A/N: For Batarou week day 2, gen prompt: Moving In.
Hold Me Tight or Don't
He stumbles across Garou completely by accident while on his way home after a fight, halfway lost in the woods.
Digging his phone out of his pocket to pull up the GPS is starting to look like a better and better option when he spots a dilapidated shack. The thing's all falling down, moss-covered with a shattered window and crooked door. Badd is drawn to it – or, rather, it's in the direction he's currently going and he's a little curious – and finds himself peering through the hole in the wall that used to be a window.
That, of course, is when he spots Garou. At that point he's no more than a familiar, bloodied lump of person, but Badd suddenly realizes he'd know him anywhere.
…Which is stupid. (But he can still feel the jabs from those hands if he thinks about it, so maybe not that stupid.)
The typical thing to do would be to move along. This is none of Badd's business, really, and he ought to be getting home to Zenko anyway. He himself is pretty freshly released from the hospital. She'll worry if he's out too late.
The right thing to do would be to call some Hero Association official, or maybe even the police. Dragging Garou back himself would suffice, probably. He's still a wanted monster, right? And Badd happens to be employed as a hero, so it stands to reason he should serve some kinda justice here.
Badd thinks over his options while circling around to the shack's door. It couldn't hurt to get a closer look before he decides. (Besides, if anything goes wrong, he's in much better shape than their first fight, and Garou seems to be in much worse shape.)
The door is loose on its hinges and not latched, so all it takes is a nudge to open – Badd doesn't even have to turn the doorknob and he's in. There is, however, a godawful screeching that comes from the door hinges.
Badd's plan to 'just take a closer look' is foiled by Garou stirring awake at the sound, propping himself up on an elbow and staring Badd down.
"Metal Bat?" The glare on that sharp, bruised face eases into something more curious.
"Uh. Hey?" Badd feels eloquent as ever. What the hell are you supposed to say when you stumble upon the hideout of a guy you only know via a mutual beat-down, anyway?
Garou's eyes narrow. "If you're here for a rematch –"
"No!" Badd isn't sure why he responds with such vehemence. It feels wrong, seeing Garou like this, maybe? All battered and weak, hiding in the woods with dirty bandages and a meager pile of supplies in the corner. The idea of a rematch doesn't cross Badd's mind until Garou suggests it, even. "I was just…passing through."
"Hmph." Straightening his elbow, Garou lies back down. "Go ahead and turn me in then," he says.
The suggestion gets an automatic veto from Badd, not that he'll say that out loud. "You're awful morose, ain't ya?" is what he says instead.
One of Garou's shoulders lifts in a shrug.
For some reason, his blasé attitude both worries and irritates Badd – and then it worries and irritates him that he's worried and irritated over Garou, but. Maybe the big brother instinct in him is stronger than he thinks. That must be it.
Whatever the case, Badd finds himself wandering a couple steps into the uninviting shack, trusty metal bat in tow. "So you're just gonna sit here licking your wounds, then?"
"What else should I do?" It sounds like a rhetorical question, helped along by the way Garou's gaze is fixed on the ceiling.
"I dunno," Badd answers anyway. He thinks about what he'd tell Zenko, if she were the one lying here all discouraged and pathetic. (Though, his little sister is never pathetic.) "Get back up again?"
It's simple advice, really, but Badd lives by it. As a bonus, it frustrates the people against you – he bites his tongue before he can ramble that out, though, trying to deactivate older brother mode. This is Garou.
"Oh, great idea." Garou's eyes roll, and he settles them on Badd. "Why didn't I think of that?"
Badd can feel himself blushing, from probably more than one emotion, but the only one he wants to broadcast is irritation. His fingers tighten around his bat, and he taps it off the ground. "Just…do whatever you want, asshole."
For some reason, Garou gives a deep scowl at that, turning away and onto his side.
"Fine," Badd growls, "stay here and pout 'till you die, then!"
He didn't have to come in here, could've gone on his merry way, and here's Garou, being a dick. Stomping out of the shack, he slams the door behind himself so hard the entire sad excuse for a building shudders.
x
Somehow, he finds himself back there first thing the next morning. He's hesitating in front of the door, shopping bag full of medical supplies dangling from his fingertips.
There is absolutely no reason for him to be here.
It is very much a bad idea.
He kicks open the flimsy door and waltzes in, anyway, because if you're going to make shitty choices, you might as well go all the way.
Garou is sitting up this time, cross-legged on that mat he sleeps on (which looks only marginally better than sleeping on the actual ground). There's a readymade glare on his face; he no doubt sensed Badd's approach.
Frowning, Badd chucks the bag of supplies in the vague direction of Garou's lap. "Here."
Garou lets it bounce off his knee, because of course he does. When it lands, it tips a little, and he reaches out with a single finger to pull aside one of the handles and peer at the contents. There's no thank you from him – just a raised eyebrow and a shifting of the bag into the corner-of-stuff.
"Is that all you wanted?"
Even though his teeth are grinding, Badd can't help but snap out, "Change your bandages already."
"They're fine for a while longer," Garou says with a shrug.
Who does Garou think he's fooling? Badd can tell they haven't been changed in days, long-dried blood visible from where it leaked through a while ago. "They sure as fuck aren't, but okay."
Actually, it's very much not okay, and Badd's feet carry him the whole way into the shack without him willing them to. His hand drops his bat, and his legs even deposit him on his knees at Garou's side. His body is one hell of a traitor.
But…still…
Badd knows he's here because he'd been tormented all night with thoughts like 'what if Garou dies out there and his rotting corpse attracts worse things than him' as his conscience attacked him with guilt over possibly letting someone suffer when he has no real reason not to help.
He knows Garou is a threat – has firsthand experience with it, as a matter of fact – but he doesn't seem like one now, is the problem.
Not to mention, nobody's ever accused Badd of being responsible around danger before.
"Now what are you doing?" Garou asks, eyebrows raised.
Badd snatches up Garou's wrist for starters, picking at the taped edge of the bandage on that arm. Garou is shirtless except for the myriad of wrappings, but Badd thinks he sees a shirt somewhere in the stuff pile. "I'm not livin' with the guilt if you die," he says as he starts to unwind.
A lean, well-muscled arm twitches, but doesn't pull away.
Unwrapping all those bandages takes time and reveals nothing but swollen blacks, blues, and reds. Badd is sure there's more damage than what he can see on the surface, but he already knows he doesn't even have enough antiseptic, let alone more heavy duty supplies. He can't fix all of this. There's like…infection and shit that he's gonna have to cross his fingers and hope heals on its own.
For now, Badd cleans and bandages what he can. Patching up borderline extreme cuts and bruises is something he has plenty of experience with, and he makes quick work of it, all things considered.
All the while Garou is tense under his hands, and Badd is reminded of catching an injured stray cat years ago. She'd been ungrateful at the time, too.
"There," Badd says when he's finished. "Ya shouldn't die now."
"I wasn't dying before."
There's no real bite to the quip, and as Badd gathers up crusty old bandages to shove into the now-empty plastic bag, he can feel Garou's eyes on him. He finds himself eye-to-eye with gold that seems more alert, reminiscent of its original self.
Garou is sitting forward, now, a little smirk spreading across his face that only serves to put a frown on Badd's. "Your nursing leaves something to be desired," he says.
Now, see, that's uncalled for. It's not Badd's fault his hands aren't made for being gentle, thick fingers and all. "Shut it, or else next time I'll just toss this shit through the window." Wait – next time? Badd is implying that he'll come back? What the fuck.
"You'd miss seeing me," Garou says, and he must think an awful lot of himself.
Badd snorts. Sure, he'll miss Garou – like he misses being in the hospital, or like he misses Amai Mask's music when Zenko finally turns it off for the night. "We've only spoken twice, jackass, and I wasn't impressed either time."
"Why are you helping me, then?" Garou's head tilts, like the world's most vicious puppy. A gesture so cute doesn't look right on him. (Wait. Cute?)
"'Cause I got this thing called a conscience."
"My, what a kind heart you have."
That smug look on Garou's face has Badd wanting to smack it away with his bat. His teeth are grinding. "You're shit at flirting," he spits.
"Who says I'm flirting?" Going by the angle of that smirk and the spark in those eyes, though, he is.
"Y'know I think I liked ya better when you were pouting."
x
Badd doesn't go back the next day.
But he does go back the day after that, which is honestly not any better. He brings bandages and everything again, too. He tells himself he doesn't know why he's spending so much time on the world's most high risk charity case, outside of a misplaced sense of heroism.
When he sees Garou, the infamous hero hunter seems well enough to change his own bandages, yet makes no move to do so. Instead he sits back as Badd does it for him. Lazy ass.
Everything looks to be healing well, actually, which is only a relief because it means soon Badd won't have to come here at all. Or, well, feel obligated to come here. He doesn't have to. Do this.
…He accidentally winds up at the shack every day afterwards for almost a week straight. Between Zenko and hero work and the general unrest of daily life he really doesn't have time for this. Plus, Garou is the definition of annoying. And yet.
He's there every day. Pockets somehow laden with bandages and food. It's such bullshit. Feels like playing with a landmine, albeit one that seems safer every time you step on it, until you're sure it's defunct and not gonna blow. (Although, they do almost come to blows more than once.)
Something is starting to feel not-horrible about Garou, and that probably makes him even more dangerous.
For now, Badd ignores that.
It's easy enough to do if he focuses on Garou's skin under his hands – though that doesn't really help matters, per se. Badd just wants to be sure he's healing, that's all! It's not that Garou's body is finely tuned and impressive and Badd is starting to find him bizarrely attractive, or anything.
Anyway. Potential multi-layer inner crisis aside, Badd feels a bit on edge today. Most of the time, Garou offers up at least a weak attempt at banter, but right now, he's back to being sullen and quiet. Badd bites his tongue a dozen times to keep from asking what's wrong.
He works quietly, and quickly, because he can feel an odd tension building in his chest that he doesn't want to think about.
Partway through Badd bandaging his shoulder, Garou heaves a sigh, sagging against the wall of the shack and getting in Badd's way. Hands forced to stop, Badd leaves them hovering there, fingers twitching in irritation as well-wrapped bandages go loose.
"What is it?" This time, Badd bites his tongue too late.
Garou's eyes slide lazily up to stare at him. They look a little glazed. "Hm?" he grunts.
It's Badd's turn to sigh, sharp and quick through his nose. Well, he's already come this far. He pulls his hands back to clench them into fists on his own knees. "What's wrong with you?"
Raising a hand, Garou gestures vaguely up and down his person.
"Nah, not that, dipshit!" Calm down, Badd, calm down. He forces himself to take a deeper breath this time, wondering why he ever bothers. "You're mopin' again."
Both of Garou's eyebrows twitch upwards, but it's weak compared to their usual. "I thought you preferred me this way."
"Well, yeah," no, actually, not really – it kinda hurts Badd's chest, "but today you just seem…." He's at a loss. Words aren't his forte on a good day, and trying to articulate the complicated feelings he hasn't even bothered to pull out and look over yet is impossible. "…Tired," he settles on.
Those dark shadows under Garou's eyes have been steadily growing, after all.
Garou's mouth lifts into what might be a snarl, or maybe a sneer. Whatever it is he doesn't seem to be putting his heart into it. "You try being a fugitive sometime."
Badd wants to argue that since Garou can't go much of anywhere or do much of anything, he should have no reason to be tired. Plenty of resting time and all that. But the words stick in his throat, bogged down by a thousand different implications to what Garou is saying.
The atmosphere in this pocket-sized shack is stifling, all of a sudden. Badd catches himself grinding his teeth again, while Garou stares him down with narrowed golden eyes.
Sympathy and bad ideas are warring in Badd's head; they're on the ground, fist-fighting his common sense.
In the end, he gets up and storms out, leaving Garou to his half-bandaged, slumped-over self.
x
This is stupid.
Such a fucking stupid idea, but Badd has already run the whole way here for it. Looks like he's doing this before his battered common sense picks itself up from where it's all broken and bloody and screaming at him that this is a really stupid idea.
When he yanks open the door to the shack, he nearly pulls it clean off its rusty hinges. For a moment he stands there in the doorway, hand on the doorknob and chest heaving to catch the last of his breath.
Golden eyes peer out of the darkness at him. Why is Garou so creepy?
This confirms he doesn't really sleep, though, because it doesn't seem like Badd's disturbed much. Garou is still slumped against his usual wall, his shoulder bandages still unraveling.
Ah, fuck. Badd's heart squeezes at the sight of him. Stepping out of the doorway, he jerks his head in the direction of the surrounding forest. "C'mon."
Garou stays stubbornly put, continuing to stare.
Badd huffs out a sharp sigh. Nods to the outside again, feeling like a bobble head. "C'mon, Garou."
That long, pointed face scrunches into a scowl. "Where?" But Garou is finally sitting up, at least, pushing himself straighter with one hand as he keeps careful eyes fixed on Badd.
"Out," Badd says shortly, because there's no way he's launching into the whole story.
"Turning me in?"
A single, half-delirious laugh coughs out of Badd's lungs. Yeah, sure, that's what he should be doing. That'd be the smart thing, right? "No," he says, "I'm not, so come on."
Garou is on his feet pretty quick for a guy who looked about fit to collapse at death's door and camp out there half a moment ago. He's right up close to Badd, too, his nose nearly brushing his cheek. "If this is a trap –"
"It ain't, ya ungrateful bastard," Badd snaps, and releases all of his breath on another sigh. "Just…." He gestures vaguely before trudging off into the night.
After a long moment, he hears the near-silent sounds of Garou following him.
Well. He sure is in it now.
Badd's heartbeat is going oddly erratic, and he wills it to calm down. Thoughts about how this could ruin his life circle around others that seem almost excited, but Badd shoves them all aside in favor of traversing his carefully plotted stealth course home.
Because if they're found now he doesn't know what he'll do. Pick a fight, probably. With who is the question, one he can't be assed to answer.
At the back door to his house, Badd's hand fumbles with the key in the lock twice before he gets it in and turned.
"Is this your house?" Garou asks.
Badd throws a, "Shhh!" over his shoulder, because they have neighbors. He hauls the door open, tugs Garou inside, and slams it behind them.
The house is quiet, of course. Badd might be a master of dumb decisions, but at least he doesn't bring them home when Zenko's around. (Or, well, not usually. Tonight she's at a slumber party, so he's in the clear.)
They enter through the kitchen, which Badd is proud to say is in a pristine state. For a while Garou stands where he is, taking everything in.
"This way." Heading into the hall and up the stairs, Badd doesn't bother to check if Garou is tagging along.
Turns out he still is, and Badd is still under the impression that this is a terrible idea – but here he goes, pushing Garou into the bathroom.
"Shower off. You're filthy. There are, uh, bandages and a change of clothes in there already." Because Badd may or may not have been flitting around, setting up bits of preparation in his nervous indecision before making the leap to go and gather Garou.
Garou, all ragged, willowy, and tall, looks out of place in the small, bright bathroom. He opens his mouth like he's about to respond or retort –
–But Badd, at his limit, slams the door.
Yep, no going back now, he thinks as he slumps against the wood at his back. In his hand is still clutched his metal bat, and he eases up on his white-knuckled grip of it.
As he hears the water start up, he lets himself sag toward the floor.
So. Garou is in his house. Garou is presumably naked in his bathroom, even. The hero hunter knows where he lives, and Badd has willingly shown him the way. This is twelve hundred flavors of dangerous. This puts Zenko in harm's way. This is…it's….
It feels right, but also Badd thinks he needs a long ass nap. Honestly, just because Garou had looked a bit sad, Badd had to go and. Bring him home. What in the actual hell.
Pushing himself off of the door, Badd figures he better go set up the couch for sleeping on.
x
"It's for one night, ya got it?"
Garou, his hair drying in a vaguely upwards direction, wearing fresh bandages and Badd's sweatpants loose around his waist, tilts his head to the side. "You're giving me your bed?"
"F-for one night, dammit." Badd can feel himself blushing, and his fingers itch for his bat. He's not sure if he wants to wallop himself or Garou. At this point it doesn't much matter. "I just. I figure ya haven't slept in a proper bed for a while, so…."
That's all the more permission Garou needs, apparently, because he's already crawling in on top of the plush comforter and burying his face in the pillows.
For some reason, that's got Badd feeling all kinds of flustered. Dammit, he doesn't need this right now. Too many feelings and thoughts. So many he's sure his skull will split open, and his brain juice will stain the carpet, which he'll have to scrub.
"Just." Badd swallows as he watches all of Garou's muscles shift and relax. "Don't stick around too long," or do "and don't get used to it," or do.
Garou doesn't respond. His breathing is kinda deep and even, and he's asleep already.
Badd flees the scene.
…And then runs back, tugs the comforter out from under Garou, throws it over him, and promptly flees again.
A/N: So, I rewrote this from scratch after I scrapped my first idea - so if it feels rushed, my bad there.
I feel like Batarou is a ship full of denial, idk. Also I feel like Badd's desire fights his older bro instinct a lot?
Song for this one is HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON'T by Fallout Boy.
Thanks for reading!