Note: My brain is so crazy, I can't stick with ONE fanfic for the life of me! ARGH! This one popped into my head as I was playing Brawl today. I was looking at Meta Knight and this just popped in and it's going to burst out of me like an alien if I don't do something. It'll probably be at the dinner table too.
"Honey, could you pass the peas?"
"META KNIGHT AND KIRBY 4EVER!"
"O--o"
"Um, I mean, here, Mom. -nervous grin-"
I don't own Kirby or Super Smash Brothers, but I do own the concept for Meta Knight's apartment. I think someone like Meta Knight should have an apartment. It seems fitting. His landlord might think he's crazy, though. XD
Also, I'm calling him "Meta" through most of this fic. I'm sort of warping the concept into a true name. His last name is "Knight" here. Hee hee. :)
I'm also twisting some concepts of his character design, such as when his cape turns into wings? Yeah, in this he just has wings and wears a cape over them. It makes more sense to me.
ONE MORE THING! I'm going by Meta Knight's cute little Zorro voice in the English anime dub, so he'll occasionally (read: often) lapse into Spanish. Spanish Meta Knight :D
I tend to use a lot of other languages in my fics... One had German (with a line or two of French, Italian, and Portuguese...), one has French, and now Spanish. Hmm.
Chapter One
Meta Knight snored loudly on his living room couch, a bottle of what looked like either beer or hopefully cola hung in his left hand. Some inane soap opera was playing on the television (Apparently, Rachel's fiancee, Jacob, was having an affair with her sister Marie, and now Marie is pregnant with Jacob's baby, but Rachel doesn't know yet, but you didn't hear it from Meta.) And, as a final note, he was seemingly only covered by his wings, which stretched around him like some sort of organic blanket.
The doorbell rang, snapping Meta up from his sleep. He dropped the bottle blearily and rolled off the couch, landing on the floor with a thump. He grabbed his mask and shoved it on his face (rather, his body) before tumbling to the door, wrenching it open.
"Hello?" He asked, his voice slurred with sleep.
"Package for Mr. Knight?" The delivery worker tipped his hat and stuck a clipboard in Meta's masked face, who promptly signed the paper and dragged his package inside.
"Who the hell sent me a package?" Meta asked himself. He noticed the box had holes in the top. He flicked out a pair of scissors and cut the top open. He peered inside.
"Kirby?!"
"Hiiiiii!" Kirby jumped out of the box, tackling Meta to the ground in a friendly hug, knocking his mask off and into the other room. "Puyo puyo puyo!"
"Kirby, what are you doing in my box?" Meta asked rather stupidly. Kirby clambered off his usually-armored friend and pointed to the label on the box.
"To Meta Knight, from Kirby's Mum. I hope you of all people can reign in my son." Meta Knight read off the label. "Your mum sent you here?" He asked incredulously.
Kirby grinned widely and waved his arms; it was obvious he was told this was a vacation of some sort.
Now why Kirby's mum would package her son up in a box and mail him to Meta Knight was a mystery, when she could just as easily have just given him a suitcase and sent him over.
They only lived five blocks away.
Kirby's mum really wasn't all that bright, not that he'd ever say anything straight to her face. Behind her back, of course. Truth be told, he didn't like Kirby's mum much. Not after the time she mistook him for a kid in a Halloween costume in the middle of November and chased him away from the house with a broom, screaming, "COME BACK NEXT YEAR, YOU LITTLE CANDY-GRUBBING PUNK!"
Yeah, needless to say, Meta Knight stopped wearing his armor at Kirby's house after that.
Anyway, by now Kirby was toddling off into the kitchen to find something to inhale-- err, eat. Meta followed after him.
"Kirby, no! ¡No coma esto!" Meta shouted, as Kirby tried to suck in a vase that was admittedly pastel colored and to Kirby probably looked like some delicious sugary confection. Kirby put the vase down.
"Puyo?" He asked questioningly.
"Come on, let's find you something better to eat..." Meta hopped up onto his counter and started digging through his cabinets (thinking to himself the whole time 'Why did I rent a place made for someone six feet tall? I'm 2' 4"!' ) He cursed under his breath when all he found was cans of soup and a spider's web.
Meta Knight's eyes widened as the spider crawled up onto his hand. He began jumping around, howling and shaking his hand frantically.
Kirby thought it was all in great fun, of course, and began laughing and clapping along. Finally, Meta shook the spider off, where it landed on the floor and scuttled back into the dark corners of the room. Meta rubbed his hand and shuddered. He hated spiders. Spiders, clowns, and penguins.
"Puyo! Puyo!" Kirby giggled. He hopped up onto the counter and pointed to a can of chicken noodle soup that Meta had bought some time previous and forgotten about.
"Sí, sí, bien... I believe I can give you that for now..." Meta dragged the can down.
Soon Kirby was content sitting on top of the kitchen table with a can of soup in his hand and a spoon in the other, not that he was using it. Kirby was merely sucking the soup out of the can and using the spoon like a makeshift drumstick and banging on the table. Meta sighed and began carrying fragile items up to his closet. He didn't know how long Kirby was going to be in his house, and he wasn't taking chances.
"Este va a ser mucho tiempo..." He mumbled under his breath, "Aquella pequeña pelota de soplo loca va a volverme loco..."
He shook his head.
"Puyo! Puyo puyo puyo!" Kirby called. He looked around, wanting to know where Meta Knight went off to. He hopped off the table and ran around, calling, "Puyoooo! Puyo! Puuuyoooo!" loudly. The neighbors downstairs covered their ears.
"Harold, go upstairs and tell that man to stop yelling so loudly!"
"Yes, dear..." Harold trudged upstairs and knocked on Meta's door. Meta slid down the banister to answer it, shoving his mask back on.
"Puyo!" Kirby said happily and clung to Meta as he opened the door.
"What's going on up here?" Harold asked.
"Sorry for the noise. Kirby here, well... see, he doesn't know much better. He's merely a child-- ¡No coma esto! ¡No coma esto!" Meta pulled a candlestick and holder out of Kirby's mouth. "Stop eating everything in sight, Kirby! Candle wax is bad for you." Meta scolded. "So, anyway, sir, sorry for the noise trouble. Kirby, for God's sake, ¡No coma esto!" Meta Knight pulled something else out of Kirby's jowls.
"Right, well, he seems to be hungry..."
"He just ate! He's always hungry."
"Who... exactly is he?"
Meta balked nervously. Harold was very down to earth. Coming out and saying, "He's a Star Warrior destined to save the planet but he's only just a baby but he's powerful and can suck up anything in sight" wouldn't go down to well.
"He'smynephew." Meta blurted out.
"I... see. Well, have fun babysitting. Try to keep it down, will you?"
"Er... Sí, sí, I will, thank you. Goodbye!" Meta shut the door. He turned back to Kirby.
"Okay, Kirby it is time we laid down a few ground rules. One, stop eating all of my personal objects-- take that out of your mouth, Kirby!" Kirby spat out the hand mirror he was trying to ingest. "Two, keep the loud pollos minimum, ok?" Meta said, using the Spanish word for 'chickens' mistakenly, thinking that's what Kirby kept yelling. After all, pollo and puyo sound the same. "Three, you follow all of my other little rules I come up with along the way, ok?"
"Puyo!"
"Shhh!"
"... Puyo..."
"Good. Now, you seem to still be hungry. I suppose we will have to go grocery shopping at some point. For now," Meta Knight sighed; he knew he was going to regret this, "Feel free to raid the fridge." Kirby's eyes lit up in excitement and he toddled his way to the kitchen.
Meta heard multiple clanks and thuds as Kirby raided the fridge. He slipped off his mask and tossed it over his shoulder onto the couch. He noticed Kirby going for his fridge, and it took him half-a-second to realize the fridge he was going for was far too small to be the one with food in it...
Oh crap! The mini-fridge!
Meta Knight yelled something in Spanish that shocked Kirby away from the fridge. It was fast and unintelligible, and in fact may not have been Spanish at all, but just complete pseudo-Spanish gibberish, shouted out in shock.
"Kirby, stay out of that fridge, ok?"
"Puyo..."
"Good."
"Puyo?"
"'Why?' Because that one's mine, that's why."
"Puyo! Puyo Puyo! Puyo!" Kirby huffed indignantly.
"No, I don't have to learn to share if I don't want to."
"Puyo!"
"Kirby, mini fridge is mine. Okay?"
"Puyo..."
"Kirby, you're not old enough to get into that fridge."
"Puyo, puyo?"
"No, you're not old enough now."
"Puyo?"
"No, not now either!" Meta physically picked up Kirby and plopped him in front of the real fridge before ducking back to his mini-fridge and dragging that to the closet as well.
Warm beer is a small price to pay for not having to explain myself when Kirby gets himself drunk. He thought to himself, locking the closet door firmly. He walked back into the kitchen to find it a complete mess.
Meta sighed. It's going to be a muy largo rato...