Psycho Chan's Note:There will be many many chapters for me to torture myself with but it's so worth it. Sense it's me thinking of ideas for this plot, there will be drama. I can't live without it. And I'll take this chance to say that most of this story later will be slash. Pure smut. With plot. How often to you get to type up a story with HotStreak as the adorable uke?
Exactly.
Chapter Three: Unwakable Nightmare
The search for HotStreak's cure was agonizing for Richie. He really didn't want to help the man, but it was the right thing to do. And the quicker he found the cure, the sooner they could send Francis to jail. Walking out of an ally, Gear sighs. "Man…having to change in the ally so Francis doesn't figure us out…that sucks." Static silently agrees. "We have to work around him so I can find a cure for someone who's worse now than before…course then the only damage he did before was physical. Now its' emotional." The blonde complains.
"Yeah…you don't have to remind me."
"Still easier to send him to jail."
"Yeah but we're the heroes and technically HotStreak is the victim here."
"You tell me that when he calls you gay or black."
"Hey, I never said we weren't victims too." Static defends himself.
"You have an off sense of good and bad for justice." Static shrugs as Gear opens the door. "Just keep him occupied."
The heroes walk in the Abandoned Gas Station of Solitude, relieved that it still stood. They saw HotStreak still asleep on the couch, still in the ball he fell asleep in.
Gear heads for his station right away. That's too adorable for him.
Static makes his own seat in a chair with wheels. He's not suppose to act adorable…
"He acts like an adorable brat." Richie comments, listening to the red head snore.
"Yes. Yes he does…a bad immature brat." Wheeling himself over to the freezer, Virgil digs into the cold box, pulling out an orange soda. "Hey, you drank all my soda. There's only one orange soda left." Static complains.
"Huh?" Gear look over to see his friend accusing him of something. "I've been busy…" A stack of orange cans catch his attention. By the soda, there was a pyramid of orange soda. Guess he woke up after all.
Static sees it too. "Stupid scrawny HotStreak." Static mutters as he opens the can.
HotStreak suddenly pokes his head up. "I ain't scrawny." The red head sleepily sits up, seeing the last can. "Hey, cen I have that?"
Cradling the soda can, Static keeps away from HotStreak. "No. you drank the rest of them."
"Only a few. It's my favorite."
"It's my favorite too, and this is the last one."
That's when things got freaky weird. As Static tired to defend the last can, he looked into Francis's green eyes. They seemed to widen further, glistening with need. Static could have sworn to God that he saw sparkles and tears in those emerald eyes.
N-no! Don't…you can't…that's not…you can't just….no…that's not…fair…
Static's head hangs in defeat, handing the soda pop out for HotStreak. "Fine." He nearly pouted. "But you owe me."
"Sweet." HotStreak swipes the soda, drinking it quickly.
Gear looked at his masked partner in confusion. "Did you just submit?"
"I have weaknesses…and apparently sparkles, big eyes and almost crying are some of them…" Richie laughed. With friends like Daisy and Frieda, he wasn't surprised. "Oh shut up. At least I can't be bribed with grilled onions."
"Losers." Is heard behind them. They turn to see HotStreak set the last can on the top of the pyramid.
"Well you need our help so whose the loser now?" Static retorts quickly, crossing his arms as he sulked into the chair.
HotStreak angers. "At least I ain't a queer nigger."
"I'm not the queer one in the room. You are. And my skin color isn't exactly something I can change."
"Least I've fucked a woman."
"At least I'm not a man whore."
There is a silence as HotStreak's eyes widened.
Take a cheap shot at my virginity…
Defeated by memories of his past, Francis brings his feet onto the sofa, bringing his knees to his chest, hugging them.
Static stares in confusion. Now what the hell are you doing?
Gear measures some test samples of chemicals, alarmed when the chemicals show acidic tendencies.
Sighing, Static thinks of what to do. Man…this is so not fair on my behalf…He tries an apology. "Look…I'm sorry I called you a man whore…you started it."
HotStreak shoots an evil glare at the hero. "Shove it fucker."
The blonde focuses on neutralizing the acid.
Static growls at the rejection of his apology. Why am I helping you again? Oh yeah…I have morals…damn morals…
Static was angry, HotStreak was depressed, and Gear was so fucking up the unstable acid. Static found comfort in watching Gear mess up, who's eyes light up. Gear was freaking the hell out as the beaker in this hand started to dissolve. Brown eyes look at the struggling hero, to HotStreak, who was almost crying. They traveled back to Gear, to HotStreak, then returned to Gear. Why does he get the easy job?
"Look…I'm sorry." HotStreak ignores him. "At least acknowledge me."
"You don't give a rat's ass about whores…I ain't gonna give a shit about black fuckers like you."
Maybe I should rethink this…
Static sighs, turning his attention to his struggling friend. "How's it going over there Gear?"
"Not Good!" Gear ducks behind the counter, shortly after, the chemicals he was working with burst into a cloud of a pasty gray dust.
Turning away from Gear, who always seems to blow compounds up, Static tries again. He felt bad about Francis and just couldn't turn away. "Look, your not accepting my apology, and you're being an asshole towards me. What do you expect me to do?"
HotStreak continues ignoring the hero.
"HotStreak."
"I didn't say anything!"
Getting off the ground, Gear coughs, swooshing the smoke away.
"You're all pissed off."
"He's always pissed off." Gear muses.
"I know that. But I feel I need to justify myself for some odd reason." Static explains.
"Oh fuck off." HotStreak vents.
"See, that's what I'm talking about."
"You deserve it." HotStreak keeps his angry expression.
"If I deserve it now why were you doing it before?"
"I'm an asshole, remember?" HotStreak remembers being told this by the hero. The heroes don't say a word. "Faggots." HotStreak hisses out in pure anger.
"Bitch." Gear growls, reaching his limit at the man.
Static sighs heavily. "This is working out so well." He responds with sarcasm.
"Fuckers." Static is ignored by both men.
"Asshole."
"Gear, remind me again shy I wanted us to help him?"
"How the hell should I know? Something about us being the good guys." Gear returns to his work, writing out equations for the formula that will bring HotStreak's body back to normal. He is to busy to notice that HotStreak had pressed his face to his knees and actually began to sob. It was the sniffling that got his attention. !? Don't cry-Wait, why are you crying!?
Static sees this too late as well. "D-don't cry. What'd I do now!?" Both teens freak out at the crying rebel.
"Don't cry. We're helping you, just don't cry…"
"C'mon…stop it. Were gonna change you back, just for the love of God don't cry." Static is freaking out more than the lighter skinned teen.
"I'm not cryin'!" Francis screams.
"Yes." Static flinches. "You are."
"NO I'M NOT!" That scream caused the smaller body to light up into a flame, singing the fabric of the couch.
"Okay, okay, you're not crying, just quit burning the couch." Calming down, the red head's fire is put out, however, the air around him remains dry and crisp.
Gear wanted Static to actually go over there and calm the man down, but he wasn't getting the clue. So he settled for something not even Virgil could miss. "Some of these chemicals are heat sensitive Static."
Getting the hint, Static walks over to HotStreak reluctantly. "Please…just stop singing the couch…"
"You act like I'm doin' it on purpose!" HotStreak jerks his body back into the couch in frustration, pulling at this red hair.
"I'm sorry…just try to calm down okay?" Static tries his best. He isn't use to dealing with unstable teenagers. Well, he was, just not this unstable. "Can I get you anything?"
Feeling the stare of the other man, HotStreak looks away. "Fuck off. Don't need yer pity either."
Tough mini cookie…Gear thinks to himself as he starts the new batch of samples to tinker with.
I like the HotStreak that tried to kill me better…he was easier to deal with…
"I'm just trying to help…"
"By callin' me a man whore? Great help you sick fuck."
"You called me a loser and took a cheap shot at my virginity. I get upset too you know."
"Least you're clean and people want you around." Francis's eyes turn that off color again as he looks down at the floorboards.
Static is shaken by the display of sorrow and pain. I'm starting to wish you were just naturally an asshole and didn't have issues…
"You're mean to people…it's just natural for people to not wanna be by people who are cruel to them."
"It's…not my fault…" Francis mumbles under his breath, barely loud enough for the younger man to hear him.
Sitting down next to the red head, Static searches for what to say. "I get that…but you should try to be nicer. People will treat you better if you do and they'll wanna be by you."
"No they don't…they just go easier on you." Francis remembers different tactics in jail. He always would show the other men he was boss. However, he was prone to nightmares, so he rarely slept. He'd just pass out. If he dozed off, sometimes he would cry out in his sleep, and if someone saw that, HotStreak's rep was discarded. No one was afraid of a man who cries in his sleep. If he was kinder to the men, they still abused him. They were just less rough because he didn't fight. Nothing ever worked.
"Not everyone is bad…you can't get through life all alone…"
Not with your life anyway…
"Why should I believe you? You called me a whore for no reason."
"Because he's helping you thought you don't deserve it." Gear states, mixing exact measurements together. Francis growls.
"Because I'm trying to help even though you're not making it easy for me to." Static rewords what Richie probably should have said.
"You're not makin' it easy fer me to trust you."
"Well, I'm sorry."
Gear is not having any luck with stabilizing the new acid. God damn it, that shouldn't of happened…
"I'll try to make it easier for you to trust me." Static sees HotStreak's face soften a bit as he sinks into the back of the couch. The only sound that could be heard were the odd squeaks escaping Gear as he was failing yet another experiment quick, fast, and in a hurry.
Why're being all quiet? Static was unsettled by the thick silence.
He was thankful it was broken though it confused him. "Stop it." Francis speaks slowly as he closes his eyes.
"? Stop what?"
"Actin' like a pussy." The boy says slowly, drifting quickly to sleep.
Gear held in a snicker. Virgil wasn't the one bawling like a baby. I mean, you were crying…
Content by the sleeping figure, Static gazes to Gear. "Any luck over there?"
"I've found two new combinations of theoretically stable compounds that change acidity to dangerous measurements when stirred together."
"So…in other words…no."
"Pretty much." Gear starts over. "I have a few more ideas."
Time went by as Static watched Gear mix chemicals together. He didn't want to look at the red head next to him. He angered him so much. He was so irritating. So frustrating. This was only day two of helping him and Virgil was already thinking Richie was right in just sending the man to jail the way he is.
Then something warm was resting on his arm. Looking, Static sees that Francis was asleep and falling on him. Before Static could catch him, HotStreak slumped into his lap. Not wanting to be used as a pillow, the hero attempts to discreetly slide out from under HotStreak's smaller body. There was a faint groan before HotStreak actually wrapped his arms around Static's slim waist in his sleep, nuzzling the fabric of his black jeans. Static sits back down, blushing furiously at the utter cuteness being displayed. Boy was he uncomfortable here.
Gear sees the faint color change in his friend's dark cheeks. "Are…are you blushing?" he almost shouted.
Static grits his teeth. "I have a face on my crotch."
"It's HotStreak's face. Shouldn't be blushing." Richie enjoys teasing Virgil.
"Go back to melting your beakers and test tubes."
Nodding in humor, Richie moves on with the conversation. "Anyway, I face another problem here Mr. Morals."
"What now?" The torture would not end.
"Do we remove his powers? He has no need for it…we handle meta humans. Remove his powers and we don't have to deal with him anymore…"
"Yeah but he has issues. Shouldn't we be helping him with them instead of making more?"
"He wont' go to the meta human lock down. He'll have his old strength in a human security prison…it's fair…"
Virgil sighs. This shouldn't be such a hard choice. If you had asked him before this, he wouldn't be arguing against it that's for sure. "Yeah but if we get him to trust us maybe we can turn his life around or something…"
"He can turn his won life around if he takes his foot out of his mouth and think for a change."
Before Static can reply to that, the adorable face in his lap nuzzles his warmth, that being the hero's crotch. That blush brightens as Static now wears a violated look on his face. Seeing that look, the other hero bursts out laughing. "Shut it."
The other man is unable to stop his laughter. "You're blushing."
"He's nuzzling my crotch."
The laughter stops, however, the man is now in an uncontrollable fit of giggles.
When Static's eyes actually spark, Gear calms down, coughing slightly as he is now unable to really breath. "You suck Richie."
"No no." The blonde catches his breath. "HotStreak does."
"Not in my lap he doesn't." Static keeps his death glare at his friend. Hearing that, Richie is unable to contain his laughter once more as he collapses on the counter, tears filling his tightly closed eyes as he does so. Virgil is not impressed. "It's times like this that I hate you…"
"I'm not the one blushing" is gasped out from Richie's parted lips.
"You're not the one with a face on your junk either."
Wiping tears, Gear regains his posture. Agreeing with his friends, he shrugs. "At least it's a cute face."
That's not the point.
"And he's asleep so he isn't hitting on you."
"That's one plus."
"Unless you want him too" Richie snickers through a smirk.
"No. I don't."
The snickers continue in a controlled fashion.
I hate you Richie…really…I do…
"It's kinda weird though…" Richie starts. "He was hitting on you yet he hates your skin color…"
"That is weird…why can't he hit on you?"
"Hey…"
"What? It'd make more sense and it'd be easier on me."
"Real funny V." Shaking his head, Gear returns to his work.
With the fiery bang baby sleeping in his lap, Static decides it best to just wait until he wakes up or until he has to leave. After some time, his brown eyes look down at the sleeping figure. HotStreak was just too adorable for his own good. No matter what he did Virgil just could not be mad at him for too long. His small body raised slowly with his shallow breathing. Though his eyes were closed, Virgil could still remember the green color. The fierceness. He also remembered how they keep clouding with pain.
That sleeping expression was just too…endearing.
Then it suddenly changed.
HotStreak's face contorts in fear and pain as he winces, moving in agitation. The man started to rock his body, jerking Static around slightly. Static watched helplessly as the red head's body soared to a hotter temperature and he actually began to sweat.
Uh…what do…I do?
Hesitatingly, Static places a dark hand on HotStreak's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. Almost immediately Francis jerks away with an awkward groan of discomfort. It that didn't work, it was plan B. "Hey" Static shakes the smaller body gently. "Wake up."
Gear looks up in time to see HotStreak's smaller body lunge to the floor shouting "Don't touch me!" The red head falls flat on the floor with a loud thud.
"Bad dream?" Gear asks.
"Guessing so." Static hops off the couch onto the floor to make sure the red head was okay. "HotStreak!"
Startled, Francis jumps up, panting slightly. Almost confused, he wipes the sweat off his face.
"Calm down. You're okay. You were having a bad dream." Static informs the confused 'child'. He felt horrible. Virgil couldn't stomach seeing Francis Stone shooken up like this. "You…okay?" He just had to make sure.
Crawling back up onto the couch, Francis lays down in a lazy slump. "Just peachy." Again, he tucks himself into a ball.
"Hey Static, come here." Gear calls the other hero over.
Listening, Static gets off the floor. "What is it?"
"You know…" Gear starts. "Odd are he was dreaming of something that happened to him before…if we remove his powers instead, we can send him to a place to get help. Then I can change his body back to normal when he is more stable. Everyone is safe and Francis gets better." There is concern in his voice. He didn't like seeing the stronger man like this either.
"That sounds good…you think he'll accept help though?"
"He will if he wants his body back. Besides, they'll make him with medication and therapists and stuff like that. He's borderline on many serious personality disorders."
"Force doesn't seem to work for him." Static sighs. Francis really did need help. "Alright. But maybe we should attempt to talk to him about getting help."
"Thanks for volunteering."
"Thanks for your support." Virgil is not impressed as he watches Gear mix some more chemicals.
"I'm the one who has to make different antidotes and test each one for HotStre-Shit!" Gear stops his mixing, gaping up at the couch. "Where is he?!"
Static turns around to see that the red head wasn't anywhere to be seen. Figured he ran off when he over heard the heroes talking.
"Aw, god damnit!" Static pulls out his disc. "You mix your chemicals and I'll go find him."