Disclaimer: I don't own OK K.O.! Let's be Heroes!
Title: Three's Company, but Four is a Crowd
Summary: K.O. was looking forward to a usual summer with his mom, when suddenly Mr. Gar started hanging out all the time. T.K.O. pestering him doesn't help matters much either- but he gets to build a house, so there's that.
Setting: Time Skip Summer
...
"Mommy, how come Mr. Gar is making us oatmeal?" K.O. whispered as his mother settled in next to him at the kitchen table. He hadn't meant for the man to overhear, but he's never been a good whisperer.
"Oh," Mr. Gar said, sounding embarrassed. "I, uh, I thought it'd be nice to give your mom a break, K.O. Is that- is that okay?"
K.O. glanced at Carol, only to find her staring back at him. He couldn't quite decipher her face, but he thought he saw hope and fear all at once. Did she have a bad dream? "It's more than fine!" he cried, slamming his hands down. "It's amazing!"
A relieved sigh overtook the room. Mr. Gar went back to making oatmeal. Carol took a sip from her mug of coffee. K.O. twiddled his thumbs, trying to make sense of what he was feeling. He hadn't been lying when he said it was amazing- spending any time with Mr. Gar was amazing- but it felt weird for him to be in their home so early. Not to mention in the summer, which had always been deemed as Carol-K.O. time.
K.O. barely tasted his oatmeal. It was gooier than normal, but he didn't complain; Mr. Gar did so many epic hero missions, he probably never had the time to make himself proper oatmeal. Mr. Gar and Carol were talking about adult stuff- work, the news, and other things K.O. didn't really know about. Feeling oddly small, he excused himself to his room.
His bed was still mussed from last night, only getting worse as he hopped on top of the blanket-pillow pile and crossed one leg over his knee, studying his hand. More specifically, the wristband on his arm, the bright red of it. Seeming to come to a realization, K.O. swallowed a big breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was in the mindspace. It was deathly quiet.
"T.K.O.?" he called, standing up. His alter-ego was sprawled out under the punching bag he'd made him, so still he was honestly afraid he was hurt. "Are you okay?"
A loud sigh. T.K.O. rolled over with his typical grumpy scowl. "I'm bored."
"Bored?" K.O. echoed, slumping to the ground. "How can you be bored? You have a punching bag!"
"Yeah, and that's it. It's great for training, but now I'm tired and bored."
K.O. looked around. The more time he spent here, the more and more he realized just how barren it was. T.K.O. was a person like him, wasn't he? Did he really deserve to live in squalor, with just a punching bag for company?
"You know what?" he realized suddenly. "We should make you a house."
T.K.O. sat up, bug-eyed. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah!" K.O scooted closer. "Why not? We can take it a little bit at a time. Mr. Gar and mommy are busy right now, so this is as good a time as ever!"
The boy's eyes narrowed. Something suspicious flickered in his gaze. "Oh. So that's how it is, huh? You're bored too."
"Yup! But in a good way now!" He hauled T.K.O. to his feet. It occurred to K.O. that his alter-ego was being surprisingly lax right now, but chalked it up to wearing himself out on the punching bag. "We should start with clothes! I mean, you don't want to wear the same thing as me forever, do ya?"
T.K.O. glanced down at his vest and white shirt, baffled. "I... never thought about it." The tiniest hint of a toothy smile appeared on his face. "I'd love to ditch these dorky bright colors, though."
"Black, then," K.O. decided. "You want anything in particular on it?"
He shrugged. "Just make it cool and edgy."
K.O. settled on a black short-sleeved t-shirt with a pentagram on the front. He half expected T.K.O. to reject it on the mere principle that it came from him, but instead he eagerly shucked off the vest and undershirt, pulling it over his head without delay.
"Nice," he said. It was all he said about it.
K.O. waddled away from the ocean while holding the waistband of his swim suit, blushing from his toes to the tips of his ears. It was bad enough Carol had seen him with his pants down- it wasn't the first time an errant wave had ripped him of his dignity- but now even his boss had too much info. Something mean inside K.O. whispered that he wouldn't have seen if he hadn't been there in the first place. After all, it was their annual mother-son beach trip.
K.O. skidded to a stop behind some rocks, taking a deep breath. He mentally swatted the anger away as best he could, trying to keep himself together, but instead he found himself falling into the mindspace all together, landing on a bean bag chair he'd made last time. T.K.O. paced in front of him, grumbling vague curses under his breath.
"What was that?" he demanded, thrusting his arms out. The nails were freshly slathered with black nail polish. "You just ran away!"
"I was embarrassed!" K.O. yelped. "Mommy was laughing and Mr. Gar-"
"Gar..." T.K.O. drew the name out like it physically hurt him to say. A lopsided frown took over his features- pouty rather than angry. "Why does he get to come with us everywhere, huh?" He kicked aside a can of paint, not seeming to notice his now sore toes. "This is supposed to be our day!"
K.O. got up in a hurry, gently grabbing his wrists. T.K.O. let out a threatening growl, but didn't pull away. "Listen, T.K.O. Mommy and Mr. Gar are best friends who haven't gotten to talk in years. They're just trying to make up for lost time."
"Is that all we are? Lost time?"
"What? No!" K.O. paused, eyes darting to the floor. "At least, I don't think so."
T.K.O. seemed to realize he'd hit a raw nerve, pulling away. "Whatever. I still don't get why you ran." He held his hands up, sparking with purple energy. "You've got my power now, dingus. Nobody can mess with you."
"Oh. Right." K.O. clenched and loosened his hands. "I forgot."
The alter-ego heaved a long-winded sigh. "You're hopeless."
"You... wanna work on the house s'more?"
"I wanna work on you!" he snapped. T.K.O. grabbed him by the shoulders, leading him over to the punchy bag. "You gotta learn to stand up for yourself, dork, or you'll make both of us look bad."
"I know how to fight," K.O. protested lightly. "I just don't like hurting people."
"Yeah, well," T.K.O. retorted. "They like hurting you."
K.O. cracked open his eyes to find a bowl of spaghetti being shoved in his face. T.K.O. grimaced at the baffled look he sent him, rolling his eyes. "You wiped out, genius. Hit a wall playing with those stupid skates."
"Oh," K.O. said, accepting the food. He was sitting at a quaint little dining table he only vaguely recalled making; it only had one chair, prompting T.K.O. to hop up on a kitchen counter. The K.O.-vision eyeballs fizzed ominously before them both. "Did I get, like, super hurt?"
"Nah. You'll probably wake up in a couple of minutes." T.K.O. made a fist, sparking with electricity. "I could zap you awake, if you're in such a hurry."
He quickly shook his head, shoving a fork's worth of pasta into his maw. "Did I look cool?"
"You looked like a dweeb."
"Aww." He pouted. "Well, I guess it could be worse. Enid and Rad didn't see me flop."
"But Mr. Gar did," T.K.O. pointed out. "What's his deal, anyway?"
K.O. cocked his head to the side. "Whattaya mean?"
"He's over, like, every day."
"Well, yeah. He and mommy are best friends!"
T.K.O. let out a long-suffering groan, smacking himself in the face. "Sure. Whatever. But he's still getting all up in our bee's wax, dude!" He rested his chin on his hand contemplatively. "S'bad enough I gotta watch your dork life all the time- it's only worse when you're all down and mopey."
"I am not mopey!" he cried, pronouncing it mop-e.
"Lemme take him," T.K.O. urged, gesturing to himself. "The old man's gotta pay, K.O. If we don't smack some sense into him, someone else will."
K.O. set the bowl down on the table with an important thunk. "T.K.O., I am not letting you out to wail on my- our boss!"
"You're no fun," he whined, but didn't seem very put out. "Fine. Don't come cryin' to me when he takes mommy away forever."
K.O. gasped. "Mr. Gar would never!"
"Sure. Right." T.K.O. snorted. The alter-ego hopped down so they were eye-to-eye. "Lookit me, K.O. I'm you. I'm part of what you feel. You feel the things I feel. You just don't wanna admit it, so you shove 'em into my head instead." He raised a fist, shaking it for effect. "And while I'm always down to rage-quit annoying life situations, you getting so peed off that you let me out will just end with me getting caged again and you getting in trouble. It's lame."
That's not how it works, K.O. wants to say, because they made a deal, but the words never come. T.K.O. picks him up by the collar of his shirt, face blank. He went willingly, somehow not afraid in spite of the bad situation. His hands were fizzling purple.
"I'm done being your therapist," T.K.O. spat. "Get your crud together already."
There was a painful zapping sensation, and then K.O. was back in the usual world, smelling distinctly of burnt noodles. Carol was leaning over him, pressing kisses to his forehead as he sat up with a quiet groan.
"K.O.?" Mr. Gar wheezed. He looked as frightened as his mother did. "Are you- are you okay?"
"I'm okay," he responded, shaking himself off. "Did you... get some cool action shots?"
"Plenty, Peanut." Carol helped him to his feet. K.O. noticed she held his hand rather tightly. "Come'on, kiddo. I think that's enough fun for the day."
It's not until they get into the car, waving goodbye to Mr. Gar, that K.O. notices the bright purple hue to his wristbands. They lack the usual spikes, but there's no doubting who they actually belong to. K.O. pokes a finger around his mouth and finds the slightest edge of a fang.
Carol turned the radio off as they coast out of the plaza, brow furrowed. "How're you really?"
"I'm okay," K.O. answered. "Really. I just got a little frustrated."
"Aw, honey, nobody gets skating the first few times."
"That's not it." He looked down at his hands, twiddling the thumbs. The bands were quickly brightening back to red. "I know it's selfish, since you and Mr. Gar didn't get to speak for a long time, but... I really liked our mommy-K.O. morning oatmeal, and beach trip, and skating lessons, and..."
They hit a red light. Carol took that moment to reach out and smooth his hair, which was a bit shaggier than normal. "Oh, K.O. I'm so sorry. I should've realized."
Panic fluttered in K.O.'s belly at the guilt on her face. "It's not that Mr. Gar is bad, though! I really like him! He's the second-coolest hero I know!"
"But that doesn't change the facts," she replied, forcing herself to turn back to traffic. "Listen, sweetie. How about we have a movie night, huh? Just the two of us? And maybe re-do our beach trip?"
K.O.'s ears turned red as he recalled the last trip. "That's okay. Really. I'm... really glad you and Mr. Gar are friends again, mommy."
"Me too, sweetie." Carol said, sighing. "Me too."
K.O. didn't see Mr. Gar for almost two weeks after that. During that time he puts the finishing touches on T.K.O.'s house, cutting the arbitrary ribbon with equally arbitrary scissors. His last gift to T.K.O. is a guitar and music book, filled to the brim with the most angst-filled songs he could find.
"Sweeeet," T.K.O. drooled, strumming a few notes. "Maybe this whole summer wasn't a complete waste. I mean, I got a house now, and a sick new hobby."
"That's the spirit!"
"Shaddup."
Mommy asked him multiple times if it was okay for him to come, but K.O. had been the one to insist in the first place. Carol leaned on Mr. Gar's side while Chip Damage saved the world for the fifth time in ten minutes, K.O. shoveling popcorn like it was going out of style. He'd seen the movies before, of course, but that didn't make it any less breathtaking to watch.
For the first time in quite a while, K.O. felt at peace.
Author's Note: I wanted to do the Time Skip Summer in a different light lol, what with T.K.O. getting a house during it and Mr. Gar and Carol hanging out all the time. I imagine there was some cross-sections during all that, as well as some mild concerns on K.O.'s part. After all, if there's one thing we know about K.O., it's that he loves and looks up to his mom.
-Mandaree1