"Hey, Batman is on, you like Batman?" Seth called into the bathroom.  All he heard was some muffled sounds that vaguely resembled Bike's voice, along with the running water.  They'd walked over to the drug store across the street to at least buy a toothbrush and some deodorant and soap for Bike.  He wasn't protesting quite so much, which Seth claimed as a small victory.  "I'll take that as a yes," Seth muttered before continuing to channel-surf.  "No surprise there."  He leaned back against the headboard and crossed his legs.
            "How about baseball?"  The muffled response this time sounded somewhat more enthusiastic, so Seth dropped the remote control beside him on the bed. 

            After a few more moments, Bike emerged from the bathroom, clad in his t-shirt and shorts, his hair wet and rumpled.  He collapsed at the desk in the corner of the room, not even feigning an interest in the game on TV.  Typical.

            "I can't believe you really want to ditch the comic thing," Bike said.  He reached for the cooler, now parked on the desk and freshened with ice from the machine down the hall, and selected a bottle of water.  He set to work unscrewing the cap.  "It sounds kinda awesome."
            "Wanna go?" Seth offered, still watching the game absent-mindedly.

            Bike snorted.  "I gotta get a move on," he said.

            "Why are you going to Texas?" Seth asked carefully, not looking over.  "Seriously."
            There was a long silence as Bike sipped the water.  "I think I can get some work there," he said finally, wiping off his mouth.  "I know a guy."
            "I thought you said you had family."
            "Yeah, kinda.  He was my mom's boyfriend."

            "One of many?" Seth pressed.  Bike shrugged.  "You don't have anywhere else to go?"
            Bike pushed the chair back from the desk, balancing it on two legs.  "If I did, you think I'd be hitching to Austin?"
            Seth raised his eyebrows briefly, conceding this.  "Still-"

            "Look, I'm not arguing about this.  Not with you."  He rocked the chair back and forth absent-mindedly as he screwed the top back on to the water bottle.
            "Are we arguing?  I'm just asking if you have any other options.  It's a simple question."
            "Yeah, and I don't.  I spent the last four weeks thinking about it and not doing much else.  Now I gotta stop thinking and do something.  End of story."
            "Sorry," Seth said, not really meaning it.

            Bike shook his head and brought the chair down to all four legs, rubbing his knee again.  Seth's eyes inadvertently landed on his knee and was surprised to see a massive multicolored mark there.  "Dude.  That's no old football injury."
            Self-consciously, Bike adjusted his position to put the knee out of the way.  "Got hurt."
            "I'll say.  That happen today?"
            "Yeah.  This afternoon."  Bike winced as he shifted position a final time.

            "You want some painkillers or somethin'?"
            Bike shook his head.  "I'll be fine.  Nothing's broken.  I mean, except my bike."

            "What, the wreck happened today?"
            Bike narrowed his eyes.  "Yeah," he said.  "Yeah, more or less."
            Seth decided it might be time to change the topic.  "So tell me, how'd you end up with Dad's cell phone number, anyway?  He doesn't usually give that out to clients, does he?"
            "Dunno.  He said I could call him."

            "I thought he used his work number for that."
            Bike shrugged and sipped the water again.  "I dunno."  He was silent for a few moments, and rather than fill the silence with words like usual, this time, Seth waited.  And after a few more seconds, it paid off.  "My mom was kinda upset about the whole thing, so he gave me that and said to call him."

            "And let me guess," Seth said dryly.  "You didn't."

            "What was he gonna do?" Bike asked suddenly, staring at Seth intensely.  "What was anybody gonna do?"
            "Dude, it would help if I had the first clue what you were talking about," Seth pointed out.

Bike shrugged.  "Doesn't matter, anyway."

            "You know, if Dad gave you that number, he wasn't gonna get mad if you called it."
            "I mean, what do you do with somebody like me?" Bike protested.  Seth felt a little clammy as he spoke.  "I could go to a group home.  Yay.  A residential facility?  Oh, that's fun stuff.  Naw, I'm fine.  I'll get to Austin and then I'll be fine."
            Seth rolled over slightly, so that he was facing Bike directly.  "Maybe he has other options.  You can't know if you don't call."
            "Yeah, well, it's too late now.  I already skipped out on probation.  If I go back, things are just gonna get worse."
            "So you just keep running."
            "Yeah," Bike insisted.  "Sooner or later I'll get far enough away.  And then it won't matter anymore."
            "You sure did a bang-up job of escaping this time.  Hitching a ride with your attorney's kid."
            "There's no need for sarcasm."  He squinted at Seth.

            "Sorry.  Habit.  Look, fate.  Destiny.  Like I was saying.  What are the odds that we ended up together?  Huh?  I mean, don't you think that means something?"

Bike wrinkled his forehead, considering.  "Let me think.  No."

"You have no sense of fun."

Bike stared at him.  "Apparently not.  Does this mean you're not gonna take me to Austin now?"

Seth sighed and stretched back on the bed.  "I'll still take you to Austin.  If that's what you really want."

"Yeah.  It is."
He shrugged.  "Then Austin it is.  Hey, how about a pizza?"

Bike didn't seem to comprehend.  "Pizza?"

"Piz-za," he said, enunciating.  "What do you like on yours?"

            "I d-"

            Seth cut him off.  "You.  Choose."
            After a moment, Bike finally grinned.  Just a little.  "Extra cheese and mushrooms?"
            "You got it," Seth said, reaching for the pizza menu he'd picked up in the lobby.  He picked up the phone and entered the phone number listed on the menu.  "Hey.  Can I place an order for delivery?  Yeah.  Extra-large pizza, extra cheese, and mushrooms.  Hey, what kinda crust do you like?" he asked Bike, cradling the phone on his ear.

            "Thick?" Bike guessed.

            "Rock on.  You are totally my new best friend.  Yeah, thick crust, and we're at the Hilton.  Room 16B.  All right."  He hung up.  "Half an hour."
            "I don't want to be your charity case," Bike said bluntly.  Seth stared at him.

            "Okay," he said at last.  "Then I'll give you my address, and after you get your job, you can send me money to pay for your half of the pizza."
            "Good deal," Bike said, relieved.

            "Or you could just send it to my dad's office," he added.

            "Not funny."
            "I wasn't trying to be."

            Bike shrugged.  "Hard to tell sometimes.  So is anything else on TV?"
            Seth hurled the remote control across the room, and Bike caught it abruptly.

"Yeah, I get it," Bike muttered.  "I have to choose."
            "You got it."
            Bike scrolled through.  "And if I choose, uh, CNBC?"
            "It's all up to you, man."
            "Now who's being too accommodating?"

Bike actually laughed at that before settling the television on a "Punk'd" rerun.  Seth sat up, tucking his legs beneath him as he smiled at Ashton Kutcher's face.  This was definitely more fun than Comic-Con.