14. Punk

14. Punk

Kidd - 18 | Killer - 22

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Killer's struggling with identity issues

and how he fits into the crew

Killer might be slightly agoraphobic|claustrophilic

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

He's not as surprised as he outta be to find Killer dozing in the workshop again. What was part of the captain's quarters had been split down the middle with all the best shiny crap Kidd could fill it with.

The room was now the closest to the scrapheap one could get - sans the smell. Kidd wasn't particularly trying to replicate anything but Killer certainly seemed to gravitate to something in the area.

Or maybe it was just the smallest room right now. Killer had always been uneasy in open spaces. As kids, they'd learn to burrow into many a small cramped places at night for safety and Killer's never really lost that habit.

Today he was tucked in under the desk. Kidd smirked as he moved in another box of odds and ends he'd gathered up. Killer had a perfectly good mattress in his brand new room and yet continued to wedge himself under Kidd's desk to sleep.

Dork Kidd thought fondly. He did try to work quietly though.

After a few minutes, a thought struck him, and he paused to peer down at his new colleague and oldest friend inquisitively. He mulled over the curiosity forming in him mind, tumbled it around.

"Hey Kil?" he prompted, kneeling down by the man. Killer did not move. He was curled in on himself, bangs down around his eyes, chin and nose tucked down into his collar. Kidd touched the rough shirt fabric thoughtfully, before brushing Killer's bangs away.

Killer made a soft little, "hmmm?" but did not wake.

***

There was certainly a ... theme... starting to develop with Kidd's new crew. A lot of fishnet as a fashion statement. A lot more leather then he'd been expecting. He'd thought he might have gone over board with some of the ostentatious prints he'd hoarded in the corner of his wardrobe, but nothing compared to the belts and chains and straps that was clearly his crew's new aesthetic.

But they looked so happy. Some of the get ups were impractical as hell, but that just meant Kidd had to be stronger and better to make sure that he'd be the one taking on any challengers and letting them keep their towering heels and strands of pearls.

Before they knew it the ship was ready to sail. Kidd standing on the deck of the newly christened Victoria Punk.

There was just one thing left...

Before the rest of the crew assembled, Kidd took his box and headed to the quarters of his three commanders. Wire & Heat he had already passed, leaving just one man behind. Good - Kidd wasn't sure how his gift would be received and wasn't sure Killer would want an audience. Once entering, Kidd knocked on the wall once inside, eyeing Killer in amusement.

"Don't laugh at me." The man warned, as serious as a heart attack. Killer had lost his sense of humor after Victoria Prime handed his ass to him a handful of years back.

Kidd held up the box as a peace offering. "I'm sorry." And he was. He could only guess how uncomfortable Killer was in that get up. "You look pitiful."

Killer scowled but Kidd just shook the box for emphasis. "The three of us had a chat. Sorry you weren't invited."

The scowled deepened. One of Killer's problems was he was just too damn emotive. No matter how he tried to hid it, just a glance at his face told you everything you needed to know about his mood. The mop of hair he called bangs could only hide so much, and Kidd was waiting for the day he came out to find Killer replaced by Cousin It.

Killer took the box, glaring at him before opening the lid to.... "Kidd?"

"We wanted everyone to be themselves, Killer. Remember? No more acting or dressing how other people expect us too. And that includes you."

Inside was a soft cashmere sweater, pale blue and cream. Probably the most money any of them had ever spend on a single item, much less for a piece of clothing.

Killer held the sweater, stunned, fingering the soft weave. "Kidd... I don't..."

"If you don't like it - then we'll give it to someone else. But... Kil, don't pretend to be into what every one else in. You don't have to do that anymore. I want you to just be you. Killer. Not someone parading around in today's latest BDSM catalog - which, apparently, is our new signature style - because he thinks he has to to be accepted."

Killer chuckled before pretending to cough to cover it up. Kidd tried not to let his disappointment at that colour his expression. But Killer did slid the garment on, and Kidd smiled when Killer's face lit up at the soft feel, beaming ear to ear in that silly crooked smile of his.