a good while back. The boy had been talking and had interrupted his conversation to say, “Oh, hi Party!” before returning his attention to the discussion. Party had then sneaked up behind him, surprising him when they’d bent down to press their lips on his forehead. Ghoul had grown flustered, and Party had been sure they’d embarrassed him. They’d been proven wrong when, a few hours later, Ghoul had returned the gesture, and it had pretty much caught on after that.

“Do it again,” Ghoul whispered, teasing, but, hey, who was Party to say no to that?

And so they obliged, kissing their best friend right in the middle of the forehead, laughing when Ghoul amiably pushed him away, once again repeating, “You’re such a dork.”

“Yeah, but I’m your dork.”

“Yeah, you’re my dork,” he agreed, snuggling closer to them. And maybe nights were cold in the desert, but, right now, Party Poison was feeling just fine.

Chapter Text

This was getting out of control.

Kobra did not know how he’d managed to wind up in that situation but he definitely knew he did not enjoy it.

A list of things he didn’t mind, in no particular order:

Gays.

Party being gay. (Their words, not Kobra’s.)

Ghoul being gay.

A list of things he did, in fact, fucking mind:

Party and Ghoul being gay together.

As his luck should have it, he was enjoying a nice can of Power Pup when Ghoul and Party made their way into the main room. So far, so good. They grabbed a can of Power Pup, and, okay, then, they weren’t hungry, sharing was better than wasting in the Zones, after all. But then— then —they started literally sharing it. As in, they only had one fucking spoon for the both of them and were passing it to the other back and forth every couple of bites.

And Kobra? Well, Kobra would just have to fucking stop eating in the main room, apparently. Because it was the second time they’d been overly touchy-feely in just as many days . Sure, rationally, he knew that they both were more snuggly, more… comfortable physically than most friends were, but eating with the same spoon? Really? In front of Kobra’s perfectly fine can of Power Pup? 

And the fucking jokes. Destroya, the jokes. They couldn’t even be called that, but, frankly, Kobra didn’t know what else to call them. He just hoped this wasn’t their weird way of flirting because nope, nope, nope. He really wished they’d stop laughing at nothing like those horrible, horrible lovesick couples because—at least, to Kobra’s knowledge—they weren’t even fucking dating. 

Finishing up his breakfast as fast as possible, he hurried out of the room to meet up with Jet, who was currently playing with The Girl, like he usually did in the morning. Sitting down next to her, he affectionately ruffled the little curls forming on her chubby round head, smiling when her face lit up.

“Oba!” she greeted, which was something she’d started doing a while ago, maybe a handful of weeks after she’d first said her first words. So far, her vocabulary included ‘Zet,’ ‘Paty,’ ‘Ghoul’—something that maddened Jet to no avails—‘Oba,’ and ‘fuck.’

“Oh, hey Kobes. Are you okay?”

Kobra considered saying he was turning homophobic, but thought better of it: that would’ve been pretty hypocritical of him. He wasn’t exactly the straightest tool in the shed or however that saying went. Besides, if Party was happy, he guessed he was too. The lovey-dovey bubble would eventually burst.

So that’s how Kobra found himself saying, “Yeah, of course.”

Jet raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say more on the matter, silently handing Kobra a play cube so he could join his and the Girl’s playdate. He kneeled down next to the two of them and played with learning blocks for over an hour. Bruises had blossomed on his knees from being in that position so long, but The Girl seemed so happy, he didn’t feel it at all.

Their originally peaceful game soon turned into a who-can-get-her-to-say-the-most-words contest, and Kobra didn’t intend to lose it.

“Cat,” he said, showing her a picture of the animal.

“Cat!”

“Dog,” Jet replied, glaring when Kobra got The Girl to say ‘cat’ on her first try. It took her a few tries to get this one, for Kobra was actively distracting her.

“Crocodile,” Jet said when Kobra caught the lead by throwing easy words at The Girl.

She frowned, concentrating. “Co… wocodile!” she exclaimed, radiant.

Both boys drowned her in compliments and appreciative noises before resuming their friendly competition. “Dinosaur.” Kobra was pretty proud of this one: dinos were cool and it was a big word.

He expected her to jump in head first, but instead, she looked up at him, confused.

“Di-no,” Kobra began, figuring that deconstructing the word would facilitate the task.

“Dino!”

“Saur”

“Zor!”

“Yeah, that’s it, good girl,” he praised her. “Now, the full word: dinosaur.”

“Disonaur!” she happily screamed, beaming when he affectionately patted her head, congratulating her.

And thus the three of them spent their morning on the ceramic floor, playing with cubes and learning cards and intermittently napping. He could get used to this, he realized as he shuffled a deck of cards. Sure, maybe it wasn't as exhilarating as shooting Dracs, nor as fulfilling as risking your life to save the world—or at least your part of it—but it was something , something precious, and Kobra had no intentions of letting go.

∼

It was nighttime, and the five of them were sprawled on the floor. Kobra seemed to be the only one still awake. All evening, they’d danced with The Girl, taking her in their arms and making her spin as an old speaker they’d once found while foraging for food in an abandoned house blasted rock music they’d sung along to at the top of their lungs.

Since the toddler had napped in the morning and had slept for the better part of the afternoon, she surprisingly wasn’t the first one to crash. Jet was, actually. The nights he spent up had obviously caught up with him, and a few hours after the sun had gone down, he’d slumped on the floor, dozing off as soon as his head had hit its cold surface.

The remaining four of them had laid down at the same time, piling up next to Jet so as to not leave him alone. Kobra couldn’t have helped but stare when Ghoul had planted himself right on his sibling. He felt like he had when he’d first found out about the boy’s thing for them. He closed his eyes, reminiscing—though reminiscing was an euphemism, because the memory was far from a happy one—or one he was fond of, for that matter. 

Party had made some offhand comment, and Ghoul had placed both his hands on their shoulder, leaning on them as he’d let out a full body laugh.

“Hahahaha, you’re so funny ,” had been the exact words he’d spoken. He remembered that with an acute vivacity, and he hated that he did.

“Oh, fucking hell,” Kobra had muttered, wishing then more than ever that the shades he’d been wearing could've obscured his visions and prevented him from seeing that .

He also remembered freaking out about it to Jet, shocked by the revelation.

“Dude, this is so bad,” he’d said. “This is only gonna feed their ego.” And Party’s ego was already way too fucking huge.

Jet, the supportive friend that he was, had patted his shoulder. “There, there.”

At the time, Kobra had been pretty freaked out. He wouldn’t have minded Ghoul and his sibling dating—though it would’ve been weird —but he couldn’t have dared imagine what would happen if they did and then broke up. Or just Party reacting badly to the boy’s feelings. There were so many ways this thing could turn to shit.

But, by some miracle, it had stayed pretty lowkey. There had been some instances where it had been so fucking obvious, but Party had stayed none the wiser as to how Ghoul felt about them. 

That was when they were twelve. Now, many years down the road, Kobra felt the same old childish fears resurface. Rationally, he knew they were both mature enough not to let something like this majorly fuck up their friendship—at least he hoped so—but whether they wanted to or not, relationships were messy, unpredictable, and their aftermath, much, much worse. And if Ghoul hurt Party, well Kobra would have to fight him and he did not want that. Ghoul worked with explosives, Kobra was not looking up to ever having to confront him. Even if they parted on good terms, there would still be a cold rift between the two of them, and it would affect the family’s dynamics.

Sometimes, and Kobra knew it was unfair of him, he wished Ghoul had found someone else to fall for. He didn’t want that only for himself, but for the other boy, too. Because Party didn’t do relationships. They kissed strangers at parties only to never see them again.  Kobra didn’t know what exactly was up between his friend and his sibling, but if Party got scared off, the only one it would really, truly hurt was Ghoul. And even though he loved to torture him by heavily infering that he knew about his little infatuation—if it could even be called small—he still loved him deeply and didn’t want him to have his heart broken.

Anyhow. There wasn’t much Kobra could do. He’d give it time, see how it’d pan out. Then, if the need arose, he’d intervene. For now, Jet wasn’t suspicious of anything—apart from what he already did know—and the two of them seemed happy, so, really, who was Kobra to go between that?

Shaking any thoughts of romance out of his head, he shifted on the floor so he’d find a more comfortable position to fall asleep in.

∼

The week had gone by fairly similarly, and before he knew it, it was time for the Fabulous Four’s first social outing since they’d found The Girl. Kobra amusedly rolled his eyes at the scene unfolding before him. Party was restless, running a hand through their hair on every possible occasion, making sure their jacket fit perfectly, even applying eyeliner. Jet, on the other hand, was constantly checking up on The Girl, making sure she wasn’t hungry. He also double, then triple, then quadruple-checked the to-go bag he’d packed for her.

“Okay, Jet, I don’t think the twenty diapers you put in there escaped. Neither did the five you added two minutes ago,” Kobra pointed out. “I’m sure it’s fine, and if it isn’t, they can go get supplies.”

“Yeah,” Party agreed. “Tonight’s about having fun!”

And it would be… right until it wouldn’t.

For now, though, Kobra and his friends were blatantly ignorant as to what would transpire that night, so, carefree, they sped off in the Trans Am, headed towards the radio station, where they dropped off The Girl.

When they arrived, Cherri Cola was there to greet them. Jet grabbed him by the t-shirt and thoroughly explained what every item in the bag did and talked the older man’s ear off about the toddler’s needs and nonexistent routine. Cherri humored him, wisely nodding at everything Jet said, and did his best to reassure him, something for which Kobra was eternally grateful. His friend was extremely stressed about leaving The Girl, so this outing was important: should anything remotely bad happen, it would unravel all the progress they’d made and Jet would literally never leave the kid’s side ever again.

A solid thirty minutes after they’d got there, they finally left. And not a second too soon: Party was literally boiling and Ghoul was growing jittery. None of those things were good, in Kobra's experience, so he was more than happy to leave when Jet announced he was ready. Also, as much as he enjoyed spending time with The Girl, he really couldn’t wait to see people his age that weren’t his crew.

Kobra had forgotten how recklessly Party drove when there wasn’t a kid onboard, he realized a few minutes into the drive. The music was so loud he felt the bass resonate. That, and they were going so fast. It was as though Party was trying to make up for all the time they’d had to drive slower than they’d wanted to.

Kobra hadn’t noticed he’d been holding onto the armboards until they’d reached their destination. What finally clued him in was the ache when he unclenched his hands. He opened and closed them a bunch of times, trying to get rid of the sore feeling.

He could hear music he knew would be loud coming from the building, for the moment still muffled by the walls keeping it in. Yeah, Kobra thought, straightening out his red leather jacket, this was going to be one hell of a night.

In unison, the four of them walked towards the building—a warehouse, if Kobra had to guess. The last time they’d done that, they’d left with a child. Kobra had an inkling that that night would be slightly different.

They hadn’t even taken ten steps in the place that Party had already been stolen away by their party friends. Oh well. Kobra probably wouldn’t see them again until the early hours of the morning, if history was to repeat itself—so far, it always had. He snuck a quick glance at Ghoul, not missing the way his face fell. He hid it well, though, for if Kobra had looked a quarter of a second later, he wouldn’t have caught it. Kobra guessed he’d gotten used to concealing his feelings, after all these years.

Anyway, Kobra hadn’t come here to think about Ghoul and whatever the fuck he had with Kobra’s sibling—quite the opposite, actually, so he didn’t waste any more time, pushing through the crowd to get to the source of the music. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be disappointed by what he’d find there, if the way it was becoming denser and denser with people the closer he got.

When he finally emerged, he found himself on a balcony overlooking a whole ass motherfucking scene. As in, with people actually playing on it. A grin broke out on Kobra’s face, and he didn’t even care in the slightest. He could see why Party liked parties so much: he was anonymous, no one knew him. He could just fade into the background, but not in a bad way. He was just part of a bigger thing than himself, could lose himself in the moment.

A killjoy started up a conversation with him, and so he talked to her during the entirety of the band’s show, and a bit of the following band’s. Her crew was based in Zone Two, and they helped people escape Bat City. Kobra instantly took a liking to her: someone helping him and Party definitely was something he would’ve liked when they’d been escaping the pristine prison.

A few more bands demonstrated, and a few more killjoys spoke to Kobra. He remained amicable, enjoying the light chatter: chances were that he’d never see their faces again, and he was perfectly fine with that. There was something nice about sharing with a stranger some random information. Maybe one of those ‘joys he’d talked to would remember him as the kid who adopted a random girl him and his crew found laying around because they grew emotionally attached, just as he’d always have a background memory of that girl who helped people get a better life, away from Better Living Industries—the irony of it didn’t fly by Kobra. Call him cheesy, but he found the concept poetic, in a way.

As the band currently playing was about to sing their song’s chorus, Kobra heard a scream pierce through the music, high-pitched, terrified. And then more followed, and the music stopped. Dracs? But he didn’t hear any gunshots. He frowned, trying to pinpoint where the scream had originated, thinking it may help him understand what was happening. He had to find out in a much less pleasant way, though. A raindrop exploded on his hand, and instant pain followed. He felt as though his skin was being burned right off his skin. He bit back a hurt yelp, looking up to see the ceiling above him was holed all over, and water was coming crashing down.

His doubt were confirmed moments later when the singer, still onstage, screamed into his mic, “This is acid rain, everyone get the fuck to safety!”

Chapter Text

Fun Ghoul forced his way through the crowd, seeking familiar faces. His tiny body allowed him to worm between the killjoys in search of a cover. It was just his luck that the roof was pierced, offering no protection whatsoever from the rain caused by the radioactive desert. The worst part was that he’d been pumped for this: ever since they’d adopted The Girl, they hadn’t had a single outing that wasn’t baby-related and Ghoul had kind of really needed to get away from Party. Now, though… oh how he wished the other was at his side. At least then he’d know they were safe.

Not that anyone was safe. Still, he’d rather have Party close by than Destroya knows where. And the same went for the two others—he’d rather go down with them, instead of being trampled to death by scared teens.

Speaking of his friends, where the fuck were they? Ghoul could’ve sworn that Jet had been right there just a minute ago, before it had started pouring. 

He hissed as a raindrop hit him right on the arm—the water didn’t hurt too much, every killjoy here had seen worse, but long exposure was never good and it still stung. His skin wasn’t going to melt off or anything, but maybe he’d have irritated skin for two or three days. Anyway, what concerned the boy the most right now was the mob of killjoys rushing to safety. Should Ghoul fall, he’d have a pretty unpleasant time getting back up. And he still didn’t know where his friends were.

Finally—finally—he spotted a familiar mop of brown hair, letting out a relieved sigh. “Jet!” Then, when he didn’t hear, louder. “ Jet !”

Jet whirled around, meeting Ghoul’s eyes in the crowd. They both reached for the other, clinging to the other’s hands once they were reunited. “Have you seen Kobra? Where’s Party?” Ghoul yelled over the ambient noise.

Jet opened his mouth, and Ghoul guessed he spoke.

“What?”

Jet tried again, to no avail, before momentarily letting go of Ghoul’s hand to sign, No idea . 

Ghoul swore, launching himself in the air in a fruitless attempt to spot the rest of their crew. Jet did the same—not the jumping part, the looking for the two siblings part—but the both of them came back empty. Let’s just find somewhere safe, Jet signed after it was made abundantly clear they wouldn’t find the two of them like this. Reluctantly, Ghoul nodded, letting himself be dragged by the older boy and the sea of killjoys.

While Jet and him ventured through the mob, Ghoul stayed on the lookout, hoping to see firetruck red hair, or a combination of blonde hair and a red leather jacket. He was still walking straight ahead when he was tugged backwards. Opening his mouth to protest, he swallowed back his indignance and confusion when he realized Kobra had grabbed Jet, who’d in turn pulled him to them. Somehow, Kobra had found and claimed for himself an alcove of sorts. Or maybe it was just a hole in the wall, who fucking knew, Ghoul wasn’t about to refuse it.

It was way too small for the three of them, but they didn’t have many other options, so they cut their loss and stayed cramped together. It was a tight fit, Ghoul mused. There wouldn't be enough space for someone else.

“Fuck. Guys, fuck .”

Ghoul tried to free himself from the knot of limbs, but Jet firmly grabbed him by his shoulders before he could make a break for it, manhandling him back into the hole. “Ghoul, what the hell?” he demanded, frowning.

“Party!” he answered, distressed. “We can’t just—they’re all alone out there, we have to, fuck, we have to go find them, fuck, fuck . Let’s go ,” he muttered, trying to once again throw himself in the mix of scrambling killjoys—though, to be fair, it was way less dense than it had been five minutes ago.

“Ghoul, reign yourself the fuck back in,” Kobra spat. “They’re fine, they’re not alone, there are plenty of people out there, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Ghoul stared at them in disbelief. “They’d do the fucking same for us,” he counterparted.

Kobra sighed deeply, so loud Ghoul could hear him over the screams surrounding them. “Trust that they know how to handle themself, Ghoul.”

Jet added, in a softer manner, “We get that you’re scared, we are too, but right now, the smartest thing to do is stay here, together . You understand, right?”

“Yeah,” Ghoul lied through his teeth. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand per se—though, really, Kobra was their fucking sibling, why the fuck wasn’t he freaking out right now?

‘The smartest thing to do,’ Jet had said. Well, it was a good thing Ghoul wasn’t known for his bright decisions, he thought as he dislodged himself from Jet’s grip.

“ Motherfucker ,” Kobra exclaimed as Jet called after him, trying—and failing—to close his hand around Ghoul’s wrist. 

The two of them lost precious seconds staring at each other, wondering if they should follow, and by the time they’d come to a decision, the crowd had swallowed the boy, leaving him nowhere to be seen.

Said boy was currently elbowing his way through, looking out for his friend. “Party!” he repeatedly yelled.

After a few minutes of being brawled around and burned by the rain, he realized that, one, the warehouse was huge and, two, maybe Kobra and Jet had been right. Party was a grown fucking person who knew better than to stay under the dangerous acid rain. Something that Ghoul, on the other hand, was currently doing. Also, they had a leather jacket, which was usually a pretty good cover for all kinds of rain, while his shirt was soaked and he was itchy and bruised all over.

Ghoul considered backtracking, but that would’ve meant going against the flow of killjoys. He decided against it: he’d made enough bad decisions for the night and didn’t particularly feel like getting trampled to death. He just needed to find Party, that would be a good start. The two of them would figure it out from there. They’d have to.

Something red flashed in his vision and he straightened up, expecting a friendly face. No such chance: it was just some generic red-haired ‘joy. “Fucking rip off,” he bitterly muttered.

By now, the rain was really starting to hurt like a motherfucker. Also, the sun had set and it was freaking cold. Shivering, Ghoul hugged himself, trying to keep his warmth, and ventured further into the crowd. Party had to be there, somewhere . He resumed screaming their name, his throat sore due to the yells and the acid water having found its way in it.

The more time passed, the more the killjoy grew worried: what if something had happened to them? Sure, his friend was smart, but accidents could happen to anyone. And they weren’t with their crew. Maybe they were with assholes who had ditched Party the second things turned sour—no pun intended.

Fucking Phoenix Witch was Ghoul not having a good time. He’d come here to forget about his pent up emotions and, in reward, had gotten a whole new set of them. “Party Poison, you motherfucker, show your fucking face!”

He soon accepted that yelling for Party wasn’t helping: from the looks of it, those right next to him didn’t even hear him over the noise, so what were the chances Party would?

Ghoul had just about given up when he spotted a red streak of hair, on the other side of the warehouse, in what seemed to be an isolated spot. And maybe he was dumb for getting his hopes up again, but he just knew that was Party: even wet, he’d recognize that shade of red anywhere. You did not spend half of your life with a person just to not recognize them in a clusterfuck of terrified teenagers. 

Pushing through the crowd—his elbows were fucking red and it wasn’t because of the rain—he sprinted to the ‘joy, tackling them.

“Wh—” they began, struggling to keep their balance. “ Ghoul ?”

Ghoul took a step back, looking up. “Thank Destroya it’s you,” he declared, throwing his arms around the redhead.

He hadn’t realized there were other killjoys nearby until one of them asked, “That your girlfriend or something?”

Ghoul felt his cheeks go as red as Party’s hair and cursed his fucking genetics that had mercilessly decided that he’d blush at anything.  He let go of his friend, not liking the tone the other killoy had used one bit, shooting her a cold look.

“Or boyfriend, then,” she huffed, mirroring Ghoul’s expression. He further narrowed his eyes before returning his attention to Party. They didn’t look too damaged, they’d probably gotten lucky.

“Whatever,” a blue-haired killjoy said in answer to the girl. “Who cares if it’s their girlfriend or boyfriend, I’m pretty sure the only thing that’s important here is that this one right there—” he pointed at Party, “—had their tongue down some other killjoy’s throat like an hour ago.”

The two of them started laughing and Ghoul looked at his feet, a bit nauseous. Rationally, he knew his friend was free to do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted, but it still hurt. And he also knew he had no business getting hurt over this, but he didn’t exactly control his brain. Case in point: he still had that fucking hopeless childhood crush for Party, even after all these years. One might’ve thought he’d have gotten a hint after a few years, but apparently not . 

“Nah,” Party laughed, “Ghoul’s not a jealous girlfriend.” They ruffled his wet hair and Ghoul did his best to laugh along.

His brain was still going girlfriend girlfriend girlfriend when a friend, if friend wasn’t too overall of a term, of Party asked, sounding uncertain, “Uh, is Ghoul okay?”

“Yeah,” the girl added. “You look kinda, er…” she made a sad face, and Ghoul had a feeling that if he were to have a mirror right now, he’d see that same face staring back at him.

Luckily for him, he’d just spent way too long in acid rain, so he blamed his lack of enthusiasm on it. 

Only then did Party seem to clock in on the fact that Ghoul had come from the uncovered part of the warehouse. They turned to face him, eyes wide open. “Ghoul! Why the fuck didn’t you go hide?”

“We didn’t know where you were! I wanted to ma—”

“We?” Party interrupted.

Ghoul could hear the two killjoys whispering something about entertainment and TV shows, but tuned them off. “Yeah, Jet, Kobra and I.”

“You were with Jet and Kobra and left? Why ?”

At Party’s disbelieving tone, Ghoul looked down. If he’d been mad, he would’ve held their eyes, but he was just embarrassed. And this was becoming slightly too incriminating. He scratched his neck, wincing as he was reminded of his burnt skin. “You could’ve been in danger! I didn’t want you to be alone out there.”

“Fucking Phoenix Witch,” one of the two killjoys giggled, clamping a hand over their mouth. Again, Ghoul took the higher road of silence, awaiting Party’s answer.

“Well, where are they?”

Ah . The million carbon question. He reached for his neck again, but Party grabbed his wrist, shooting him a warning look. “They might’ve said not to go after you?”

Party groaned, taking their head in both their hands. Ghoul didn’t feel the lack of contact on his wrist. He didn’t .

“I’m sorry,” he let out, defeated.

“Not that kind of girlfriend, my ass,” one of the two killjoys sneered.

“I’m not their girlfriend. Nor their boyfriend,” he quickly added when he saw the girl open her mouth.

I wish I was , but that addition was for him and him only.

“Don’t apologize, I’m just concerned,” Party told him. “Your face is all irritated, we’ll have to raid Chow Mein’s.” They made a pout, as if the prospect of causing chaos in the shop didn’t excite them.

Ghoul grinned. “Please, you’re dying to be ‘pregnant’ again.”

“Aww, what should we name our second?” Party cooed.

They both held the other’s stare until a killjoy commented, “Fucking weirdos,” breaking the charm. Ghoul and Party burst out laughing, unable to stop once they’d begun, leading to a, “What the fuck?”

“But seriously,” they asked once they’d both calmed down. “Are you okay? You got burned pretty badly.”

“Worried about me, Pois?” he asked in a teasing tone.

Party looked away, whispering, “Well, yeah .”

The girl cleared her throat and Ghoul jumped ten feet in the air. “My dad was a doctor in Battery City, I can take a look at you if you want.”

Before Ghoul could accept—or decline—Party said, “Really? Phoenix Witch, thank you!”

The blue-haired ‘joy laughed. “Anything for your…”

The girl shot her friend a warning look, wagging a finger. “ Don’t .”

“Ghoulfriend.”

Party gave the killjoy a fist bump while the girl groaned, walking towards Ghoul. “Idiots, right?” she asked in fake camaraderie. She crouched down in front of him—because Destroya she was tall —beginning her meticulous examination of Ghoul’s acid burns, giving him advice as to their treatment.

The four of them waited out the end of the rain that way, exchanging medicinal tips, anecdotes and friendly banter. When the rain finally ceased, Ghoul didn’t find them quite as annoying as he’d originally had. Their redemption arc had been deemed reasonable.

They got up, ready to go home—or meet with their crew, in Party and Ghoul’s case—when Jet and Kobra ran to them.

“You absolute fuck,” was the first thing Kobra said, punching Ghoul on the arm.

Both Ghoul and the girl protested. “Hey! I just spent thirty minutes on his bruises, don’t you dare damage him,” she threatened.

“Guess Ghoul wasn’t the jealous girlfriend,” the blue-haired killjoy laughed.

“We are going to have a long talk about leaving right after saying you understand why leaving is a bad idea, young man,” Jet informed Ghoul, but he couldn’t stay mad for too long, envelkopping both him and Party in a hug. “I was scared, you motherfuckers.”

They both muttered an apology, and Kobra rolled his eyes.

“Well, guess that’s our cue to leave,” the two killjoys declared, bidding the Fabulous Four farewell. 

Jet dragged Kobra in the hug despite his protests. The four of them stayed like that for a bit, waiting for the remaining killjoys in the warehouse to disperse before walking back to the Trans Am.

“So,” Ghoul asked, elbowing Party. “Who was that ‘joy you kissed oh so romantically?”

Jet and Kobra shared an interrogative look as Party shoved a cackling Ghoul off him before shrugging, deciding some things they just wouldn’t understand.

They all went in the car and they wasted no time, speeding off into the night on their way back home.

Chapter Text

Unlike the four teenagers, The Girl’s night had gone so well, she kept on asking when the next time she’d see Cherri would be. The fab four lasted a whole ten days before folding, telling her they’d try to see what they could do. Truth was, Jet was still pretty shaken by what had happened at that party. Not that he’d explicitly admit it, he didn’t want his friend to reason with him: he was perfectly aware it was irrational, he just couldn’t shake the dread that engulfed him any time he thought about leaving The Girl.

Still, for a gullible toddler, she was pretty adamant: she’d apparently adopted Cherri as an uncle, if the way she constantly babbled about him meant anything. Jet could understand, in a way: the DJ was the one she’d spent the most time with, her adoptive parents excluded. And he’d changed her diaper, once. Besides, no one could deny Cherri Cola had a calming effect; was serene. It contrasted well with The Girl’s energy, so paired with his maternal instinct, it was no wonder the two of them had hit it off. 

So, Jet found himself agreeing when his friends turned to him after The Girl brought the topic up one time too many. He pretended not to see the way Kobra let out a sigh of relief, instead focusing on the kid’s bright smile. It was missing a few teeth here and there, but they’d popped out for the most part. If he was being honest though, the holes only made it more endearing. 

Ghoul jumped off Party’s lap, giving their forehead a kiss before leaving to send the DJ crew a message on behalf of The Girl requesting Cherri’s presence. Jet looked at the two of them fondly. He was glad it had worked out all right. He was also glad that Party's forehead was the only thing Ghoul kissed next to Kobra and him. As much as he loved his friends and was happy for their newly-formed relationship, he did not need to see them kissing.

“So,” Party spoke, setting his Ghoul-free legs on the table, “If dear old Coca is coming over, does that mean that we can leave?”

Kobra flicked them. “Respect the man.” Then, to Jet, “Can we?”

He scratched his head, avoiding their stares. “The last time we did didn’t go so well,” he pointed out, not quite answering them. They read between the lines, though, if their shared expression said anything.

“What could possibly go wrong?” Party asked. When Jet gave them a look , they elaborated. “No, but really, what are the odds that both times we go out, acid rain falls on us? There’s only so much rain that can fall on the desert in a week, Jet Star.”

“So much, Party, so much. The fact that you have to ask this only worries me.”

Kobra cleared his throat. “I think what they meant is that we can’t just let our fear drive us, Jet. Sure, there are risks, we’re killjoys . If we wanted to live an easy life, we’d be in Bat City, popping our mind numbing pills every day for the rest of our lives. Instead, we’re out here, in the desert, fighting to survive. And I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to change that for anything.”

Jet sighed. “Yeah. I just don’t want her to think we abandoned her, you know? She’s had enough of that for a lifetime.”

Party looked down at their feet and Kobra nodded. After a moment, the former said, “Well, she likes Pepsi. He’d raise her.”

“Not what I meant,” Jet told them. “But you’re right. You both are. Though I really wish you’d call him by his name.”

Party waved him off. “In all seriousness, though, it doesn’t have to be anything big. We’re not asking for a party again, we could just go for a drive and, hell, if some dracs find us, then we’ll shoot ‘em fair and square.”

Jet mulled things over before giving in. 

“Did he say yes?” Ghoul screamed from the other room.

“I said yes!” Jet yelled back, rolling his eyes.

Kobra, Party and Jet heard the thrum of footsteps and there Ghoul was, panting. “You better not be shitting me.”

Party laughed and lowered their legs, patting their thigh. “Come on.”

Ghoul dashed towards them and let himself drop on the redhead. They winced, producing a small ‘oomf!’ sound before putting their arms around the boy’s waist, who let his head rest on the other’s shoulder

Jet smiled softly, then turned his stare to Kobra, who forcefully detached his eyes from the two killjoys, sending a plea of help Jet’s way. 

“So, Ghoul, what did Cherri say?” When he didn’t answer, Jet sighed, redirecting his gaze on him—and Party, by association. His eyes were closed, but he didn’t seem to be sleeping. “Ghoul?”

Party nudged him and the boy in question opened up an eye. “Huh?”

Kobra shot a see?-I-told-you look at Jet, and he hated to have to agree. “I said , what did Cherri say?”

“Oh! He said yes. What did you think he was going to say, honestly? He loves The Girl just as much as she does him.”

“I doubt that’s possible,” Kobra said, holding Jet’s eyes. “Looks like she has a new favorite,” he teased.

Again, Jet rolled his eyes, not bothering to rise to the oh so obvious bait.

The conversation was dying down when Party sparked it again. “Anyway, everyone agrees with the car ride?”

∼

The Trans Am was going fast, and it wasn’t about to stop. It wasn’t exactly a surprise, either: it wasn’t like Party had ever not sped with it, the few handful of times The Girl had been onboard notwithstanding. That car was their gem, their most precious collection. Jet was willing to bet all that was his that Party would rather chop their hair off than lose the Trans Am. And they loved their fucking hair, it was sacred.

Jet still remembered when they’d gotten the car. He’d asked why its name was the Trans Am, and Party had near deadpanned, “It’s called the Trans Am because I’m fucking trans.”

Kobra had laughed and fistbumped them, claiming that, “Majority wins,” and neither Jet nor Ghoul had had the heart to tell either of them that half wasn’t a majority. Besides, that name fucking rocked.

A The Mad Gear and Missile Kid song came on the radio, and Party turned the already deafening music up, prompting Ghoul to giggle and turn it up even more. Kobra whooped, moving his head to the music, and Jet looked at his friends, feeling a smile spread. He loved them so fucking much, they were his favorite idiots.

They’d been on Getaway Mile for give or take one hour when they spotted a BL/ind car.

“Pull over, pull over!” Ghoul screamed, a feral grin on his face. Party slammed the brakes and the four of them masked up.

“Let the fun begin,” the redhead announced, pulling their ray gun from its holster. The white car neatly came to a halt in front of the four killjoys, and Draculoids in clean white suits got out, drawing their own weapons.

Each side stayed unmoving, as though they awaited some major turn of events. Jet could feel the adrenaline pumping in his veins as the standoff went on, a wave of energy that made him itch to pull the trigger and go wild, lose himself in the shooting.

“Motherfucker,” Ghoul swore, breaking the tense silence, and fired.

As soon as the first blast had left his green gun, a swarm of shots followed, grazing Jet and his friends. He soon got on the move, crouching to shoot a strategically placed ray beam. It knocked the gun right off his victim’s hand, and Kobra finished the unarmed Draculoid with a powerful punch to the jaw.

“Kobra, on your left!” Jet warned. 

“What?” the blonde asked, receiving a punch right on his cheekbone, falling on his side. The Drac raised its gun, ready to shoot, and Jet made a run for it, tackling it to the ground. They both grunted, rolling around in the sand, battling for control over the other.

Jet was starting to feel overpowered, but, luckily, the little stunt he’d pulled had permitted Kobra to stand up. As Jet was about to have his turn at getting a fist in his face, Kobra kicked the Drac, who went limp over Jet.

Kobra offered Jet a hand up. “You okay?”

He nodded. “You?”

“I’m not the one that had a Drac fall on me,” he pointed out as he shot a Drac.

Jet picked up his weapon, saying, “No, but you do have one ugly bruise on your cheek.”

The problem with encountering a patrol car was that it gave them time to alert Better Living, and if you were unlucky enough, another car would reach you.

Which was exactly what happened.

“Guys?” Jet asked, hearing the telltale sound of a motor in the distance. It was just their luck, really, that another patrol had been in the sector. To be fair, they’d been looking for it, driving on one of the most occupied roads in the Zones, but still. Jet had thought they’d have the time to finish off a few Dracs before going on their merry way.

“Fuck,” Party muttered, and Jet very much so agreed.

Kobra fired a few shots at the remaining Dracs that still stood, and Ghoul turned to imitate him. Jet deemed them capable of finishing off the last of them without his help, so he positioned himself, shooting out the moving car’s tires. It took him a few tries, but eventually, the car stopped, still far away from them.

“Hey, Ghoul? D’you have an explosive nearby or something? Now might be a good time.”

“Oh, sure thing!” he answered, digging around his back pocket “This good?”

“Why the fuck do you have a bomb in your pocket, what the fuck I hate you so much,” Kobra told him, his eyes wide and angry, disbelieving.

Jet stared for a few seconds before shaking his head. Another time, another place. “Yes, fine, throw it !”

Ghoul didn’t have to be told twice, howlering as he hurled the explosive towards the car. Jet heard a faint beep, beep, beep, and then… 

B O O O M!

Strips of smoke concealed the blown up car entirely, Dracs scrambling to their feet, struggling to get away from the newly-formed flames. Ghoul laughed maniacally, pigeon shooting them. Most of his shots missed—aiming wasn’t his forte and he wasn’t really trying—but it did nothing to smother the grin on his face.

“Come and get us, motherfuckers,” Party yelled at the Draculoids, wagging their yellow ray gun in the air.

The Dracs seemed to find their idea enticing, for they obliged, with much more fervor than Ghoul had had. Jet barely registered a shot had been fired at him, throwing himself on the ground at the very last fraction of second. He bit the dust, quite literally, spitting the sand out as soon as he’d redressed himself.

Luckily for the Fabulous Four, the Dracs were worse at dodging than they were at shooting. Jet guessed that was the expected aftermath of being rendered a brainless zombie. A bit less to think logically after that, while shooting was just a mechanical gesture. Anyway, as much as he despised the concept of Draculoids, he didn’t mind their hintered capability to anticipate right now. The fight with the other set of Dracs had tired him out, and he really wasn’t looking forward to another hands on battle.

There almost weren’t any Dracs left when a shadow formed in the smoke. Composed, a figure walked out of the gas, brushing grime off their long grey coat. There was a cut on the top of their head, opaque blood sliding down their smooth skull.

“Korse,” Party spat.

“Killjoys,” the Scarecrow greeted. Entranced, the Dracs stopped shooting and the four teens let their arms fall on their side. Korse wasn’t just any scarecrow, and him being there meant nothing good.

“What are you doing here?” Party growled, taking a step forward. Ghoul tried holding them back, laying a hand on their blue leather jacket, but Party shrugged him off, stalking Korse in a predatory way.

“Party, get back,” Ghoul told them, concern in his eyes. “Get the fuck back,” he pleaded through gritted teeth, his glee from the explosion long forgotten.

Them and Korse were walking in circles, leisurely coming closer and closer. Jet, Kobra and Ghoul, on the other hand, grew more tense with each small step they took. Jet’s grip on his gun was making his knuckles turn white.

“Was I not clear? Let me ask again: What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”

“Well, I’d never miss out on a chance to see my favorite killjoys, wouldn’t I?”

“Somehow, I find it hard to believe you were roaming the desert, looking for us,” Kobra called out, annoyed.

“I might’ve been around,” the man admitted, pulling his long white gun from his jacket. Ghoul flinched, hard, and Korse pointed the weapon at him. He gulped, dropping his own gun, slowly raising his arms in the air.

“I’m not shooting,” he whispered, the words barely an echo on his lips.

Party finally broke eye contact with Korse, glancing at Ghoul, worry shining in their eyes. They then turned their head back to Korse, venom in their words as they spoke. “You’d better lower that fucking gun right now, Scarecrow.”

Korse laughed coldly, pulling his lips into a tight, empty smile. “Why, afraid I’ll hurt him?”

“Whatever you’re trying to do, this is not the way to do it.” Their voice was broken when they let out, “ Please .”

They were never fucking going out again, Destoya, if they got out of this alive Jet would barricade the four of them and The Girl in the diner for all of eternity.

“This has gone on long enough, Party Poison . So if you want your friend to live, I’d highly suggest you and your sister come back home, hm?”

Jet strained his eyes to look at Kobra, who’d noticeably lost color. He looked nauseous, Jet noted. Fucing Phoenix Witch did he feel like shooting Korse about right now. If Ghoul wasn’t held at gunpoint, Korse would've had his motherfucking brains blown right out of his disgusting BL/ind head

“ Never ,” Party snarled, briskly stepping between Korse and the dark-haired killjoy.

Honestly, if you’d ask Jet how it happened, he never could’ve told you. One second, he was there, transfixed, staring at Party who was in turn fiercely glaring at Korse, Ghoul livid behind them, Kobra looking on the verge of throwing up farther away. 

The other?

“Oh, and by the way,” Korse said, his smile finally meeting his eyes in what had to be the most horrific way. “Battery City says hi.”

The other second?

Jet was on the ground, vision going black as the flashes of ray gun shots sporadically lit up the darkness overtaking the downed killjoy, blood pouring out of his eye.

One second. And then, nothing.

Chapter Text

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Party wailed, kicking open the diner’s front door. “Where’s the fucking disinfectant?”

Cherri ran to his feet, taking The Girl out of the way and into another room so she wouldn’t have to see the carnage. Because it really wasn’t pretty. Party had never seen so much blood come out of the same fucking place—the same fucking place being an eye socket. An eye socket , for Destroya’s sake.

After Korse—that motherfucking bastard, Party was going to have his sorry fucking throat—had shot Jet, everything had been a blur. They just remembered dragging Jet to the Trans Am and getting the hell out of there. They’d busied themself with driving as fast as the car would let them while the three other killjoys had crammed themselves in the backseat, tending to Jet. 

When they’d arrived back home, they’d all grabbed Jet and had transported him in the diner and now here they were, searching for something, anything , that could help clean the wound. Party thought the bleeding had stopped, but they weren’t sure—they’d have to move the cloth covering Jet’s eye and they weren’t doing that until they had med supplies nearby. 

As soon as Jet had been set down on the floor, Party hurried to the cabinets, rummaging for supplies. “Why do we have much stuff?” they said to themself as they threw anything unhelpful away from them. Finally, they’d collected everything they needed, so they ran back to Jet. Kobra and Ghoul were still there, applying pressure to the tissue covering his eye—Kobra’s t-shirt, they noticed belatedly. They hadn’t even noticed Kobra taking it off in the car.

They knelt down and the three of them got to work. They could faintly hear Cherri reassuring The Girl while he called the DJs for help in another room, but Party tuned them out, focusing on his friend. Kobra peeled back his shirt and Party had to hold back vomit. There was no way they were saving that eye. Hell, there wasn’t any eye left. Phoenix Witch, they were going to throw up.

By some miracle, they managed to keep themself from emptying their stomach’s content, but the call had been too close for their liking. Back to Jet , they told themself, forcefully bringing their eyes back to the wound. “Should we disinfect?”

“I don’t know,” Ghoul whispered back, panic making his voice quiver. “He’s the fucking doctor here, what the fuck do we do?”

“Both of you shut up! Now !” Kobra whisper-snapped. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

Party looked down, sheepish, but kept their mouth shut. Kobra didn’t want an apology, he wanted silence.

“Antiseptic,” their brother said, opening up their hand. Ghoul rushed to grab the bottle and give it to him.

Kobra let a few drops fall to the wound, wincing when it started oozing. Party’s nausea came back like a wave, but they swallowed it down, keeping their eyes on the injury.

“Clean cloth, please,” Kobra demanded, but his voice was definitely weaker than it had been a mere minute ago. 

Party wordlessly handed him a wet wipe, and Kobra dabbed at the wound with it, turning greener with each movement. “Give it to me, I’ll take over,” Ghoul told him, face devoid of its usual smirk. Kobra hesitated, but another look at the blood convinced him. He gave Ghoul a quick halfhearted smile before letting go of the wipe.

Ghoul worked with delicacy, as though Jet was one of his bombs and a single sudden movement could make him explode. Apart from when he was building said bombs, Party had never seen him so focused. His leg wasn’t even jumping up and down. Save from the arm holding the cloth, he was as still as a stone. Party deemed him okay and turned to their brother, who didn’t look as fine as Ghoul did. To anybody, perhaps he would’ve seemed alright, but Party knew him too well: he was shaken up, and staying so close to Jet wasn’t helping. “Can you go check on The Girl?” they asked, figuring a quick walk, even if it was just to another room and back, would help.

Kobra stood up, legs shaky, and Party watched, making sure he wouldn’t fall down. They did not need someone else to take care of. Given the circumstances, he looked okay, so Party gave Jet his entire attention back. “You’re gonna be okay, Jet, we’ve got you,” they told him. Or maybe they were trying to convince themself too.

Ghoul briefly stopped what he was doing to look at Party. “Should we bandage him now? I don’t think that wound is becoming cleaner anytime soon.”

Party looked at the injury and nodded. “Do you want the gauze?”

The boy gave a quick nod, so Party handed it over. They looked for the bandages as Ghoul applied the gauze so they’d be ready to give them whenever Ghoul was ready. When they looked back at Jet, the silk had already started turning red. Them and Ghoul shared a look, shrugging. 

“So we stopped the bleeding, cleaned it, now’s the time for the bandage right?”

“It started bleeding again, what do we do?”

They exchanged concerns back and forth until Kobra, who’d apparently come back from his ‘walk’ interrupted them by saying, “Just put the bandage on, we’ll change it later.” And that settled it.

Party pricked their finger thrice while trying to pin the white fabric once Ghoul and Kobra had rolled over the wound and around Jet’s head. Maybe the work was a bit sloppy, but it was the best the three of them were able to manage at that moment, so it was going to have to be enough.

A small, broken voice made itself heard. “Zet?”

The killjoys whirled around to find Cherri and The Girl standing in the doorway. “I saw you were done, so I brought her over. I told her he was fine, but she wouldn’t believe me.”

Party nodded in understanding, patting their thighs so Cherri would drop her there. She was able to worm around, but the floor wasn’t exactly the cleanest place right now. “See, baby, he’s sleeping.”

“Yeah,” Ghoul added. “He’ll be super happy to see you when he wakes up.”

“Eye?” she asked, pointing at the bandage with her chubby little finger.

Kobra scratched his head. He was probably looking for a way to explain it delicately. “He had an injury.”

“Inzuwy?”

“Remember that time you were on all fours and you slipped? You hit your chin, right? And it hurt. Well, Jet’s hurting, right now. He, er, hit his head, you could say. The white thing, bandages, that’s so it’ll hurt less.”

The Girl gravely nodded, face all serious. She had no way of understanding just how bad it was, of course, but she had the spirit. 

“My crew’s on its way,” Cherri told them. “They’re bringing food and more med supplies for when you run out. We’re here for you for as long as you need us to be, okay?”

“Thanks,” Party said, forcing a smile on their face. They looked back down at Jet, who seemed so peaceful. You have to be okay. Jet, you have to be okay.

∼

They couldn’t, they couldn’t, they just couldn’t.

Party understood that everyone wanted to know what had happened, but it was too much. They appreciated their concern, but their pitying glances were unbearable. Jet was the one injured, Jet was the one who’d have to live with a single fucking eye. The DJs would have to find someone else to explain the situation to them because, really , they just fucking couldn’t .

They made a break for it, speed walking out of the diner, slumping down against one of its cool outside walls, not realizing someone was already out there until he heard that familiar, “Oh, hi Party.”

It sounded more glum than usual, though. Not that Party could blame Ghoul, but still. They shot him an interrogative glance. “You okay? I mean, given everything.”

At that, Ghoul sent him the saddest fucking eyes they’d ever seen. “It should’ve been me, Party,” he let out, dejected.

“ What ?”

The boy scoffed. “You can drop the act. We both know it’s true.”

Party stared at him, mouth hanging. How could he believe that? “No, Ghoul, I’m serious, what?”

“The gun was pointed at me , Party. All things considered, I should be dead right now. Honestly? I don’t even know why I’m not.”

“How can you say that?” Party protested. “If anything, this whole situation is on me. Ghoul, you were held at gunpoint by Korse . Any scarecrow would’ve been bad, but Korse . You couldn't have done anything!”

“Well then why the fuck am I not the one missing an eye?” he yelled, but he wasn’t mad. He just looked… actually, Party had no idea how he was feeling. Conflicted, perhaps?

“Ghoul, nothing that happened today is your fault. I’m the one that riled Korse up, and I’m the one who lost their nerve, and I’m the one who made the brisk movement. I should’ve known better than to let him get to me.” They paused, looking at Ghoul’s hands toying with the sand. “And I’m sorry, by the way. That you almost got ghosted.”

Ghoul shook his head, a half-smile popping up, and Party counted it as a win. “Yeah, well, we all have things that make us tilt,” he said, sounding somewhat bittersweet, looking up to meet Party’s eyes.

They held his gaze, but eventually let their eyes drop back to Ghoul’s hands, now still in the sand. 

The both of them stayed silent for a while, just sitting together, away from the craziness back at the diner. Party thought about heading back in, but couldn’t bring themself to do it.

“I just—” Party looked at Ghoul, quietly signaling for him to go on. “Jet’s in there right now, and he’ll wake up to an eye loss, but here I am, feeling sorry for myself because I know I should be in his place.” Party opened their mouth, but Ghoul beat him to it. “And I know what you’re going to say, so don’t bother. I also know I’m not helping anyone right now, but I can’t deal with this, Party. I have so much guilt,” he finished, covering up his mouth, muffling the last few words he’d spoken.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Party told him, offering a hug.

He hugged back, his whole body shaken up by silent sobs. “I have so much guilt, and I don’t know what to do about it,” he hiccuped out.

For a lack of anything to say, Party rubbed circles on his back,wishing they knew how to help him. But they still needed to say something, so they made it up as they went. “Korse made the choice not to shoot you, Ghoulie. I know I jumped in front of you, but he still had time to do so before I did. But he didn’t. He shot Jet, and that sucks, but there’s nothing we can do about it. And I don’t mean this in a ‘your feelings are invalid and you should forget about it way.’ What I’m trying to say is that you were never supposed to be in his place. And if he’d shot you, I don’t think you’d still be there right now. Korse is horrible, but he’s a good shot.”

“I know that. Rationally . I just can’t shake this feeling, Pois. And I fucking hate it, because Jet’s…. I fucking hate myself, too, because why the fuck am I still talking about this? Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for!” Party exclaimed, shaking their head. “Seriously, man, you had a ray gun pointed at you and you witnessed Jet taking a blast by the same fucking gun. Anyone would be fucked up after that! And as for the guilt, I get why you have it. Hell, I would too. And I do too, I guess. I’m just trying not to think about it, or it hasn’t washed up yet. But Jet wouldn’t want that. And he won’t hold you responsible.”

“Guess I’m going to have to do so for the both of us,” he mumbled. Party shot him a concerned look and he said, “I know, I know!”

The door opened and they both turned their head to look at it. There Kobra was, half out of the diner, telling them that, “Hey guys? Jet’s awake.”

Chapter Text

Explaining the situation to Jet had sucked balls. Sure, the killjoy had had a pretty good idea of what had happened when he’d woken up to bandages all over his face and his vision impared, but having to break it to him that, no, there wasn’t any eye left to salvage had broken Kobra’s heart. He’d held Jet’s hand as a single tear had rolled down his crestfallen face. 

Splat.

The tear had hit the floor.

Quite honestly, though? Kobra was concerned that Jet wasn’t more fazed by the news. He knew being numb was a normal reaction to grief, if the loss of an eye could count as such, but it couldn’t mean anything good, could it? Still, he’d be there for whatever Jet needed, that much was sure. He just wished he knew how to help him.

He had to give Jet points for trying: the boy did his very best to remain calm and composed in front of The Girl. In front of everyone else, too, if Kobra was being honest. He hadn’t even seen him break down once, and The Girl had long gone to sleep. Even the DJs had left, with the promise to return with food the next day, but there Jet was, still fighting to keep his head high.

“You can cry, you know?” Kobra asked, his everlacking delicacy to the rendezvous. 

Jet’s eye flicked to him. “I know. I just—I don’t know, it doesn’t… yeah. I know.” He brought his hand to his face, the left side of his face, the bandaged side of his face, and Kobra grabbed his wrist in warning.

“Oh. Sorry. It feels weird, is all. I mean, aside from the pain. I don’t know how to explain, it’s like, sure, I knew the eye was there, but I’d never felt it. But now? Now, its absence is the only thing I notice.”

Kobra’s frown deepened, worry creasing the skin between his eyebrows. “That’s… to be expected, Jet.”

He sighed, sounding somewhat frustrated. Not at Kobra, but at the situation. “No, I know, but what I mean is that I took a fall, right?” And, yeah, Kobra guessed Jet did. He’d forgotten about that part. “I got scratched, and it hurt at the time, but I don’t even feel the bruises anymore.”

Kobra glanced at Party, Ghoul and The Girl’s sleeping forms. “And you’re sure they’re still there? I mean, I don’t really feel the hits I took anymore.”

“I lost my eye, Kobra, not my brain,” Jet scowled. “Sorry.”

Vehemently shaking his head, Kobra said, “Don’t be.”

“No, I mean it. Just because I’m going through something doesn’t mean that I get a get-out-of-being-an asshole card.”

The other narrowed his eyes, scooting closer to Jet. “None of that. No one expects you to be fine and dandy right now, and we won’t blame you if you snap at us. I think we might all be walking on eggshells, but feel free to call us the fuck out on that. We’re trying to help, okay? Besides,” he added in a lighter manner. “You always deal with our assholey selves, I think we can handle getting the butt end of it for once. You’ve earned it, eye in less or not.”

“Thank you, Kobra, really.” Jet smiled, and the boy smiled back, but, all of a sudden, Jet's face dropped. 

“Shit, are you okay?” Kobra asked, slightly panicked—normally, he would’ve denied it, but this was his fresh out of an eye friend, so yeah, he was pretty stressed out.

Jet clamped a hand over his mouth. “Here comes the waterworks,” he told him, voice quivering. And boy did the waterworks come. Kobra didn’t mind one bit, though. He sat through it, an arm over Jet’s shaking shoulders, offering comfort in the best way he knew. It definitely wasn’t enough, he realized that, but it was all he could offer and he was going to give it, whatever Jet was willing to take.

∼

“How’s he holding up?” Ghoul asked him the next day.

Kobra stared at him. He would’ve cocked an eyebrow if he’d been wearing sunglasses. “Why don’t you ask him?” He hadn’t meant for it to come off as pissed off, but he was mildly annoyed and apparently hadn’t quite managed hiding it.

Ghoul looked down and began walking away, but stopped when Party reached him and Kobra. “Hey, don’t—”

“It’s fine, Pois, your brother’s right.”

Party glared at Kobra—what the fuck were they glaring at him for, really?—before turning back to Ghoul. “No, it’s not fine, he doesn’t get to snap at you like that,” they told the boy.

They bickered back and forth, walking away from Kobra, who simply rolled his eyes. Ghoul had been acting weird ever since the accident, though it had gotten worse after Jet had awoken. He didn’t have a clue why, but, Destroya, it certainly could wait: Ghoul wasn’t the one impaired, was he? Jet needed support, not Ghoul tiptoeing around him, overly skittish.

Well, if Ghoul wasn’t going to man up and fucking speak to him—or, at the very least, look him in the eye—Kobra fucking was, he thought as he made his way to the poofy-haired boy leaning against the wall.

He took a slight detour to get The Girl, figuring seeing her would brighten his mood. “Heeeey, guess who came to see you?” 

“Aww, hi Girlie!” Jet exclaimed, mouthing a quick ‘thank you’ at Kobra, who shrugged and waved it off. It was his pleasure, really.

“Piwate,” she told Jet, a huge grin on her face.

Jet laughed, and Kobra almost got down on his knees to thank the Phoenix Witch. “Yeah!” Jet told her. “Like that book I read you, do you remember?” The Girl fervently nodded, her curly hair becoming further dishevelled.

“Maybe you should get one of those eye patches,” a new voice declared. Mouth slightly hanging, Kobra whirled around, staring at Ghoul. The boy was leaning on the doorframe, a small smile on his face. He cocked his head, his way of telling Kobra not to look so surprised, and the latter solemnly nodded, signaling to Ghoul he appreciated his effort. At least, he hoped the message was transmitted.

“Dude, that’d be so cool,” Party chimed in from behind Ghoul, dragging the smaller boy closer to Jet. “Dracs would piss their pants at the sight of you.”

Jet chuckled, warming up Kobra’s heart—it was really great to see him genuinely happy. Even if it wasn’t for long, Kobra cherished the brief moments when Jet’s face would light up, forgetting for a few bliss seconds about his recent injury.

“I might,” he told them. “I’d get a sick design and blast the motherfuckers to hell and back.”

“Heck yeah,” Kobra agreed, playfully elbowing him. Lightly, as to not hurt him.

Party snorted, jokingly adding, “All the ladies are gonna come running for you.”

“Right, ‘cause the ladies are all I’m about,” Jet answered after the full body laugh Party’s words had prompted had gone away.

The five of them—more like four with The Girl occasionally throwing in a word—talked until the DJ crew knocked on the door. Kobra jumped to his feet, inviting them in.

“How’s the boy of the hour going?” DJ Hot Chimp asked, slinging an arm over his shoulders.

“Never been better.”

“He’s still got his humour, he’s fine,” Dr D said, swatting at the air. He rolled closer to Jet before asking in a serious tone, “You okay, kid? I know, er, situations like these can be overwhelming, so feel free to tell any of us off.”

Newsie nodded her agreement, sitting down between Jet and Party. “We’re there for you no matter what.”

“Not to speak for Party and Ghoul, but we meant it when we told you we were in it for the long haul,” Kobra told Jet, and the other two produced various sounds to support his declaration.

Fingers snapped twice, and Kobra, along with pretty much everyone in the room, turned to look at the noise’s source, Show Pony. 

Sorry , they signed.

Kobra waved them off with a smile before signing for them to go on.

We brought food, and you better fucking appreciate it because it’s not expired.

“Fresh out of Bat City, baby,” Dr Death exclaimed as Show Pony threw an apple at Jet. He grabbed it, surprise visible on his face as a smile crept up his face.

“Is this for real?”

Show Pony stared at him, and they didn’t need to sign for him to know exactly what they were thinking. His smile turning a bit shier, he bit down on the apple.

“Phoenix Witch, it’s so good! Man, I hadn’t had something that wasn’t Power Pup in so long.”

Dr D shrugged, but he seemed pretty proud of the gift. “Eh, it was the least we could do.”

“How did you even get your hands on one anyway?”

“Got a bunch of new killjoys and the people helping them leave their hellhole brought back shit from there,” Hot Chimp explained.

“Thanks. Hey, do any of you have a knife?”

Ghoul grinned and Kobra narrowed his eyes, watching him carefully. He saw Party do the same in the corner of his eye. “Yeah,” the boy said, still smiling wickedly.

“Ghoul…” Kobra began, warningly. 

“Catch!”

“ No !” Party said, plucking the knife from his fingers.

“Relax, I wasn’t really going to throw it,” he told the both of them, scowling.

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing you’ve done,” Kobra muttered.

The boy stuck out his tongue before turning to Party, trying to grab the knife back. When they raised their arm, taking the knife out of his reach, he frowned and declared, “You’re no Party Poison, what you are is a fucking party pooper.”

Against his will, Kobra snickered. He really, really wished he hadn’t, but it was out of his mouth before he could stop it. Motherfucking Ghoul was going to let it go to his head, but who was Kobra to resist a jab at their sibling?

Party rolled their eyes, not quite giving Ghoul the knife back, instead handing it to Ghoul. “No knife throwing, baby.”

NewsAGoGo gasped loudly, pointing at the two of them as Ghoul turned beet red and Kobra snickered once again. In light of recent events, laughing at Ghoul’s expense was funny too.

“But sweetheart,” Ghoul answered, rolling his ‘R,’ “where’s the fun in that?”

Party answered, “You’re dumb,” and thus began a chain of ‘no, you’re dumb,’ ‘no, you,’ and Kobra could’ve platonically kissed Jet when he cleared his throat, shutting them up.

“Here,” he said, offering a slice of apple. They all tried refusing, but he insisted everyone had to try it, and, well, they weren’t about to argue with him. First off, it was practically impossible to do so without feeling like a grade A asshole, and second off, he was newly missing an eye, so there was this unofficial consensus that they would do whatever the fuck he asked.

And, wow, he thought as he took a bite, he was glad he’d agreed. Jet had majorly downplayed it when he’d said it was ‘so good’: this shit was fucking delicious! In a I’m-never-eating-Power Pup-again kind of way.

“Hey, Girlie, want some apple?” Jet asked, handing her a piece of fruit.

“Fair warning, you’ll never want to eat that brown sludge of yours after,” Kobra told her in a conspiratorial tone.

“Does she even know what an apple is?” Ghoul asked, and Kobra opened his mouth to say something in the lines of ‘Of course she knows what a fucking apple is, dumbass,’ but let it shut when he realized that, no, The Girl had never learned what an apple was.

“Destroya on a cracker, this is a crime,” Party declared, faking horror. The Girl giggled and Kobra decided that it was unfair of her to be so adorable.

With her teeny-tiny little hand, she grabbed the apple slice and the whole room sucked into a breath. If she was fazed by the sudden attention, she didn’t let it show one bit. She opened her mouth and chomped.

The first few seconds, she remained neutral, the entire room plunged in silence. Then, she cracked a small smile that erupted into radiant laughter, and the tension everyone had felt flew away. It was crazy how much the happiness of a single kid impacted them, Kobra absently thought.

“Well, killjoys,” Dr D said, “Cherri just radioed me, so we gotta head back, but keep your heads high, yeah?”

Jet nodded, getting up to hug the older man.

“ Excuse you , I want a hug too,” Hot Chimp declared, and her and NewsAGoGo enveloped the two of them in their arms.

“Motherfucker, I’m sold,” Ghoul said, jumping off the booth he’d been sitting on, dragging Party and Kobra—who in turn caught Show Pony’s wrist—with him into the group hug. 

From the ground, The Girl closed her hand around Jet’s ankle, and the boy smiled widely. Kobra thought, maybe, just maybe, they were all going to be okay.

Chapter Text

“Hey guys? Jet’s awake.”

Party and Ghoul had thus followed Kobra inside. All night long, Ghoul had done his best smiling and obediently nodding, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Jet resented him just as much as Ghoul did himself. He hadn’t even been able to look Jet in the eye—no pun intended.

He knew he wasn’t being rational—he’d just had the talk with Party about it—but he couldn’t help but feel as though he should’ve been the one in Jet’s place. After all, he was the one Korse had aimed at. It didn’t make sense that he wouldn’t just shoot. Why did it have to be Jet?

Sure, Jet was the best shot and losing an eye majorly fucked him over, but Ghoul was ninety-nine percent sure Korse didn’t know about that. So why, then? Why couldn’t Ghoul be the one injured?

He knew it was dumb of him to feel this way: he should count his blessings, thank the Phoenix Witch that she’d spared him. And a tiny part of him, a bit too big to his liking, was grateful, in fact. Which only made him feel worse about the whole ordeal. Jet was bleeding out—well, had been bleeding out. Ghoul was fairly sure the bleeding had stopped a while after the bandage had been put in place—and all he could think about was his own fucking self, whether it be how glad he was to still have his vision intact or just how much he hated himself for thinking that, or even how he should’ve been shot instead. One of his best friends was going through arguably the hardest thing he’d ever have to go through and Ghoul couldn’t even be there for him. And, truth be quite fucking told, he didn’t even know if Jet wanted him to be.

Guilt was a vile, vile thing, and Ghoul had bucketloads of it.

Jet had gone to sleep and Ghoul had thought that maybe, just maybe, he could get a grip before the morning came. His friend didn’t seem mad at him, and if he was, he was hiding it pretty darn well. Much like Ghoul had expected, though, the sun only brought light to the desert, not reaching the depths of Ghoul’s dark thoughts.

“How’s he holding up?” Ghoul had asked Kobra. Because he was a coward. A fucking coward who couldn’t even walk up to Jet and ask him himself, like Kobra oh-so-gently suggested he did. Not that he could blame him: Kobra was right. By all means, Ghoul should’ve been able to do so. It was nothing but a small task, one little question. He’d asked it thousands of times, there was no reason why it should’ve been any different. And yet… and yet Ghoul still felt every single bone in his body freeze whenever he thought about it.

His best guess was that he was scared. Not of Jet—or talking to him, for that matter—but of what Jet would say. Or, again, not say, because, knowing Jet, the boy would never dare say anything that might hurt Ghoul on purpose. So, Ghoul was afraid of what Jet wouldn’t say. For all that he was talented at being a genuinely nice person with good intentions, he couldn’t lie for shit. It sounded really dumb and cheesy worded like that, but it was the truth: Jet was just too genuine. If something made his day, his face would bleed happiness. If you’d hurt him, betrayal would shine in his eyes. And it was that exact light, or rather lack thereof, that Ghoul was afraid to spot.

So, when Kobra told him off, Ghoul didn’t argue. He couldn’t, really, not when he wholeheartedly agreed with what the other had just said. Truth be told, if Party hadn’t answered, Ghoul was clueless as to what he would’ve done. He didn’t even know if he’d have gotten the guts to face Jet, actually speak to him, like he’d done a while later.

Anyway, Party had swooped in, trying to defend his honor or whatever, but Ghoul had cut them off. It was pointless. They hadn’t much liked it, though. “No, it’s not fine, he doesn’t get to snap at you like that,” had been their exact words.

On any other day, Ghoul’s heart would’ve stopped working six ways from Sunday, but he’d just shrugged. “It’s not worth it,” he let out, walking off.

Party trailed after him, crossing their arms in a way that easily could’ve been described as petulant. “It is .”

Ghoul sighed. “We’re not doing this.”

“What do you want me to do, then? Just let you fall into this hole of guilt and thinking this whole situation is your fault? Because we’ve been over this, Ghoul, it really isn’t.”

Before he could stop it from happening, a bitter laugh escaped his mouth. “Maybe not. But who, pray tell, had been just about to get blasted dead?”

“And thank fuck you weren’t!” Party exclaimed. “And it wasn’t about you, he never would’ve killed you! Or any of us. He was trying to get to me, Ghoul, it wasn’t your fault. There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“He wasn’t trying to get to you,” Ghoul said, frowning, but it was weak, confusion tainting his voice.

It was Party’s turn to sigh. “I don’t think Korse wants us dead. He wants Kobra and I to come back to Bat City, sure, but dead? I don’t know. It sends a much more powerful message if two killjoys walk back to that place unscathed, in what seems to be of their own will.”

“I suppose,” Ghoul agreed. “But Kobra was right. I need to get over myself, fucking man up or something. I’m not helping Jet.”

Party smiled at him, offering a hand. Ghoul clasped his own around theirs, tightly. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to accomplish by it. Giving himself courage, maybe? Or distracting him from his racing thoughts? He genuinely had no idea, but it anchored him, gave him strength.

“Piwate,” rang The Girl’s voice from the other room, and Ghoul cracked a smile.

“Maybe you should get one of those eye patches,” he said, leaning against the doorframe, his smile still going on strong, Party offering silent support he didn’t even fucking deserve, but it was okay, because Jet’s face undeniably lit up and that was all Ghoul needed to see.

∼

A month passed, Jet adapting to the one-eyed life in what Ghoul deemed a good way—he didn’t have much ground to compare it with. After all, it wasn’t everyday you witnessed one of your three best friends lose an eye and learn to live without it.

Anyway, after a few weeks, he was undeniably getting better at not walking into door frames or stubbing his toe, so Ghoul saw that as improvement. 

Under other circumstances—aka if it was clumsiness and not recovery from an eye loss—Ghoul would’ve laughed at him bumping into stuff, but, for some reason , he didn’t. Well. Some reason . What he’d call it was more a ‘crashing wave of grief and guilt that made him feel like throwing up his Power Pu,’ but tomato, tomahto. He wasn’t about to talk to Jet about it, and Kobra would probably look at him in disdain—he did a lot of that, these days. Not that Ghoul knew why. And fine, disdain was a stretch, but he knew Kobra was looking at him funny. Which only left Party, but Ghoul was not going to have the guilt party with them a third time.

Besides, it wasn’t as bad as it used to be. Most of the time, he was pissed at Korse and the whole fucking BL/ind, but there wasn’t much he could do about it: Jet needed him here, helping him through this, not on the other side of the desert blowing up some Dracs and flipping off government cameras. The whole ordeal only popped up whenever Jet seemed sad, whenever he’d reach to rub an eye that wasn’t there anymore, whenever he acted clumsily—because he’d never been before—and, last but not least, whenever he’d wake the entire diner up, nightmares making him scream out in terror and agony. The worst nights were when he couldn’t wake up, when Party, Kobra and Ghoul would have to go shake him awake, begging him to ‘please wake up, it’s just a dream, Jet, you’re fine, you’re fine.’

So, for Jet’s sake, Ghoul held it together. He didn’t let his remorse show, didn’t expose his cracks, let nothing slip. Only in the dead of the night did he allow himself to break down, when he was sure no one would hear him.

“Ghoul?” He jumped almost ten feet in the air, quickly brushing off the tears pearling in the corner of his eyes. He turned around, putting on his best smile, to find himself facing The Girl.

“Hey, Girlie, what are you doing up?” She wasn’t up per se, just gripping her bed frame, holding herself up. Her big eyes seemed too smart, searching for something in Ghoul’s face.

“You’re loud,” she declared, words slurred.

Ghoul scratched the back of his head, smiling apologetically. “Sorry.”

She shrugged and Ghoul bit his smile back. “Are you sad?” she asked in that baby accent of her, and it took Ghoul a good five seconds to understand, sleepiness scrambling her words together in some sort of baby voice goo.

He shook his head. “Nah.” 

She frowned, and Phoenix Witch, that girl was, what, two? And already way too intelligent, what the actual fuck? “Zet said sad people cwy. You cwy.”

Wow, okay, way too be called out by a fucking toddler. Seriously, what the fuck?

Sighing, he grabbed The Girl and gently dropped her between his criss crossed legs. He played with her soft curly hair, closing his eyes. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine. I’m a big boy, I’ve seen worse. And I’ll see worse, too.” He paused, looking at the girl almost sleeping in his lap. “You have no idea what I'm saying, do you?” he chuckled.

She didn’t answer, producing a noise that sounded an awful lot like a snore. Ghoul shifted, ready to put her back in her bed, but tiny arms closed around his waist. Her hands didn’t reach, but she stuck her face against his chest and squeezed as tight as she could, and it took Ghoul everything he had—and then some—not to start bawling on the spot.

The Girl fell asleep in his arms, but he didn’t feel alone in the slightest. He picked her up, gently setting her in her cradle, and lowered an old t-shirt of his over her tiny body, blowing her a kiss. 

∼

“Ghoul.”

Ghoul groaned, turning his back to the noise.

“Ghoul. Ghoul, Ghoul, Ghoul,” the voice pressed.

“Fucking what?” he croaked, opening an eye, his vision met with red. So much red. Party.

They had the decency to look sheepish. “Nothing, I was bored and wanted to hang out.”

Ghoul sat up,staring at them. He blinked once. Twice. Thrice, but Party gave no indication they were bluffing. They actually looked genuine. “What the fuck, dude? The Girl?”

“Was with Jet.”

“And you couldn’t join them?”

“Nah, Kobra was already there.”

For a lack of thing to say, Ghoul blinked again, before repeating, “and you couldn’t join them?” In his defense, he’d just woken up—no, he’d just been woken up.

Party scratched the back of their head, breaking into a nervous grin. “I just… thought you’d want to hang out.”

“World doesn’t revolve around you,” he mumbled, just incoherently enough that Party wouldn’t make out the words. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” they said, waving their hand, “grumble away. Now come on, up!”

“What? No,” Ghoul complained, burying himself further under his ratty covers.à

“You’re no fucking fun.” Ghoul stuck out his tongue. Served the motherfucker well, for waking him up. “It’s in your name, you should be fun,” Party pointed out, cocking an eyebrow.

Ghoul narrowed his eyes, but got up nonetheless. “I still don’t understand why I couldn’t stay in bed,” he informed the other killjoy.

Party considered it for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know.”

Motherfucker . Ghoul looked back at his bed with envy, but Party pulled him away, and his treacherous feet followed.

“Hey guys,” Jet greeted. “Ghoul, you’re up!”

“Yeah, because someone ,” he said, eyeing Party—the bastard was laughing—“wanted attention.”

“You’re so married,” Kobra snickered, and Ghoul flipped him off, praying that he wasn’t blushing. They weren’t married. They weren’t . Sure, it was pretty much Ghoul’s lifelong dream and him and Party had once said they would—back when they were kids, the kind of best friends shenanigans where you’d speak your tiny little child mind without grasping the reality of what you were screaming out at the whole world—but they weren’t. And they never would be, so Ghoul really needed to stop thinking about it. He could feel his ears going red, which meant there was a good chance his cheeks already were and Kobra already knew too much .

Making his escape, Ghoul retreated outside, sitting by the door,mentally begging his brain to cut it out. Things would’ve been so much simpler if he hadn’t been so gay.

“Do you remember?” Party asked, making Ghoul jump ten feet in the air. He could’ve sworn they’d still been in the diner a mere second ago.

“Remember what?” he asked, hating the way his voice was an octave higher than usual.

“A few years after I left Battery City. We were what, ten? Nine? We said we’d marry each other,” they smiled, sitting down next to Ghoul.

Fuck. “I was eight and you were nine. It was a year after,” he told them, fighting against the urge to clamp a hand over his mouth because what the fuck, Ghoul? Normal people didn’t blurt out overly precise facts about marrying their best friends. “Yeah, I remember.”

They’d been running around on a rare patch of grass and Ghoul had tackled Party. They’d both fallen to the ground—the good old days when Ghoul was taller than all of his three friends—and they’d stayed there, looking at the stars. It was so overly cliche.

His memory was foggy, but he remembered telling the then-brown haired kid, “We should get married.”

They’d frowned and echoed, “married?”

Ghoul had felt so smart when he’d declared that, “Yeah, my parents always said that you should marry out of love.”

Party had seemed pensive, but they’d solemnly nodded after a moment of consideration. “Oh, well. In that case.”

They’d both interrupted into childish giggles, and that had been that. Or, at least, Ghoul had thought so. Party had gotten up a while after, and had offered Ghoul a hand up. As they’d pulled him to his feet, they’d told him, “Anything you want, Ghoulie.”

And oh, wasn’t it so ironic that the only thing Ghoul had grown to want, Party couldn’t give.

Chapter Text

Jet removed the patch covering his eye, flinching heavily when he saw the damage staring at him in the mirror. It wasn’t infected or anything, no, he was being very, very careful, but it was still an empty eye socket, and as better as he was getting, it had still only been a month.

He forcefully tore his eye—that still crept up on him, the habit of referring to his eyes, plural—away from the felecting glass, sticking a new patch in the old one’s place.

He took one last look at his reflection, breathing in and out before making his way to the pantry.

“How are you feeling?” Party asked him.

Jet made a so-so motion. “Eh.You know.”

They nodded, handing him the can opener.

He appreciated the other’s effort not to fret. It would’ve been a very Party Poison thing to do, and Jet could see they were actively stopping themself from going into mama bear mode. Everyone seemed to be careful not to act too differently with him, actually, something for which he was eternally grateful: it made him feel less… alienated, in a way. 

“Sleep well?” Okay, maybe they were still a bit of a mother hen.

Jet nodded, smiling softly. He did appreciate the sentiment. When it was moderate.

He sat down next to The Girl and the kid beamed at him. “Did you sleep well?”

She answered with a bright grin, ernegically nodding.

“Wow, you have a lot of energy? Wanna go for a walk?”

“Um, Jet…” Party began, frowning slightly. He waved them off, although their concern wasn’t misplaced: Jet hadn’t left the diner ever since he’d lost his eye. However, he felt it was time for him to go outside. Besides, he wouldn’t go very far—The Girl couldn’t handle it. Jet was just planning on taking a walk around the diner, maybe watch The Girl take a few wobbly steps in the sand.

It was something she’d started a while ago. She’d first lifted herself up using the booths, and, after a lot of practice, she could now go two or three footsteps in some direction without falling—and she was getting better by the day!

Besides, she’d already agreed, clapping her chubby little hands; Jet couldn’t go back on his word now.

He took her hand in his and got up, gently helping her walk to the door. “What do you want to do?” he asked once they were outside.

She frowned pensively before exclaiming, “Run!” and promptly taking off. She didn’t get very far, though, face planting in the sand three steps in.

“Ouch,” she said, matter-of-factly. No hurt shone in her big eyes, though. Quite the opposite, really: she was smiling brightly, expectantly looking at Jet as if to say, ‘Well, are you coming?’

The boy didn’t waste another second, sitting down next to her. “Rawr! I’m the sand monster! Run away or you will be… devoured!” he declared in his best booming voice. The Girl exploded into laughter and he playfully lunged at her, tickling her until she was rolling around on the ground, happy tears pouring from her face.

“Daaaad!” she whined, still smiling, and Jet’s teasing came to a screeching halt.

He heard Party gasp in the background and idly wondered how long they’d been there, but didn’t spend much time thinking about it: he had much more urgent matters to attend to: “What did you say?” he asked, his voice breaking.

She frowned, confused. “Dad,” she repeated.

“I didn’t—how do you know that word? I never taught it to you.”

“Oh, Cherri told her about it,” Ghoul chirped. Jet turned around to see not only Party had gathered outside, but also Ghoul and Kobra.

Ghoul looked at their three puzzled faces and added, “I thought you guys knew?”

“When?” was all Jet managed to ask.

“Dunno,” the small boy replied, shrugging. “Some time this month.”

He cast his eyes down, but Jet was too bewildered to get stuck on that part.

Party sniffed, wiping at their eyes. Kobra scoffed. “Are you crying?”

They glared at their sibling. “This is fucking cute, fuck you,” they declared, doing their best to defend themself.

Kobra snickered, but he wasn’t hiding his own soft smile very well.

Jet shook his head, returning his attention to The Girl, who still didn’t understand what seemed to be the big deal. “Of course I’m your dad, baby. I love you,” he told her, hugging her tightly. 

“Love?”

He bit his lip, trying to find a good way to explain it. “A feeling. You know how excited you get when uncle Cherri visits?”

“Serri!” she exclaimed, proving his point.

“Yeah. You make me like that. You make me happy. Love.”

She hugged him tighter, burying her tiny head in his curls. “Love,” she agreed.

∼

“I can’t believe motherfucking Cherri taught The Girl what a dad was,” Kobra said for what had to be the fifth time that day.

“You’re just jealous ‘cause you wanted to be her dad,” Ghoul teased, elbowing him.

Kobra scowled and Jet rolled his eyes. “Guys, you’re all just as much her dad as I am. And parent.”

Ghoul shrugged and lightheartedly added, “I mean, I won’t speak for the others, but you’re way more of a parental figure than I am.”

Jet narrowed his eyes. “ Fun Ghoul .” The other broke eye contact first. “I mean it, she needs her cool dad too.”

“Wow, fuck you too,” Kobra said, but there was no venom in his words.

An overjoyed scream was heard from the other room and Jet looked up, wondering what The Girl was up to. Cherri had come over a while ago and none of the teens had even had the chance to speak with him: The Girl had tugged on his jeans and eagerly retreated to the kitchen, constantly looking back to make sure he was following. Cherri had looked at the four killjoys with interrogation in his eyes, but none of them had been able to answer, for they were just as clueless as the older man. They’d all been even more confused when the toddler had insisted they stay far away, refusing to let them supervise her.

So, the four of them were currently sitting on Party’s mattress, clueless as to what was happening in their own diner.

“At least she’s having fun?” Ghoul tried.

“You of all people should know that ‘at least she’s having fun’ is terrifying,” Kobra reminded him. “Do you have any idea how many times Party told me some variant of ‘at least he had fun’ after you’d pulled a dumb stunt?”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Party assured him.

Kobra shot them a withering look. “I’ve heard that one too.”

“Here’s a new one, then: how much trouble can a two year old be?”

“Anyway,” Ghoul added, “Cherri’s like, fifty. Old people are responsible and he’s already halfway into his old age grave.” 

At this, Jet felt the need to interject. “Uh, Ghoul, how old do you think people die? Naturally?”

Ghoul stared at him blankly. 

“Oooookay, moving on,” Jet decided, shaking his head.

“It’s because he’s small,” Kobra wisely said after a moment of silence. “Less place for his brain.”

Party frowned at him, hugging Ghoul as if their arms could shield him from Kobra’s words. “Don’t say that.”

Ghoul beamed at them before setting his face in the crook of Party’s neck. Once they were sure Ghoul couldn’t see, they mouthed, ‘Pick on someone your own size.’

Kobra laughed and high fived them, the noise and movement causing Ghoul to look at the siblings, frowning. “What?”

Party chuckled, tucking a strand of stay hair behind Ghoul’s ear. “Nothing, Ghoulie, you’re perfect,” and, seriously, when had that happened? Jet glanced Kobra’s way, seeking an explanation, but the other helplessly looked back at him, his way of silently answering, ‘Fuck if I know.’

Before he could ransack his brain further, a soft rasp against the door caught his attention. “Girlie? Do you want me to open the door?”

“I have gift!”

Jet frowned, but opened the door nonetheless, curious as to what The Girl had in mind.

She let go of Cherri's hand, walking over to Jet, and the latter opened up his arms, ready to catch her if she fell.

Once she’d reached him, she wordlessly handed him a piece of fabric. No—an eyepatch. 

“Like a pirate,” Jet whispered, tears threatening to overflow. He must’ve taken too long staring at it, for when he looked up at The Girl, she seemed sad, as though she believed she hadn’t just lit up Jet’s entire world.

Biting back a sob, he closed his arms around her, feeling the tears leave his eye. What the hell, he thought, there was no shame in crying. 

“Oh,” she softly let out.

Jet stepped back, lifting her chin so they’d be eye to eye, so she would see he meant it. “I love it.”

His gaze dropped to the eyepatch in his hands, swallowing back a sob when, through his blurry vision, he caught sight of the star on it. It was obvious it had been drawn by The Girl, its many tips uneven, but somehow, the imperfections made it better. No, not imperfections, he thought. This was perfect already. “It’s perfect. Just like you,” he told her, bending down to press a kiss between her two eyebrows. “Thank you.”

“I love you, dad.”

And for the first time in a month, he felt happy.

Truly happy. Not that fleeting smile that would blossom on his face from time to time, not the joy that overtook him anytime he saw The Girl, but real happiness. Peace of mind, in a way. Sure, plenty of things brought him happiness. Maybe happy hadn’t been the word to use. He pondered this for a moment.

This last month, things had felt hopeless. The first weeks had been the worst, obviously. Just, that sinking feeling that nothing would ever be the same, that his whole life was ruined. He knew he would never shoot the same—not that he’d picked up his ray gun to test, or rather, prove, that—he wasn’t ready for that yet. Each day felt like falling further into this pit of desperation, and he had no idea how to dig back out.

It had gotten better, though. Not constantly walking into obstacles his lacking depth perception hadn’t realized were there had definitely helped with that. Acceptance had been a huge part of escaping the terror and anger and grief that had followed the accident, too. He was still terrified, of course. Who wouldn’t be? But things were brightening up. Facing that, yeah, everything had changed was hard, but he clung onto the hope that this didn’t mean it had all been for the worst. He could still fight. Phoenix Witch, he was still alive. That had to count for something.

So, yeah, aside from the wound actually healing, working on himself had been a major factor, recovery-wise. The one thing he couldn't overlook—wouldn’t overlook, because they’d stuck with him this whole time, and he owed them his life—was his friends. He was forever grateful that the DJ crew had stepped up, helping the guys with The Girl and supporting him through this. Dr Death had been a life saver: out of everyone Jet knew, he was the only one who really understood what it was like to lose a part of yourself, to have something of your own ripped from you.

Then came his crewmates, Phoenix Witch bless them. Their dedication had never wavered once, they’d lifted Jet up everyday. Not to be overly dramatic, but without them, he would’ve been six feet under by now. He’d never forget Kobra’s constant presence, his never ending support, the way, in his eyes, Jet hadn’t changed, was still the same person he’d always been. He was grateful for Party, too. They did their best to treat them the same, and Jet knew how hard it was for them not to go overboard, not to make a bigger deal out of the situation thay Jet was in. And lastly, Ghoul. Now, Jet wasn’t an idiot. He hadn’t brought it up with Ghoul because he knew the boy would’ve brushed it off, or would’ve felt horrible knowing Jet had noticed, but he’d seen the guilt eating him up from the inside. The killjoy hid it well, but Jet had known him forever. Seeing him setting aside his feelings, being there for Jet, well, that couldn’t have been easy.

The Girl. She was the light of his life and he hoped she knew it—or, at least, would grow to know it. Seeing her everyday made the pain lighter, worth it. Because if an eye was the price to pay to be with her everyday, Jet would go blind. He’d give everything he had in a heartbeat if it meant she could be happy. As happy as he was, right now, surrounded by his dearest friends.

As happy as he was, right now, gripping The Girl’s eyepatch, a star etched into its dark fabric.

He could do it. He would do it. He’d live to fight another day, should it just be for moments like this. Because amidst the chaos, Jet Star was happy, and he wasn’t letting that go.

Chapter Text

“We can’t keep on living off of the WKIL station’s food supplies,” Party declared, crossing their arm. Putting their foot down was long overdue.

They’d expected protests or reluctance, but their friends all seemed to agree.

“Me and Party can go forage ,” Kobra said, barely raising his eyes from the can of Power Pup he was eating. 

“No raiding Tommy Chow Mein’s,” Jet sighed. 

“The rules say we can steal from him once a month,” Party pointed out.

“We created those rules, Party. They’re horseshit.”

Party made a ‘hmph’ noise, but dropped it.

“Fine, then,” Kobra cut. “We’ll do this the old fashioned way. BL/ind vending machines, here we come!”

False cheer bled from his voice, but Jet ignored it. “Perfect! That settles that.”

Ghoul opened his mouth and looked between the three of them. “But—” He frowned, then closed his mouth.

Party stifled a laugh, looking at him fondly. “Don’t worry, your turn will come.” Then, they stood up, leaving the booth to get ready for the raid. Destroya, they couldn’t wait to get out of the diner.

They were fishing their mask out of a pile of clothes when Kobra walked up to them.

“So, big sib, you look excited for this,” he pointed out, getting in Party’s space.

They laughed as they pushed him away. “Don’t even try, I know you're just as eager.”

Kobra grabbed his boots and walked back to the kitchen, leaving Party alone with their thoughts. As pumped as they were for this, some part of them hated leaving Jet, Ghoul and The Girl. They couldn’t even remember the last time they’d willingly been separated. The only thing they could do was pray to the Phoenix Witch that everything would be okay, that their luck would turn, for the Fab Four’s last outings had been… less than perfect.

There were so many ways this could go wrong, too. Battery City wanted the siblings and the two of them were basically handing themselves in on a silver platter. Fighting Better Living off had been hard enough with the whole crew present, what were they supposed to do if a convoy ambushed them?

The rational part of their brain was no help: they knew they’d fought off Dracs and Crows before, but the crippling anxiety was, well, crippling.

A soft rasp on the door took them by surprise. Somehow, they managed not to jump ten feet in the air—which would’ve been embarrassing, seeing as the door was wide open, Ghoul having knocked for good measures.

Party opened their mouth, about to ask him what was up, but he wordlessly walked over to them, hugging them.

Frowning, they ran a hand through his silky black hair—the fact that it never got messy was a crime . Ghoul didn’t give a single flying fuck about his hair, yet it always looked like he was in a fucking shampoo commercial. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” they said, as reassuring as they could be.

Party could feel him shaking his head against their torso and, wow, that couldn’t be comfortable. His nose was probably crushed or something down there. They took a slight step back and Ghoul whined. They bit back a smile, looking at the smaller boy, pulling him back in. Keeping a grin off their face as they bent down to press a kiss on their forehead proved to be impossible.

It was one of the things they liked most about their friendship: Ghoul was a touchy-feely person, but he was never serious. It was always all fun and games, blowing kisses and biting any fingers in mouth range—Kobra’s expression was always priceless. So getting to see Ghoul like this? His more vulnerable side? Party was aware of just how lucky they were. Not everyone got to see that. Very few were those Ghoul let hold him gently, allowed to comfort him with touches and kisses. And the same was true for them too. They were just glad they’d found a friend like him.

They were rocking from one foot to the other, their mouth and nose still buried in Ghoul’s hair, when Kobra came in. “Party? Are you rea—oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Ghoul disentangled himself from them and Party smiled at Kobra. “It’s fine, you didn’t. We’re going?”

Kobra eyed them both before nodding. “Yeah. If you’re ready.”

Party grabbed their discarded mask before following their brother outside, waving Jet and The Girl goodbye.

∼

“So, which vending machine are we headed for?” Party yelled over the roar of the engine. They’d missed taking the Trans Am for a drive.

“I was thinking the one in Zone 2?” Kobra screamed back, looking at his sibling for confirmation. They nodded and turned up the volume when they heard Mad Gear was on.

“Hell yeah!” Kobra exclaimed. “I love this song!”

Party rolled their eyes. “Of course you do. You fucking fanboy.”

Kobra elbowed him, his eyes narrowed under his dark shades. Party swore as the car skidded—nothing they couldn’t handle, of course. They brought the wheel back straight, amusedly shaking their head. “Maybe next time wait until I’m not holding the wheel when you decide to hit me, fucker,” they said, but the words held no heat.

A few songs later, they’d reached their destination. Party hopped out of the car, quickly followed by their brother. A punch to their shoulder took them by surprise and they scowled at Kobra. “What the fuck was that for?”

He shrugged. “You said to wait until we were out of the Am.”

“Oh, you fucker!” they exclaimed, chasing Kobra all the way to the vending machine. For discretion, they’d parked the car away from the distributor, since patrols were far more affluent near them. As cool as the Trans Am was, it wasn’t exactly subtle.

Out of breath, they both leaned on the vending machine before getting to work.

Knelt down, Kobra tinkered with the box while Party lamented. “We should’ve taken Ghoul, he’s the best at breaking in these things.”

“Of course you’d want to bring Ghoul,” Kobra scoffed.

“What was that?”

Their brother smirked, refusing to repeat what he’d just said. “Nothing. Besides, I wanted to annoy him.”

Party shook their head, smiling. “He’s gonna mop for a week after that,” they said fondly.

“You’ll just have to pay attention to him, that’ll cheer him up.”

Party laughed. Ghoul did enjoy attention. He liked joking around and making people laugh and all that.

After an endless wait—shut up, Kobra, it was definitely more than five minutes—the red leather-clad boy had unlocked the vending machine and the two siblings had successfully replenished their supplies. 

They were headed back to the Trans Am when a shout cut through the air. “Hey! You two! Hands up where we can see them!”

Kobra spun around, glaring at Party. “What the fuck, dude, you were supposed to keep watch!”

“Well I didn’t fucking see them, obviously,” they replied, seething. The both of them wouldn’t be in that situation if they had. 

Kobra let out a low growl. “Just… run back to the car, we’re not getting escorted to Bat City in a fucking Drac convoy.”

“On three,” they agreed. “One, two, three !”

They broke into a sprint, zigzagging in the hopes of throwing the Dracs off. The two of them couldn't have been running for more than a handful of seconds when Kobra cried out. Screeching to a halt, Party looked back, concern soon turning into features-twisting horror.

“Kobra!” they yelled. The killjoy had fallen down, either struck down by a ray beam or simply having lost his balance. Party couldn’t tell, but he looked in pain.

“Go! Get to the car, I’ll hold them back!”

Party would’ve loved telling how fucking dumb he was acting, but there wasn’t time. He cut straight to the chase. “I’m not leaving you, dumbass!” Okay, maybe there was time to insult him.

“I’ll only slow you down, my ankle is sprained. Just go!”

Party shook their head. “I told you when we left Battery City, we’re in this together. Either we both escape, or we both don’t. This still applies here.”

Kobra dejectedly shook his head, but the determined look on his sibling’s face was the same it had been all those years ago.

∼

“Come on, Sam, now!” the older kid said, looking at their brother.

The small boy’s tiny hand tightened its grip on the skirt he was wearing. “Are you sure we won't get caught?” They’d both been over it thousands of times already, but doubt came back crashing now that the two children were actually escaping.

“It’ll be fine,” they assured, kissing the top of their brother’s head before heading into the night.

It was well past curfew, the streets empty and dark. The kids walked in silence, tension in their every muscle. The lack of obstacles in the beginning of their escape wrongfully convinced them the remainder of it would go swiftly.

They’d turned a corner when they found themselves facing two Dracs.

“Sasha,” Sam had whispered, eyes open wide. He’d tugged on his sibling’s pressed white shirt, for they’d been busy looking at the other side of the road to notice they’d run into trouble.

Luckily enough, the Dracs were down the street, allowing Sasha and Sam to hide. They found a slot in a building, the perfect size for the both of them. The darkness hindering their vision, the two Dracs ran past them, none the wiser that they’d left the two young kids behind.

“I’m scared,” Sam whispered once the imminent danger had passed. “What if they find us?”

“They won’t,” Sasha declared just as softly. “They were just Draculoids. We’ll leave Battery City, I promise. No one will take anything from us ever again.”

Sam closed his eyes, holding on to the hope that his sibling’s promise would come through.

“How can you say that?” he finally decided to ask. He’d waited a bit before asking, so Sasha had to take a moment to remember what he was talking about.

“Because all we have is ourselves, and they won’t separate us. We’ll make it out of here, and we’ll be together forever. I won’t let them take you.”

Sam smiled, toying with the ribbon around his neck. “And I you.”

Sasha grinned back, exposing their tooth gap. Determination was written all over their face. Sam and them would leave, they’d make damn sure of it.  “Now, come on. The desert awaits.”

∼

Party’s eyes fluttered open. The Dracs expected them to run back to Kobra. If they did, they’d be handing the two of them on a silver platter. They couldn’t grab Kobra just yet. No, they had to outsmart the two motherfuckers. They sent a prayer to the Phoenix Witch that Kobra would understand what they were trying to do and buy them the time they needed.

They met Kobra’s stare, his silent plea. He wanted Party to save themself, but he knew they wouldn’t.

Against everyone’s expectations, Party sprinted… away from the scene. They were already halfway to the Trans Am. It was risky, but if they managed to reach the car, they could hopefully run the Dracs over before they harmed Kobra further.

One, two, three, four steps.

They opened the car’s door, not daring to look at Kobra. Party pushed the gas pedal. 

Four, three, two, one meter until collision.

The Dracs were sent flying, and Party had the horrible feeling that they would need to wash the car's hood.

“You came back,” Kobra said, almost in awe.

Party smiled, but they were uptight. They shouldn’t have had to leave in the first place. However, Kobra didn’t need that right now: he needed medical help, and comfort.

“I always will,” they answered before hauling their brother on the back seat.

When they got back to the diner, Jet, Ghoul and The Girl were eagerly waiting for them.

“Food?” the younger asked as her stomach audibly growled.

Party mouthed at Ghoul to distract and quietly motionned for Jet to come help them carry Kobra.

“What happened?” he asked, surprised to find his friend clutching his ankle in pain.

“We ran into Dracs,” Kobra said through gritted teeth. “I lunged sideways to avoid a blast, but it was too brisk a movement for my ankle. I think it’s sprained.”

“So much for an outing without any accidents,” Jet sighed. “Did you at least get the food?”

Party nodded. “Yeah, we ran into them after we’d grabbed everything. Speaking of running into Dracs, I need to wash my car, if you’ll excuse me. Can you contact Dr D and see if he has crutches? Kobra might need them.”

After confirming he would, Jet headed back into the diner, and Party was left alone outside.  At least, until Ghoul walked up to them, sponge and a bucket of soapy water in hand.

“What are you doing?” Party still asked.

Ghoul looked at the car, wincing. “That’s a lot of blood. Did it hurt? I mean, running the Dracs over. That’s theirs, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” they breathed. “You don’t have to help, you know.”

“Sure, I’ll just watch,” Ghoul said in a sarcasm-drenched tone. “Of course I’m helping. Why wouldn’t I?”

That was a good question, and Party didn’t have an answer, so they kept quiet, accepting the sponge Ghoul handed them. They didn’t talk as they washed off the blood, but Ghoul’s company was oh so appreciated. The boy had a way to light up the mood, no matter the circumstances. He didn’t even need to talk; his mere presence sufficed.

Party was observing the now-clean Trans Am when Ghoul kissed their shoulder. To most people, it might’ve seemed an odd place to kiss, but it was the highest place Ghoul could reach without jumping or pulling Party down. Sometimes, Party wondered where Ghoul would place his lips if he was taller. Perhaps their forehead.  Ghoul liked forehead kisses, maybe he would’ve been prone to giving them if he’d been able to reach people’s heads.

Smiling to themself, they pulled Ghoul closer, placing a kiss right in the middle of his forehead. Ghoul didn’t protest, simply snuggling closer to fight off the cold of the desert in the middle of the night.

Chapter Text

“Shut the fuck up,” Kobra spat, glaring at Ghoul. The other boy was wheezing, folded over some fucking joke that hadn’t even been funny.

Without blinking, he raised one of his crutches, smiling when it fell on Ghoul with a wham! sound

“OW!” the shorter one protested, rubbing his shoulder. “Mother of fuck!”

“Kobra, we’ve been over this already,” a voice said from the other side of the room. “No hitting people with crutches.”

Kobra not-so-apologetically grinned at his older sibling.

At the sound of their voice, Ghoul had whirled around, eyes wide. Kobra had thought he’d get less flustered over time, but he seemed worse ever since the two had started to date. “Oh, hi Party!”

Kobra glanced at him, chuckling. When Ghoul noticed his look, he quickly sobered up, scowling at him. Without further ado, Kobra decided to leave them alone and find Jet.

He found him playing with The Girl. Not that it came as a surprise—he spent most of his days doing that. He practiced his aim, too, but shooting didn’t seem to bring him as much joy as it had used to. Kobra understood: losing an eye had evidently affected his perception, and shooting a gun had been second nature for him. It was like learning to walk all over again. Kobra suspected the only reason he did it was to give himself a way to defend The Girl should he ever need to.

“Kobra!” The Girl happily screamed right into Jet’s ear. The latter winced and gently set her down.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

Kobra dramatically groaned and let himself fall next to the two killjoys. “I’m running from the gays. Save me.”

Jet laughed softly, and The Girl raised questioning eyebrows at them. “Ah, you’ll get it when you’re older,” he answered with a wink. She pouted, but it didn’t last long. Soon enough, she was back to playing with a doll Cherri had made her.

“I’m still surprised they got together in the first place,” Jet confessed a few minutes later. “Didn’t think they’d get their shit together.”

Kobra snickered, shaking his head. “Anyhow. I came here to escape them, so what are you and Girlie up to?”

“We were playing doll!” she exclaimed, overjoyed to be the center of attention. “This is Nuggets,” she said, showing him the said doll.

“A very charming young doll,” Kobra said fondly. The kid always had a way to make him smile.

“No, he’s old . Like you,” she told him, radiant. Wow. Okay, then.

“Ha, ha. Say, would you like uncle Cherri to pop by in a few days? We’d go do old people things in the meantime.”

That caught Jet’s attention. “Grown-up stuff… you mean the party Show Pony told us about?”

Kobra shrugged. “Why not? It’s been a few weeks, I don’t need my crutches anymore. Besides, I am dying for an outing that doesn't end in catastrophe. I feel we deserve it.”

Jet nervously touted with his curly hair. “Yeah, I guess,” he sighed, very noncommittally.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. Hell, we won’t go if you don’t feel up for it.”

His friend shook his head. “No, no, you’re right. It’s something we desperately need, I just wish we had a way of knowing how it’ll end. The last times we left the diner and thought it would be fine, well…”

Kobra looked down. Yes, he very much did know what Jet meant. He was sporting the same insecurities himself, but knew the four of them had to replace the bad memories with good ones.

And this party was entirely inside, too. No amount of acid rain could reach them there, and he highly doubted BL/ind would be dumb to the point of raiding a building filled to the bone with armed killjoys. So far, that eliminated every accident the Fab Four had faced recently.

Party and Ghoul’s day was obviously made when Jet and Kobra announced their decision. The four of them discussed each and every one of their concerns, coming up with an elaborate plan to make sure they were prepared for disaster should it strike. They’d arrive at the party, and would leave at a precise time. They wanted to be back at the diner before BL/ind started their morning patrols. Ghoul had contacted the radio crew, and Cherri, DJ Hot Chimp and NewsAGoGo had agreed to babysit The Girl.

Satisfied, the four of them went back to their respective activities. This time, nothing would go wrong.

∼

“Party, let me fucking put fucking Mad Gear fucking on!” Kobra yelled after his sibling had swatted his hand away for the fifth time.

“Fuck you!” they yelled over the engine. “It’s the only thing that’s going to be playing at this party, so shut the fuck up and—yeah. Shut up.”

Ghoul snickered and stuck his tongue out at Kobra. From his privileged position in the passenger seat, he turned Party’s fucking music louder. Kobra’s audible groan was drowned out, but Jet, being seated next to him, heard it and patted his shoulder in silent support.

“Why’s he in the passenger seat anyway,” Kobra protested. “Kids are supposed to ride in the back.”

“I’m older than you!” Ghoul answered.

“Tell that to your height!”

“You’re just salty ‘cause Party won’t let you put Mad Gear on. Loser!” the black-haired boy laughed. Kobra rolled his eyes and turned to Jet. Jet liked him. Jet would have let him put MGMK on. Jet… looked horribly tense.

“Hey, bud, it’ll be okay. It’s only one night, and we couldn’t have planned it more if we’d wanted to. We all have our ray guns and the killjoys there will too. Nothing’s going to happen.”

Jet smiled, but he was still uptight, so Kobra took it upon himself to converse until they reached their destination. By the time they’d arrived, he seemed monumentally less stressed, and his laughs sounded genuine.

The music was booming, and they weren’t even inside the building yet. Kobra was pumped just thinking of the night to come. Without waiting another second, he grabbed Jet’s hand and dragged them both inside.

“See?” Jet asked, elbowing him. “Party was right, Mad Gear’s playing.”

“Still should’ve let me put them on in the car” Kobra grumbled, but there was no animosity in his voice. Music—and good music at that—was pumping in his veins and he was there to have a good time. The year they’d had The Girl had been filled with beautiful memories, but he did miss letting loose and being a teenager. Besides, the Fabulous Four had had enough shitty things happen to them for a long, long time, in his humble opinion. He loved The Girl with all his heart, but she was pretty much the only good thing that had come out of the last months or so.

Per Jet’s demand, they made their way to the dance floor. Kobra wasn’t one for dancing, but Jet’s smile as Kobra humiliated himself in front of nameless killjoys was worth the shame. Jet, on the other hand, was a fucking master at it. It never ceased to amaze him.

He was glad to see his friend so happy. The four killjoys had had a pretty rough year, but Jet had unarguably had it worse than all of them together. Shaking his hips to the beat of the music, he looked so free, so peaceful.

Soon enough, though, Kobra tired himself out. There was only so much flailing he could do without losing his breath, and his ankle, albeit healed, was still a bit weak.

He signaled to Jet that he was going to go sit down near him, but motioned for him to stay on the dancefloor when he made his way to Kobra. He was enjoying himself, and Kobra didn’t want to be the one to put a halt to that.

Instead, he settled down on a wooden box near the dancefloor and swayed from side to side, following the sound of the music. He let his eyes roam around the room, taking in the sight. Countless killjoys were jumping up and down, eating what looked like food and talking together. Tonight, tens and tens of crews were meeting up, becoming one huge nation, in a way. Kobra shook his head: he was becoming poetic.

Speaking of killjoys, he wondered where Party and Ghoul were. He hadn’t seen them in a while. He began searching the crowd for red hair: wherever Party was, Ghoul was bound to be. The task proved to be harder than expected. Red wasn’t that uncommon a hair color, and, paired with the flashing lights, he soon discovered finding his sibling was nearly impossible.

Kobra guessed Jet had seen him looking for the other part of their crew, for he came trotting to him.

“Everything okay?”

“I can’t find Party. Or Ghoul, but they’re a package deal, so…. Also, he’s short as fuck so I couldn’t find him if I wanted to.”

“I’m sure they’re fine.”

Kobra chuckled. It was funny how, in a  matter of hours, Jet had become the one to try to cheer him up. The roles were reversed, and  Kobra didn’t like it one bit. He preferred not worrying.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sure we'll run into them la—”

What ?

“What?” Jet asked, not for the same reason Kobra mentally had. The latter raised an uncertain hand to a poorly lit corner. He had to be mistaken. Party Poison was not kissing some fucking random noname.

“Are you seeing what I think I’m seeing?” Kobra asked, suddenly feeling very, very cold, like the room had suddenly dropped ten degrees.

“Fuck,” Jet breathed, and that confirmed Kobra’s suspicion. He couldn’t fucking belive Party would do that. Shooting another disbelieving look at the two figures in the corner, he angrily stood up, stomping towards them.

Jet’s hand closed around his wrist, pulling him back. “Wait a minute, what are you doing?” he hissed. “You’re pissed and we’re not even sure it’s them! What are you even going to say?”

“A fucking piece of my mind,” Kobra spat. “I thought I would have to shovel talk Ghoul, but all along I should’ve shovel talked my own sibling?”

Rubbing his eye, Jet sighed. “I’ll… go find Ghoul. Handle your sibling.”

Oh, handle his sibling Kobra would. He was going to kick their ass back into their dead mother’s womb.

He purposefully made his way across the room, showing away the killjoys in his path. One second, Party’s lips were on the fucking random girl and the other, they were being angrily dragged in a more silent room.

The girl protested, but Kobra’s death glare silenced her. Party was much more vocal, though. “Wha—”

Kobra didn’t answer, instead slamming the door shut, giving them a bit of privacy.

“What the fuck was that for?” they shouted, forcefully taking their arm out of Kobra’s grip. “Kobra, what the hell?”

They were seething, and it made Kobra’s blood boil in rage. How could they ask him that? He wasn’t the one that had fucking been caught fucking cheating on their fucking boyfriend, for Destroya’s fucking sake.

“I should be asking you that!” he yelled, crossing his arms., Even though he loved his sibling, Ghoul was still his friend. No matter how much Kobra made fun of him, he still fucking cared about the dude and he didn’t deserve this fucking treatment. If there was one thing about Ghoul that Kobra respected, it was his devotion. More particularly, his devotion to Kobra’s dumb, idiotic sibling. He teased him a lot for it, but fuck , how could Party do this to him?

“What about Ghoul?” he asked, reproachful.

“... What about Ghoul?” Party may have been a good actor, but they couldn’t act their way out of this one.

“I thought things were going well with him! You could have fucking told him you were breaking things off instead of kissing some fucking killjoy in public. Hell, you should’ve told him before the party, instead of ruining his first fucking night out in months! You’re fucking dating, man, what the fuck?”

Party actually looked taken aback. If he wasn’t so pissed at them, Kobra would be impressed by their performance. “Ummmm… we aren’t?!?”

Kobra opened his mouth, ready to yell some more, when the words truly sank in. “YOU AREN’T?!?”

The redhead shook his head, clearly uneasy. “Uh. Can I go back to the party, or…?”

Shocked, Kobra didn’t answer. It made so much fucking sense, now that he thought of it. He couldn’t believe he’d thought they’d even gotten together. Well, yeah, he could—he had—but that explained why Ghoul was always still so fucking red around Party and oh fuck, he’d just told Party that he thought them and Ghoul had been dating.

Oh, and he’d pulled an unsuspecting Party from an innocent girl. And he’d sent Jet after Ghoul. Ghoul, who wasn’t fucking dating Party and was in fucking love with them and fuck, Kobra needed to find Jet.

“Uh. Um. Well. This is awkward,” he chuckled, and Party had the audacity to raise an eyebrow, in a no shit kind of way. “I… need to go,” he said, and dashed out of the room, leaving a still confused Party in his wake.

So much for not fucking up their fun night out.

Chapter Text

The stars were pretty, that night. Party had once told him you couldn’t see the stars in Battery City. To this day, it was still unthinkable for Ghoul to live in a world without them—both Party and the stars.

The lights had always been there for him, guiding him through the desert and brightening the dark of the night. When he and Party were kids, they used to lie down and look at the stars. Party’s face when they did was always so beautiful. Granted, Ghoul couldn’t recall them not ever being the prettiest thing he'd ever seen, but that was outside the point.

Party looked at the stars with awe in their eyes. Ghoul wished they could look at him the same.

He flicked a small rock off the wall he’d sat on and watched it fall to the ground, a few levels under him. A long way down. He carefully shifted closer to the building.

Someone cleared their throat.

Ghoul turned around, switching his legs to the other side of the wall, facing the newcomer. He hadn’t expected to find himself face to face with Jet.

He seemed nervous. Pained, maybe, was a better word. “Um. So I need to tell you something.”

Ghoul tucked his hair behind his ear, hoping his curious smile hid his worry. “Alright, go ahead.”

It was silent for a few handful of awkward seconds, but Jet finally spoke. “Me and Kobra kinda saw Party kissing someone.”

Ghoul prided himself for a job well done when his smile didn’t falter. He jumped off the wall, doing his best to ignore the physical hurt in his stomach. “Okay… good for Party, right?”

He could tell that wasn’t the answer Jet had expected. “I mean, I thought it’d bother you.”

Oh, it did. He hated how much it bothered him. He should’ve known better than to think his feelings might have been reciprocated. Just because Party was more physical these days didn’t mean they owed him anything or had any obligation towards him whatsoever. It was fine, Ghoul was fine. 

Anyway, he wasn’t going to unpack that. Choosing not to lie, he went with an approach that wasn’t denial. Jet could do whatever he wanted with it. “Why would it? Party can kiss whoever they want.”

“Oh. Okay. I just thought, since you were dating and all….”

Ghoul laughed awkwardly, but soon realized Jet hadn’t joined him. Wait, was he being serious? Please, Party didn’t like him. Any hopes Ghoul might have had of that had just flown out the metaphorical window about two minutes ago. “Ha. Good one. No.”

“You aren’t ?” Jet all but screamed.

Ghoul blinked. That was pretty common knowledge. “We are not. Do you really think they’d be kissing someone else if we were?”

“Hmpf,” was Jet’s only reply.

At that moment, there were so many things Ghoul could’ve done, wanted to say. He could’ve pried, asked why Jet had thought they were an item. It only would’ve betrayed him, though. He wasn’t ready to risk that just yet.

Jet plopped down where Ghoul had been sitting just seconds ago, frowning. The two of them stayed silent, at loss for words.

“Well. Sorry,” he finally said. “Didn’t mean to assume.”

Ghoul shrugged. It had been an honest mistake. After all, one out of two really, really wanted the relationship to happen, so Jet wasn’t that far off either.

He wished it didn’t have to hurt so much, though. Sometimes, Ghoul wondered if he’d have preferred falling for someone that wasn’t his best friend, but he didn’t actually know if that was true. Party was exceptional, and he often thought that there was no better person to fall in love with than them, no matter the unreciprocated feelings. They weren’t perfect, no—no one was, after all—but that was the point, in a way. Ghoul loved Party for their courage, their warmth, their imperfections, their everything.

Which was why he’d never tell them about his feelings. He’d rather have the other killjoy as a friend than a memory.

Then, he realized he’d never acknowledged Jet’s apology, so he breathed a quick, “It’s okay, no harm done,” and walked away.

∼

“Hey,” Party said, dragging on the syllable. They slid an arm under Ghoul’s and the latter nervously glanced at Jet.

He hadn’t thought Jet’s assumption that they had been a couple would get to him, but ever since the party a few days ago, he couldn’t help but overthink every interaction he had with the redhead.  Of course, he knew they had no romantic feelings towards him, but Jet surely had noticed something , which meant that Ghoul needed to be more careful if he didn’t want the truth exposed: he was completely and irrevocably in love with Party.

Sure, Kobra already knew that, but Jet didn’t—right until the party, at least. Ghoul didn’t know where he stood anymore. More importantly, though, Party was unaware of Ghoul’s feelings, and that was what mattered. The others could laugh at his misery all they wanted, for as long as his best friend didn't know how he felt, he would consider it a victory.

Ghoul smiled warmly at the one holding him, fighting the blush rising to his cheeks. “Hey, Pois.”

“Sleep well?” they whispered in his ear, and, yeah, okay, forget not blushing, Ghoul was bright red.

“Yeah,” he choked out. “You?”

Party shrugged. “I was cold.”

They put their head down on Ghoul’s shoulder and joined their free hand with the one under his arm, effectively trapping the boy in a gay panic because holy fuck Destroya save him.

“You know,” Party continued, and Ghoul could vaguely see them smirking, “humans run hot. Would’ve been better with someone to warm me up.”

Ghoul swallowed hard, eyes wide. Schooling his expression was really fucking hard when Party said shit like that. Granted, they always were a bit flirty, but this was too much. He laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as nervous to Party as it did to him. “Why didn’t you take The Girl?”

Party sighed and disentangled themself from Ghoul. The latter didn’t know if the shiver it caused was due to stress evacuation or the loss of warmth. “She was already with Jet.”

He nodded and walked towards the pantry. If he walked a bit faster than necessary, well, no one needed to know. Ghoul wasn't really hungry, but he needed to get away, to give his heart a chance to calm down.

Once he’d grabbed the half-finished can of Power Pup he’d begun eating the night before, he made his way next to Jet and Kobra. He couldn’t handle being alone with Party right now. He feared he might do something he would regret.

Ghoul hadn’t thought much of the exchange: it wasn’t the first time his friend had jokingly said things that could be interpreted as flirting. In fact, after a few hours of playing with The Girl, he’d forgotten all about it.

A grave error on his part.

He was settling down on his bed when a floorboard creaked, revealing a red haired killjoy.

“Ghoul?” they whispered, squinting.

“Party, is that you?” he asked, even though he knew it was.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m getting ready for bed?”

Party frowned. “I thought… never mind.”

It was Ghoul’s turn to furrow his brows. “What?”

“I’m kind of, uh. Do you —” They sighed, running a hand through their hair, “—mind?”

“What are you talking about?” Ghoul asked through a yawn.

Party shook their head, twirling around and walking away.

“Party, wait!” Ghoul got to his feet, confused.

They froze in their step, slowly, slowly turning back to look at him. If Ghoul didn’t know any better, he’d say they looked hopeful. “Yeah?”

He fiddled with a strand of hair. “You came here for something, right?”

Party stayed silent for so long, Ghoul thought they just wouldn’t answer. “I’m cold,” they finally breathed.

Oh . Yeah, this was going to kill Ghoul. Still, he smiled as warmly as he could and made place for the killjoy on his small mattress. Party’s face instantly lit up and he knew he’d made the right choice. He could sacrifice a night of sleep, who needed sleep anyway?

Ghoul hissed when he felt freezing feet touch his calf. Party really fucking hadn’t been kidding when they’d said they were cold, holy fucking Detroya. “What the fuck, Pois? Were you in a fucking freezer? Fuck !”

The laugh they made was the fucking dorkiest sound he’d ever heard in his life. Ghoul hadn’t thought it was possible for him to fall deeper in love with the red haired ‘joy and yet….

“I’m sorry,” they mumbled against Ghoul’s neck once they were done laughing.

It was really fucking unfair how easily Party found sleep. Meanwhile, Ghoul wanted to toss and turn and anxiously sweat, but no, because the fucking light of his life was still very fucking cold and had, in their unconscious state, decided that cuddles were the way to go. And by cuddles, Ghoul meant that he was being spooned by his best friend. For whom he had romantic feelings. Fuck his life.

As much as he mentally complained, though, he couldn’t find it in himself to stay annoyed. He could get on board with the idea of spending his life like that, no matter how much he wanted more. He was being selfish: he already had so much. Ghoul should be content with it all.

They would never be more than what they were, but they were already so much. Ghoul was literally in Party’s arms; life didn’t get much better than that, in his very humble and unbiased opinion. The person he loved was holding him and it was all he really needed.

It could’ve been seconds, it could’ve been an eternity, but when Ghoul was sure Party was far too gone to wake up, he whispered his truest confession: “I think I’m in love with you.”

∼

So Ghoul had thought he could be slick, right? Yeah….

No.

He and Party had only been out of Ghoul’s room for five minutes when Kobra cornered him. “Ghoul, we need to talk.”

The boy shot a nervous look around, wondering what the blonde was talking about. “Um, sure?”

Nodding, Kobra dragged him outside, telling him he suspected Ghoul would prefer the conversation take place somewhere nobody could hear. If that wasn’t ominous, Ghoul didn’t know what was.

“It won’t be long, I just need to confirm something,” Kobra assured him.

Ghoul shrugged. “Okay… what is it?”

“You know I like messing with you about my sibling, but is it serious? Do you seriously like them? As in, more than friends?”

Ghoul blinked. Blinked again. “Wait… so you weren’t even sure I did like them, but you kept on making these fucking jokes?”

“No, I know you fucking like them, shut up.”

“Why did you just ask, then?” Ghoul couldn’t believe him. What was the point?

“Don’t worry about that. Worry about your taste in people, though,” he snickered.

“Literally no one asked you,” Ghoul said, glaring at the killjoy. “Besides, I already know it sucks, I fell in love with my best friend, dumbass.”

Kobra awkwardly patted his shoulder. “There, there.”

Ghoul rolled his eyes and walked back into the diner. He didn’t know why Kobra had felt the need to confirm, and, quite honestly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He just hoped he would keep it to himself.

“Ghoul, Ghoul!” said The Girl, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He turned around to find her holding a drawing in her tiny little hands. “What is it, Girlie?” he asked with a huge grin. He always loved seeing what The Girl came up with.

She wasn’t creative in the same way Ghoul had been at her age. While he’d always go out of his way to cause trouble and cook up the most destructive things he could, she would find ways to create instead. Ghoul’s creativity had been fixated on assembling sticks, rocks and cacti and, as the years had gone by, had developed into gadgets and explosives. He couldn’t wait to see what The Girl would grow up to do.

He looked down at the drawing, his huge smile melting into a fonder one. He could make out five stick figures, and the kid’s attempt at colouring them was poor at the very best, but it was the most fucking beautiful thing Ghoul had ever seen. 

“That’s beautiful, Girlie. What do you say? Do we put it up on the wall?”

She happily shrieked, jumping up and down.

A few minutes later, the two of them were proudly admiring the artwork exposed in front of them. Because it wasn’t just some random drawing, Ghoul realized as The Girl hugged him as tight as she could.

It was a family.

Chapter Text

For people that weren’t together, Party and Ghoul sure stood close, Jet mused. Actually, for people that weren’t together, they sure acted as though they were. It was a tad exasperating. If the two of them couldn’t for the life of them figure out the other liked the other, what chance did everyone else have? Well, now that he thought of it, probably a lot. His two friends were renowned dumbasses. 

It was in times like this that Jet was grateful romance didn’t affect him. Life seemed so much more simple without all of those feelings. He had The Girl and his friends, and that was enough for him.

Ghoul’s laughter disrupted the quiet and Kobra audibly sighed next to the frizzy haired killjoy.

“What is it?” he asked, even though he was fairly sure he knew what was bothering his friend. Unlike some people , Jet could put two and two together.

“We can’t let them go on like this,” Kobra told him. Jet’s eye fell back to where Party and Ghoul stood, so deep in their own world they’d become unaware that they were being observed from afar.

Jet smiled softly. “We can’t just interfere. They’re going to learn for themselves. Eventually.”

Kobra vehemently shook his head. “No, that’s the thing. Ghoul is persuaded Party doesn’t like him, and Party’s even worse. I mean, they’re my sibling and all and I love them, but fuck .”

“What would you even want to do? The last time we threw ourselves in the mix, we learned they weren’t dating!” Replacing his eye patch, he sighed. “I just don’t want to risk messing something up.”

“That’s exactly what I’m scared of!” Kobra replied. “The truth is a bomb, Jet. I don’t want to have to pick up the pieces if it explodes. You have to go about it carefully. You don’t leave the bomb there by itself.”

“Yes, but they’re not grenades, Kobra. They’re our actual friends. With feelings. They’re idiots, but we can’t just go and risk hurting them.”

Kobra gritted his teeth. “It’s going to tear this family apart, Jet. When things go to shit, I have to side with Party because they’re my sibling and that’s what’s expected of me, and you’ll side with Ghoul because you’ve known him forever. I don’t want to pick sides! But if they try and solve things on their own, they’re going to fuck it up. They’re a bomb, I'm telling you. And you know how Ghoul is with explosives.”

“Yeah, he’s a genius!”

“He’s reckless . He jumps into things without thinking stuff out. It’s dangerous.”

Jet rubbed his eye. “Again, our friends won’t detonate.”

“No, but their relationship is unsustainable. This?” Kobra asked, motionning at Party and Ghoul. “This is killing Ghoul. Slowly, but it is. And if Ghoul goes sad, let me assure you Party will too. And if they’re both sad, then The Girl is sad and you’re sad and I’m sad. It’s fucking osmosis or whatever.”

At the mention of The Girl, Jet’s heart clenched. Maybe Kobra was right. Knowing them, his friends were going to hurt either way. What Jet could do was make sure it wouldn’t be painful for her.

“Fine.”

Kobra gaped. “Really?”

“I’m not convinced, so don’t become smug or I’ll change my mind.”

“I swear I won’t!”

“But yes, really. I need to take The Girl into account and I want to give her a family as stable as possible. We can’t leave—I can’t believe I’m saying this—the bomb there. I don’t want her to be hurt when it blows up.”

In a rare display of affection, Kobra hugged him. “Thank you. I know this was hard for you to say. And I can’t promise it won’t get messy—knowing this family, it probably will—but I swear I’ll do everything I can to make it run as smoothly as possible.”

“So. How are we going to proceed?”

Kobra smiled. “Trust me, I’ve got this.”

∼

“Get your head out of your ass,” said Kobra’s voice from behind the wall. So much for ‘gotting this’, Jet thought, unimpressed.

“What?” In Party’s defense, Jet couldn’t blame them. They had no idea what their brother was on about.

“You have to stop messing around with Ghoul. It’s affecting the family.”

“The fuck are you talking about? We’re just hanging out.”

“Yeah, that’s the fucking problem.”

Jet rubbed his forehead. He hadn’t thought the conversation would go over well, but this was straight up disastrous. He should’ve gone over it with Kobra beforehand. Cursing his past self, he repeatedly opened and closed his fists, trying to keep himself from barging the room and saving the two idiots.

“Again, what the fuck, Kobes?”

“Listen, you both like each other, so put an end to the misery, alright? You’ve got this, sib.”

Party’s laugh was hands down the awkwardest sound Jet had ever heard. “Ha, hold up. What?”

“Dude, keep up.”

“No, no keeping up. Go back. We don’t—no.”

“Oh, fuck off. It’s reciprocated, don’t worry about it. Trust me on this.” 

It would’ve been better for Jet to lose the use of his ears, he thought. That way, he wouldn’t have had to witness this trainwreck of a conversation. Oh, well. It was his own damn fault for trusting Kobra with such a delicate matter. The kid was more into brutal honesty.

“No, that’s not wha—”

Kobra had already started his tirade, though, and there was no stopping him. “The constant flirting? It’s hurting him. Don’t make me say it twice, but if you want to, ugh, date him or whatever, go ahead and save us all a lot of pain and secondhand embarrassment. Okay, great, thank you.”

“Ghoul doesn’t—”

“He fucking does. Shut up.”

“No, that’s just how we are. He knows it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Does he? Do you?”

“I don’t like him!” Jet bit back a sigh. In all of his horror scenarios, he hadn’t even imagined that outcome.

Kobra scoffed. “If you’re so far up your denial you can’t even see the obvious, I’m afraid I can’t help you. Please sort out your feelings, and stop bothering Ghoul in the meantime. You don’t have your shit figured out, so don’t drag him down with you. You’re not ready to admit you like him yet? Fine. Don’t play with his feelings. It’s the least he deserves.”

Sensing the end of the discussion, Jet quietly escaped, returning to the living room where The Girl was playing with her cubes. Soon enough, the two siblings would leave the room and control damage would be in order.

Speaking of. It came in the form of Party gently closing the door so as to not spook The Girl before storming away.

Jet slowly turned to look at Kobra, trying to convey his disappointment. “Look me in the eye and tell me that wasn’t horrible.”

Looking at his boots, Kobra muttered, “It wasn’t so bad. Could've been worse.”

“The only thing that could’ve made that conversation worse is Ghoul walking in. You’re lucky he's still fixing that radio at the station.”

Kobra slumped down between Jet and The Girl. “I just don’t understand how they can’t even realize they like him. I honestly thought they knew!”

“Obviously, they don’t .”

Kobra sighed, and Jet added, “Do you think your talk will work? Like, will they tune it down?”

The smile Jet received wasn’t one of happiness. “I hope so.”

∼

The Girl was braiding Jet’s hair, Party was talking to Kobra, and Ghoul was lurking. Well, maybe lurking wasn’t the word. He would hide in the shadows, an odd gap between him and everyone else. They were all used to him being up in their personal space, and the change wasn’t as welcome as Jet had thought it would be. It just felt wrong.

The past few days had been… uneventful, to say the least. The vibe in the diner felt weird, too. Too much silence, too much awkwardness. It was like everyone was walking on a tightrope, or eggshells, however that idiom went.

Jet cared about his friends, and because he did, he was starting to rethink his and Kobra’s intervention. Maybe they shouldn’t have intervened. Actually, Jet was fairly sure that they shouldn’t have, but Kobra had spoken about The Girl and had struck Jet right into his biggest insecurity.

Still, it was too late to back down, so the best thing he could do now was see this thing through and support his friends. Besides, Kobra hadn’t been that wrong, either. Neither him nor Jet could help Party—and implicitly Ghoul—if the former couldn’t even see they liked the latter.

“Daaaaad!” The Girl whined.

“Yes, sweetie?” he asked, running a hand through her frizzy mane.

“My hair! Your turn!”

He chuckled and separated her hair in three sections, carefully taming it as he placed strand over strand over stand.

She wouldn’t stop squirming, so the braid turned out bumpy, but knowing her, it wouldn’t matter. She’d go back to running around in no time and her hair would inevitably free itself. 

Now, though, it appeared to be naptime, for her breathing evened out as she slumped against Jet’s chest.

Sitting on the floor with the kid in his lap, he lost track of time. He eventually slumbered off, but The Girl woke him up when she jumped off him. Apparently, that little nap had been enough for her to regain all of her energy.

Sure enough the first words she spoke were, “Can we go walk?” Jet found himself with no other choice but to say yes.

He was about to head out with her when Ghoul asked, “Can I come?”

The small voice he’d used broke Jet’s heart. He sounded so sad. It had only been around a week, but he wasn’t a fool. He’d obviously noticed Party was putting distance between them, avoiding talking to him.

Jet smiled feebly, nodding. He felt responsible, after all. If he’d put his foot down, he could’ve avoided it all. Then again, it might’ve blown up in their faces if they hadn’t put a stop to the constant flirting. He wished there would’ve been a way to know how to act.

“Hey, buddy,” Jet told Ghoul once they’d stepped out of the diner. “How are you doing?”

Major kudos to Ghoul’s poker face. He regained a bright smile in no time. “Better than ever!” Okay, now he was trying too hard.

Jet sighed. “You don’t have to lie.”

Ghoul shrugged. “I think Party’s upset with me. I probably did something to piss them off, it’s fine.” He was obviously trying, but he couldn’t totally hide the hurt in his voice.

Wincing, Jet told him that, “Hey, no. You didn’t do anything. Give them time, I think they’re just stressed lately.”

The other killjoy didn’t look particularly convinced, but he let it go. “Anyway! Did you enjoy your little nap?”

Jet frowned, wondering why he was laughing. “Yeah…? Is something the matter?”

Ghoul just laughed louder. “Dude, you were passed out for like two hours! You had the whole saliva falling from your mouth thing going on, it was hilarious.”

“Two hours?” He’d been sure it had been fifteen minutes.

“Oh, definitely. We called out your name because we were wondering if you were sleeping and you wouldn’t budge.”

The killjoy wiped his mouth, and, sure enough, found it still a bit damp. He shuddered, subtly wiping his hand on his shirt.

He and Ghoul walked together, exchanging pleasantries, until the latter inevitably brought the conversation to a 360°. 

“I just don’t get it,” he sighed, frustrated. “Party’s never gone that much time without speaking to me like that. It’s like they’re actively ignoring me.”

Jet hid his cringe as well as he could. “I, um, don’t know what to tell you. You should take it up with them if it’s bothering you so much. They’re still your friend, they’d tell you if something was wrong.”

Ghoul smiled. “Thanks, man. You’re a good friend.” And wow, Jet did not need that kind of guilt in his life. 

He chuckled, trying to laugh off the awkwardness. “I try. It’s the least I can do.” Boy was he going to rot in hell when the Phoenix Witch would come to take him.

Chapter Text

This was such shit, actually. Fuck Kobra. Seriously, fuck Kobra all the way to fucking Battery City. What the shit had that speech of him been? Something something ‘I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself,’ as if Party needed help. They were doing perfectly fine, thank you very much. Or, at least, they’d been doing fine until Kobra had dropped that bomb three days ago.

Now, Party wasn’t dumb, they knew their feelings and they knew Ghoul’s. It wasn’t their fault that Kobra couldn’t recognize the two killjoys’ obviously platonic relationship for what it was. 

‘Ghoul likes you, it’s killing him, bla bla bla,’ their ass. Still, ever since the intervention, Party couldn’t get it out of their fucking head. And it was killing them . 

So, Party had decided to go along with it. For some reason. They were really starting to regret it, though. Ghoul seemed sad and Party was mad at themself. And at Kobra. Because fuck him for making them doubt themself. Ghoul didn’t like them, they didn’t like Ghoul, end of story. So why were they even listening to Kobra?

Kobra didn’t want the dynamic between the Fab Four to change, but it had. Because Ghoul used to be a constant in Party’s life, and now he wasn’t. And it wasn’t even his fault. Party liked to tell themself it was Kobra’s, but they knew it was theirs: they’d been the one to put distance between them and Ghoul, and they feared they couldn't undo the hurt they’d caused.

Party turned around on their mattress. Because they had room to twist and turn, now. And it fucking sucked because desert winter was getting closer by the minute and desert winter was fucking frigid and Party was angry and alone. 

Sighing, they moved to place a hand under their head, only to be stopped by something on their shoulder. Eyes wide, they slowly looked down to find a Ghoul-sized shape to their side. Party sucked in a breath, afraid any move they might make would scare the killjoy away.

They felt their vision turn to black, and they were almost reluctant to give in into sleep. They weren’t, though. That would be weird. Why would Party not want to sleep? Destroya knew it was hard enough to find time to relax. Blocking out their thoughts, Party fell asleep, feeling warm for the first time in a few nights.

∼

It was cold. 

They took back everything they’d said, because the sun hadn’t brought any warmth to this Phoenix Witch forsaken desert. Scoffing, they opened their mouth to share their thoughts to their friend, but found themself alone on the mattress.

Weird… they could’ve sworn Ghoul had been there when they’d fallen asleep.

“G—Ghoul?”

Only silence answered them, along with the sound of the fucking freezing wind hitting their rundown taped window.

Party frowned, trying to remember what had happened the night before. They’d gone to sleep, alone, and had woken up to find Ghoul, only to fall asleep again, and to wake up, alone. Aaaand it just hit them that maybe, just maybe, Ghoul had never been there to begin with.

As the realization hit them, a small, “oh,” found its way out of their mouth. It had just been a dream. What an odd thing to dream about, Party thought before standing up, not as ready for a new day as they ought to be.

The aforementioned new day wasn’t so bad, so far, they thought as they drank the (warm) expired coffee the DJ crew had brought them.

They watched fondly as The Girl played with Dr D’s beard, chuckling when he winced.

“Oy, redhead,” NewsAGoGo said. Rolling their eyes, they looked at her.

“Hello, my personal annoyance,” they greeted.

“Nuh-uh,” Hot Chimp told them. “She’s my personal annoyance. You’ve got your own,” she added, jutting her chin towards Ghoul.

Party’s mouth fell open. They were flabbergasted. “What? Why does everyone say that?! Me and Ghoul aren’t—we don’t… no!”

Both girls started laughing. And kept laughing. Party felt themself grow red as they wouldn’t stop.

“Honey, we didn’t mean it like that ,” Hot Chimp finally explained.

“A friend can be a personal annoyance,” agreed NewsAGoGo.

Hot Chimp smirked. “Though it is worth noticing that that was the first thought that jumped to your mind.”

Party half-jokingly glared at her. “Yeah, no shit! You’re a couple and say that about each other, how else was I supposed to interpret that?” they grumbled, their cheeks still tinted a lovely lobster red.

They both shrugged. 

“ Ugh ,” Party muttered.

The conversation went on without further mentions of Ghoul. At least, until Hot Chimp elbowed them. “Here comes your boyfriend,” she whispered, laughing again.

“He’s not!” Party replied, subtly looking back to see that Ghoul was in fact walking towards the three of them. “He’s coming over, so stop it. ”

Ghoul hugged them from behind, one hand over their shoulder and the other one under their arm. Because of their height difference, Ghoul was kind of slouched on them. Like a cat. 

Smiling widely, Party looked down. He looked so happy. He was looking up at them, and his little face was right there, and his expression made Party giddy. They kind of wanted to boop his nose, or something. They didn’t really know how to describe it. They’d really missed their friend.

They quickly sobered up when they felt eyes drilling into the back of their neck, though. Right, fuck. Kobra. Kobra and his fucking intervention. Right, right, right. Fuck . 

Awkwardly laughing, they quickly disentangled themself from Ghoul, not so subtly speedwalking away. They could feel their cheeks flush with embarrassment. How had they so easily forgotten that they were supposed to put distance between the both of them? Kobra was going to be so pissed. Party was pissed, too. The proximity was familiar, and now they felt lost, missing their friend’s presence.

Luckily for them, Hot Chimp and NewsAGoGo had walked away too, apparently not done speaking to them. Only Ghoul was left behind, and Party didn’t have the guts to look back. They knew what they would find on his face, and they weren’t strong enough to look at him and know they were the cause of the pain they knew was written across his face.

Once Ghoul was out of earsight, both girls turned to them and glared, though. Party gulped. They could be very intimidating when they wanted to.

“What the fuck?”

Party scowled. “What do you mean, what the fuck?”

“That was so cold!” Hot Chimp exclaimed.

Party hugged theself. “Yeah, not intentionally! Take it up with Kobra.”

NewsAGogo gave him the stink eye. “Kobra’s your little brother. He doesn’t know best, and he’s not the boss of you. You can’t just let him meddle in your life like that!”

“Listen! I’m not happy about the situation either, but you don't know anything about what’s at stake here! I don’t want to break up the family,” they told them, looking down.

Both girls frowned, confused, and Hot Chimp asked, “The fuck you mean?”

Party pondered telling them for a mere moment before opening up. They needed to tell someone, and the girls were the safest at the moment: they would leave soon, and, hopefully, the next time they saw each other, the situation would have been resolved. Party made them promise not to talk, and, once they had their word, explained.

“Kobra learned Ghoul and I weren’t, erm, an item, and then he became all pissy because he says I’m hurting Ghoul? We don’t even like each other! I mean, we do, but not like that , y’know? He’s my best friend and I’m his, but there’s no deeper feeling! But anyway. Kobes asked me to stay away from him because I’m making him sad, apparently? But now we’re both miserable!”

Hot Chimp and NewsAGoGo shared a glance, and Party knew they were communicating. They knew, because they, too, had a face language with Kobra. They only wished they could understand theirs.

“So then why do you stay away? What’s the point?”

“I—” Party began. Why indeed were they playing along? “I guess a part of me is scared he’s right? What if I really am hurting him, y’know? If I was too close to him and he liked me and couldn’t move on because of it, I’d never forgive myself. And if Kobra’s right, then imagine how much a breakup would hurt our dynamic! I mean, the Fab Four’s dynamic! It would be disastrous.”

“Uh huh, uh huh, sorry to interrupt you, but wouldn’t a breakup require a relationship to begin with?” Hot Chimp asked, raising an eyebrow.

When Party returned a blank stare, NewsAGogo added, “So in that scenario, you share Ghoul’s feelings? Because how else would there be a breakup if you weren't dating? And how would you be dating if only Ghoul liked you?”

“Um.”

The silence was deafening. 

“I don’t like him,” Party finally said.

“Listen, kid,” NewsAGoGo said, and Party hated that, because she was only two years older than them. “Feelings are risky. Hot Chimp and I were part of the same crew before we started dating, too. But just because love is a gamble doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try your hand at it.”

Party looked down. They didn’t like Ghoul. Ghoul didn’t like them. It had always been like this. So what if it physically hurt them every time they had to push him away? So what if being without him was like missing a piece of themself? They’d grown up together, Ghoul was home. It was simply the normal best friend experience.

Scoffing, they walked away from the two girls, pretending they didn’t see the pitying look they were sending their way. 

∼

A few days later, Party had promptly forgotten about their conversation with the two girls. Or, at the very least, they’d gotten very good at ignoring it. 

They were sitting in a booth in front of Kobra, waiting for Jet, Ghoul and The Girl to join them. They were giving the latter a bath, and Destroya knew she hated those. Just keeping her in the dingy bathtub was a fight in and of itself.

About an hour later, a wet-haired toddler came running at them, tugging on Party’s pants until they propped her up on their knees. Jet and Ghoul followed a few minutes later, both still drenched in soapy water.

Party smiled at Ghoul, and shifted in the booth so he’d have space to go between them and the window, as usual. However, Ghoul walked straight past them, instead settling in next to Kobra. To add insult to injury, he fully ignored Party, laughing at something Kobra had said as he draped an arm over Party’s brother’s shoulders.

They stared, momentarily forgetting they were in the middle of a conversation. What had Kobra said that had been so funny? They couldn't remember: they’d been looking over at Ghoul. They’d simply forgotten to listen.

Party snapped back to reality when Jet broke their staring, stepping over Party and The Girl to reach the seat Ghoul hadn’t taken. Shaking their head, Party refused to acknowledge the hurt blossoming in the pit of their stomach. They were probably only upset because it was just another part of the Fab Four’s routines that was falling apart.

Nothing else, they told themself. Nothing else.

Besides, it was good that Ghoul was staying away! It only made listening to Kobra easier. Party wouldn’t feel too bad about ignoring them if Ghoul did that himself. At least, that’s what Party repeated to themself as the conversation went on around them. Only this time, it was starting to feel less and less like the truth, and alarmingly more like an excuse.

When Kobra had told Party to back off, they hadn’t realized how hard it would be. Party and Ghoul were practically joined at the hip! These days, though, it was like a wall stood between the both of them, and while Party hadn’t been the one to place the last brick, they sure had built  the base.

They’d never thought it would come to this, though. They’d never thought Ghoul would consciously stay away from them. They’d always selfishly assumed the boy would stay by their side, but now they’d pushed him away and they didn’t even know why they had in the first place. All they knew was that regret had quite a sour taste.

Nevertheless. There was no going back. At least, not without an embarrassing conversation on how Party had withdrawn themself in the fear that Ghoul liked them—which he obviously didn’t! Why would he leave if he did?—with Ghoul. And, well, it was now more clear than ever how Ghoul didn’t actually foster these feelings, which meant it would just be an awkward conversation that probably wouldn’t even make things better. A conversation Party had no intention of having, ever.

After the five of them were done eating, they all headed out for a food run. Party opened the door on the passenger side and said, “Jet, you coming?”

The said killjoy shared a hesitant look with Kobra, but Party held their ground. If Ghoul wanted to play that game, they could too. He could sit with Kobra in the backseat.

Unable to resist, they looked in the rearview mirror as they started up the Trans AM. Five seconds passed until Ghoul raised his eyes, and they stared at each other through the mirror. Party expected him to look defiant, but he wasn’t.

He wasn’t?

Ghoul looked dejected, and Party felt their heart break. Phoenix Witch, Ghoul wasn’t being bitchy, he was feeling left out and ignored. And rightfully so! Party quickly broke mirror eye contact, feeling their cheeks reach a shade of red similar to that of their hair.

Throughout the drive, they found themself looking at their friend in the backseat, regret, shame and guilt slightly making their head spin.

Kobra had been so wrong.

Kobra had been so wrong, because Ghoul didn’t like them.

Kobra had been right, though, because looking at Ghoul, Party wanted nothing but to reach out. Be close to him, hold him, regain what they’d accidentally broken. They wanted him to forgive them so they could move past this, they wanted to make him feel better.

Maybe kiss him better.

And there was the problem. Maybe Kobra had wrongfully thought Ghoul liked them, but he’d seen right through his sibling, right through what even his sibling hadn’t been able to see at the time.

It explained so much, though, but Party didn’t have time to dwell on that.

Party didn’t need to stay away from Ghoul to save him from pain. No, they needed to stay away to save themself.

Chapter Text

Oh, for fuck’s sake, Kobra thought.

His stupid fucking sibling had just had an epiphany, if the face they were currently making said anything. Their mouth was gaping, and they most definitely weren't looking at the road—which, hello? The five of them were in that car.

Kobra made a show of coughing, pretending he felt something in his throat. His act successfully brought Party back to the land of the aware, and he relaxed when he saw their hands tighten on the driving wheel. 

They dropped The Girl off at the WKIL station. The four of them were running low on supplies, and Show Pony had suggested they raid a recently abandoned BL/ind base in Zone 2. Apparently, a few killjoys had already been, but they'd reported there was still a lot of, well, everything left. Still, it was a fairly dangerous operation, and considering their luck during their last few outings together, there was no way they’d risk putting her in harm’s way.

When they got back into the car—Kobra still wasn’t used to having Ghoul next to him. At least he was small. It gave Kobra more place to slouch—Kobra put his head against the window, drifting off for the duration of the trip.

The car came to a screeching halt, jolting Kobra forward and effectively waking him up. In front of him, the BL/ind base stood tall, menacing. The four of them split up to inspect the building, and Kobra kind of regretted telling Party to stay away from Ghoul when he got stuck with the latter.

It wasn’t that Kobra didn’t like him, because of course he did. It was just that, sometimes, Ghoul tended to be reckless, and on a stealth mission, well…. To put it briefly, he wasn’t the best at that. His whole thing was causing noise and damage through explosions. Today, however, he seemed out of it. He was dragging his feet and overall looking glum, which wasn't a look Kobra was used to seeing on him. Kobra looked away, quickly, the guilt becoming a bit too much. Maybe he needed to have another talk with Party, and apologize. And a talk with Ghoul, too. He probably owed the poor boy an explanation.

Anyway. That would be for later. They had a building to explore.

“You ready?” he asked Ghoul. When he didn’t answer, Kobra turned around to find him crouched a few meters away. “Yo, what the fuck?”

Ghoul’s head snapped up, and he smiled apologetically. “I’ll be just a second, sorry. Had to tie my shoelaces.”

“Whatever,” Kobra grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Ghoul ran up to him, and the two of them met up with Jet and Party at the main entrance, the base cleared. The flour of them had never stood so awkwardly together before. Party and Ghoul were avoiding the other’s stare at all cost, Jet’s eye kept on jumping from one to the other, and Kobra was dejectedly staring at the ongoing trainwreck.

“Alright, well,” Party finally said, kicking the air. “Let’s do this.”

∼

Well.

The building was up in flames.

Still gripping his celery, Kobra looked back at the burning base. He still hadn’t quite grasped what had happened down there. He’d seen it with his own two eyes—had seen it better than anyone else, really—but he couldn’t wrap his head around the reality of it.

The Fab Four had never done something so impulsive. Never without consulting each other beforehand, as contradictory as that sounded. At least, never something so big as destroying a fucking Better Fucking Living base. Deserted, but a fucking base nonetheless.

The drive back to the WKIL station was silent. Too silent. Party’s grip on the wheel was so tight, their knuckles had turned almost white. 

The tension was palpable, waves of awkwardness making breathing too loud feel like a crime, and Kobra hated every single second of it. The worst part probably was that Jet had basically run to the backseat, so Kobra had had to go to the passenger seat in order to prevent a murder.

Come to think of it, mayber delay a murder was a better choice of words. He’d never seen his sibling so fucking pissed.

Party wordlessly parked in front of the DJ station, getting out of the Trans AM before any of the others had time to even lift a single finger. 

Slowly, Kobra turned to the black-haired boy in the backseat.

“Ghoul….”

“Don’t,” he softly let out, sounding almost scared. Not that Kobra blamed him. Party was fucking terrifying. Even he was off put, and they weren’t even mad at him.

“Just, um,” Jet said, looking extremely uncomfortable. “Thank you. No matter what they say, I, uh, yeah. Thanks.”

Ghoul laughed bitterly. “Yeah, maybe keep that to yourself when they come back. Knowing them, well. They wouldn’t like hearing that. I’ve been around them long enough to know that. They might fucking hate my guts now, but we were close up to a few weeks ago,” he derisively added.

His attempt at a joke didn’t exactly work: Jet looked as though his soul had left his body, and Kobra didn’t need to look into the mirror to know he did too. Ghoul narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say anything else.

Party stormed back into the car, saving them from the awkwardness of that discussion—only to bring a new kind into the car. They handed Jet The Girl and got back into their seat, stopping just shy of slamming the door, as if they’d suddenly remembered not to spook the toddler.

And just like that, the longest drive ever resumed. 

∼

“Put The Girl away,” Party said to Jet as soon as the five of them had entered the diner. Their tone was bone chilling, and Jet reassuringly tightened his grip on The Girl.

“Put her away! ” Party repeated when Jet didn’t move. They weren’t yelling, but their voice had gotten a lot harder, anger bleeding into it. Jet hurried The Girl into a room: he didn’t want her to see them angry. Not that Jet had voiced that out loud, but Kobra knew him enough.

“You’re scaring her,” Ghoul muttered, and boy did he have a death wish. He was right, of course, but Phoenix Witch protect him.

Party turned furious eyes to him, and, to his credit, his expression barely flickered.

“What the FUCK was that back there,” they screamed at him. Out of the corner of his eyes, Kobra saw Jet double back into the room where he’d left The Girl.

“What had to be done, Party,” Ghoul coldly replied. His apparent calm seemed to infuriate Party further, and Kobra knew he was in for a long fucking argument. 

“What had to—what had…” Party couldn’t finish repeating Ghoul’s words back at him, derisive laughter interrupting his speech. “You can’t keep pulling shit like that!”

Ghoul defiantly crossed his arm. “Well no one got fucking hurt so I don’t see what the big fucking problem is!”

Party scoffed, angrily pointing at the burns and dried blood on Ghoul’s face. “What the fuck do you call all those bruises on your face, then?”

“That’s nothing compared to what would’ve happened if I hadn’t acted, and you know it. At least I—”

“Don’t you fucking dare….”

“At least I did something! And I don’t regret it!”

“You didn’t stick to the plan!”

“ We were losing !”

“That's not the point ! You did something reckless and you endangered us all!” Party spat. Kobra shot a worried glance at Jet, who was watching from the room.

“Would you rather we had died, Party?” Ghoul retorted. “What would’ve happened to The Girl?”

Oh. If Party hadn’t been furious before, they definitely were now. “How fucking dare you bring her into this? You’ve always done shit like that, even before we got her, so don’t fucking try to hide your bullshit under dumb fucking pointless excuses!”

“Why are you so mad? It saved us!” Ghoul exploded.

“ IT WAS A FUCKING BOMB! ”

And there it was. The grand reveal.

Kobra should've seen it coming. He should’ve realized when he’d seen Ghoul bent down, ‘tying his shoelaces’. He should’ve known. He should’ve fucking seen the device he’d planted.

But no. Ghoul had been so down lately, acting so different, Kobra hadn’t even noticed how erratic he’d been. And Ghoul wasn’t a particularly good liar: no, he was a fucking open book. By all means, Kobra should’ve realized he’d been up to something way sooner.

But no.

It had taken the building being blown up for him to realize, and even then it had taken him some time. He’d looked behind him, and the grim determination on Ghoul’s face was what clued him in on to what had happened. 

Party had known right ahead, though. They’d fucking swirled around, all up in Ghoul’s face, and Jet had had to pull them away, reminding them that the bomb hadn’t necessarily traken out all the Dracs and that they still had to get the fuck out of there.

After they’d escaped the smoke, Party had clammed up, more silent than they’d ever been. They hadn’t spoken until just a few minutes ago, when they’d let all hell loose on an unapologetic Ghoul.

… Which led them all to this instant.

By some miracle of nature, Jet had walked up to Party, holding them back when they took a step towards Ghoul.

“I think that’s enough, now,” he said, sounding sad.

In turn, Kobra went behind Ghoul, grabbing him and sternly saying “no” when he felt the boy might speak up and spark another metaphorical flame.

“Whatever,” Party growled, pushing Jet off. “I was fucking done with this conversation anyway.”

Kobra half expected Ghoul to bite back, but he simply shrugged Kobra off and left the diner, slamming the door behind him.

Kobra turned to look at Party, concerned. They look like they were fighting an inner battle, trying not to punch the wall. He hoped they’d win: he didn’t really want to have to patch up the wall.

“Come on,” he sighed. “Let’s wash you off.”

Jet swatted the hand Party raised to their shoulder away. It was barely hurt: they’d all had worse. Still. They needed to bandage it nonetheless.

Kobra sat down on the toilet seat as Party put a rag under the sink water.

“You know,” he started, not really going anywhere with it, but Party interrupted him. 

“I know, Kobes. I know.”

Kobra shrugged, and left them to tend to their wound. Instead, he walked to Jet and The Girl, wanting to check up on the latter. He wished the argument could have taken place without her. It couldn’t have, of course—Party would’ve crashed the car if it had been in the Trans Am—but she didn’t deserve to witness that.

She didn’t look too shaken up, at least. Mostly pensive, like her little brain was working overtime to make sense of what she’d just seen. Maybe confused, if Kobra had to pick a word.

“You alright there, Girlie?” he asked. Jet smiled up at him when The Girl nodded, relieved. “Of course you are,” he added. “We raised a strong girl, didn’t we?”

The Girl laughed, the argument apparently already forgotten. Her expression dimmed shortly after, though, eyes fixed on a point behind Kobra. He looked back to find Party entering the room, crouching next to The Girl.

“Hey Girlie,” they let out, ever so softly. “Can I talk about what happened earlier?”

The Girl nodded, and Party took it as encouragement to keep going.

“Sometimes, people are angry. And angry people do things they shouldn’t do. We all lose control, sometimes. What matters is how we get back up. How we deal with it afterwards. That’s what makes the real difference, alright? M’ sorry, Girlie. I didn’t mean to lose control.”

They hugged her, and she returned the gesture as tight as she could.

Then, she looked at them with those big eyes of hers, and asked, “Why do you not love Ghoul?”

Party was taken aback, but they quickly recovered. “What do you mean? Of course I do, he’s my best friend! What makes you say that?”

She shrugged. “Newsie said you bwoke up.”

Party looked like they’d just choked on air, which, fair enough.

“You know what that means?” Jet wondered aloud.

The Girl shook her head, and Party visibly calmed down. “She said it was ‘when two people don’t love each other anymore.’”

Ah, so that was where that first question had come from.

“Oh, like that,” Party said. “There are different ways to love someone. Kobes and I are siblings, we love each other like family. Just like we love you as a daughter. Then, you have friends. You love your friends, too! It can even be like family, sometimes. Ghoul and I—”

“We were never even together to begin with,” a voice said from behind them. Party’s head turned to the doorframe the quickest, followed closely by the others’. Against the doorframe leaned none other than Ghoul himself.

Chapter Text

“Hold on, hold on, hold on,” Kobra said, disbelieving. “You want to go to a party ?”

To be fair, Ghoul agreed with him. The last week had been hellish and very much not party-like. Ever since the bomb incident, things between him and Party had been worse than ever, and they both knew the rest of the team felt it too.

So why on fuck’s name did Party want to go to a fucking party?

“Guys, I know things have been weird lately but that’s exactly why we should go out and actually interact with people that aren’t the five of us,” they reasoned, and Ghoul probably would’ve sided with them if they didn’t feel like a party would just be so very unpleasant.

Surprisingly, Jet was the one to back Party up. “You know, I think this could be good, for all of us.”

Kobra and Ghoul shot him a look of utter betrayal, but he simply shrugged, unbothered.

“Traitor,” Kobra said without any real heat to it.

“Great, so it’s settled?” Party asked, hopeful, and no matter how much they hated him, Ghoul couldn’t find it in himself to say no.

“Fine,” he drawled. “We can go to your stupid party.”

Party sent him a bright smile and it felt like being punched in the guts. “Really? Thank you so much, Ghoulie!” Then, they seemed to remember that the two of them were going to a rough patch—not that Ghoul fucking knew why —and they sobered up, taking a step back. “Erm. Yeah. Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Kobra coughed and Ghoul glared at him.

“Oh, don't glare,” he said, waving him off. You're a traitor too.”

Ghoul gave him a shit-eating grin. “Sucks to be a no-fun loser!”

Kobra rolled his eyes as Ghoul snorted.

“Wait, when’s that party of yours,” Jet thought to ask.

Party smiled deviantly. “Oh! In four hours. Get ready, bitches!”

“Oh for the fucking Phoenix Witch !” Kobra swore, and left to go grab his coat.

∼

Show Pony had smirked at them when they’d dropped off The Girl at the station. 

Y’all going to the party? , they’d signed, smirking.

“Yeah, want a ride there?” Party had offered.

They’d refused, explaining that they had to fix the radio. Something about interference, but Ghoul was a bit too far to see. He considered offering help, but Show Pony had already taken The Girl in and closed the door.

For the duration of the ride, Ghoul felt as though he might puke. He blamed it on the closed car and the proximity between him and Party. Jet and Kobra had gone on the backseat before he’d had the time to even think of it, so he’d had to sit in the passenger seat and it was killing him. Party was quite literally within hands’ reach but they weren’t even talking and it was driving him crazy. He could feel the tension rolling off him in waves .

“Pretty cold tonight, huh?” Ghoul said, mentally smacking himself because the fucking weather? Really? At least the silence had been broken.

Under his sunglasses—fucking douchebag behavior, if you asked Ghoul. Who the fuck wears sunglasses at night? Kobra, that’s fucking who—Kobra raised an eyebrow, and Ghoul flipped him off.

“You’re cold?” Party asked, momentarily taking their eyes off the road to stare at him with concern. Ghoul had to look away, feeling his face flushing brightly. 

Luckily for him, Jet came to his rescue. “It is a bit chilly. There’s a blanket in the trunk, if you’d like? I think I can reach it.”

Ghoul smiled. “No, that’s okay. Thanks, though.”

“Your loss,” Jet told him as he placed the blanket over himself and Kobra.

The four of them arrived at the party in no time, and Ghoul wasted no time jumping out of the car.

“Well, um. See ya!” he told them before speedwalking away and into the building. 

He pushed through the crowd, trying to calm his beating heart. Destroya, how fucking gone was he that a simple car ride was making him that agitated? He had to fucking get a fucking grip.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” some random ‘joy asked, waggling his eyebrows, and Ghoul might have humored him at some other time, but he was not feeling it.

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” he simply sighed before walking away. Why had he agreed to this stupid party already? Oh, right: ‘cause he was a fucking gay mess, that was why.

He faintly heard the killjoy protest, but he didn’t slow down his pace. He was headed straight for wherever there were the least people. That…  turned out to be some dark corner next to a bunch of killjoys making out.

Destroya end me now , he bitterly thought. At least they weren’t bothering him, so he sat down against the wall and closed his eyes, zoning out for what could’ve been hours. Knowing him, it was probably only a few minutes, but it felt like hours.

What brought him back was a familiar flash of red. Granted, a shitton of killjoys had bright red hair, but Ghoul would recognize that particular shade anywhere.

Party zoomed past him, and Ghoul thought he hadn’t seen him… right until they doubled back, giving him a double take. “Ghoul? Is that you?”

Ghoul looked up, and of course Party knew it was him. He wasn’t even sure why they’d asked in the first place.

“What are you doing down there?” They looked around, spotting the killjoys kissing, and frowned. “It’s depressing.”

Ghoul shrugged. “Yeah, well. It’s silent.”

Party shook their head, and extended a hand. Ghoul almost could’ve fooled himself into thinking the two of them were back to their original state. Almost.

“Come on, we’re getting you out of there. Let’s go dance!”

Ghoul took their hand, and his treacherous face heated up. 

“How’d you even ended up finding me anyway?” Ghoul asked as they walked.

“You know,” Party said, and no, Ghoul really didn’t know. “I just did. ‘S not like I was looking for you.”

Right. Ghoul looked down, unable to meet their eyes. Of course they weren’t. They’d probably been on their way to find food or something.

“No, I know that” Ghoul tucked away a stray strand of hair. “I just thought maybe you were going somewhere.”

Party shook their head, seemingly at a loss for words. “No, I know you know that! Never mind, I—” They sighed, looking down at Ghoul just as he looked up at them.

Time seemed to freeze as they looked into each others’ eyes, and Ghoul had to forcefully break eye contact, dazed. Party cleared their throat and let go of his hand. Ghoul missed the contact.

They resumed walking, eventually reaching the main dance floor.

“M’lady,” Party said, smirking as they offered him their hand once again. Ghoul would be lying if he said he didn’t snatch it right up, fighting the blush creeping on his face.

The beat was pretty strong, though, so Ghoul didn't resent it when Party eventually let go of his hand to dance more energetically. Instead of joining them, he stepped back a bit, content to sway to the beat of the music while he watched his friend dance.

After a while, Party looked over at him, and Ghoul couldn’t find it in himself to look away. He was full on blushing, lovingly smiling at the other killjoy, and absolutely unable to break eye contact.

The lights were hitting their face in all the right ways, making Party look perfect. They always looked perfect in Ghoul’s eyes, but they simply looked… ethereal. Ghoul was so fucking far gone.

But what really struck him was the simplicity of the act. They’d spent the last weeks tearing down the friendship they’d built up over the course of years , but for some reason, this evening felt as though nothing between them had ever changed. Ghoul and Party, Party and Ghoul, tied at the hip.

But things had changed, a voice in the back of his head reminded him. Things had changed, and Ghoul needed to get a fucking grip before he did something he would regret. Tearing his eyes away from Party physically hurt, but it was the right thing to do. It had to be.

Just as he’d looked away, a hand closed around his wrist. His eyes snapped back up. “Party, what?”

Party didn’t say anything, they simply pulled him closer. Then, their lips were on his.

He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know what to do. What?

It was everything and nothing all at once. Why was Party kissing him? They didn’t even like him! What the fuck . Were they drunk? Fucking Destroya, what if they were drunk?

Ghoul abruptly pulled away, eyes wide with concern. “No!” he exclaimed, unsure what else to say. ‘No’, when all he wanted was to say yes and lose himself in the kiss.

The hurt and confusion on Party’s face was unbearable, but he stood his ground. “Are you drunk? You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

Party frowned. “I’m not!”

Ghoul froze, feeling torn. That’s what a drunk person would say! He raked a hand through his hair. The music was too loud, drawing out his thoughts when all he needed to do was think . He shook his head, backing away from Party until he was at what he deemed a safe distance. Then, he spun around and ran away.

Party had had to be drunk, right? There was no way they’d ever kiss Ghoul if they weren’t.

Right?

He wasn’t able to concentrate, couldn’t focus. All he could hear were these incessant they kissed me, they kissed me, fuck, they kissed me, fuck, shit, fuck, they kissed me, and so on.

Ghoul shook his head once again in the hopes of clearing the noise, still running and pushing through the crowd. He’d talk about it in the morning. It was the only way to make sure this wasn’t a huge misunderstanding. In the meantime, he had to stay far, far away from Party or he felt he might just die. Of embarrassment? Of fucking pining? He had no idea but it would kill him, that he was sure of.

What finally stopped his erratic run was a body stepping into his path. Jet, he recognized after. The body was Jet.

“Hey, buddy, what’s up?”

Ghoul looked at him, frantic. They kissed me . “Jet, Jet, I can’t.”

Jet immediately sobered up. “Can’t what? Ghoul, are you okay? What happened?”

Ghoul felt tears prickle his eyes. Not saying anything else, he threw himself in Jet’s arms, heavily shaking as he started to cry full on sobs that just wouldn’t stop as Jet hugged him back.

∼

The sunrays woke Ghoul up, and for a blissful moment, he couldn’t remember where he was, not what had happened the night before. That was until, of course, he opened his eyes to find himself slouched on Jet, surrounded by people he didn’t know.

“Oh, fuck,” he swore, rubbinhg his eyes.

So. That had happened. He unconsciously brought a hand up to his lips. Fuck, he needed to find Party.

He wordlessly stood up, and started tiptoeing over the sleeping bodies.

Where the fuck were they?

It wasn’t long until they spotted them. Similarly to how they’d spotted him a few hours ago, Party was sitting by themself in an isolated corner, already awake. Or maybe still awake, only Destroya knew.

“There you are,” Ghoul whispered, sitting down next to them.

Party shifted away, looking uncomfortable, and Ghoul felt his face flush in embarrassment.

“Can we talk?”

“... About what?”

“Er, about last night?” Ghoul looked down, kicking the little rocks on the floor. “We don’t have to, but—”

“What about last night?” Party interrupted, looking confused.

So Ghoul had been right after all. “Do you not remember it?”

Party laughed awkwardly. “Remember what?”

“ Oh .”

So they had been drunk, and they had no recollection of what had happened. Ghoul didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse in disguise. 

“It’s nothing,” he said as he stood up. “Don’t worry about it, Pois.”

Ghoul could still feel the bittersweet imprint of their lips on his, and he found himself wishing he, too, could forget the last night’s events. At least Party wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath. He would bear that burden for the two of them.

It would hurt. Who was Ghoul kidding, it already did. It would fucking hurt, and it fucking did, but he’d rather Party didn’t know. He wouldn’t want to have to see the pity on their face when they realized how irrevocably in love Ghoul was with them. Worst of all, he didn’t want to see their guilt when they would realize what they’d done, and how much it had hurt him. No, it was best not to bother them with this.

Ghoul thought back to his previous reflection. Blessing, curse. Maybe it was a bit of both, Ghoul thought as he walked away.

Chapter Text

“Jet, I made a fucking mistake,” was the first thing Party said as soon as Ghoul and Kobra had headed out for a walk with The Girl.

Jet sighed. It  was all starting to make sense. Ghoul coming to him crying, and now this? Yeah, he had an inkling what that was about.

“Have you noticed how weird Ghoul’s been acting?”

Just in case, Jet decided to play it safe. He didn’t want to make the situation worse than it already was. “Yeah, but he seems worse ever since the party yesterday.”

It was Party’s turn to sigh. “The party?” Jet nodded, confirming. “Do you think it’s because I kissed him.”

“Do I think it’s because you—wait, what?” Jet exclaimed as the realization caught up to him. “Party, you what ?”

Oh, for the Phoenix Witch’s sake. It all made so much sense. Those idiots had no idea how to communicate.

“I kissed him?”

“YOU KISSED HIM!?” Great, so he hadn’t misheard. Now all Jet had to figure out was where the two of them had gone wrong.

“Yeah? But it freaked him out and he walked away. Jet, dude, I misread the situation so bad. So then this morning when he asked I said I didn’t remember, ‘cause—”

“Again, WHAT?” Destroya, they were so thick.

Party looked down, defeated, and Jet couldn’t believe he had to spell it out for them.

“Party. Party Poison, I love you, but why ?”

“I know, I know. I shouldn’t have kissed him.”

Oh for Destroya’s sake. They had to be kidding. One look at Party told them that they were not, in fact, kidding, but just a fucking idiot.

“No, not that !” Have you even thought that maybe, just maybe , he wanted to kiss you, too?”

Party had the audacity to shake their head. “No, he didn’t, he left! I just assumed….”

“You’ve ghosted him before, Party,” Jet sighed. “Now, I know you thought it was the right thing to do, and Kobra and I are sorry about that, but you have to get where he’s coming from.”

“You and Kobra—you know what, another time,” they decided, waving it away. “But then when I told him I didn’t remember, why didn’t he tell— oh .”

“Yeah, ‘ oh .’ He was scared, dude.  He was scared you would brush him off and you did exactly that. I know you didn’t mean to, but you should talk to him.”

Party smiled, hesitantly. “Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

∼

“Fucking move,” Kobra said, friendly pushing Jet away.

The Girl laughed and Jet rolled his eye. “Should we really be spying on our friends like this?”

Kobra turned to stare at him, unimpressed. “I will look at my sibling be a fucking dumbass if I want to, Jet. Destroya knows we deserve it for the emotional roller coaster they’ve put us through.”

Jet winced. “Eh… to be fair, you started it when you talked to Party. You know I love you, man, but that fucked them up real good.”

Kobra turned his head back to the window, answering after a few moments of silence. “I know. I wanted to talk to them about it, but things kept happening and then it didn’t feel like the right time. In my defense, I don’t think Pois would’ve noticed their feelings—or Ghoul’s, for that matter—if we hadn’t said anything.”

Jet smiled, but The Girl yelled, “Look, look!” before he could add anything else.

Kobra, Jet and The Girl all brought their faces to the window, hoping to sneak a glance at what was happening outside.

“What are they doing?” she asked.

That was when Kobra lost it. Just started laughing in the middle of the diner. “Jet, do you see this shit?”

Once again, Jet rolled his eye, smiling. “Yes, Kobes, I see it. I am looking through the same window as you are.”

“A first kiss in the fucking sunset, how fucking cliche is that?”

“Well, second kiss,” Jet pointed out.

“Yeah… wait, WHAT?”

“They didn’t tell you? I thought Ghoul had told you on the walk you took with him and Girlie!”

Kobra was laughing even harder. “No, he fucking didn’t! He just walked around like a kicked puppy! Aw, man, that’s why he was so down!”

“I still don’t know what they’re doing,” The Girl whined.

Jet looked away from his friends outside and focused on the toddler. “Do you remember when we talked to you about love? We told you there were all kinds of love, didn’t we?”

She nodded, her interest piqued.

“You love your friends, your family, but sometimes, some people love other people differently. It’s not a better kind of love, it’s just different. And if you don’t love others like that, it’s perfectly fine, too! I don’t, and I’m not any broken because of it. Now, for the specifics of that kind of love, well, you’d have to ask Ghoul or Party, yeah?”

Kobra laughed at her confused expression. “You’ll understand when you’re older. I’d tell you it makes more sense, but, really, it doesn’t. Love is pretty messy.”

The poor girl looked lost, and Jet couldn’t hold back laughter. “What’s your favorite color, Girlie?”

“Purple!” she exclaimed, grateful for the familiar words.

“Purple, huh?” Kobra asked, smirking. “What about, say, red?”

The Girl looked torn, and Jet grinned at Kobra. He understood what the other was getting at.

“Love is like that. All different colors of love. Sometimes, a certain person fits a certain category better, like the desert sand is orange. The desert sand couldn’t be green, because that wouldn’t fit it, but green fits the cacti. But just because orange and green are different, doesn’t mean one is better! You can love cacti and green better than sand and orange, but some might not, and that’s okay! Love is different for everyone, but love is equal anyway.”

Jet smiled as he elbowed Kobra. “Wow, who knew you had the poet gene in you?”

Kobra barked out a surprised laugh. “Shut the fuck up.”

The Girl raised big eyes at the two of them. “So what colour is our love?”

Jet tenderly looked at her. “Your favorite color’s purple, eh? Then our love is purple.”

∼

5 years later

“Hey, guys!” Jet greeted as The Girl, Party and Ghoul got back from their errand. The Girl absolutely loved her outings with the two of them. It was mildly concerning, actually. Kobra often joked and said she was starting to act a bit too much like Ghoul. Jet didn’t even want to know what kind of stuff he and Party were showing her. The three of them always smelled a bit like fire and smoke whenever they got back. Jet suspected explosives were more often than not involved.

Time had flown by, Jet thought as he watched the energetic seven year-old walk around the diner.

Time had flown by, but things hadn’t changed at all.

Kobra? Well, Kobra was still a piece of shit, but Jet loved him nonetheless. Still, all those years around The Girl had softened him up. Not that Jet would ever tell him, though. He might’ve softened up, but he could still throw a mean punch. Especially now that The Girl had started karate training with him. He never hurt her, of course, but he’d still gotten way better.

Party and Ghoul were still tied at the hip, maybe even more annoyingly so than before. Their public displays of affection had gotten worse ever since they’d started dating. If you’d asked him if he’d thought it possible five years ago, he definitely would’ve said no, and yet here they all were.

He was happy it had all worked out, though. The month or so before they’d gotten together had been hectic, and Jet was more than grateful he didn’t have to relive anything like that ever again.

As of Jet, well. He’d adapted to the one-eyed life. His shooting wasn’t what it had used to be, but he was recovering and getting better by the day. It was still hard, sometimes, but he had a whole crew behind him.

The Girl hugged him as she hurried to her room, pulling him from his musings. “‘Sup, dad?”

He smiled brightly. His love for her was something that would never ever change. Every day, he thanked the Phoenix Witch for the angel she’d placed in his and the rest of the Fab Four’s path. If he had to do it all again, he wouldn’t change a single thing.

The last few years had been filled with parenting fails and wins, Drac fights and so much more, but, most importantly, they had been filled with love. This was the point where Kobra would tell him to “shut the fuck up, already. Jet, you disgusting old man.” Well, Kobra could say whatever he wanted to: Jet would keep on being cheesy and embarrassing.

“Oh, dad, I almost forgot,” The Girl told him, running back into the kitchen.

“What is it, Girlie?” he inquired. She sounded really excited, and Jet couldn’t help but match her enthusiasm. 

“We found these in Tommy Chow Mein’s shop.” Grinning broadly, she handed him a purple flower bouquet, and Jet could’ve cried. He was already feeling nostalgic; this was the last straw, in the most amazing and pure way possible.

Wrongfully misinterpreting his expression for deception, she faltered. “I know they’re a bit dried up and not that pretty, but they made me think of you.”

“Hey, hey, no. These aren’t sad tears, these are happy tears. It’s a good thing Kobra’s in a booth or he would be laughing his ass off,” Jet told her as he laughed, wiping his eye.

“They’re beautiful,” he added. “Thank you, Girlie.”

“I love you, dad.” Her smile grew bigger, and, mischieviously, she added, “I love you in purple.”

“I love you too, Girlie, I love you in purple, too.”

He would never grow tired of the way The Girl’s face lit up. She tackle-hugged him, and he suppressed a groan. She wasn’t exactly two anymore, but it didn’t matter: he would always hug her back.

“Oh, are you being a fucking sap again?” Kobra called from his booth, and Ghoul cackled.

“Sounds like someone’s jealous,” The Girl sassed, and maybe Kobra was wrong. She wasn’t starting to be like Ghoul, she was becoming a mini-Party. Kobra would probably reply that it was a mix of both due to spending so much time in close quarters with them.

Jet and The Girl shared a look, coming to a silent agreement. Kobra would never know what had hit him. The two of them approached him silently—well, as silently as they could given how loud The Girl was laughing, but Kobra turned a blind ear. 

And just like that, the killjoy was sandwiched between his friend and daughter, and even he couldn’t hide the smile that crept on his face.

“Hey, no fair, I want to be a part of the hug too!” Party protested when they saw the hug was dismantling.

“Of course you do,” Ghoul laughed. The smaller killjoy jumped to his feet, offering Party a hand up. “Shall we, darling?” he asked through another fit of laughter.

“Phoenix Witch, shut the fuck up,” Party replied, unable to hide the treacherous blush on their face, but still taking Ghoul’s extended hand. Jet shook his head, smiling to himself. At least they were happy, no matter how ridiculous they both were.

Kobra fake-gagged, and The Girl was quick to join him. The karate lessons weren’t their only father-daughter bonding activities, after all.

Party and Ghoul wrapped their arms around Jet, Kobra and The Girl, and Jet couldn’t help reminiscing about all the time they’d shared together. They had grown so much, but, at the end of the day, the love between the Fab Four and their daughter was unbreakable.

He still remembered the baby they’d found. He still remembered the toddler they’d raised. And now he was standing here with his closest friends—his family—and the child she’d grown to be. And he couldn’t be happier. That was it, for him. The purest form of accomplishment was, to Jet, being surrounded by those he cared about, and knowing he had their backs in return. 

So no, Jet wouldn’t change anything, not when everything had led to this very instant. No, he wouldn’t change a single thing.