Pairing: Kobra Kid/ Party Poison
Rating: PG-13; rating will very likely go up for later chapters
Warning: Language, Violence, Strong themes
'“So you're not shitting me?” Jet said, mouth agape, “They're really not brothers?”
“No man!” Ghoul exclaimed, and leaned on the doorframe, suddenly with all the superiority of someone who (for once) had all the answers, “They used to hate each other.”'
Disclaimer: This is a fictional story
A/N: Done (really late) for this entry in the Killjoy Kink Meme: 'In the dust verse, Party Poison and Kobra Kid aren't brothers, but for a long time they were enemies/rivals, before they started zonerunning together. Basically I'd love to see a nice showdown between them, followed by equally violent hatesex. Angst is a bonus.' Basically, I realized I hadn't written a Waycest yet, so this is what you get. It's going to be my first official attempt at a chapter-by-chapter story in this fandom, so let's see how it goes! Be patient with me, neither Mikey nor Gerard are actually in this prologue. Funny how that works, ehehe...
Fun Ghoul woke up with a start in pitch darkness, with a feeling of instant intuition so strong, there was no way it was only paranoia. He blinked a few times in the dim atmosphere of the diner's storage-room-turned-bunker, and waited for his eyes to adjust a little. His heart was beating a bit faster, as it always did on nights like tonight, when he knew that they were gone, without even having to look.
He sat up slowly, and the springs of the bare mattress he lay on groaned in the dark.
“Don't bother getting up,” came a voice from below – Jet's. “They're gone.”
Fun Ghoul frowned. He hated Jet Star's penchant for being able to see right through him. Through everyone, really.
“Is Gracie okay?” Ghoul asked after a moment, and his voice cracked with the gravel of weariness.
“Yeah, still safe and sound in the freezer.” Jet replied, and Fun Ghoul blanched slightly. It was always weird hearing one of them mentioning her being in there – he didn't like it much. The abandoned diner's walk-in freezer was busted, which made it the perfect safe-room for the Killjoy's most precious cargo. But whenever Ghoul heard about Gracie being 'in the freezer,' he could automatically only picture the most morbid situations. It was the nature of things to think that way now.
Ghoul rubbed his eyes through his lids, and exhaled steadily. When he opened his eyes again, they had adjusted better to the faint moonlight in the room, filtering in through the diner's back door window, and the thick acidic clouds outside before that. In the light, he saw Jet's bedraggled mass of hair hovering a few inches below the edge of Ghoul's top bunk. Jet Star was looking up at him.
“So?” he asked.
“Should we go after them?” There was a note of exasperation in Jet's voice, like he was just going through the motions by asking.
“What? They always come back. Motherfuckers are always here in the morning, first up to fucking snarf the least expired cans of Powerpup for breakfast. Fuck 'em.”
Jet Star waited to make sure Ghoul was done, then let out a steady breath.
“Even though you're not going to get another wink until they're back?”
“Tch” was all Fun Ghoul had to say. There was a long silence, in which Jet Star got out of bed and went to look out of the grimy circular window in the door to the room.
He had been standing there for several minutes before Ghoul spoke up again, his voice annoyed.
“It's just... where the fuck do they go?” he snapped.
Jet shrugged in the dark, like he expected Ghoul to be able to see.
“To do brotherly things?” he said.
“Bullshit.” Ghoul spat.
“The most brotherly thing I've ever seen the Kid do for Party was bludgeon a Drac's head in for extra long cause the guy burned Party's jacket with a Molotov! And I'm pretty sure Kobra would've done that anyway!”
Jet snorted. “They look out for each other all the time. You know things are different now. What, you expect them to be playing fucking catch outside and tucking each other into bed?”
“I bet they're playing catch alright.”
Jet turned around to regard his fellow Killjoy, a brow raised.
“The hell does that mean?”
Fun Ghoul laughed and leaped deftly off his bed to join Jet by the door.
“I bet Kobra is making Party bite dust out there right now. Or do you guess it's the other way around?” he asked, sounding genuinely thoughtful. Jet's eyes caught a little more light as they got bigger.
“You're kidding, right?” he laughed, “They're fucking brothers, you sick dick.”
“The fuck are you talking about? They're not biological.” Fun Ghoul said, “'Sides, not like it matters. In this place, if I had a brother like Party, I'd be plowing sand with him all night-”
“Your unbelievable depravity aside, what?” Jet interjected. “What do you mean they're not bio?”
For a moment, there was a thick silence. Ghoul seemed to be summing up the sincerity of Jet Star's shock in the dark. In the quiet, Jet thought he heard Grace mumble in her sleep, and then Fun Ghoul turned to look directly at him.
“You mean Party hadn't told you?” he asked, his brows raised so high that they disappeared underneath his dirty mop of inky hair.
“So you're not shitting me?” Jet said, mouth agape, “They're really not brothers?”
Ghoul almost cackled, “Fuck no, how could you possibly have gone this long without knowing?”
“You tell me,” Jet replied faintly. His stomach felt a little hollowed out, with that feeling one gets when they're on the receiving end of a really bad joke that for some reason everyone else finds hilarious.
“No man!” Ghoul exclaimed, and leaned on the doorframe, suddenly with all the superiority of someone who (for once) had all the answers, “They used to hate each other.”
“Guts and all. I'm pretty sure they broke a few of each other's bones.” Ghoul said.
“Jesus.” Jet Star groaned, and then things began to click. “But wait a minute, they already knew each other when they met me, and you. How did they get together?”
Jet saw Fun Ghoul thumb his lower lip in the moonlight, and abruptly, the shorter man turned around and headed for the opposite door, which led to the kitchen.
“Want a warm beer?” Ghoul called over his shoulder as he vanished behind the swinging door. Jet was temporarily stunned by the nonchalance Ghoul had shown in giving him informational blueballs.
“First of all,” he said, when he'd regained some sense, “That diesel swill is not beer, and it is going to fucking drop you before BLI gets the proper chance.”
“And second of all?” came a reply from beyond the door.
“-and second of all, you had better get in here and fucking tell me what I should have known a million fucking years ago!”
“Fine, dustfuck, don't get your Vend'n'Go panties in a knot,” Fun Ghoul said as he walked back in holding two metal tin cups, each full of a liquid that looked like thin honey and smelled like asphaltum. Jet wrinkled his nose as Ghoul handed him one of the cups.
“You're going to want a drink.” Ghoul said, and took a seat on the edge of Kobra Kid's vacant bunk. “I only know whatever Party told me, so if some of this makes no goddamn sense, it's probably because he didn't want me to know something or other.”
And with that precursor, Fun Ghoul recounted Party's vague tale of how he and Kobra Kid (then, just 'Michael') had met and allied. In all truth however, not even Fun Ghoul knew the whole story of how the two had come together. He honestly didn't even know the half of it.