Title: steady aim
A/N: For the Perfect Day Zine. I love Shorter, so I had to make something with him.
Summary: Shorter wasn't sure exactly why he liked talking to Ash—the kid had a sharp mouth on a good day. Still, he couldn't deny that even something as simple as shooting cans was fun when they hung out. Now, if only he'd win for once.
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"What are you doing?" Ash asked, crossing his arms and raising a brow. A car rushed by, the wind ruffling his hair and stray strands falling in front of his face.
Shorter chuckled as Ash pushed back his bangs. "You should cut those."
"Like I'm letting anyone near me with scissors." Ash rolled his eyes. Pulling a stray lock, he tugged it down his face to measure how long it was. Displeased by the answer, he scowled as he begrudgingly admitted, "They're getting long."
"They were long a month ago." Shorter snorted derisively, turning back to the metal, green garbage bin. He added another twisted metal can to the row he had already set up. "You can braid it now."
"Maybe I'll get your sister to do it," Ash drawled slowly and Shorter could hear the smirk.
"Only if you want to go bald." Standing back, he counted the cans. Twelve. Good enough. Turning around, he walked back to where Ash stood at the entrance to the alley. Behind him, the daily bustle of New York City screeched and honked to life. The sounds of the city were never lower than a dull roar, a lullaby that Shorter almost entirely blocked out. Standing next to Ash, he pointed a finger gun at the cans. "Whoever hits the most cans wins."
"A shooting contest?" Ash asked, dragging out the word 'contest' till it sounded more like scorn than a question. He cocked his head and looked at Shorter. "Between you and me?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Shorter glared at his friend. Pulling out a switchblade from his sweatshirt's pocket, he twirled it around his finger. It gleamed silver in the morning light, reflecting small squares of sunlight into the dark alley. "You've seen my aim."
"Yeah, I've seen your aim," Ash snorted, pushing his hands into his jean's front pockets. He jerked his chin toward the knife. "You're better off with that. You might even have a chance to win."
Shorter glowered. This was Ash's game, he knew that, but that didn't make it any easier to ignore. Especially when he had that infuriating smirk. "At least I throw in front of me."
A weak point. Ash coloured slightly, the red in his ears the only hint that he was embarrassed. Scowling, he looked away. "That was one time."
"One time more than me." Shorter chuckled, back on even footing. Pocketing his knife, he held out his hand. "I'll go first."
Ash glanced at him, then at the cans. Above them, the clouds lazily drifted over the sun, giving everything a muted feeling. "Don't come crying when you lose."
Now it was his turn to flush a dark red. "Did my sister tell you that? I was a kid!"
"And yet, I never did that." Ash grinned as he pulled out his pistol. It gleamed silver in the morning light, one of the few things Ash actually maintained properly. Spinning the cylinder, he checked it was fully loaded. An unnecessary gesture—Shorter knew Ash was never anything but fully prepared. "And I'll go first."
With little flourish, he raised his arm. In a split second, he took aim and shot the first can. A loud pop and it spun on the bin for a moment before falling over. Smirking, Ash tossed the gun at Shorter. "Your turn."
"Show off." Shorter rolled his eyes, raising the gun. The barrel was still hot from the previous shot, and he frowned as he took aim. Despite his big words, he knew the difference in their skills. He'd be lucky if he managed to hit all six of his cans and got a draw.
Bang! Another can fell backwards and Shorter sighed in relief. One down, five to go. With an easy grin, he handed the gun back. "Better aim than you expected?"
"Any aim is better than I expected," Ash snarked. With a devilish smirk, he rapidly fired two shots, taking down two cans at once.
"Cheater!" Shorter grumbled, grabbing the gun. "It's one at a time."
"If we went at your pace, I'll be as old as you." Ash rolled his eyes. He pulled out his phone, checking the time. "And I have places to be, unlike you."
Ignoring the jab, Shorter glanced at his friend with a raised brow. "Since when were you busy?"
"I'm the leader, I'm always busy." Ash dug his hands in his pockets, looking away when Shorter continued to stare at him. When it was clear Shorter wasn't buying any of it, he mumbled, "An interview. Skip set it up."
"Ohhhhh?" Shorter drawled, a lazy smirk on his face. This was gold. "You a model now?"
"Been there, done that." Ash gestured at the gun. "You gonna shoot, or did you give up?"
"Neither." Biting his lip, his eyes narrowed as he focused on the second can. His finger slowly pulled the trigger as he eased the gun in the right position. Bang! It fell off, just barely. Shorter sighed in relief.
Ash whistled low. "You actually hit two. Impressive."
"Told ya I was good at it." He tossed the gun back. Despite his newfound confidence, his arm felt stiff and he rolled his shoulder to loosen the joint. "Interview for what then?"
"Some Japanese guy wants to know about gangs. Skip's really into it so…" Ash shrugged, firing off two shots again. With a clatter, both cans fell off and the score was six to two. There were worse odds but Shorter was hard pressed to find them.
"You're real soft on him." Holding out his hand for the gun, he frowned when Ash pocketed it instead. "What's the big idea?"
Crossing his arms, Ash sneered, "We already know how this is ending." He raised a haughty brow, an expression Shorter was certain he was born with. "Or do you like suffering?"
"I'm not you, you masochist." Shorter clicked his tongue and buried his hands in his pockets. Unable to refute his friend, he grumbled, "One of these days, you're going to realize you're not as good of a shot as you think you are."
"That'll be the day." With a laugh, Ash sauntered out of the alley. He raised a finger gun, pointing it at the sky. "And somehow I'll still be better than you."
Well. That solved one problem. Shorter knew exactly whose face he was going to tape to all of his target dummies now.