Summary: Turbo drunk at a bar. Felix sort of intervenes.
That Bad
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For what it was worth, Felix had never thought Turbo was that bad.
Even though everyone else said he was "a real asshole," or maybe something a bit worse, Felix had never been one to think too much about things like that.
It was 1986, and Turbo Time was still big. So was Fix-It Felix, and their arcade games sat side by side, like two kings surveying their electronic, bleeping kingdom. Though they'd always been together, Felix and Turbo never had, really.
Felix always waved, because he was polite and a good guy, and sometimes Turbo looked at him. Sometimes he even nodded his head, or grinned as he rushed by. He seemed to race on his feet as much as he did in his car.
So it was a rare moment then, this moment in 1986, for Felix to be in Tappers, and to be tapping Turbo on the shoulder, enquiring in a cautious voice;
"Are you okay, Turbo?"
"That obnoxious little bastard," someone answered for him, "if I could boot him out his own game I'd consider it."
Felix looked round to see a guy dressed in a blue jumpsuit and helmet, every bit a component of Turbo Time, and with the trademark yellow eyes and teeth, seething and glaring only at Turbo.
"C'mon, leave it," another guy, identical in appearance, grabbed his shoulder. "Let's just get out of here. Tomorrow's a new day and all that,"
The other guy grunted, barely convinced, but enough to leave the bar.
Felix felt himself breathing a sigh of relief for whatever reason, then he heard a faint laugh near to him. Oh, that reason.
Felix turned back round to Turbo. "Are you...are you okay?" he tried again.
Turbo's head was rested on the bar, and away from Felix, so Felix could only stare at his white and red helmet, and wonder what his expression might be.
The racer was still laughing, and his shoulders shook with the motion. He turned round slowly, and the first thing Felix noticed was the way his eyes and teeth glared yellow.
There was nothing very pretty about Turbo; he was ghostly at best, zombie-like at worst. But Turbo didn't seem especially vain about it, in fact he seemed to flaunt his yellow grin as if it were his best feature most of time.
The second thing Felix noticed was the pixelated red dripping down his nose.
"Oh, my. Let me fix that-"
It was pretty instinctual by now, and Felix didn't enjoy the sight of blood at the best of times. But the moment he reached out a hand and almost touched Turbo's face, Turbo came to life like a bolt; eyes widening and almost falling back in his chair.
"What're you...Felix? Felix, what're you doing here?" he pretended he hadn't almost fallen over, and like he hadn't been laughing to himself. "Hey, Felix," he added, as a hasty afterthought.
"Hi," Felix said, and slowly moved back into his seat.
He watched Turbo like he might be a firework, about to go off. He wasn't exactly afraid, but he wasn't sure what Turbo was like. What he was really like.
All he really knew was that Turbo had a bloody nose and he'd pissed someone off.
"So," he said, and didn't know what else to say. He wondered, somewhere in the back of his mind, why he really wanted to continue on this conversation. It would only lead to inevitable awkwardness. "Did you get-"
"I'm so drunk," Turbo blurted at the same time.
Felix blinked at him, forgetting his own question.
"Oh, you are?" he pretended to be surprised.
"Yeah," Turbo nodded, and his mouth tugged into a smirk. "I just thought I should tell you. Cos...cos I don't wanna shock you or anything like that..."
Felix raised a brow. "You think I'm so easily offended by this sort of thing?"
Turbo failed at suppressing a laugh. "Well...I dunno. I don't...don't figure you a drinking kinda guy, that's all,"
Felix shook his head, but wasn't offended. Actually it was kind of true. Felix couldn't even remember the last time he'd had a drink. Oh that's right, because he'd been so drunk.
Felix just didn't like not remembering things.
He watched as Turbo hiccupped, jumping in his seat, then he sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. It was still bleeding.
He looked at Felix then with a quizzical face, almost veering on the suspicious. "Are you...did I do something to you?"
"Me?" Felix looked round for a moment, entirely confused. "Erm, no. Why would you?"
"Oh that's good," Turbo sighed, relaxing again. "I thought maybe you were gonna... erm..." he looked Felix up and down, like he was trying to figure something out about him. "...Erm, hammer me to death, maybe."
He laughed then, like a hyena, and Felix smiled uncertainly, not sure whether to worry for himself or Turbo. Perhaps both would be a good idea.
"Hammer you to death?" he repeated slowly.
"Yeah. You know...Fix-It Felix, right? You're the guy...the guy with the hammer."
"Yes, well…that's me. But I promise I don't do anything involving hammering people to death," Felix was kind of alarmed by the idea, but even more so that Turbo might think it.
"Oh, you don't?" Turbo looked pleased by the idea.
"Of course not. Don't you think the clue's in the title? You know, the Fix-it part?"
Turbo narrowed his eyes as he considered this, his drunken state clearly having a severe effect on any logical thoughts that might exist in his mind.
"Yeah, that makes sense," he said at last. He still looked at Felix kind of warily though. "So you're not here to bash my brains in. What're you here for?"
"Um,"
"Wait. Don't tell me, I like to guess!" Turbo brightened, and Felix was reminded of a little kid. Drunk little kid, but still. "You, errr...you came here...to punch my face!"
"I-what, no! Why is everything about violence with you?" Felix frowned. "Anyone would think you were the star of a fighting game, not a race car driver!"
Turbo laughed at that, almost falling out of his seat again. Felix grabbed his arm, and kept him upright.
"Let me try again. Please?" Turbo looked at Felix like a pleading little kid too, and it somehow worked on his ghoulish face.
"Go ahead," Felix smirked. "But then I take you home. Okay?"
It didn't even matter really. Tappers was only a couple of machines away from Turbo Time, and it wasn't like Turbo wouldn't get home okay. Felix just didn't like to wonder, that's all.
"Okay," Turbo said, or more slurred, not thinking about it at all.
His lisp was more pronounced when he was drunk, not that Felix had ever had much time to dwell on it. It made him smile anyway, and he realized he was still holding Turbo's arm. He let go quickly, like it'd been an indecent kind of action.
Turbo didn't seem to notice. He was looking at the ceiling, like he was deep in thought.
"Okay..." he said slowly, and then looked at Felix again. "You're not here to do anything related to kicking my ass. That's right?"
"That is correct,"
"Hmm. You know…I'm, I'm having some trouble figuring this out, I gotta say," He rubbed his head, which happened to be his helmet. "and I think I might puke. All this thinking...it's not good. Felix, you're trouble."
Felix laughed at that. "I'm trouble? If you say so,"
"Real trouble," Turbo nodded, then grimaced with the action. "You should stop moving around, Felix. It's getting really annoying," he put a hand on top of Felix's, as if to hold him still.
It wasn't that personal, because Turbo's hands were gloved, so Felix told himself. But it was enough contact for Turbo to regain some of his senses. And for Felix to feel the heat spread across his hand.
"Oh. That's better," Turbo murmured. "You're still again."
Felix cleared his throat, trying not to feel uncomfortable with the way Turbo's fingers clung to his own like that. "Actually, I'm Fix-It Felix Junior, don't you know."
"...oh, yeah that's right. Your game...has a nifty theme tune too, doesn't it?"
Felix couldn't help but beam with some pride. It was nice when people remembered. "Yep. That's right."
"Hey! Are you here because it's your birthday? And you just wanted to get super wasted?" Turbo looked genuinely hopeful at the prospect.
"Nope. Sorry."
"Aw,"
"Nice guess though," Felix consoled, and felt Turbo's hand move away from his own.
The Racer attempted to get up, but almost fell down; his legs like sticks of jelly.
"okay, I think it's time for home now," Felix said.
"But i still didn't guess why you're here," Turbo protested feebly, and then tried to resist when Felix held his arm and pulled him to his feet. He teetered and then grabbed Felix. "Damn...I hate when the floor does that. It won't stop moving..."
Felix led the way out, and Turbo almost threw up on the track back to Game Central Station, but Felix rubbed his back and managed to distract him.
"Your nose is still bleeding," he said.
"Uh…it is?"
"Yes. I can fix it. I mean, if you want?"
Turbo grinned, and looked dazed. "Sure,"
Felix beamed and pulled out his Magic Hammer.
Turbo giggled at it; "be gentle. It's my first time,"
Felix blushed madly, and sputtered over his words. "What? I didn't mean..."
TUrbo's grin stretched some more, but it was harmless and genuine.
Felix remembered that thing about Turbo's grin being his best feature, and he decided then that it was kind of true.
it was funny how contagious it was too.
"Alright, you little...I don't know what. Just shut up," he raised the Hammer and then tapped Turbo lightly on his nose.
"Ow," Turbo jumped a bit, then touched his nose uncertainly. "It's...well, it's still there. That's good."
"Of course it is," Felix laughed at him. "And it's good as new,"
"Hah...I guess it is," Turbo looked at Felix then, in a way that was kind of like he'd never seen him before, and he was interested and curious. Or maybe this was the first time Turbo had ever really looked at Felix properly anyway.
It sure seemed like it, and for some reason Felix could feel his cheeks heating up.
"Felix, I…"
"Yes?"
"I…" Turbo had hunched forward in his drunken state. His eyes were drooping, along with his head.
"Turbo-"
Suddenly the racer slumped down, passing out with a moan, against Felix's chest.
"oh...um..." Felix didn't know what to do, besides sit and let Turbo's dead weight spread heat over his chest, and wonder vaguely about why he was reluctant to do anything, besides well, let him. "Oh jiminy..." he lightly petted Turbo's helmet head, and sighed unevenly.
The tracks stopped too soon, and then they were in Game Central Station.
"Hey. Wake up. Turbo? Wake up, now," Felix prodded the racer gently a couple of times, and lifted him up.
"Mmhh?"
"We're here. Time to go home."
Turbo rubbed his eyes, disorientated and then irritated.
"Felix...did you...did you punch me out?"
Felix frowned. "Of course not! I fixed you. Now I'm taking you home,"
"Why?" Turbo asked, and sounded genuinely surprised.
"Because I'm crazy, maybe? I really don't know."
Felix really didn't.
"I know why," Turbo said, and rested his head on Felix's shoulder, letting him lead the way.
"Oh? Why then?"
"Cos you're a good guy,"
Felix blinked at Turbo's sleepy face. It was weird how touched he was. Everyone called him a good guy, after all.
"And you're crazy," Turbo added.
"Yeah I think I might be," Felix murmured under his breath, and then stopped.
Turbo looked at him in some confusion.
"We're here," Felix said, and nodded forward.
Turbo Time's terminal was blinking at them, displaying the racer's obnoxious grin as the title screen slid by every few seconds.
"You know, I don't think the pixels do you justice,"
"Huh?" Felix looked at Turbo, who was busily looking at him, wearing a funny sort of smile.
"Your face. I don't think the pixels do your face any kind of justice."
Felix laughed, nervously for some reason. "what are you talking about?"
"I mean you're pretty good lookin for an 8-bit guy," Turbo attempted to straighten up. "You could…you could even be in my league if you put some effort in,"
"Your...league?"
"Yeah, for sure," Turbo shrugged lazily, and his whole body seemed to sink against Felix.
For a second Felix thought he'd passed out again, because of the way his eyes closed. Then he felt warmth on his lips, and it was an urgent sensation. Not even that pleasant, but not unpleasant enough for Felix to want to pull away, or even stop himself from acknowledging the heat growing all over his body.
"Mmfff,"
Once he had acknowledged it, it was over.
He shoved Turbo away from him, and Turbo crashed against the wall, panting and grinning with that familiar obnoxious face, yet there was a flash of surprise there too. There was blood dripping down his mouth.
Felix looked down, and realized his hand was throbbing and curled into a fist. He stretched out his fingers in some horror, and then glanced back at Turbo, who was still grinning at him.
The racer wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "So I was right," he said victoriously. "You did come by to punch me out!"
Felix grimaced and shook his head. "No, that's not true. You just...I didn't mean to do that!"
Turbo laughed, and it echoed hysterically around the deserted Game Central Station.
"That's what they all say," his grin barely faltered, and then he shrugged, carelessly. "I guess I just bring out the worst in people."
He moved away from the wall, not taking his eyes off Felix as he walked toward the Turbo Time terminal. Then he held up a hand and waved.
"Seeya, Felix," he turned and starting walking into the dark.
Felix hesitated, his hand dithering, and then as if it had a mind of its own, waved back.
"Take care, Turbo," his mouth too, for that matter.
Turbo looked over his shoulder, his yellow eyes and teeth the only things visible against the darkness. It might have looked eerie; if not for the way he winked and grinned.
Felix waited until he couldn't see Turbo anymore, and even then he waited a bit longer, like he expected he might come back. He wasn't sure why, it just seemed like the sort of thing Turbo might do.
Well, he didn't come back.
Felix was definitely more relieved than disappointed, but it was strange that he should have any sort of division between the two anyway.
He faintly touched his lips. The whole night had been strange, though.
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When he got back to his own game the penthouse was quiet and everyone was sleeping. It was way too late and Felix was groggy.
He realized, before he fell asleep, that he hadn't even figured out how Turbo had got his bloody nose in the first place.
Then Felix remembered his own aching fist, and the way Turbo's lip had split against it.
There was a pang of guilt in his stomach, because Felix was a good guy.
He wondered if he might get a chance to say sorry again tomorrow. He wondered if Turbo would even remember any of it. Somehow he doubted it.
It was easy to remember the way Turbo had looked at him, like for a tiny moment they might have been friends, or even something else. Maybe they were. And even if Turbo really was that bad, Felix wouldn't have minded.
He liked trying to fix things, after all.
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