Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“So ‘bout that favour we were gonna ask,” Show Pony started.

They had been suspiciously welcoming so far, only rolling their eyes when Poison had gone straight to the fridge to grab an artificially sweet drink as if they owned the place, so the favour in question had to be big. Dr. Death Defying had called Party Poison in specifically, knowing that as the leader of the crew it was their turn to make tough decisions.

They were sitting on the hood of the Trans Am in front of the radio station and Poison was already done with the drink that left their mouth tasting vaguely of cherries, if cherries grew in labs. 

“If Dr. D thinks it’s worth it, we’re in, obviously. What is it? A risky supply run? A rescue mission?”

The sun was already past its highest point, but it was still hot outside. The fabric of their shirt stuck to their back, but Poison was so used to it after all the years in the desert that they hardly noticed anymore.

“None of that, we just have this ‘joy staying with us. Got a nasty hand injury ‘cause he was blowing shit up. Can’t fire a raygun and needs a crew to watch his back for a while. He’s been staying at the station, but …”

“Destroya, Pony, ya should’ve led with that,” Poison interrupted them.

They had already been imagining worst case scenarios: going on a mission they wouldn't come back from; sacrificing themself, or even worse, putting their family at risk. But having another killjoy stay with them wasn't a problem. They had plenty of space at the diner. In fact, they'd done it before, letting people stay with them for a while after they'd first hit the Outer Zones, especially when things at the station got too crowded.

"What happened to his crew? Crows got 'em ghosted?"

Pony shook their head. A little frown was showing on their forehead. Everyone out here had lost loved ones already and it wasn't your place to share what others had gone through.

"Nevermind," Poison said, recognising their mistake.

"Happened ages ago." Pony shrugged. Poison figured that if they wanted to know more, they'd have to ask the 'joy himself.

"Expecting newcomers? Need space?" they changed the topic.

Pony barked out a short laugh. "We’ve got space alright. No one coming in from Bat City as far as I know. But one more day ‘round Ghoul and I’m gonna make him meet the Witch myself.”

Poison chuckled. “He can’t be worse than having Korse on your ass.”

They wanted to say more, but got interrupted by a bang so loud, it instinctively made them reach for their raygun, only to realise it was simply a door being slammed shut soundly enough to alert the BL/ind headquarters.

“I don’t need no fucking babysitter!” someone yelled. “Been mighty damn shiny all by myself these years. If any Crows come after me, I ghost ‘em with my left hand better than anyone out here in the Zones.”

Poison raised their eyebrows at Pony questioningly.

“Listen, Pois, if you take him, I owe you. Big time. Gonna get ya one of these shiny flamethrowers. I know ya always wanted one of these. Or we’ll throw in some fresh fruits for y’all after the next supply run.”

Poison raised their eyebrows even further. They obviously wanted to get rid of that motherfucker badly.

“How long ‘til his injuries heal?”

Pony made a face that looked like they were staring down the barrel of a gun.

“One week. Two weeks max. And he’ll be useful. Not like these newcomers you usually get. Ghoul’s a proper Zone Rat. Might teach you couple ‘a things.”

They were making a good point. The newcomers usually needed protection from themselves, but an experienced ‘joy might turn out to be a helpful addition to their crew. If nothing else, it meant another pair of eyes that could keep watch at night, and another pair of ears to check the radio for incoming news.

“Remember that explosion at the Bli quarters down South a while back? The one they called the Big Bang? T’was Ghoul. Did that all by himself.”

Poison whistled. They remembered sitting in the diner booth and speculating about which crew might have caused the Big Bang. They hadn’t even considered it might have been just one ‘joy all by themself.

“I’m not sure. I don’t like making decisions over Kobes and Jet’s heads,” Poison said anyway. They were just playing hard to get now. If Pony was already willing to put in fresh fruits, Destroya knew what else they’d be offering if they acted coy. And they had always wanted one of those shiny flamethrowers.

Inside, voices were still arguing. Poison had to admit that they were impressed by the ‘joy’s nerve. Most people respected Dr. D far too much to talk back. Moreover at this volume where the entire Zone was able to listen in.

“Don’t be like that.” Pony shoved against their shoulder and Poison turned to flash them a provoking grin. They were facing the entrance of the station that way and were about to voice their doubts once more, when the door flew open and Poison changed their mind instantly.

The ‘joy standing in the doorway was short, but seemed angry enough for three men. He wore a yellow-striped tee that left enough of his arms exposed to show they were covered in tattoos. His right arm, though, was currently in a cast, rendering it practically useless.

He stomped across the porch towards them, a backpack slung over his shoulder. Long, greasy black hair was falling into his face, and as he approached, Poison noticed the large scar running from the corner of his mouth all the way across his cheek. The stitches were large and messy even though they had already healed completely, but that didn’t make the face itself any less handsome. Based on the earlier shouting Poison would have guessed they were dealing with a stubborn teenager, but the ‘joy had left the stage of bad skin and awkwardly mismatched limps behind already. Out here in the desert no one kept count, but Poison guessed he had to be around Kobra’s age. He had large hazel eyes that were currently trying to shoot rays at them.

Poison smiled at him brightly.

“I’m fucking outta here,” he yelled, his words directed at Pony, before his gaze flickered back to Poison. “What's Cherry Bomb's deal?”

“Poison, meet Fun Ghoul,” Pony said. “Ghoul, t’is your new babysitter, the famous Party Poison themself.”

Ghoul looked them up and down and Poison stretched themself on the hood of the Am to show off their body from all the best angles. For Poison, introducing themself to new people usually meant determining whether or not they were interested in fucking them, and in Ghoul’s case, they were more than just a little curious about the answer. That arm had to heal eventually after all and his temper seemed promising, if he saved some of it for the bedroom. Or the diner’s restroom, or the backseat of the Am, Poison wasn’t all that picky.

“Ya looked cleaner on the Wanted posters,” he observed.

Poison pursed their lips. "There ain't time for showering when ya runnin' from the pigs."

“Didn’t know ya could run in pants this tight.”

Poison pulled their leg up onto the hood of the Am, flexing their thigh muscles. Their grin was wide enough to risk splitting their face in two. “I rather think of myself as strutting from the law.”

Ghoul huffed, his lips curling up into a disapproving snarl. Poison liked to think he looked at least a tiny bit flustered though.

They shifted their position again, this time leaning forward, eyes fixed on Ghoul.

“What ‘bout you? Pony told me you’re good with these pretty hands of yours.”

Ghoul looked down as if he needed to check on his hands to make sure those were really the ones Poison was referring too.

“Yeah, if you’ve got a deathwish.” He looked back up at Poison, challenging, angry. Poison didn’t quite understand what he was so angry about. They were trying to lighten the mood.

“Ain’t opposed to a lil’ choking, if that’s whatcha askin’.”

Ghoul frowned even harder. Poison noted him down as potentially interested, which meant he didn’t seem interested in their flirting at all, but that not all hope was lost as long as he hadn’t seen them bend over in short shorts yet.

“Knew you were a pain in Bli’s ass, but thought t’was ‘cause ya messed with ‘em Crows. Not ‘cause you’re just mighty annoying.”

“Oh, honey.” Poison winked at him, not because they still thought it would get them anywhere; it was rather a matter of principle at this point. They had a reputation to uphold in the Zones. “With me it’s always a lil’ bit of both.”

“Ya both are mighty annoying,” Pony chimed in after observing them quietly so far. “A match made by the Phoenix Witch herself. You’ll get along just fine.”

“I already told ya I’m outta here,” Ghoul protested and grabbed the strap of his backpack a little tighter as if he needed to hold on to it to reassure himself of his decision.

“Yeah? Ya gonna walk out into the desert on foot? Unable to fire a raygun properly? Ya blew up your home, Ghoul. You’ve got nowhere to be. You’ve got no crew. Ya need someone to look after your ass, at least ‘til your arm’s healed and ya can look for a new place to hide. Don’t be so fuckin’ stubborn. Ya wanna meet the Witch that badly?”

Poison wanted to reach out and stop Pony, push their hand over their mouth to keep the words from coming out. The truth was too harsh to just throw it into someone’s face like that. They hadn’t been aware that Ghoul had lost everything. That backpack seemed to contain all of his belongings. They suddenly felt that familiar urge to care for someone, keep them safe, even if it was an almost complete stranger. If Poison could, they’d save the entire world.

“Shut it, Pony,” they said quietly, half-expecting Ghoul to start crying. Being reminded you were completely helpless was one of the worst feelings in the world. But his expression had just hardened, the only emotion it betrayed was disdain. He didn’t come up with a snarky remark though.

“Ya sure he can be trusted?” Poison asked. “‘Cause, Pony, y’know I’d risk my life for ya, but I’m not putting my crew in danger. He could be a fucking Crow for all I know.”

“I’m not a fucking Crow,” Ghoul bit out immediately. Poison realised he reminded them of a cornered animal, caught between freezing up and snapping at whoever came too close. It made them feel soft.

“Nah, Ghoul’s a home-grown desert product. He’s one of us. Y’all can trust him. He just needs help.”

Poison exhaled quietly. Dr. D knew full well what he’d done inviting Poison over of all people. They’d never refuse their help to anyone, even when it was stupid.

“Fine, listen up,” they said and turned their attention back to Ghoul. They had dropped the flirty tone and put on their leader voice, the one they used when they couldn’t afford their decisions to get questioned. “Ya come back with me to the diner. We’ll give it a try for two days. If it’s not working out and you still wanna leave, I’m gonna pack ya some Power Pup and take ya wherever ya wanna go in the Am myself. I’ll make sure you have a decent chance of not clapping with any exterminators ‘til your arm’s healed. But if ya can’t take it that long, be my guest and fucking walk out into the desert.”

They swung their arm to point at the open space behind them in a theatrical gesture.

Ghoul eyed them critically for a moment, clearly considering if they meant it. It was a fair and reasonable offer, but Poison hoped they’d convince Ghoul to stay with them until his arm was healed completely. They knew they could be headstrong, but they banked on Jet and The Kid. In a way, both of them were better with people than Poison was. They’d make Ghoul feel welcome.

“Two days?” Ghoul made sure.

“Two days,” Poison confirmed.

Ghoul tightened his grip on the strap of his backpack once more, before he finally nodded.

“Ya owe me,” Poison announced and turned to Pony, pushing themself off the Am.

“Gonna get ya one of these flamethrowers,” Pony promised. “Might take a lil’ while though.”

“How ‘bout a kiss instead?” 

Pony had already established quite early on that this was never going to happen, but for Poison it was, again, a matter of principle. Maybe they were trying to show off in front of Ghoul too, making sure he knew that Poison was a flirt, or a slut, depending on your definition, just so he wouldn’t feel shy to make a move in case the tight jeans did get his attention after all.

“How ‘bout I shoot off your face instead?”

Poison laughed as Pony got off the hood of the Am as well, knowing they didn’t mean it.

“Get in the car, sugar,” they said and nodded towards the Am. Ghoul frowned but stepped towards the passenger door without further protest.

“Say hi to the crew,” Pony added and Poison gave them a short nod. They didn’t want to stick around any longer, knowing that Ghoul might change his mind if they gave him time to think.

Instead they got into the driver's seat, waiting for Ghoul to join them. He dropped the backpack at his feet, creating a loud clattering noise that sounded like he was carrying around metal and wire instead of clothes. Poison hoped he wasn’t going to blow up the Trans Am with whatever was inside that backpack.

“Ready, Ghoulie?” they asked before starting the engine.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” Ghoul snapped.

Out of the corner of their eye Poison could tell that Ghoul looked tense. He had curled up on the seat with his shoulders pulled up as if he tried to shield himself from actual rayfire. Poison wished they could just tell him to relax, but they knew it would probably have the opposite effect on Ghoul.

They sped off into the direction of the diner. Poison wasn’t a good driver, but at least they drove fast. Luckily, there wasn’t a lot of stuff out here in the desert that you could run over. They’d learned driving only after running away from the city.

“You’ll get along with the rest of the crew just fine,” they said, hoping to calm Ghoul’s nerves a little. They for one would feel tense joining a new crew at least, even if it was only temporarily.

“Ain’t nobody askin’ for ya opinion,” Ghoul huffed.

Poison tried not to roll their eyes. The ‘joy really made a conscious effort to be difficult.

“No need to bark at me like you got the rabies,” they mumbled.

They understood that it wasn’t easy to depend on anyone else though. Out here it literally meant putting your life into someone else’s hands. Even then, he’d still be safer with them than on his own, so it couldn’t just be that. Depending on someone else also meant burdening them, eating their food, needing protection while being nearly useless in battle. Maybe that was the issue here.

“We’re not taking charity cases though,” they said, making their voice sound harsh on purpose. “If you wanna stay with us, you gotta contribute. You can’t shoot, but you can keep watch at night like everyone else. Means a couple more hours of sleep for everyone. Teach us how to build one of these shiny bombs you used to blow up the South quarters, if you can’t go on supply runs. You gotta pull your own weight.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Ghoul said and without turning their head, Poison could see that he was starting to relax. His posture already looked straighter, almost proud and no longer like he was trying to hide within himself. “Ya bet your ass I’m gonna pull my own fucking weight.”

Poison suppressed a smirk. Ghoul was staring out the window in silence. They reached down to turn on the radio.

“Destroya, don’t,” Ghoul said. There was still a sharp bite to his voice, but it seemed less aimed at Poison specifically now. “Heard ‘nough of that fucker’s voice lately.”

Poison chuckled but put their hand back on the steering wheel. They loved Dr. D dearly, but admittedly didn’t necessarily want to live with him either.

“Why ya doin’ this?” Ghoul asked rather abruptly. The anger had nearly faded from his tone and he sounded genuinely curious. Poison got the impression that he’d been wondering for a while already without feeling comfortable enough to ask the question yet. “Said so yourself, I could be a Crow for all you knew. Tryna get into Pony’s pants?”

Poison burst out laughing.

“No way they’d let me.” They licked their lips and tried to really think about the answer properly though. “But no ‘joy deserves to be left on their own. That’s what they’re doing in Bat City, what they’re trying to teach you. We gotta be better than them, we gotta keep our compassion. Me and my kid brother, we wouldn’t have made it, if no ‘joys had taken us in. We ran away when we were still kids. I’m from the city, y’know?”

“I can tell.”

The words cut deeper than Poison cared to admit. They liked to think that they had assimilated to the desert quite well over the last decade or so, but of course someone like Ghoul could tell that they weren’t a born Zone Rat, that they weren’t home grown as Pony had called it. Something gave them away, the pattern of their speech, the smoothness of their skin that even out here in the desert heat never seemed to dry out completely.

“And I’d like to think someone would do it again, if I was on my own now.” Poison shook their head immediately, because the words felt like a lie. They never imagined that it would only be them left of their crew. They were the martyr type, not the survivor type. “No, rather, I’d want to know that someone would do the same for Jet and the Kid if I got dusted. You need someone to watch your back.”

Ghoul didn’t reply and Poison didn’t dare to look at him, because it suddenly occurred to them that they might have been insensitive. This was exactly why they didn’t consider themself good with people. Neither Jet nor Kobra would have slipped up like that. Ghoul had been alone for years already as far as they knew.

“Also, I wouldn’t miss a chance to see your pretty face ‘round for a while,” they said in a lighter tone.

They caught Ghoul rubbing his cheek absent-mindedly, right where his scars were.

“Don’t make fun of me,” he asked quietly. Poison wanted to assure him that they meant it, or at least they wanted to keep teasing, but they could tell the difference between annoying someone and making them uncomfortable and it was a line they did not intend to cross.

“So where you’ve been staying ‘til now?” they changed the topic.

“Ol’ factory in Zone 4,” Ghoul said and shrugged. “Blew up the whole place trying out a new fuse though. Came crashing down all ‘round me. Thank the Witch I was smart enough to go into hiding first.”

Poison snorted. “Maybe not so good with your hands after all,” they observed.

“Look at you, Party, all high ‘n mighty, bet ya couldn’t light a fire if I handed ya a box of matches and a gas can.”

“I prefer Poison, actually.” They flicked their tongue. “Party’s only for close friends and people who can’t stand my guts. And I haven’t decided yet which you are.”

“Well, honey,” Ghoul said dryly. “I’m open to a lil’ bit of both.”

Poison burst out laughing. They had the feeling that they might become good friends if only Ghoul gave them a chance.

The diner was already in sight.

“You’re a sharp motherfucker, Ghoulie.” They said it appreciatively.

“Told ya not to fuckin’ call me that,” Ghoul huffed. It was hard to tell if he was actually angry about it or just making a point.

Poison pulled up in front of the gas station and killed the engine so abruptly, they were pressed back into their seats.

“Welcome home, time to meet the crew,” they announced. They noticed that Ghoul hesitated before grabbing his backpack. “I promise, they won’t mind you staying with us.”

They got out of the car first and strutted towards the entrance door of the diner. The others must have spotted the Am from the window, because no one pointed their rayguns at them when they entered.

Jet was working behind the counter and Kobra looked up from where he was polishing his gun in the diner booth.

“You’re back.” Jet sounded relieved. Even though Poison had only been nearby at the radio station, there was always the risk of clapping with some exterminators.

“What did Dr. D want?” Kobra asked straight away. “Got a mission for us?”

“Nah, got us a lil’ present, that’s all,” Poison said and turned to check where Ghoul was at. They held the door open for the ‘joy who came after them almost shyly as if he would have preferred to hide behind Poison’s back. Only now that they were standing directly next to each other did Poison realise just how short Ghoul really was. “Meet Fun Ghoul, everyone. He will be staying with us for a while. At least ‘til his arm is healed. Got himself blasted.”

“Oh, hi, Ghoul.” Kobra looked up again with a short nod.

Poison looked back at Ghoul and saw his shoulders relax visibly. He broke into his first genuine smile.

“Destroya, Kobra, didn’t know you were with the Fabulous Trio, never mentioned that.”

“Shit, yeah, we’re the Venom Siblings. Hate telling ‘joys that I’m Party’s brother though, everyone keeps asking ‘bout them.”

“You know each other?” Poison interrupted. They didn’t know why they were surprised, Kobra knew fucking everybody. They tried not to take offence at how much more relaxed Ghoul seemed all of a sudden.

“Some of us socialise,” Kobra deadpanned.

Poison rolled their eyes very visibly. It was true that they preferred to stick to themself though and make plans instead of getting to know new ‘joys all the time like Kobra.

“Ghoul’s caused the Big Bang,” they said.

“For real? By the Witch, ’s impressive,” Jet said and rounded the counter. Of course he’d make sure to walk up to Ghoul to greet him properly. “Honoured meetin’ ya, Fun Ghoul. I’m Jet Star, but Jet’s ‘nough.”

“Hey,” Ghoul muttered and smiled up at Jet. Poison noticed that his body language seemed more relaxed in his presence as well. Jet had that effect on most people, but they couldn’t shake the feeling that it had something to do with the patch covering up Jet’s missing eye and the way the desert slang rolled off his tongue a bit more naturally. They tried not to feel jealous, but it was quite obvious that Ghoul had recognized Jet as one of his kind where he remained wary towards Poison.

“Ya hungry?” Jet asked. The sun was still up too high for their usual dinner time, but out in the desert, it was common courtesy to offer food to any ‘joy entering your home. It was a gesture of goodwill and Ghoul’s answer would determine whether or not he was willing to accept their hospitality. 

After a short moment of hesitation, he dropped his backpack onto the floor.

“Sure, I could eat,” he agreed. Once again, Poison felt unreasonably envious of Jet and Kobra’s ability to soften Ghoul’s edges so easily. He didn’t seem to feel the need to challenge them at all.

“Make yourselves comfortable, Power Pup comin’ right up,” Jet said and Poison went over to the booth to slump down next to Kobra, leaving the opposite bench to Ghoul to give him space.

“Take the gun off the table, Kobes” Poison scolded and tried to ruffle Kobra’s short hair, who dodged them effortlessly without even looking up. “Is this how I raised ya?”

“Ya taught me to keep my gun close.”

Poison pushed the red raygun towards their brother. “Well, ya ain’t gonna dust our food, I hope.”

It felt as if they were putting on a show for Ghoul, performing their usual sibling banter to reassure him that they were a family and ready to welcome him into it.

“So, what happened?” Kobra asked and nodded towards Ghoul’s cast. “Clapped with ‘em Crows or been stupid?”

Ghoul pulled back his lips into a snarl. It looked cute. Poison tried not to focus on how cute it looked. They should all just focus on getting along.

“Been stupid.” Ghoul didn’t seem to mind Kobra’s straightforwardness. “Blasted my whole place and all my stuff while tinkering ‘bout.”

“No problem, ya can wear whatever you find lying ‘round,” Kobra offered. “We share all of our clothes anyway. If it’s skin-tight, it probably belongs to Pois though.”

“You mean if it’s fashionable,” Poison corrected.

Ghoul shot them a quick glance that Poison couldn’t quite read, but they were interrupted by Jet anyway, who placed four cans of Power Pup and spoons on the table, before he sat down next to Ghoul. He left plenty of space between them, as if instinctively making sure not to corner the ‘joy. Poison wondered if he reminded the others of a scared, feral animal too.

“Enjoy the meal,” Jet said and pushed the first can towards Ghoul, who took it but didn’t move to open it yet. His eyes were watchful and he seemed to wait for them to start eating first, as if it might turn out to be a trap otherwise.

Poison grabbed another can and opened it, starting to spoon the food into their mouth straight away. The best thing you could say about the taste was that you got used to it over time.

“So, where ya from?” Jet started the conversation. He had a calm way of speaking and his voice sounded warm. He always seemed interested in what people had to say, a quality that Poison both admired and envied. They knew they were a good leader, and that people would always respect them for that. They didn’t think they’d be very liked though, if it wasn’t for Jet.

“Zone 4,” Ghoul said and eyed Jet from the side with obvious curiosity. “You from the Zones, ain’t ya? How’d ya end up with the Venoms?”

“Born and raised in Zone 5,” Jet confirmed. “Left my family’s crew a couple years ago. Eventually, you gotta find your own crew. Been friends with Pois and Kobes since we were motorbabies. Felt only natural to join ‘em.”

“Ya folk’s still ‘round?”

Jet nodded. “Still see ‘em now and then. My brothers too. How ‘bout you?”

Ghoul shook his head briefly. “Got ghosted when I was like …” Poison expected him to give his age, but instead Ghoul held his hand up in the air to indicate a certain height. Of course, no one kept track of their age in the Zones. “... like this. Been on my own since then. Staying with different crews now and then if they need a detonator for their missions, but I prefer being on my own.”

His hand was still hovering in the air. Poison tried to estimate how old he’d been when his family had died. Judged by his height, he must have been about ten years old at most. But then Ghoul was rather short, maybe he’d been a bit older already.

Kobra had been ten when they ran from the city and he’d needed to find his way around the Zones. But things had been different for him, because Poison had been there. Poison had nearly been fourteen already, they had watched out for both of them. Ghoul hadn’t had anyone looking out for him. Just the thought of Kobra alone in the desert made Poison’s stomach churn. They wanted to love Ghoul as if they could make it up to him.

They trailed their eyes over him, hoping that no one would notice how much they were staring: The long strands of hair casting shadows over Ghoul’s face, his arched eyebrows, the scars on his face, the biceps showing under his shirt. He had lowered his hand again, trying to open the can, but was struggling to do it with only his left hand. The tattoos on his knuckles, the dirt under his short nails.

There was nothing that made Poison’s knees as weak as a pretty boy who needed fixing. They had to be careful, the need to be tender was already tugging at their ribcage.

“Need me to feed ya, sugar?” they teased and Ghoul looked up with another snarl.

“Careful, Poison,” he warned and the lid of the can finally gave way as if he had opened it with the sheer willpower to spite them. He grabbed a spoon.

“Or what? You gonna stab me with the spoon?”

Ghoul muttered something before shoving a spoonful of Power Pup into his mouth. It sounded a lot like “might try”.

“Anyway, feel free to stay with us as long as ya wanna,” Jet offered, which did seem a little overly generous to Poison. “We’ve got a spare room for guests. Got three rooms back down at the Motel, but I’m sharing with Kobra.”

It was actually all three of them who’d used to share a room, feeling more secure having their loved ones close even at night, but Poison had eventually moved out for the sake of privacy.

“I’ve got my own room, ‘cause I’m the leader,” they said.

“It’s ‘cause they snore,” Kobra corrected dead-seriously.

Ghoul broke into a giggle that seemed to surprise even himself. His eyes flickered over to Poison as if he needed to make sure it was alright for him to laugh. In spite of his carefree attitude he seemed insecure if he was allowed to join their banter.

Poison gave him an encouraging smile to reassure him that they took it in good humour. For the first time, Ghoul smiled back at them in a way that wasn’t outright challenging.

“Thanks, for lettin’ me stay with y’all,” he said. “Promise not to bother for too long. Two weeks max, then I’m outta here.”

Chapter Text

“Put that fuckin’ thing down, or Imma take it from ya and smack ya with it,” Poison threatened.

Watching Ghoul fumble with the raygun was a truly pitiful sight. Admittedly, he had gotten better at shooting with his left hand after a week of putting up empty bottles outside of the diner and blasting them, or trying to. He had missed most of the time, but Poison had still enjoyed watching him. His neck glistened with sweat when the sun shone down on him.

“I’m comin’ with ya,” Ghoul insisted and put his green raygun into its holster.

Poison had known there would be trouble. They’d seen it in Ghoul’s eyes last night when they had announced the plan for today’s supply run. He hadn’t said anything, but he had put on that small frown that meant he had set his mind on something. He wore that same expression every time he lifted his arm to shoot - only to miss the bottle again and again. It was the face of complete stubbornness. Sometimes, Poison felt like looking into a mirror.

“You won’t,” they said, trying to put all of their authority into their voice. They were inside the diner, while Jet and Kobra were loading up the Am. Poison had sent them out, sensing the tension that was building up in the air like a detonation waiting to go off. “You’re gonna stay here with the Kid and you’ll keep your eyes peeled for exterminators while we’re gone like we agreed on.”

“I didn’t agree to nothing,” Ghoul snapped.

The ‘joy had caused them surprisingly little trouble so far. Two days, that had been the deal, but after these two days, nothing had happened. Ghoul simply hadn’t mentioned it and Poison had been tempted - Destroya, had they been tempted - to tease him about his change of heart, but they hadn’t wanted to risk the ‘joy getting all defensive about it and leaving them just to prove a point. It seemed like the kind of stupid thing that Ghoul would do. It was what Poison would have done anyway. In the end, neither of them had brought it up and the week had passed by as if that had been the agreement all along.

Ghoul kept to himself a lot, staying in his room, or training outside. He sneaked around the diner like a shadow, moving quietly as if not getting noticed at all would keep him out of trouble.

He fulfilled his duties without complaining about them though, he kept watch at night and helped Jet with making dinner when it was his turn and there was more to do than just opening cans. Poison had even caught him laughing in the kitchen with Jet a couple of times and he seemed relaxed enough when chatting with Kobra. He kept his distance to Poison, but he wasn’t unfriendly about it either. He definitely liked to talk back when addressed directly, but Poison wasn’t one to shy away from a friendly argument. All in all, they liked having Ghoul around, and not just because it gave them something to look at.

They might be changing their mind about that though.

“I’m not lettin’ your stupid ass put us in danger. You’re staying. Me ‘n Jet will take care of this.”

Ghoul glared up at them. He had to tilt back his head to really look at Poison’s face, which should have made him less intimidating, but he seemed ready to bite. The colour of his vest brought out the green tinge of his hazel eyes. He was still wearing the same clothes he had arrived in, though the shirt had seemingly been washed in the meantime. Both the vest and the pants were still caked with dirt however.

“The Am’s big enough for all of us. We shouldn’t be splitting.”

Poison gritted their teeth. The three of them had used to go off on supply runs together, simply so no one would be left behind in the worst case scenario. But two people drew less attention than four and they weren’t out to cause trouble today. Besides, Ghoul’s right arm was still in its cast, rendering him practically useless in battle. The white cover looked clunky and he held it in front of his body like a shield that could somehow protect him.

“And you should listen to the leader of your crew.”

Ghoul snuffled and for a moment, Poison thought he was going to spit on the floor of the diner, but thankfully he seemed to change his mind at the last second. Jet wouldn’t have been pleased about it otherwise.

“T’is not my fuckin’ crew,” Ghoul said.

Poison found themself running out of patience. Maybe they should have left this conversation up to Jet. He’d probably be able to calm Ghoul down and make him see reason. Poison wasn’t as diplomatic, but they were the leader around here and if nothing else, they needed Ghoul to respect that. 

But their nerves were tense already because of the run. They hadn't planned anything crazy for today, just a quick in and out of the Inner Zones to stock up on stuff they weren't able to get at Tommy's. However, there was always a remaining risk even during the simplest mission. They had to stay sharp instead of allowing Ghoul to get under their skin.

“For the time being, we are. And you can question my authority on pretty much everything, this ain’t a dictatorship. You can complain ‘bout the food or the way I dress all you want. But ya gotta respect the decisions I make as a leader. ‘Cause if you can’t trust that I do whatever’s best for the crew, there’s no place for you here. If ya wanna reason, reason with me. But if ya just wanna sulk, I’ll drop ya off right at Dr. D’s doorstep where I found ya.”

They hoped they hadn’t taken it a step too far with that threat, but they wanted to make it absolutely clear that there were arguments for the sake of arguing in good humour, and the kind of argument that could get them all killed. Poison would not stand for the latter.

“I …” Ghoul started and then broke off with a small hiss like he was a poisonous animal. He exposed his teeth, which were surprisingly white and even. “I can help.”

“You can stay with Kobra and keep watch while we’re gone. That way you'll help. But you’d be of no use on the run. Can’t load the Am if we don’t clap with anyone. And if they get us, ya can’t shoot.”

“I can shoot.” Ghoul reached for his raygun as if he wanted to prove it right here and now by blasting their entire furniture. Jet would definitely not be pleased about that either.

“You can pull the trigger,” Poison corrected. “Doesn’t mean you can hit a target.” Anger was flaring up inside of them, the hot, all-consuming type they usually tried to bury deep down; the anger that made them want to save the world by setting it on fire.

Ghoul’s lips twitched. It was hard to tell if it was with anger, frustration or because he was fighting down tears. The vulnerability on Ghoul’s face should have softened them, but it only spurred Poison on further. They recognized that expression all too well. They wished they could shed their own vulnerability sometimes. They wished they could care a little bit less sometimes.

“I can hit ‘em, if they come close enough,” Ghoul insisted. Even now, he couldn’t let it go. That fucker was stubborn enough to pick a fight with the Phoenix Witch herself.

“They shouldn’t get fuckin’ close enough for ya to shoot ‘em,” Poison said harshly. “They spot us, we run. No place for heroes in the Zones. All the heroes got ghosted during the war.”

Ghoul opened his mouth again to argue, but Poison decided that they’d really had enough by now. They reached out and grabbed Ghoul’s ear, strands of black hair entangling between their fingers. They twisted and Ghoul cried out, trying to slap Poison’s hand away with his left arm.

“C’mon, show me how’d ya fight ‘em pigs,” they challenged, dragging Ghoul past the counter and towards the door leading down to the motel. Ghoul was forced to follow to avoid the pain, but kept wriggling this whole time as if he could just shake off Poison’s vice grip.

“Let fuckin’ go of me, ya fuckin’ bastard,” he swore and Poison couldn’t hide their smug grin entirely. Ghoul tried to scratch them, but his blunt nails had no effect on their leather jacket. He wasn’t quite able to reach their face.

“Gonna lock your bratty ass in the bathroom ‘til we’re back,” Poison announced.

They saw Ghoul’s hand shooting down to his holster, but they didn’t even bother to stop him.

“Whatcha gonna do? Gonna dust me?”

Ghoul growled and it was a sound that seemed to rise from somewhere deep down in his stomach. He stopped struggling though, allowing Poison to drag him along for a couple more steps, before they let go. His ear looked very red peeking out through his dark hair. He reached up to rub it demonstratively.

“Gonna behave now?” Poison asked.

Ghoul stood with his shoulders pulled up, avoiding eye contact. 

They had made it to the corridor of the motel where the doors led to their rooms, so Jet and Kobra would no longer be able to see them through the window. It was cooler back here, thanks to this lack of windows, but the air felt stuffy. The floor was strewn with clothes, most - if not all of them - unwashed. Jet tried to get them to keep order, but the Venom siblings were actively working against him in that regard.

Ghoul didn’t reply.

Poison sighed. Their breath was coming heavily as if they had actually wrestled, although Ghoul hadn’t been much of an opponent. He had definitely managed to kick their leg at some point though; they felt the faint remnants of a throbbing pain in their left calf.

“You gotta calm the fuck down, Ghoul,” they said, suddenly feeling tired. They had a common enemy, they shouldn’t be wasting their energy fighting each other. “It’s safer for everyone if you just stay here.”

Ghoul stared down at his beat up boots, dusty with desert sand like everything out here.

“It’ll be safer for ya if I come,” he said quietly, so quietly that it obviously wasn’t meant as a challenge this time. For whatever stupid reason, Ghoul believed what he was saying.

“Listen,” Poison said with another soundly exhale. They tried to imagine what Jet would say, Jet who was so good with people, and who managed to make Ghoul laugh like the world wasn’t ending. “Chances are nothing is gonna happen at all. But if we clap with any Dracs, you won’t be able to defend yourself. We’d have to watch not only ourselves, but protect you, too. I’m not gonna put Jet’s life at risk just so you can prove a fuckin’ point.”

“That’s not …” Ghoul shook his head so violently, that strands of hair fell into his face. He didn’t bother to brush them back. It made him look feral. “You think of it the wrong way. I’m not of much use, but I can cause some damage. If they get us, I can stall. Shooting at them will slow 'em down, even if I miss. Few extra seconds can make a difference out there. I can help.”

“By what? Sacrificing yourself?” Poison was so startled, that they dropped the desert slang completely. They always felt like they sounded younger when their polished city accent shone through.

Of course they had known Ghoul was stubborn to the point of recklessness, but they hadn’t thought he’d be willing to die, just to prove that he could fucking handle himself and didn’t need anyone else to take care of him.

Ghoul shrugged. He was no longer glaring at them, but he kept avoiding eye contact. It made him look fragile. The scar on his face, the tattoos on his arms that hid even more scars as Poison had figured out by now, all that made him seem like a toy that had been broken and glued back together too many times to still be resilient.

“Wouldn’t you take that? If it meant it increased the chances of Jet getting out? Even just by a tiny bit? Or if it was Kobra?”

Poison felt thrown for a loop.

“Well, fucking no,” they said, but they had to pause briefly to consider if it was actually the truth. What if it was Kobra? But they concluded that they hadn’t been lying. “I’d be a shitty leader if I did. Calculating the worth of a person is Bli’s thing, not ours. Everyone of us matters, that’s the whole fucking point.”

“Destroya, should’ve known the mighty Party Poison was too noble for that.” Ghoul snarled as if he didn’t believe them at all. Poison wanted to grab his hair and force him to tilt back his head to really look at them. There was the fucking anger again. It made Ghoul’s words sound even more ironic to them. Poison wasn’t noble at all. But they were loyal; loyal with a self-destructive fierceness that would make them save every single soul they could.

“I don’t fucking care what you think,” they said. “But I keep my people safe. And if they’d get to you, we’d come back for you. Even if it meant risking our lives. And that’s why you are staying, ‘cause I can’t allow that to happen.”

“Why? Why’d ya risk that for me?” Ghoul spoke sharply again, as if something Poison had said had reignited the anger that kept him together in spite of all the fissures running across his surface. “For someone who doesn’t believe in heroes, you’ve got a mighty saviour complex, y’know that?”

“Pony and Dr. D asked me to take care of you,” Poison clarified. They forced their voice to come out evenly. It was difficult though, when Ghoul chucked all the things at them that Poison didn’t want to hear about themself. “And I’ll keep my promise ‘til your arm’s healed. I might not be your crew, but for the time being, you’re mine. You are my responsibility and I’ll keep you safe. You understand that, detonator?”

Finally Ghoul looked up and something about his expression tore through Poison’s heart like they’d been shot. They could feel it shatter behind their ribcage. They wondered if compassion felt different for people like Jet and Kobra, or Pony, or Cherri Cola. They couldn’t believe that it was such a violent emotion for everyone, or no one would dare to get close to people at all. It was all-consuming.

Ghoul looked young, and he looked lost.

“I understand,” he said. He clearly tried to sound like he wanted Poison to fuck off, but it came out sounding scared. And Poison understood why he had never joined another crew permanently, why he tried to push them away so desperately, and why he wanted to prove to himself that they did not care for him like they cared for each other.

It wasn’t that Ghoul didn’t care. He just cared too much, unable to keep his emotional distance from anyone who showed him kindness, and he was scared, so scared. Poison was quite sure that Ghoul could feel his heart beating behind his ribcage every moment of the day as well.

They assumed that it must have been a long time since anyone had told Ghoul that they would keep him safe. He couldn’t afford to believe that Poison meant it. Because if they did, he couldn’t let them walk out that door.

“We’re coming back, Ghoulie,” Poison said softly.

They wondered about the last time Ghoul had watched someone leave. From what they had gathered from the few stories he’d shared, he sometimes provided explosives to other crews but sent them away after they’d picked up their bombs on his doorstep. He’d also gone on missions with others before, even stayed with them for a couple of weeks while they were planning a certain coup, but had probably sneaked around like a shadow at their hideouts, too, trying to go as unnoticed as possible. Poison doubted though, that he’d waited around for anyone to come back home ever since his family had gotten ghosted.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” Ghoul mumbled and rubbed the back of his hand against his cheek. His fingerless gloves were so dirty, he left stains behind on his face.

Poison tried to fight down the wave of affection threatening to roll over them. And yet they already wanted to decorate Ghoul’s room, so he’d feel more at home; wanted to carve out a place at the diner for him, so he’d never feel alone again.

“And even if we don’t come back, Kobra will be there.” They knew that the others would have left it alone at this point; they would have given Ghoul space. Jet in particular always knew how to de-escalate a situation. He wouldn’t have yelled at Ghoul earlier and he wouldn’t have pushed it now. But Poison was who they were, always too loud, always too much, never knowing when to keep their fucking mouth shut.

“I’d never leave anyone behind on their own.” They realised it was true, that they hadn’t just asked Kobra to stay behind to watch the injured Ghoul, but that they also trusted Ghoul to stick around to look out for their kid brother if anything happened to them. No one would be left behind, not on their watch. “You’d watch out for each other, right? Promise me that you'd take care of Kobra.”

Ghoul turned around, his back on Poison. It was probably meant to look dismissive, but just gave off the impression that he was trying to hide his face.

“Of course I’d take care of the Kid,” he muttered. “Of fuckin’ course. Someone’s gotta do it. That nestling’s completely helpless by himself.”

Poison stared at his back, fighting down the urge to hug him. He looked small. He looked like the smallest boy in the world.

They held back only because they didn’t know how Ghoul would feel about the physical touch. Killjoys were usually touchy with each other, but the detonator had kept his distance so far. Poison wondered if he’d come out to the Am with them, but they didn’t want to ask. ‘Joys didn’t say goodbye.

“See ya later,” Poison said instead and turned around to head back outside. Jet and Kobra had to be waiting already. They probably knew what was going on though. They must have sensed it too, the looming tension in the air.

“Pois?” Ghoul asked. The nickname made them stop short. They turned around again. Even Ghoul's voice was small when he wasn’t yelling. When he was yelling though, his voice was loud enough to wake the dead.

Ghoul had tugged his hair away behind his ear, exposing more of his face. His eyebrows were shaped very evenly, but it was the large eyes that made him look vulnerable. He was looking up at Poison like he was pleading.

“No time for heroes, a’right?” he made sure. “Don’t make us send your mask to the Witch.”

Poison gave him a short nod to indicate they understood what Ghoul wanted to say. He didn’t have to be any clearer than this.

“Keep runnin’.”

Chapter Text

Poison lifted the scissors and focused on Ghoul’s cast right in front of them. They were sitting in the booth of the diner, the table plate felt sticky against their bare lower arms. It hadn’t been wiped in a while.

The cast was covered in colourful little doodles which had mostly been done by Poison. Ghoul had complained about every single one of them, even though it was hard to see why. Most of the pictures weren’t even obscene.

“I’d rather Jet’d be doin’ that,” Ghoul said.

“Don’t be such a motorbaby,” Poison scolded. “Who’d ya think cut out those shiny new patches for your vest, sugar? I know how to scissor.”

“Pretty damn sure that term means something else entirely.”

Poison looked up with a cheeky grin. Bright red streaks of hair were falling into their vision. They’d touched up on the dye only the other day and were quite pleased with the result.

“Yeah? You’re the expert on that now? Why don’t ya show me what it means then?”

Ghoul looked pretty when he blushed. It brought out the colour of his eyes. He’d gotten a bit more responsive to Poison’s flirting over the past couple of weeks, which meant he no longer seemed willing to commit murder instantly but rather looked like he’d prefer to walk out into the desert and dig a hole for himself instead. For someone with such a big mouth, he got flustered easily. Poison thought that to be incredibly cute.

“Leave Ghoul alone,” Jet scolded and nudged Poison’s shoulder. “‘Cause I’m pretty damn sure ya both got the wrong equipment for that anyway.” 

They dropped the scissors and scooted over to create space for him on the bench next to them. It was usually Jet in charge of nursing anyway. Poison wasn’t very good with sharp objects and not very good at calming people down either, if they were being honest.

“Whataya know, I'm a creative mind,” Poison said and leaned back against the window. “Always findin’ creative solutions.”

“One of these days Imma deliver ya to Korse myself,” Jet threatened and picked up the scissors Poison had dropped on the table to get to work on Ghoul’s cast. “Just so I won’t have to hear any more of the stupid shit that comes out of your mouth all day.”

“You’d have my blessings,” Kobra agreed. He was standing next to the booth, leaning over to witness the big moment up close.

The cast should have come off after two weeks and although Poison hadn’t kept track precisely, they were pretty sure that more time had passed already. They’d asked Ghoul about it a couple of times, only to be met with the answer that his arm didn’t feel ‘quite right yet’. Poison hadn’t pushed it, because they’d assumed Ghoul just couldn’t bring himself to leave them yet. He had made himself comfortable by now; had even stolen an old Mad Gear poster from Kobra and put it up in his room above his ratty mattress. Since Poison hoped he’d decide to stick around for a bit longer, they hadn’t pressed. But he had to get rid of the cast eventually and today even Ghoul had seemingly decided that he was fed up with being restricted by it.

“You’d miss me far too much if I was gone,” Poison declared and leaned over, wrapping their arm around Jet’s shoulders. His long hair tickled on their bare skin. Poison held him firmly as they leaned over and placed two wet, sloppy kisses on Jet’s cheek, right below the strap of his eyepatch. Jet grunted, but didn’t try to shove them away either. His skin tasted salty.

“Destroya, Pois, could ya not do that, while Jet’s cutting away at my arm?” Ghoul complained.

Jet had lost his balance a little indeed when Poison had collided into him and the cut in the cast looked slanted and ragged.

“What happened to dusting ‘em Dracs with your left?” Poison teased.

Ghoul put his left hand to good use by flipping them off.

“See,” Poison said in a mock complimentary voice. “Nothin’ wrong with that one, seems to be workin’ just fine.”

“If ya like it so much, why don’t ya shove it up your arse?” 

“Don’t,” Kobra said.

Poison flashed both of them a grin. Ghoul had become much ruder since his arrival at the diner, and he had been rude to begin with. Poison liked to think that it was proof of him growing more comfortable around them though. He seemed less scared that saying the wrong thing might end him up in the desert by himself again.

“Imma not make that joke,” they said and raised their hands as if they wanted to take an oath. “But I want y’all to note that I’m the bigger person for that.”

“They’ll build altars in your honour,” Kobra said dryly. “And praise your self-restriction for generations.”

“We’ll spray it on your gravestone,” Jet agreed, very focused on Ghoul’s cast as if he was performing an extremely difficult task. Poison thought that maybe they shouldn’t have given the scissors to the guy with only one eye. “Here lies Party Poison, who passed up on an innuendo once in their life.”

“And it was my hardest battle yet,” Poison said quite seriously.

“You’re so full of static.” Ghoul snorted.

Poison didn’t dignify that insult with a reply; instead they watched as Jet cut through the last bit of the cast, finally allowing it to fall away to expose Ghoul’s bare arm underneath.

Of course his skin was covered in ink on that side as well; they didn’t know why that even surprised them. Poison couldn’t help but stare at the faces looking back at them. Ghoul lifted his arm hesitantly, touching it as if he needed to make sure it was all in one piece again. His fingers slid up and down his arm, the touch gentle, his short nails black with dirt. His fingers closed around his wrist. The desert heat seemed to get to Poison’s head even inside the diner, because they suddenly felt slightly nauseous. Their mouth was dry.

Jet nudged them with his leg under the table and Poison snapped out of it, looking back up at Ghoul’s face instead of staying focused on his hand that was touching his body, exploring it, stroking and caressing and … Poison really had to stay focused.

“Wanna see if ya can shoot again?” they asked. Fresh air seemed like a great idea right now.

Ghoul gave an indecisive shrug.

“Yeah, you should try that,” Jet agreed, his voice a whole lot warmer and more encouraging than Poison’s.

“If ya hit the bottle on the first try, Imma reward ya with a kiss,” Poison promised. It didn’t have the effect they had hoped for, because Ghoul only shot them a dark look. He didn’t seem quite serious about it, but sadly, he wasn’t blushing either.

“Why don’t ya let me slap your face instead?” he muttered, but got up from the bench. “That’d motivate me far more.”

Poison scoffed. They had to wait for Jet to get out of the booth first before they could leave. They trailed behind the others as they stepped outside, trying to sneak up on Kobra to ruffle his hair, but he dodged them effortlessly as if he had a sixth sense specially to detect Poison.

The air was stuffy and dry outside as well. The atmosphere felt a little less oppressive out in the open at least, but inside the diner it had been somewhat colder, if not by much. Poison was sweating through their shirt anyway. They all were.

Ghoul was standing in his usual spot, where the roof of the gas station cast a shadow to shield him from the bright midday sun. He still looked indecisive. Something in his body language gave that impression, like an itch that made him shift around aimlessly as if he constantly needed to rearrange his limbs. 

Today, he wore a kerchief tied loosely around his neck. He stared at the bottles lined up on a barricade in a short distance. They had been standing there for more than two weeks already. Ghoul hadn’t managed to shoot down a single one so far.

“Waitin’ for the bottles to attack ya first?” Poison shouted.

Ghoul looked over his shoulder shortly to pull a face at them, but then he finally got out his green raygun.

He aimed at the bottles and, the Witch curse them, he looked good doing it. His posture was a lot more self-assured with his right arm extended than during his practice shots so far. He kept his back very straight and looked confident and practised holding up his raygun. And although Poison was quite outspoken against any form of unnecessary violence, the stance looked very, very attractive to them. 

It also helped that Ghoul was wearing a shirt that had to belong to someone else, even though Poison couldn’t imagine whose shirt it might possibly be. It was too short for Ghoul, which made it much too short for anyone else. But it also meant that it rode up when he lifted his arm to point his raygun, exposing part of his lower back, the part with the tattooed guns pointing down further, very much down further.

The only thing not quite matching the security of Ghoul’s wide stance was his arm that seemed to tremble ever so slightly. Poison couldn’t quite tell if he was trembling with nerves, or if his arm simply kept swaying because he had trouble locking in on his target. He took a long time to do that. During an actual attack, they’d already be in trouble by now.

They wondered if Ghoul’s sight was alright or if he had another injury that he had simply not told them about, because he was so stupidly proud and self-reliant.

But then his arm tensed, as if he had finally made a decision.

He pulled the trigger and a ray shot into the direction of the glass bottle, missing it only by a few inches. It hadn’t been a perfect shot, but it hadn’t been disastrous either. Had the target been larger, it would probably have been a hit.

“Not too bad though,” Kobra called out.

Ghoul kept his back on them. His shoulders were tense. Poison wasn’t sure if the others noticed how tense his shoulders were too, or if it finally came in handy that they had spent way too much time observing Ghoul since he had moved in with them.

“Yeah, you’re probably just a bit outta practice,” Jet agreed, clearly trying to cheer Ghoul up. “If ya do a couple more training rounds out here, you’ll hit form again in no time. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“Too bad though, looks like ya won’t be gettin’ your reward after all,” Poison added. They made sure to sound as obnoxious as possible. Ghoul probably preferred that over being pitied. Both Kobra and Jet had sounded a little too nice, that must have been the reason he couldn’t bring himself to face them right now.

“Told ya it wasn’t the right motivation for me. Should’ve offered the slap instead,” Ghoul replied and lifted his arm again. It still seemed to tremble. The motion was so visible now that Jet and Kobra couldn’t miss it either.

Jet gave a small tutting noise indeed and Poison looked over at him. Jet signalled with a small shrug that he felt like something had to be done about this, but that he wasn’t sure what exactly either. Kobra kept his eyes fixed on Ghoul’s back, as if he could return his aim to him if he just stared hard enough. He looked worried.

Poison focused on Ghoul again as well. He was taking even longer to take aim this time.

They wondered if that was why he had insisted on keeping his arm in the cast for longer than was necessary. Maybe he had been nervous about what the accident had done to his aim and the same insecurity that had made him push it off was now fucking with his head. Maybe he was so convinced he couldn’t do it anymore that it gave him the shakes.

Or Ghoul had actually meant what he’d said and something was wrong with his arm. They might have to take him back inside to have Jet check him over properly.

It had been quite presumptuous of Poison to assume that Ghoul wanted to keep the cast just to have an excuse to stay with them. After all, they had told him that he was their responsibility until his arm was healed and that they’d keep him safe until then. They had thought that meant Ghoul might be scared to overstay his welcome the moment he was independent again.

They watched Ghoul’s arm swaying. It looked like he was taking aim very precisely. The shot right now had been a very close miss.

“Oi, Funny!” they shouted and Ghoul lowered his arm and spun around as if he was grateful for the distraction. His expression was grim though, as if he was ready to go straight into defence mode, depending on what they were going to say.

“Just so y’know, that doesn’t mean ya simply get to piss off now.” 

They knew that there were nicer ways of saying what they were about to say. They knew that Jet would definitely vote for putting it more politely and usually, Poison trusted him when it came to dealing with people; more than they trusted themself.

The thing was just that Poison normally didn’t understand people very well. But they understood Ghoul. They might never get him to be as relaxed around them as he was around Jet and Kobra. They might never get to be his favourite person in the world. But they would always understand what made him tick, because they were two of a kind, for better or for worse. Both of them were really stubborn fucks.

Ghoul would never accept an offer that felt like charity, because Poison wouldn’t do that either. But he’d also never back away from a challenge.

“We took care of you for two weeks, so ya gotta repay us now that your arm’s healed. Gotta join us on one or two supply runs at least, you owe us that much. And ya gotta teach us how to build those shiny bombs of yours, now that you can use your hands again. Been bitchin’ out on that so far. Just so we’re clear.”

Jet looked like he was about to step in. Poison had spoken way too harshly for comfort.

“Hitting ‘em bottles ain’t a free pass. If ya got any honour as a ‘joy, you’re gonna stay for another couple ‘a weeks to pay your debt.”

Ghoul pulled back his lips into what might either have been a snarl or a smile. Poison wasn’t sure if he looked relieved or grateful, or just genuinely pissed off. They were pretty sure that he understood precisely what they had just told him though; that he was welcome at the diner, always welcome to stay with them for as long as he chose.

“And there I thought I finally wouldn’t have to smell you anymore, ya sweaty pig,” he said and turned back to the bottles.

He lifted his arm, only wasting about two seconds to take aim. Then he pulled the trigger.

The glass bottle burst into pieces with a loud shattering sound.

Jet whistled. It didn’t sound like a compliment but rather like he hadn’t seen this coming at all.

Poison thought that it must have killed Ghoul to miss his shot the first time around. He must have known that Poison wouldn’t let him hear the end of it, and still he had chosen all of their mocking over the chance of having to leave.

He turned back and blew the smoke off his raygun. He looked smoking hot himself when he pursed his lips like that.

“How ‘bout that, motherfucker?” he asked, addressing Poison with a challenging grin.

“Close enough, sugar,” they admitted and blew him a kiss.

Chapter Text

Poison bent over the opened hood of the car to take a look at the motor. They had taken the beat-up vehicle from another crew about a week ago with the promise to fix it. Poison was by no means in charge of their little repair shop, that was rather Kobra’s project. They wished he’d taken up a hobby that was somewhat safer than tuning and racing, but at least half of the Zones owed them favours, because Kobra had helped them get their cars back up running. Poison didn’t know how to fix a motor for the life of them, but they could take things apart as much as the next killjoy. Since Jet and Kobra had taken the Am to hit up Tommy’s store, there wasn’t much else for them to do anyway. They were trying to distract themself, that was why they didn’t just laze around and they weren’t relaxed enough to work on one of their paintings.

Even though Jet and Kobra were going nowhere near Bat City and it wasn’t dangerous - definitely, absolutely not dangerous - they never felt quite at ease unless they had their entire crew safe and sound within their sight. They didn’t like to admit it, but they had a hard time being apart from Kobra in particular. In their mind, he was still 10 years old and needed someone to look out for him.

Fixing up the car wasn’t their only attempt at distracting themself. They had moreover decided to make good use of their alone time with Ghoul by putting on their most frivolous pair of jeans shorts. They had cut the legs off themself, and they had cut them so short that it would have been considered a criminal offence by Bli.

It seemed to be working, because Ghoul had left the garage, where he had taken to tinkering about during the past week or so, setting off smaller detonations every now and then. He could usually spend hours in there by himself, but shortly after Poison had gotten to work on the car, he had dragged a ragged deckchair outside to lay down in the shadows close by. Thanks to the sunglasses he wore, it was hard to tell if he was watching Poison or not, but since Poison looked the way they did, they simply assumed that Ghoul was watching.

They straightened themself and wiped some of the motor oil on their bare legs. They were already covered in motor oil; even their hair was sticky with motor oil.

“Oi, lazyass, could ya lend me one of those pretty hands?” they shouted.

They didn’t actually need help, but they figured that it would be more entertaining if Ghoul got closer. It would be easier to get him flustered, too.

Ghoul seemed to debate whether he wanted to help Poison or piss them off. Most likely he was searching for a way to combine the two options.

“Since you’re askin’ so nicely,” he finally said, voice dripping with sarcasm. He got up from his chair and strolled over, making it very clear that he wasn’t in a hurry to comply.

“This thing’s stuck,” Poison complained and pointed to a radiator hose they would have been able to detach by themself perfectly well.

“A’ight, lemme take a look at that,” Ghoul said and leaned over to inspect the issue. He was wearing one of Poison’s shirts today, with the sleeves cut off completely and they saw his biceps flexing as he grabbed the hose and pulled. He was struggling, but Poison didn’t offer any support, they just stared at Ghoul’s tattooed arms. For being so small and on the skinny side, his arm muscles were quite impressive when he tensed them like this.

Poison had considered making a serious move on him for a while now. Admittedly, they had kind of considered that from the moment they had laid eyes on Ghoul, but lately their thoughts in that regard were becoming a little more practical. It had been one or two weeks already since Ghoul’s cast had been removed - who knew out here? - and if he was going to leave, he would probably do it soon. So far, Poison hadn’t wanted to push it. If things went South it would suck having to see each other every day. But they also didn’t want to miss their chance of at least giving it a shot in case Ghoul packed up his bags and left tomorrow.

The problem was just that they weren’t sure if Ghoul intended to leave at all. He had made himself quite comfortable, both in his room and in the garage, that was turning more and more into a detonation lab. His belongings were strewn all across the diner and at this point, it felt natural to have four people in their crew instead of three. They had found a fragile routine for themselves, but Poison still felt that it would only take a slight misstep to startle Ghoul into running from them again. Trying to seduce him might very well count as a misstep to some. And Poison would rather miss out on sleeping with Ghoul than risk him leaving, which was an entirely new experience for them.

“Not much help, are ya now?” they teased and leaned in as well, their arm brushing against Ghoul’s. Even compared to the desert heat all around them, Ghoul’s body felt hot.

With a loud crack the hose finally came undone and Ghoul handed it off to Poison quite smugly.

“Big talk for someone who couldn’t do it themself,” he observed and turned, eyeing Poison from up close. “Destroya, you’re filthy.”

Poison pushed back their hair. It was so greasy that it just remained standing upright.

“T’is the look of a hard-workin’ ‘joy,” they said. “Not that you would know ‘bout that, lying ‘round doing nothin’ all day while I bust my sweet ass.”

“Fuckin’ look at yourself,” Ghoul muttered and rubbed his thumb against Poison’s upper arm as if he was trying to wipe away some of the motor oil. The sudden body contact startled Poison. Ghoul’s fingertips were very calloused.

“Fuckin’ look at yourself,” they mimicked and pressed their palm against the side of Ghoul’s face, dragging it down to his neck, leaving behind a thick trail of sticky oil.

Ghoul yelped and then he already crashed into them with blunt force. Poison cried out, their back hit the hot desert sand and Ghoul’s weight was pushing them into the ground. The collision had been painful and sudden, knocking the air straight out of their lungs.

They acted on instinct, their sense of orientation completely lost for a moment. They rolled over, using the momentum to shake Ghoul off and force him onto his back instead. Ghoul kicked out and sand blew up around them, so they had to screw their eyes shut to protect them, blind and disorientated for another couple of seconds.

They threw themself into the general direction of Ghoul, trying to pin him down with their weight alone, because they were bigger and heavier, and Destroya, that should account for something, but the motherfucker kept kicking and wriggling underneath them with the most annoying giggle, making it nearly impossible to get a hold of him.

Poison tried to press their hand into his face again to at least shut him up, but Ghoul somehow managed to dodge them and fucking bit into their lower arm. He wasn’t biting down very hard, but hard enough to leave a bruise. He didn’t even seem to care that Poison’s skin tasted of motor oil.

“Foul play!” Poison yelled, but it made them pull back and Ghoul immediately took advantage of the additional leeway and pushed up, making them both roll over again, so he was now straddling Poison. He was short, but he was a fierce fighter.

“Tell ya what’s foul play,” he said while looking down at Poison, his long hair so ruffled and hanging into his face that he could hardly be able to see anything. “Those fuckin’ shorts ya wearin’.”

He had lost his sunglasses somewhere during their scuffling and between the black hair strands, Poison saw his hazel eyes shine through.

They stilled immediately. They weren’t quite sure what Ghoul meant by that, but it sounded very promising. At least, he had noticed the shorts.

Ghoul grabbed their wrists and pinned them down into the sand above Poison’s head, leaning over them to use his entire weight to hold them down. Poison didn’t even try to struggle. The position felt very promising as well.

Playfights like these weren’t unusual among killjoys and they weren’t unusual for Ghoul in particular either. Just yesterday Poison had witnessed him slapping the back of Kobra’s head not once but twice before making a run for it. As far as they knew, he had never gotten this close and physical with any of them before yet though. He was sitting on their stomach, his thighs clenching their sides and all it would take was for him to shuffle down a bit further and he’d be able to grind his ass against Poison’s crotch. The way he was looking down on them right now, that suddenly felt like a very real possibility.

Ghoul shook the hair from his face just enough for Poison to get a better look at him. His features looked so soft, his large puppy-dog eyes, his rounded nose; even the scars running across his cheek didn’t make him look tough but cracked and fragile. He had motor oil smeared all over his face and down his neck and his arms. He was almost as drenched in it as Poison after their little wrestling match. His skin had felt slick and slippery to the touch.

“Do you surrender?” Ghoul asked.

“Never,” Poison shot back and bared their teeth.

Ghoul leaned over them further, putting so much of his weight on Poison’s wrists that it hurt, but they still made no attempt to struggle.

“Then I gotta torture ya to break your spirit, punk,” Ghoul threatened and brought his dirty face closer to them.

Poison had wondered about Ghoul’s sexual preferences before, naturally they had. They hadn’t been worried that they’d be incompatible, since they had never met a killjoy who wasn’t at least open-minded. They had all come out here to the Outer Zones to no longer be subjected to neat little labels and boxes after all. 

And moreover, Poison was quite confident that they had something to offer for everyone.

But they still felt very validated by Ghoul’s body pressing down on them and by his heavy breathing and his flushed cheeks.

So instead of talking back, they parted their lips slightly, expecting to receive a kiss and intending to make it as sloppy and messy as possible right from the get-go. They felt hot underneath Ghoul, both of their bodies were sticky with sweat, oil and sand, but they’d had some of their best hook-ups yet under very similar conditions.

Ghoul opened his mouth and the next thing they knew, a thick thread of drool was dripping down right onto Poison’s face.

They screamed in protest and started thrashing immediately. The drool felt warm and wet where it had landed on their cheek. They sensed it trickling down the side of their face, all the way down to their neck.

“Gross, ya fuckin’ animal!” they yelled and tried to push Ghoul off them, but he had them in a solid deadlock with his thighs.

He threw back his head and let out a loud, cackling laughter. Poison wanted to be mad at him, but he looked beautiful when he closed his eyes and opened his mouth so wide while laughing.

They made a big show out of continuing to curse Ghoul, although they had definitely had worse things than spit on their face before.

“I can keep goin’ all day long,” Ghoul said with a shit-eating grin. “‘Til ya accept my victory.”

“You’ll never get me alive!”

“Suit yourself.” Ghoul leaned over them again and gathered spit in his mouth with an overemphasised slurping sound.

Poison squeezed their eyes shut, but then Ghoul did something unexpected: He let go of Poison’s wrists with one hand and instead reached down to hold their nose.

Their eyes flew open again and they tried to shake off Ghoul’s hand by violently throwing their head around while keeping their lips pressed together tightly. But Ghoul kept pinching their nose between his thumb and index finger and didn’t let up in the slightest. Poison was already desperate to open their mouth to gasp for air, but they weren’t going down without a fight, now trying to free their hands from Ghoul’s grip as well. He wouldn’t be strong enough to hold both of their wrists down with only one hand.

Poison was fighting for their dignity now. They would have been the last to deny it, but they were a bit of a kinky freak with a thing for body fluids. If Ghoul managed to spit into their mouth, there was no way in hell their body wasn’t going to have a reaction to it. A reaction that Ghoul might very well be able to feel with the way he was currently straddling them. And if that happened, he was never going to let Poison forget about it.

They managed to free one of their hands and tried to shove Ghoul off them, but they couldn’t get him to let go of their nose. Something inside their chest seemed to be fluttering either with nerves or with lack of oxygen and they were just about to give in and open their mouth when the sound of an approaching vehicle interrupted them.

Ghoul let go of them immediately and Poison felt maybe a tiny bit disappointed about that despite all of their struggling.

Ghoul jumped to his feet and extended his hand to Poison, who took it and allowed him to pull them to their feet. There was no time for false pride or bickering. They both crouched down behind the car, which made for a poor hiding spot, but they had gotten too caught up in their playfight to stay alert.

Poison saw Ghoul reach for his side where his holster used to sit during battle, but neither of them had their raygun at hand. They peeked past the hood of the car and exhaled with relief as they saw the Am pulling up in front of the gas station.

“Thank fuck, it’s just Jet and the Kid,” they announced and got up. Ghoul hesitated for a moment longer as if he didn’t quite trust the situation to be safe yet.

He waited for Poison to step out of hiding first and only moved once both doors of the Am had been slammed shut. Being on his own for so long had made him cautious.

Poison on the other hand already rushed towards Jet and Kobra, partly because they wanted to check what kind of food they had brought home, and partly because they wanted to get away from Ghoul as quickly as possible. They felt flushed, like they could really need some time to themself, or a freezing cold shower, to calm down before interacting with anyone again. 

“Took ya long enough,” they complained to cover up the fact that they’d been worried, because it would only make Kobra roll his eyes at them.

“Destroya, get away from me,” Kobra whined as Poison pulled him in for a hug, but he didn’t push them away either. “You look like a car just came all over ya.”

“And now you do, too, Kiddo,” Poison said and ruffled Kobra’s hair as they pulled back. His shirt now had oil stains on it as well.

They turned to Jet who was just moving to unload the car when Ghoul hit him.

There was no better way to describe it, because the moment Jet turned his back on them, Ghoul sped towards him and lunged himself off the ground as if he had spring coils under his feet. He jumped onto Jet’s back, the impact of the collision causing the taller ‘joy to stumble forward. He only managed to stay upright by putting a hand onto the roof of the Am to support himself.

“Destroya, Ghoul!” he cursed, but Ghoul did not let go, his legs were wrapped around Jet’s waist from behind and his arms around his shoulders. He looked like a very menacing backpack, trying to kill its wearer.

Poison felt an unreasonable amount of jealousy flaring up inside of them, although being tackled was really nothing to be envious of at all.

Ghoul lowered his head and bit into Jet’s shoulder, probably not achieving much except getting a mouthful of hair and jacket, but it was enough to make Jet cry out with surprise anyway.

Kobra laughed and Poison tried to join in, but it sounded forced. For a silly moment they had felt special because Ghoul had pinned them down onto the desert sand, but it was clearly just them who had gotten a bit overly excited by their roughhousing. This was just who Ghoul was. It hadn’t shown as much when he had still been shy and reserved around them, and he obviously hadn’t been able to unlock his full potential with his arm in the cast either. But by now it was very apparent that no one was safe around him. The ‘joy should come with a fucking warning label.

“Get off,” Jet begged and moved backwards to smash Ghoul into the Am. He wasn’t using nearly enough force to achieve anything though. It wasn’t quite clear if he was worried about hurting Ghoul or damaging the car.

Ghoul finally loosened his bite and looked up, his grin just as shit-eating as before.

“Do you surrender?” he asked.

Chapter Text

“You were gone for ages,” Poison complained as soon as the door to the diner swung open.

The supply run hadn’t been supposed to last nearly as long; the sun was already setting over the desert. Their nails were all bitten down by now. It had been a proper trip to the Inner Zones today and since they’d joined Jet on the last run, it had been Kobra and Ghoul’s turn this time.

Poison had wanted to be fair, that was what a leader needed to be after all, but they hadn’t been happy sending Kobra out on Ghoul’s first supply run with their crew. They knew that Ghoul could shoot, but he was a shit driver and Poison had never seen him act under pressure either. They had begun to fear the worst with each passing hour.

“But we’re back now, no worries,” Kobra said lightly, but he slung his arm around Poison’s shoulder to reassure them that he had actually returned alive and well. “Ghoul made us stay out there forever. Said he was searching for something to build one of his shiny bombs.”

Ghoul had entered the diner behind Kobra and held up a paper bag that might contain the Witch knew what.

“Found it though.” He kept his distance to where Kobra still had his arm around Poison and Jet was clapping his back as if he wanted to pat him down for invisible injuries. Poison wished he’d just come in for a hug as well, but Ghoul was quite peculiar about his personal space. Although they no longer feared he might just up and go without a proper goodbye, he seemed avoidant of body contact that wasn’t related to roughhousing.

“Imma head out to the garage, wanna try it right away,” he muttered and backed out again.

Poison frowned as they watched the door swing shut behind him.

“‘S it me or ‘s Ghoul being weirder than usual?”

Kobra shrugged and let go of them to drag the bags he’d left by the door over to the counter. He didn’t seem to be concerned at all.

“He was normal on the run. Very alert, too. Ya can tell he’s used to being out by himself. Has his eyes everywhere at once, that lil’ shit.”

Poison hummed and nodded. Kobra obviously knew that they would have asked about these things sooner or later. To plan their missions, it was important for them to estimate the abilities of their crew members correctly. And it wasn’t like they could ask Ghoul. He’d just claim to be fucking shiny at everything.

“Just worried ‘cause he scooted off like that. He’s got somethin’ to hide? He’s not injured or anything, is he?”

It would be like fucking Ghoul to bleed out in their garage instead of asking anyone for help.

“We didn’t clap with any exterminators.” Kobra shrugged. “But he was really dead set on finding those supplies he wanted, so he’s probably just excited ‘bout his bomb.”

Kobra never seemed too worried about Ghoul. He just seemed to take it for granted that he would settle in eventually if only they left him alone. Poison wished they could treat the matter in the same careless way. They were aware that they spend too much time thinking about Ghoul in general.

“Anyway, whatcha got there, Kobes?” They changed the topic and pulled the first bag placed on the counter towards themself.

Kobra had just started to empty it out, handing over canned food to Jet, who was in charge of the kitchen.

“Destroya, Pois, can ya be patient for a damn minute?” Jet asked and Kobra tried to slap their hand away.

Poison ignored them both and kept tugging at the bag, until it tilted over and spilled its insides onto the counter top.

“Blast me, you’ve got the paint I asked for! And look at that sparkly shit!” Excitedly they snatched up a tube of green paint and a palette of obnoxiously sparkly eyeshadow, pressing both items to their chest as if they would never let go again. “Ain’t ya the best baby brother in the Zones?”

“T’is for everyone,” Kobra reminded them.

“Yeah, yeah.” Poison waved it off and started eyeing the second bag that was still on the floor. “And what’s in there?”

“Pois, I swear by the Phoenix Witch, if ya create any more chaos ‘round here, Imma hide the keys to the Am ‘til ya clean up the whole room,” Jet threatened.

Since he’d done that before and they weren’t keen on getting grounded again, Poison knew better than to try getting their hands on the second bag just yet.

They leaned against the counter and watched the others store away their loot in silence.

“Ghoul’s been out for a while now,” they finally observed. “Ya think he’s comin’ back in soon? It’s late.”

They tried not to sound too worried or like too much of a control freak. They didn’t mind giving Ghoul some space in their garage to do his thing whenever, but something about his behaviour had been so secretive, that it bothered them. At least he could have shown them what was inside his bag. Poison didn’t like not knowing things.

“Just check go on him already.” Kobra sighed.

“Yeah, you’re just making everyone nervous anyway,” Jet agreed.

“Destroya, fine,” Poison mumbled, but they were glad for the excuse. They pushed themself off the counter and went out the door. The desert cooled down at night significantly and it was quite cold outside already.

They passed over to the garage, light falling through the planks of the outer wall. They pushed open the door without knocking and hoped they wouldn’t be met with the barrel of a raygun.

But instead Ghoul was sitting on one of the tables he had annexed. He had claimed three of them by now and they were all strewn with things that were probably highly explosive for the most part. Poison tried very hard to trust Ghoul to not blow up the diner accidentally, but it was difficult when he had, in fact, blown up his own home accidentally before.

His legs were so short, that his feet dangled in the air above the ground without touching it.

“Whatcha doin’ out here?” Poison wanted to know.

“Waitin’ for ya,” Ghoul said. He had been facing the door and looked so unsurprised seeing them, that Poison was inclined to believe him. “Knew you’d come out sooner or later to check on me. You’re the nosiest motherfucker I know. Couldn’t stay out of other people’s business if they held a gun to your head.”

Poison shrugged. “So whaddya want?”

They tried to come up with some innocent reasons why Ghoul might have lured them out here into the garage where they were all alone. They couldn’t think of any.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” Ghoul said and if Poison hadn’t known him better than that, they'd have felt like he sounded a little bashful.

He reached behind himself and grabbed a cardboard box from the table, holding it out to Poison.

Poison took it very suspiciously. They felt like Ghoul was going to pull a very crazy and potentially dangerous prank on them.

They shook the box. It felt very light. A soft rattle came from inside.

“Destroya, don’t do that,” Ghoul warned. “Just open it already.”

Poison stopped shaking the box immediately, realising that maybe you shouldn’t shake the object handed to you by your detonation expert in his bomb lab.

“It’s not gonna blow up in my face though, is it?” Poison asked.

“Not if ya stop shakin’ it, dumbass.”

Poison stepped over to the table and placed the box on top of it. Then they hesitantly opened the lid, still expecting at least an enormous amount of glitter to explode in their face.

But there was only a single object lying inside the box. It was round and painted bright red, in the same shade as Poison’s hair. A fuse was attached to it, making it look like a misshapen fruit or some sort of candy maybe.

“What’s this?” they wanted to know and looked up at Ghoul.

“T’is a cherry bomb,” Ghoul said and his face seemed to try its best to match the colour of the bomb. “Made it for ya, ‘cause of, y’know, your hair ‘n shit.” 

He reached up to tug at a strand of his own black hair as if he needed to illustrate his words in case that Poison didn’t know what in the Zones he meant by the word ‘hair’.

“Oh, that’s …” Poison broke off and stared down at the shiny red bomb. “Thanks.” Their heart felt so full, they were scared it might burst. They wanted to kiss Ghoul. But they didn’t want to kiss him sexually. They wanted to kiss him on the mouth and on the cheeks and on the top of his head and the tip of his nose. They wanted to absolutely smother him in kisses so he would know how fucking much appreciated his gift was.

“This is safe though, right?” they asked. “Won’t blow up the Am at the first pothole we hit?”

“T’is not a weapon,” Ghoul said. He looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight and avoiding to meet Poison’s eyes. Normally, he was rather the type for trying to stare them down.

“What does it do then?” Poison felt confused. They’d thought that Ghoul had supplied them with something to blow up a Bli quarter or something.

“Doesn’t do anything,” Ghoul admitted and scratched his cheek awkwardly. He seemed to debate whether or not hiding underneath the table might be an option. “Kind of useless overall. Just makes a lot of noise and looks pretty.” He looked up, obviously trying to look provocative, but he appeared to be a little insecure. “Much like yourself, Cherry Bomb.”

“Aw, sugar,” Poison said and pressed their hand to their chest, peeking up at Ghoul through their lashes. “You think I’m pretty.”

Ghoul rolled his eyes and stared into the far corner of the garage.

“Yeah, yeah, write a book ‘bout it.”

Poison had thought the desire to kiss Ghoul couldn’t get any stronger, yet it did. Any more sweet gestures and compliments and it would get them in trouble.

“But this isn’t …?” Poison paused. “This isn’t goodbye, is it?” They could not think of another explanation. If Ghoul intended to leave soon, it would make sense for him to give them a parting gift as a thank you for having taken care of him.

Ghoul shook his head. “No, I mean …” Poison had never seen him fumble for words as much as he did tonight. “I mean, not if you’re still having me.”

“Of course we’ll have you,” they said very quickly to not leave any room for doubt. They had already assumed that Ghoul intended to stay, but they hadn’t explicitly talked about it so far either. They had thought that he wasn’t ready yet for the commitment of actually acknowledging out loud that he wanted to stay with them. They were very glad to be mistaken though. “You can stay with us for as long as you like, Ghoulie.”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me …” Ghoul started, but it sounded more like a reflex. He broke off again. “Thanks, Party.”

Ghoul never called them Party and his voice sounded incredibly soft when he did. The sound caused Poison’s stomach to flutter and it made them feel slightly sick. They weren’t used to experiencing this specific emotion. They were often overcome with affection and the need to love someone so hard it felt like bursting at the seams. But the way Ghoul said their name filled them with the need to be loved in return.

“Can we set it off?” they broke the silence that was beginning to feel too heavy.

“We fuckin’ should,” Ghoul agreed and jumped off the table, seemingly just as relieved they weren’t getting too emotional about this.

“Should we …” Poison hesitated. They were fumbling for words more than usual tonight as well. “Should we get Kobra and Jet?” 

They weren’t quite sure how the present had been intended. It might have been meant for their crew, of which Poison happened to be the leader. Or it might have been meant as something more personal. They didn’t want to disregard it carelessly, because they did hope that it had been intended as something personal. But they also didn’t want to mistake it for something it was not. 

And in the end, if it was up to them, Poison wanted to share all their joy with their family always.

“We should absolutely get ‘em,” Ghoul confirmed and it sounded genuinely enthusiastic. Poison felt relieved and disappointed both at once. “Just lemme find some matches and I’ll be right with ya.”

“See ya outside,” Poison said and took up the box with the cherry bomb, carrying it outside as they walked back to the diner.

They opened the door and stuck their head inside. Kobra looked up from a comic he’d been reading, while Jet was thrumming on a beat-up guitar.

“Joys, c’mon, ya gotta see this,” Poison shouted. “Ghoul’s made me a bomb and we’re gonna blow up shit outside!”

“Sounds like a great idea while hidin’ from the authorities,” Jet agreed sarcastically.

“And right in front of a gas station, too,” Kobra added.

Poison ignored them and let the door fall shut again.

Ghoul was already waiting outside, presenting a box of matches between his grimy fingers.

“Would ya do me the honour, detonator?” Poison asked and held the bomb out to Ghoul like an offering.

“Scared to burn yourself, Pois?” he teased but took the bomb from them.

Jet and Kobra had indeed followed them outside and were now standing next to Poison as Ghoul sped off into a not-nearly-safe distance and crouched down into the sand.

Poison saw the small flame lighting up in the distance as he held it to the fume. As soon as it caught fire, Ghoul jumped up and came running back. Poison had noticed before that he was extraordinarily fast, but it occurred to them only now that it was probably because he was used to running to take cover.

He stopped short when he reached their group and turned around, just in time to see the detonation go off.

The bomb went off with the loudest bang since the creation of the fucking universe and then rays of light shot out into all directions, forming a spider web around the centre of the explosion. All of the rays were fiery red.

Poison stared in awe. The explosion was violent and untamed and absolutely beautiful. They wondered if this was really how Ghoul saw them. It was like watching pure energy detonate.

They turned to look at Ghoul, who kept facing the explosion with a wide grin on his face. He looked pleased with himself, but more than that, he looked captivated. Poison wondered if that was why he’d become a detonator in the first place, not because he wanted to destroy things, but because he was able to marvel at the beauty of creating a fire that burned so bright. The rays of the explosion reflected in his eyes, making it seem like there was a light glowing behind them. Poison hoped that it would never burn out.

They swung their arm around Ghoul, who reacted immediately by jerking down his arm and slamming his elbow into Poison’s stomach hard enough to make them gasp for air. Even though their eyes got teary, they didn’t let go, but pulled him closer instead.

“I love it,” they said, keeping Ghoul in a headlock and rubbing their knuckles against the top of his head. “Ya hear me, detonator? I fucking love it.”

Chapter Text

Poison raised the can to their lips and winced as the metal touched the small cut. The soda was already lukewarm.

“Whatcha done there anyway, Pois?” Pony wanted to know.

They had dragged two deckchairs onto the roof of the diner and were bathing in the late afternoon sun that no longer threatened to melt the flesh straight off their bones. Pony had skated over for drinks and a little chit chat and Poison had gratefully taken the opportunity to catch up on the newest gossip surrounding other crews. Everything that happened in the Zones sooner or later passed through Dr. D’s station.

“The lil’ detonator headbutted me.” Poison huffed. “Out of nowhere, too.”

Pony laughed. “Ya probably had it coming.”

Poison took another sip of their drink. Their lip hardly hurt as long as they remembered to be careful.

“Still got off lightly. Gave Jet a black eye just the other day.”

“Can’t believe you kept him around for so long already. Thought he’d drive y’all crazy. Is he gonna stay with ya longer?”

Poison shrugged. They hadn’t talked about it again, but it didn’t seem like Ghoul planned on leaving any time soon. He had started hoarding stuff in his room, like a guitar that had most definitely been stolen from Jet and clothes had started to appear on the floor that Poison had never seen before and that must have been stolen from the Witch knew where. Ghoul would sometimes head out by himself to meet with other crews, give them instructions for their detonations or just trade one of his bombs for something else they could need. He never stayed overnight though but always returned to the diner in the evening.

“He can stay for as long as he likes,” they clarified. “Not gonna send him out there all by himself again.”

Poison was aware that whatever they told Pony would soon enough be known by the entire Zone. They kind of liked the idea of the other killjoys knowing that Ghoul was with them now, though.

“Look at ya, never met anyone ya didn’t wanna save, did ya?” Pony teased.

“Nah, Ghoul’s alright,” they said. Pony obviously wasn’t wrong about their saviour complex, but they didn’t want anyone to think of Ghoul as just another charity case.

“Really? ‘Cause ya look like you’ve been attacked by a wild animal.”

Poison waved it off. “The kid’s a bit rough ‘round the edges. Tackles us a lot. But got his heart in the right place. Always makes sure to get my favourite drinks.” They raised their soda can. “Or comics for Kobes. And I can take him. Ya just gotta pay him back in kind.”

Pony went silent for a moment and looked out onto the desert.

“Or maybe ya actually shouldn’t,” they finally said and it sounded surprisingly thoughtful. “Y’know there’s lots of ‘joys out there like Ghoul. ‘Joys who lost their crews when they were motorbabies or ran away from Bat City by themselves. T’is different for y’all. Jet grew up with his bio family. And you and Kobra always had each other. But Ghoul? He’s not quite right in the head.”

Poison barked out a short laugh, but it was mostly to cover up the fact that they were feeling very defensive about Ghoul. They wanted to shut Pony up without seeming awfully rude about it; not because they valued politeness in general, but because it was better to stay on Pony’s good side.

“Who out here is anyway?”

“No, I mean, not quite right in the head when it comes to affection. Only learned how to fight, y’know? Might not know how to get close to y’all otherwise.”

Poison thought back to all the nights they had spent curled up to Kobra in abandoned buildings on their escape from Bat City. They thought of Ghoul, all alone while waiting for his parents to return from a supply run. But they’d never come back.

“You think he’s punching us in the face, ‘cause he needs a hug?” they made sure.

“Well, have ya tried hugging him?”

Poison tried to think back to an occasion where they might actually have hugged Ghoul instead of just wrestling him to get off them.

“No, it seems to make him uncomfortable.” Ghoul usually kept his distance after coming back from a trip. While everyone else got a hug, he always tried to fade into the background as if he hoped no one would notice that he was there, as if he was somehow intruding on a moment that didn’t actually include him. “Didn’t wanna push it. He’d probably kick me in the balls if I tried, too.”

“Sounds like he’s kicking ya in the balls anyway,” Pony pointed out.

Poison laughed. “Yeah, fair enough, I might give it a try sometime.”

“Good,” Pony concluded and stretched themself before getting up. “If it goes wrong, I’ll send flowers for your funeral. But now I gotta run before it gets dark.”

“That’s a comfort,” Poison muttered and followed them down the ladder on the side of the building. “And be careful out there. Don’t let the pigs get ya.”

They watched as Pony put on their rollerblades. “You, too, Pois, keep your boots tight.”

Poison waved them off before they went back into the diner. It was getting chilly outside, but it was still too early for the first watch.

Jet was sitting on the ragged couch they had arranged on the stage of the diner, while Kobra and Ghoul were sitting on the floor, seemingly engaged in a game of cards.

“Pony’s gone?” Kobra asked without looking up.

“Yep. I’m so done with socialising now. Not a single word will leave my mouth for the rest of the entire day,” they announced dramatically and let themself fall onto the couch, their back resting against Jet.

“In my dreams,” Ghoul said.

“Get ‘em boots off the couch,” Jet said.

“Have ya seen the couch?” Poison complained. “If anything, that couch is dirtying my boots.”

“‘Em boots are ugly anyway,” Kobra chimed in.

“Fine, nobody say I don’t listen to the will of the people.” Poison kicked off their boots, tossing them onto the floor where they’d hopefully find them again tomorrow.

“Destroya, Pois, when was the last time you washed your feet?” Ghoul whined.

“I use ‘em for walking. They’ll get dirty again anyway.”

“Yeah, but they’d smell nicer.”

Poison moved their leg, trying to shove their once-upon-a-time-white sock into Ghoul’s face, but they couldn’t quite reach it. They did end up kicking Kobra’s shoulder though.

“Pois, I swear, get that stinky thing near me again and Imma bribe Dr. D to make a broadcast ‘bout how ya got all kinds of nasty STDs, so you’re never gonna get laid again,” Kobra threatened.

Poison snarled, but pulled their leg back onto the couch. They propped up a pillow against Jet, so they could cuddle up to him more comfortably. Jet sighed but adjusted his arm to accommodate them.

“Whatcha reading, Jet?” they asked.

“It’s a book called ‘The path to enlightenment. How to not strangle your crew leader even though they are mighty annoying and won’t shut up for two seconds.’”

“And?” Poison probed. “Ya enlightened yet?”

“Not yet,” Jet said.

“Don’t be too harsh on them,” Kobra said. “They suffer from this rare condition since we were motorbabies. If no one pays attention to them for more than two seconds, they’re gonna die.”

“Fine.” Poison sighed theatrically. “If y’all don’t wanna entertain me.”

They watched as Kobra and Ghoul picked up their card game again. They could only see Kobra’s cards, so it was hard to determine who was winning. The rustling of the pages Jet turned was soothing. Poison thought that they were very lucky to have all their loved ones so close and safe.

“And there ya go,” Kobra announced and dropped his cards. “Your turn doin’ the dishes next week.”

Ghoul swore under his breath and they both got up.

“Anyone want something from the fridge?” Kobra asked and didn’t wait for an answer before shuffling over to the counter.

Poison pretended to watch him leave, but they observed Ghoul out of the corner of their eye. They’d gotten quite a bit of practice at that by now.

Ghoul stood around awkwardly and looked over to where Poison was cuddled up to Jet on the couch. Maybe it was just that stupid conversation they’d had with Pony, but they thought that Ghoul’s expression looked a little longingly; like he’d want that, too, but didn’t know how to ask for it. There was something slightly off about the way he held his arms, as if he simply didn’t know what to do with his hands.

Then he seemed to make a decision and Poison only managed to roll over in time, because for a change, they’d seen it coming. There had been a short moment of vulnerability right before Ghoul leapt at them that they’d never noticed before. It was like the sizzling sound of a burning fuse that warned you a denotation was about to go off.

If they hadn’t moved in time, Ghoul would have landed right on top of them, but his now misguided momentum caused him to topple over and allowed them to sneak up on him. They wrapped their arms around him from behind, forcing his arms down by his side. Ghoul’s back was resting against their chest and they were both half-sitting and half-lying on the couch.

Ghoul startled struggling immediately, pushing his feet against the armrest to use the strength in his legs to lift himself off the couch and break Poison’s chokehold.

“Stop it, Ghoul, stop,” Poison said sharply. Jet barely acknowledged their little fight; the sight had become far too familiar by now.

Ghoul kept thrashing in their arms and Poison had to use their entire strength to not let him break free.

“Stop, Ghoul,” they repeated more quietly, directly into his ear, not sure if anyone but Ghoul could hear them. “I’m not gonna let go. I promise.”

Ghoul went still instantly. He stopped struggling completely, but all of his muscles remained tense. He didn’t say a word.

Poison kept their hold on him just as firmly, not relaxing a single muscle. They felt like this was a test; like Ghoul wanted to see if this was just a trick to get him to keep still. They were quite sure that the moment they let go, he’d attack again. But they weren’t meaning to let go anyway.

They could sense each heaving of Ghoul’s chest. He was breathing flatly and Poison couldn’t think of anything but a panicked animal.

They held on. 

And they held on.

And then they sensed Ghoul’s muscles relaxing. His whole body just turned slack and he sank against them, all soft and mellow.

Poison kept holding on, not yet daring to loosen their grip. They wanted to make absolutely sure that Ghoul knew they wouldn’t push him away just because he had calmed down.

They became vaguely aware that Kobra had returned and was sitting on the floor again, chatting with Jet quietly, as if they didn’t want to disturb them; as if they wanted to give them privacy, so Ghoul wouldn’t grow self-conscious.

“It’s okay now. I’ve gotcha,” Poison whispered soothingly and finally loosened their grip a little, no longer holding Ghoul like they were his straightjacket, but turning the hug into something gentler.

They adjusted their position, letting themself sink back against Jet and the pillows again, pulling Ghoul with them. He followed them without resistance, sitting between their legs while leaning his back against Poison’s chest with their arms still around him.

They felt themself relax as well, their body suddenly warm and heavy. Ghoul was small and soft in their embrace and they realised they had never actually sensed him like this. They’d only ever touched while fighting so far and they’d never gotten the chance to really pay attention to his body. They were familiar with the way his muscles shifted when he moved, but the feeling of his relaxed body against them was entirely new. He was very warm and his breath was coming more evenly now.

Poison felt like they held a small animal in their arms, something wild and ferocious, that had for some reason decided to entrust itself to them completely.

They started moving their thumb against Ghoul’s arm absent-mindedly, rubbing small, soothing circles into his skin.

Ghoul shifted and for a dreadful moment, they thought he was going to pull back again far too soon. But he only rolled over, making sure to stay close to Poison as if he didn’t want to risk accidentally shaking off their arms.

He practically crawled into their lap, tucking his head under Poison’s chin and resting his entire weight on their chest.

“T’is nice,” he mumbled and it sounded incredibly sleepy.

The new position was extremely uncomfortable, but Poison didn’t dare to move. They felt like a kitten had just fallen asleep on top of them and it was too cute to risk waking it.

“Hey, Ghoulie?” they whispered and gently stroked back his hair.

The only reply they got was a soft snore.

“Looks like ya tamed the beast,” Kobra joked.

“Ghoul, hey,” Poison said and shook Ghoul’s shoulder, trying to get him to move so they could adjust their position. But Ghoul’s breath kept coming evenly. He was drooling on their shirt.

“That’s the most adorable shit I’ve ever seen,” Jet observed.

“How did he fall asleep so fast?” Poison looked down on Ghoul, but mostly just saw his greasy shock of hair. “He’s sleepin’ like the dead.” Even their voice so close to his ear did not seem to disturb Ghoul’s sleep in the slightest.

“No wonder he’s tired.” Kobra yawned as if just watching Ghoul sleep was making him tired, too. “Y’know how he keeps pacing at night.”

Poison had to admit that they had woken up more than once because of some noise coming from Ghoul’s room. He never woke up screaming, which wouldn’t have been unusual for any killjoy out here, but he clearly had trouble sleeping through the night. Rather than having nightmares, even the smallest noise seemed to wake him - which clearly wasn’t the case right now.

“Y’know, I left my crew couple ‘a weeks before I joined ya,” Jet said. “Stayed with different crews to see where I’d fit in. But it’s not the same as bein’ with someone ya trust. Ya sleep more lightly, when you’re stayin’ alert. So when ya finally feel safe …” He snapped his fingers. “It’s like bang, power-shortage. Your body just collapses. My guess is that if we don’t wake him, he’s gonna sleep for two days straight.”

Poison thought of all the nights Ghoul had spent at that old factory all by himself with no one else around to keep watch. No wonder he had a light sleep. And they thought about how it must feel to have someone’s arms around you after so long, being able to tell someone was right there to keep you safe, finally, finally allowing your body to rest.

They stroked Ghoul’s hair again. He didn’t even stir.

“We’re gonna keep him, right?” they asked. They realised only now that they had never explicitly talked about it before.

“I thought that was decided already,” Kobra said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah,” Jet agreed. “Ghoul’s one of us now.”

Poison kept playing with the long strands of Ghoul’s hair. He was surprisingly heavy on top of them, as if sleep was weightening him down.

“I wanna make a dramatic gesture about it, I think,” they announced. 

They had thought that it would be best to just not mention it at all, to let things run their natural course and not force Ghoul to announce his decision to stay with them permanently out loud, so it wouldn’t make him uncomfortable. But now they thought that it might be nice to make it official, to leave absolutely no room for Ghoul to fear that one day, he might be asked to leave. Because apparently, sleeping underneath the same roof wasn’t enough for him; he needed someone’s arms around him to actually feel safe.

“When have ya not wanted to make a dramatic gesture about something?” Kobra snorted.

Poison wanted to kick him, but they couldn’t move underneath Ghoul.

“That’d be shiny,” Jet agreed. “But we should get your asses to bed now. If ya sleep on the couch like that, you’ll use up all our pills for your back pain again tomorrow and we’ve gotta go on another run.”

“It wasn’t back pain last time,” Poison corrected and Jet pushed them off himself, so he could get up from behind them. “I was hungover.”

“Either way ya whined about it like a motorbaby,” Jet reminded them and gently picked Ghoul up.

He was struggling with his limp body a little, but Ghoul was very compliant at least in his sleep, letting his head fall against Jet’s shoulder as he lifted him in his arms. Poison felt cold with Ghoul no longer snuggled up against them.

“Should I …” Jet hesitated. “Should I drop him off in his room?”

Poison looked at the peacefully sleeping Ghoul. They felt as bad as Jet seemingly did, thinking of just placing him in his room all alone where he’d wake up with no one by his side again. He looked too vulnerable to just leave him out of sight.

“Nah, it’s fine,” they said. “He can sleep with me tonight.”

Chapter Text

When Poison woke, Ghoul was still wrapped around them. Early morning light fell in through the window and they were all entangled in each other, lying on the dirty mattress right on the floor. Their skin felt damp with sweat, because Ghoul’s body had warmed the space underneath the blanket like a radiator. His arms were around Poison and so were his legs. Hot puffs of breath tickled Poison’s neck.

They remained lying still, just enjoying the comfort of feeling the other ‘joy so close. Ghoul smelled of gunpowder and smoke. Poison had slept very soundly. Ghoul hadn’t woken once either as far as they could tell, seemingly unbothered by their snoring.

They rolled over to get a good look at Ghoul’s sleeping face. He had just dozed off in his clothes, his face still dirty with a streak of grime running across his eyebrows.

He looked quite angelic when he slept. The soft prettiness of his features stood out more when he wasn’t snarling or hauling insults at you. The scar running upwards from his lips looked especially pale in the morning light. He looked young, too, when he slept, as if sleep managed to take off the additional years that grief had added to his face. Twenty-two when he was awake, nineteen while he was asleep, Poison would guess. They rarely allowed themself to think in city terms like this, knowing that it didn’t matter, that a year in the desert aged you more than a year in Bat City anyway. They’d lost track of their own age as well. Twenty-four, maybe, more or less. They still celebrated birthdays, but they picked the dates at random, just announcing it whenever it felt right. Poison’s birthday came more often than that of Kobra and Jet.

“Ghoul?” they said softly, without getting a reaction at all. They decided to let him rest. If Jet was right, this might be the first good sleep he had in the Witch knew how long.

They freed themself from Ghoul, careful not to wake him, leaning over him one last time to place a gentle kiss on his forehead, taking the opportunity for a little tenderness while he couldn’t fight it off. Looking at Ghoul filled them with a love that didn’t feel violent at all, but small and happy. In moments like these, they thought that maybe they didn’t have to save the entire world. Maybe it was enough to protect the people they loved, just Jet and Kobra and Ghoul. Maybe they’d let someone else lead the fight one of these days.

They got up as quietly as possible and changed into a shirt that was also sweaty, but at least the sweat on this one had already dried. Then they grabbed the paint supplies they kept in their room and went over to the diner.

It was still early and only Jet was up, having breakfast after having absolved the last watch shift before sunrise. They’d all agreed to split the night between the three of them and let Ghoul sleep.

“Big plans?” Jet asked.

“Gonna paint the wall,” Poison announced and nodded over to the back wall of the stage, which was currently covered by a curtain to make it more cosy. “Thought I’d get our logos up there. All of ‘em.”

Jet nodded. Poison didn’t need to elaborate.

“He’ll like that,” he confirmed and got up to help Poison remove the curtain. It came down with a low thump, blowing up dust and exposing a perfectly blank white wall underneath for them to work with.

Poison pulled up one of the chairs. It was far too unstable for any sane person to climb onto it, but they climbed onto it anyway. By the time Kobra finally showed up with his hair still ruffled from sleep, they’d already taken a break to eat and were done with completing the outline.

“That’s what I call a dramatic gesture indeed,” Kobra observed and Poison paused briefly to check on their brother’s facial expression. To be honest, it didn’t tell them much.

“Ya think it’s too tacky?” they asked. They usually weren’t the type to second guess themself, but they really wanted Ghoul to like the result.

They’d put in quite some effort so far and were already covered in paint from head to toe. There were even pink paint dots on their lower arm and they hadn’t even used pink paint yet.

“Can I help?” Kobra wanted to know instead of answering their question.

Poison beamed. “Put on some tunes and grab a brush, Kid.” They waved their own paint brush through the air. “But keep colourin’ inside the lines. I don’t want anyone fucking up my artistic vision.”

Kobra rolled his eyes at them, but followed the instructions. Jet was already sitting on the floor with a brush in his hand. Poison had definitely caught him improvising before, but they only complained as a matter of principle anyway. They knew perfectly well that within a couple of months additions would be made to the painting and that Ghoul would definitely add his name tag in an obnoxiously obvious place that would ruin the entire composition. Poison honestly believed that this was how it was supposed to be.

Although the three of them were working together, it took them until the late afternoon to finish the painting and Poison’s perfectionism and nitpicking had absolutely nothing to do with that. Ghoul still hadn’t shown his face around, which proved just how exhausted he must have been. But Poison was also glad he hadn’t accidentally walked in on them. When they decided to be dramatic about something, they were really dramatic about it and they wanted a big moment for their reveal.

“Should we get Ghoul?” they asked and inspected their work, quite pleased with how the lettering and their individual logos framing it had turned out.

“I’ll get him,” Jet offered and Poison felt a brief jolt of disappointment that it wouldn’t be them getting to see Ghoul’s sleepy face when he finally blinked himself awake. But it was probably better, if Jet woke him, since he’d set Ghoul less on edge.

“Ya really think he’s gonna like it?” they made sure as they watched Jet leave the room.

“Looks fantastic, Pois,” Kobra assured them.

They fumbled with a strand of their hair that stuck together with dried paint. They’d definitely have to wash it soon. Or maybe they could pass it off as a fashion statement, it might be worth a try.

Finally steps approached, though it wasn’t so much the steps they heard first as Ghoul’s loud protesting voice.

He was walking in front of Jet, who was covering Ghoul’s eyes with his hands to make sure he didn’t peek. It allowed them to take very small steps only and looked frankly quite ridiculous. It only worked at all, because Jet was so much taller than Ghoul, that at least he could see where they were going.

“Poison, I swear,” Ghoul yelled. His voice was a little hoarse and his hair looked ruffled. He still wore the same clothes as last night, so Jet must indeed have woken him. “If ya do this shit again just to show me another one of ya silly lil’ outfits, Imma steal your tight-ass jeans and blow them up for real this time.”

Poison laughed, mostly because they felt giddy inside.

“My fashion shows are just wasted on you,” they said. “But this time it’s good, promise. I present to you the greatest piece of art ever created! See and marvel at my genius!” They nodded at Jet to lower his hands. “Ta-daa!”

They raised their arm to point right at the brandnew wall ornament that filled the entire diner with the probably intoxicating fumes of wet paint.

Ghoul looked at them first as if he fully expected to find said artwork draped around Poison’s body, before he followed their gesture to stare at the wall instead.

For a moment, he just seemed to take it in, only then did he read the actual words. He moved his lips silently while he did, which made Poison feel incredibly fond of him.

“Fabulous Four,” Ghoul finally read out loud. He paused. “Four.”

Poison waited for him to break into a wide grin or come up with a snappy remark, or mock their drawing skills in some way, but Ghoul just stood there and stared. His shoulders were pulled up and he was holding on to his elbow with one hand as if he was scared he might just fall apart. And then he started crying.

He wasn’t making a sound, but the tears started rolling down his cheeks, leaving visible trails behind where they cleaned away the dirt.

“‘S okay, sugar,” Poison said gently. They wanted him to know that it was alright to cry, that it was okay to be vulnerable, that he was finally with the people with whom he had to hide none of it anymore.

Ghoul turned his head to meet their eyes, as if only the sound of their voice had reminded him that they were actually in the room with him. For another moment, he just stared at them, his large eyes glistening with tears. Then he lowered his arm and it looked as if he wanted to say something, but instead he lunged himself forward.

He crashed into Poison like a cannonball, nearly ripping them both of their feet. Poison only managed to remain upright, because they instinctively reached out to support themself against the wall, pressing their palm right into the fresh paint that would now have their handprint perpetuated in it forever.

The impact of the collision shot pain through their body and they wanted to scold Ghoul for his rambunctiousness, tell him that these attacks would have to end and that he couldn’t always just express himself through violence, even if it was well intended.

But then they looked down and realised that Ghoul hadn’t thrown himself at them to wrestle them to the ground at all.

His face was buried against their chest and he was still shaking without making a sound. He had his arms wrapped around their waist and was hugging them tightly enough to break a rib.

“Oh, sweetheart,” they said quietly and wrapped their arms around Ghoul in return, rubbing his back soothingly and leaving fresh paint stains all over his shirt.

Their own eyes started to burn with hot pressure as they teared up.

Ghoul held on to them and it was clear that he had no words to express his feelings. But he didn’t need to say anything, everything he had to say was in the neediness of his hug. He clung to Poison like a ‘joy who’d believed to never find this again, who’d thought that love and family and belonging were only meant for other people; who hadn’t even allowed himself to hope for it in a very, very long time. And Poison sometimes felt like they experienced the pain of the entire world, but right now all they felt was Ghoul’s pain and that alone seemed like too much for a single person already. But they’d love him. They’d love him until he believed that it was what he deserved.

They placed their cheek against Ghoul’s hair, half crying and half laughing as if all the second-hand emotions just needed an outlet.

They held on to each other almost desperately, even though it wasn’t despair they felt. Poison thought that they were happy.

“Ya just gonna stand there and watch us sob like we’re the fucking pictures?” they asked.

Ghoul laughed against their chest, seemingly without stopping to cry either.

Jet reached them first, wrapping his arms around both of them from the side. 

Kobra stepped in from the other side, leaning into them. He reached up and nudged the side of Poison’s head gently.

“Fucking crybaby,” he mocked.

“Leave them alone,” Jet said. Jet was crying, too.

“Ya sappy bastards,” Kobra muttered and leaned in further, burying his face in Ghoul’s unwashed hair.

Poison laughed again and they couldn’t remember the last time their chest had felt this tight and this wide all at once.

“It’s okay,” they said and they weren’t even sure whom they were addressing. “You’re safe now. You’re home now. You’re safe.”

And at least for now, they felt like it was true. Because sometimes Poison felt like they had to save the entire world, and it made them feel desperate and like all these feelings and all this caring and caring and caring with nowhere to go would one day burn them out. But at other times, they felt like they had finally done enough saving. Because sometimes, their entire world fitted into a single group hug.

Chapter Text

Poison heard the door of the diner fall shut downstairs. They were sitting on the roof of the building, wrapped up in a dirty, pink blanket, the night vision binoculars on the ledge in front of them.

It was still too early for a shift change, their watch would last for another two hours or so, but it wasn’t unusual that they kept each other company when one of them couldn’t fall asleep.

They looked over to the ladder, curious which of their crew members had decided to join them. They felt a treacherous pang of joy when they spotted Ghoul’s dark shock of hair. They told themself that they would have been equally happy about anyone to have a chat with.

“Can’t sleep?” they asked as Ghoul shuffled closer. He hadn’t put on a jacket, just his vest, leaving his arms covered only by the thin fabric of his striped shirt.

“Yeah,” he confirmed and pulled something from one of the many pockets of his outfit. “Also got these ‘n thought now might be a good time.”

Poison stared at the pack of cigarettes in Ghoul’s hand.

“Holy smoke, where’d ya get those?”

Ghoul pulled up the second camping chair they kept up here precisely for shared night watches like these and slumped down next to Poison.

“Did that gig for the ‘joys I know from Zone 4 last week, remember? Cost me a real nice bomb.”

He flipped open the package, revealing there were six whole cigarettes inside.

“Destroya, must’ve been a helluva bomb,” Poison concluded.

Ghoul pulled out two cigarettes and handed one to Poison before he pocketed the rest of the pack again. Poison held it between their fingers reverently. They hadn’t had a smoke in months.

“Don’t tell Jet and Kobra ‘bout it though,” Ghoul warned. “I’m not gonna share.”

He patted himself down until he identified a pocket in which he kept a lighter. Poison knew that Ghoul kept at least five different lighters on himself at all times, and usually a box of matches, too.

“You’re sharing with me,” they observed and ignored the fluttering in their stomach. They knew what it meant of course, even though it wasn’t something they had ever felt before.

“You’re just lucky I’ve got a soft spot for ya,” Ghoul said. Had it been anyone else, Poison would have assumed he was flirting with them, but Ghoul had had plenty of opportunity to return Poison’s flirting before and he had never taken them up on it.

“Is it my pretty face? Or my tight ass?” They placed the cigarette between their lips and leaned over, leaving Ghoul with no other choice but to light it for them. His hands were close to their face, shielding the flame.

“Well, it sure as hell isn’t your personality,” he replied and lit his own cigarette.

Poison laughed and blew a lungful of smoke into the night. The first drag after so long felt fucking amazing.

“Are you cold?” they asked and turned to Ghoul.

“Nah, I’m good.” Poison liked the way Ghoul held his cigarette. It drew the attention to his tattooed hands. They were very calloused and always dirty. Poison liked his hands a lot.

“Ya should’ve brought a jacket,” they scolded and lifted the corner of their blanket. “C’mere.”

Ghoul hesitated, but then he moved his chair to shuffle closer. It was slightly awkward, because the armrests were still between them, but they were sitting close enough to each other now for their shoulders to touch.

Poison tossed the blanket over Ghoul’s shoulders and they adjusted their position further, until both of them were properly cuddled up to each other to stay warm.

Ghoul took another drag from his cigarette and when he exhaled, some of the smoke blew into Poison’s face, but most of it got carried away by the night breeze, so they didn’t feel like complaining.

Ghoul rested his head against their shoulder. He had become a lot more physically affectionate with all of them ever since he had officially joined their crew, as if he had needed permission first, had needed the reassurance that they’d actually want to be close to him. But then he had dropped his inhibitions so suddenly, that sometimes Poison still marvelled at his readiness to let himself be loved. It made them sad whenever they actually stopped to think about it. For all these years Ghoul had been on his own simply because no one had gotten close enough to realise that all the barriers he had erected around himself to keep people out were made of nothing but paper.

He never slept in his room by himself anymore either, but kept rotating on their mattresses, wrapped tightly around a different member of their crew each night. Sometimes he even switched beds halfway through the night, depending on their watch duties, so he wouldn’t have to fall asleep by himself after his shift. Neither Poison nor Jet minded to have his arms around them, have him breathing down their necks and drooling on their shirts, and Kobra had given up complaining at some point. Poison had even started to miss his warm, clingy body during the nights he slept with someone else. They slept better when Ghoul was next to them. He chose to crawl into bed with Poison most of the time anyway.

“It’s really nice out here when you get to share it with someone,” Poison said quietly. They were looking up at the desert night sky. It was so clear that the stars sparkled like diamonds scattered by the Phoenix Witch. “In Bat City you can’t see the stars at all, y’know?” 

They rarely talked about their life back in the city, but in their mind, they still kept comparing it to life in the desert. Sometimes they wondered if Kobra’s memories of their childhood were just as vivid. After all, he’d been several years younger when they left.

“Party?” Ghoul said without lifting his head off their shoulder. “Can I … Can I ask what happened? You never told me and Kobes doesn’t talk about it either. What’s with your parents? Are they still alive? Ya don’t have to talk ‘bout it, t’is just … I’ve been wonderin’.”

Poison exhaled soundly. Their cigarette was burned down already. They’d have to hide the butts, so Jet and Kobra wouldn’t find them. Maybe Ghoul would let them have another one, if they managed to keep them hidden.

“Bli got ‘em, y’know,” they said. “T’was a little before my fourteenth birthday. Picked ‘em up one night and when they came back, they weren’t our parents anymore. They raised us to be as free as they could in the city, ‘cause they loved us. But that changed after Bli took ‘em. Did their brainwashing on ‘em. I knew that if we didn’t stay in line, they’d report us and we’d get our thoughts replaced by static next. It wasn’t safe anymore. They’re still alive, I guess, but I dunno. I never looked for them. They took ‘em from us that day.”

Ghoul had finished his cigarette, too. He reached down between them, taking Poison’s hand. He was holding it lightly, almost as if he wanted to leave them with the option to pull away if it became too much.

But Poison didn’t mind talking about it. They’d told their story countless times before. Many ‘joys had made similar experiences, but it was important to keep talking about it nonetheless. People had to remember what Bli was capable of.

“That must’ve been scary,” Ghoul mumbled. “I don’t think I could’ve done that. Runnin’ away on my own, leaving my parents, even like that.”

Poison remembered the guilt that had come with leaving; the fear, too. They’d still been a kid. A part of them had wanted to keep clinging to their parents, even to the versions that weren’t quite right anymore.

“If it’d been just me, I would’ve stayed,” they confessed. “But I had to keep Kobra safe, y’know? I just had to. If they’d taken me, he would have been on his own. Running was the only option.”

“I’m sorry,” Ghoul said. “Was it difficult? Gettin’ out of the city?”

Poison kept looking up at the stars. It was nice to just sit here with Ghoul like this. It was good they had this talk, too.

“Not really. T’was just difficult not to give up and go back. Didn’t really know how to organise food ‘n stuff at first. Met some other runaways in the Inner Zones though. Got together and helped each other out. I was pretty much the oldest, so I took the lead.”

“Bet ya bossed ‘em around real good,” Ghoul said with a chuckle.

Poison laughed. “Ya bet. Ya think I’m bossy now, ya should’ve met me when I was a teen. I fuckin’ knew it all.”

Ghoul joined in with their laughter. It was a tender, affectionate laugh that sounded like he would have liked to know Poison as a teenager even though they would absolutely have hated each other’s guts.

“Eventually, Dr. D found us ‘n took us in. A lot of the other kids were taken in by crews who’d take care of them. But we stayed with D. I wanted to form my own crew right away, not depend on anyone else. Always so fucking stubborn.”

“Always so fucking stubborn,” Ghoul repeated and laughed again.

They fell quiet and Poison tried to make out the star constellations they’d been taught in school about a lifetime ago. They couldn’t remember any of them. They preferred to make up their own anyway.

“It was my fault, y’know?” they said eventually. This was the part they’d never told to anyone before except to Dr. D, breaking down on his lap crying one day, fourteen and a half and burdened by guilt too heavy to carry on their own. They assumed that Kobra knew, though they were also sure that he didn’t blame them.

“Whaddaya mean?” Poison sensed Ghoul’s grip on their hand tighten.

“You know they take the parents when they fail to raise their kids into the next generation of proper Bli conforming citizens. We know that by now. It happens all the time.” That was why they shared their stories in the Zones, why they compared all their fates of loss and grief. They had to remind each other they weren’t going insane and that it wasn’t their fault. Most importantly, they had to remind each other that they weren’t alone. “Kobra was a good kid. It wasn’t him. But I was fucking fourteen, man.”

They emphasised the number, trusting that Ghoul would understand what they were meaning to say. They remembered how their own body had started to irritate them and how they had felt like they were the only person in all of Bat City for whom the neat little categories of sexuality and gender and identity seemed too narrow to fit themself into.

“Party,” Ghoul whispered. “Pois.”

“I mean, I was difficult enough as it was. I would have caused them trouble either way. But when puberty hit … that’s when it really became clear that something wasn’t quite right ‘bout me.”

“Poison,” Ghoul said and squeezed their hand so tightly it became almost painful. “You’re right. You’re so fucking right.”

“I know. I mean, not right by Bli’s standards anyway. I accepted myself for who I am a long time ago. That’s not why I keep fighting. I just don’t want any kid to ever be made to feel the way I felt. Like there’s something wrong with them or like they don’t belong.” Their voice started to sound choked and tears were filling their eyes. They’d stopped hurting for themself, but they seemed unable to stop hurting for the world. “I just want every kid out there to know that there is a place for them in this world, and that there are people who will love them.”

Ghoul lifted his head off their shoulder. He reached over and cupped their cheek to make them turn their head. Poison’s eyes were all teary, but they made no effort to hide it. They honestly believed that wearing your emotions on your sleeve was an act of subversion in itself.

“And this right there is why I’ve got a soft spot for ya,” Ghoul said and he looked at them full of admiration and tenderness and pride. And Poison really thought that he would lean in and kiss them, their faces were so close to each other. “Never met anyone who was this aggressively full of love and compassion.”

Poison chuckled and leaned into the touch of Ghoul’s hand. He caressed their cheek gently with his thumb and they briefly closed their eyes.

“Ya wield your heart like a weapon. Didn’t have to be so headstrong ‘bout me stayin’,” Ghoul said quietly. “But ya made me feel cared for like it was a battle.”

Poison snorted with laughter and opened their eyes again, looking directly into Ghoul’s. They looked darker at night; a dark hazel, like honey and seaweed. They would have very much liked to kiss him, not making out with him, not touching him, not getting off, just kissing him without purpose or direction.

“T’was a fucking firefight,” they corrected.

Ghoul laughed as well and pulled his hand away from Poison’s cheek. Their skin felt cold as soon as he broke the touch. Ghoul’s body always felt very warm, as if he was as explosive as his bombs.

“Thank the Witch you’re a good shooter.”

“I’d never miss, Ghoulie.”

Ghoul frowned ever so slightly. “It actually feels weird when ya call me that,” he said. He didn’t sound challenging at all like he usually did when he complained. He spoke quite seriously as if he wasn’t sure whether to bring this up at all.

“Really?” Poison asked and pulled back slightly, just far enough to get a better look at Ghoul’s face without letting the blanket around them slip out of place. “Thought your whining ‘bout it was just some kind of knee jerk reaction. Thought ya didn’t like being called anything cute. I can stop if it bothers ya.”

“Dunno.” Ghoul shrugged. “Used to feel bad, now it doesn’t anymore, just weird. My ma and pa, y’know. Well, they obviously didn’t call me Fun Ghoul. That’s my killjoy name, the one I chose for myself. But, y’know, they had a nickname for me, too.”

Ghoul licked his lips. Poison knew how weird it was to be reminded of your given name. They had never hated theirs, just didn’t identify with it anymore, it was something that belonged to the person they’d been inside Bat City. Even with Kobra, they never used their old names anymore.

“It sounded similar, reminds me of that. Made me sad at first. And like, angry at ya. Still makes me kinda sad.”

“Sorry I upset ya,” Poison said and took Ghoul’s hand back into their own. It was nice how natural the touch felt by now. “But y’know, your ma and pa had that nickname for ya ‘cause they loved you. And I’m sayin’ it with love, too.”

“I know,” Ghoul confirmed and rested his head on their shoulder again. Poison was glad that he was seemingly settling in to stay up here with them for a while. If he stayed until the end of their shift, he might choose to sleep in their bed tonight, so they’d doze off in each other’s arms. That’d be nice. “That’s why I stopped bein’ angry with ya. Just wanted ya to know that ya can’t use it lightly. Ya have to mean it.”

“Yeah,” they said and leaned their cheek against the top of Ghoul’s head. “I mean it, Ghoulie. I promise I mean it.”

Chapter Text

Poison made the ‘joy in their arms swirl around, moving their body to the beat of the music. They had danced all night already, they were sweaty and their feet hurt, but it had been a while since Kobra had last convinced them to go out and they’d nearly forgotten how much fun it could be. It was also the first time the four of them attended a party night together as a crew.

The ‘joy grinned at them, her long hair dyed green and blue in patchy shades. Her face glistened in the light of the giant bonfire. The heat was making Poison feel dizzy in the best way possible, or maybe that was the self-made booze the ‘joys from Zone 6 had brought with them.

They considered kissing the crash queen, they were pretty positive it would be reciprocated, and the heat and the dancing and the music had put them in the mood. They usually hooked up with someone at these Outer Zone parties, they never had trouble finding a partner; not with the way they danced like they were getting paid for it.

Tonight, they hesitated though and scanned the faces around the bonfire, wondering what their crew was up to. Kobra and Jet were nowhere to be seen, so maybe they had found someone for the night already, or they were simply done with the noise and had searched for a quieter place to hang out.

Ghoul, however, was sitting on a sliced-up tire with a drink in his hand, the flickering light of the fire casting shadows across his face. He looked wild like this, wild and beautiful.

Their eyes met. Ghoul had been watching them.

“Sorry, love.” Poison leaned into their dance partner to talk to her. “Gotta check in with my crew.”

She nodded and shrugged, seemingly not too devastated as she turned around and continued dancing by herself, clearly not needing Poison to have a good time.

Poison looked back at Ghoul and waved him over. Ghoul shook his head and held up the can in his hand demonstratively.

That might have worked, if Poison had been known for giving up easily.

They moved towards Ghoul, keeping their body swinging to the rhythm of the music. They could sense the beat with their entire being; it felt like they could just spit out their soul and watch it float towards the open sky.

They ran their hands down their body, lowering themself while circling their hips, before they extended their open palms to Ghoul invitingly. It wasn’t that Ghoul didn’t dance. They’d seen him jump around the bonfire earlier, thrashing violently to the music like a spirit had taken hold of him. They were pretty sure there had been at least one Ghoul-induced injury tonight.

They put on their most suggestive pout.

Ghoul rolled his eyes, but put his can down into the sand wordlessly. The music was too loud to yell over it when there wasn’t much to say anyway.

Poison smiled widely as Ghoul got up and stepped towards them. They expected they’d dance together wildly and silly, the way Ghoul seemed to prefer it. Poison had kept their eyes on him all night, not so much to look at him the way they sometimes did back at the diner when he didn’t notice, but because they’d never seen him at a party before and were curious how he’d interact with the other ‘joys. They’d expected him to stick more to himself than he had, but he had turned out to mingle with the crowd quite effortlessly.

And he surprised them again, because now he stepped towards them, continuing right where their last dance partner had left off, their bodies pressed flush together, moving to the rhythm of the same beat.

Ghoul’s hands found their way to Poison’s waist. The crop-top they were wearing left their midriff exposed and his calloused fingers felt very warm on their bare skin. He was grabbing them firmly, too, there was no hesitation in his touch, which was just the way Poison liked to be touched.

They looked down at Ghoul. Their heels were giving them a few extra inches and the height difference was even more noticeable than usual. Ghoul’s eyes had a feverish haze to them, it might have been the reflection of the flames or maybe he was slightly drunk, too. He was probably drunk the way he was holding Poison’s hips right now, since he tended to get flustered more easily otherwise.

Poison let themself fall against him even more, closing their eyes and losing themself in the music and the movement and the feel of Ghoul’s warm body. He felt warmer than the fire in their back.

Their faces were close enough to touch, their lips kept brushing against Ghoul’s forehead and his temple, his hair kept getting in the way.

It was Ghoul giving the beat, and although Poison was usually the biggest control freak around, they let themself be swept up by it; in fact they liked it when someone was confident enough to take control of their body. They followed the movements of Ghoul’s hips and the guidance of his hands. He was rolling his hips in a way that involuntarily made them think that he was probably good in bed; surprisingly in tune with his own body and yet not holding back at all.

They had their arms around Ghoul’s shoulders, their bodies so close they could sense the shifting of his muscles under the clothes. They kept their eyes shut.

What usually excited them about dancing with someone this close was how novel it felt, exploring someone’s body so intimately without really knowing them at all. But with Ghoul it was the total opposite, because even in this new position, his body felt utterly familiar. They were used to sleeping next to it, to have it curl up against them or to surprise tackle them. They knew its shape and outlines perfectly well, knew all the way its muscles shifted, knew where it was soft and solid, where it ended and where it began to the point where it felt like they were dancing by themself because their bodies were so in sync with one another.

The intimacy they usually shared made their closeness now feel perfectly natural and yet they were very aware that they would never dance the same with Jet or Kobra. They’d dance together, of course, but it was always more of a dancing side by side, holding hands or at least staying an arm’s length apart. The thought of pressing up to them like this felt wrong and twisted, but with Ghoul it was just right. They loved the way his body felt against them, loved how their sweaty skin stuck together, and the friction created through their motions was starting to put them into a state that surpassed mere baselevel horniness.

They shifted slightly to increase said friction and now their semi was pressing into Ghoul’s side right above his hip bone. Poison was sure he’d be able to feel it and heat rose to their face. They should have been more careful. Even if Ghoul assumed their arousal was nothing but the result of their grinding and the alcohol, he’d pull back quickly for sure, taken aback by the sensation.

But instead, his hand slipped from Poison’s waist to their lower back and then down to their ass. It wasn’t just an accident either, he grabbed tight in a way that would usually have assured Poison they were about to get lucky tonight.

With his hand on their ass Ghoul pulled them even closer, which Poison took as an invitation. Their eyes still closed, they pressed their thigh against Ghoul’s crotch, grinding their own hardening dick against his stomach. They were moaning, so quietly it wasn’t audible over the music, but Ghoul would be able to sense their hot breath against his face.

He kept moving his hips against them, meeting the rhythm of their thrusts as if he wanted to ride their thigh, and Poison was pretty sure that he was hard as well, even though in his case, it was probably just the grinding and the alcohol indeed.

They wondered if they were really doing this. They were definitely both drunk and at least on their part, the sexual attraction had seethed for a while already, but were they really drunk enough to dry fuck in the middle of a party surrounded by people? Even if they didn’t finish right here, they doubted there would be a non-awkward way to come back from this.

They opened their eyes and pulled back to check on Ghoul, see if he was completely out of it, or if he was treating this as a joke, or what the hell was going on with him.

Ghoul placed his hands back on Poison’s hips as soon as they moved away, only holding on to them lightly as if he didn’t want to break the body contact but would not hold them back if that was what they chose either.

He looked up at them and his expression was completely open and unguarded and it made Poison feel like there was nothing to worry about. Because this right now could mean everything, or it could mean nothing at all, and it would not change anything about the love they felt for each other, because this was Ghoul, their Ghoul and that was all that mattered.

Ghoul started laughing for absolutely no reason and Poison started laughing too, because they were happy and it felt good to hold Ghoul in their arms like this, and the night was beautiful.

Ghoul threw back his head and he laughed with his mouth wide open and Poison could hardly hear him over the music at all, but he looked young and innocent, he looked like the world was a perfect place and not cruel at all.

Poison leaned down and pressed their lips to Ghoul’s, simply because they felt like it. They kissed their crewmates all the time, even though not on the mouth, but the difference felt minimal, it was an affectionate but short kiss, not filled with desire at all.

When they pulled back they still feared that they’d crossed a line, but Ghoul just reached up, letting go of their hips to put his arms around their neck instead. He pulled them in and planted a second kiss on their lips, short and dry and very hard. He had to get on his tiptoes to reach them.

Then he lowered himself and laughed again and Poison had no idea what that meant, but they were laughing, too. They leaned in to yell into Ghoul’s ear: “I need to get out of these fuckin’ heels.”

And Ghoul laughed some more and he nodded. He took a step back and grabbed Poison’s hand. They turned and pulled Ghoul with them, towards the parking area where they had left the Am. They didn’t even think about why they were leaving, if it was to catch their breath or to exchange more kisses. They only cared for taking off these damned shoes and for holding Ghoul’s hand.

It was relatively quiet in the area where the cars were parked, even though the music was still audible in the distance. Most ‘joys had retreated to the motel nearby, but the rooms would be crowded by now. Usually, Poison didn’t mind a quick hookup outside or in the semi-privacy of a cramped bathroom, and sleeping in a pile of bodies on the floor afterwards, the rooms heated and stuffy with too many bodies inside of them. A lot of ‘joys slept outside on these party nights too, curled up in sleeping bags around the bonfire that burned down until the early morning. Some ‘joys didn’t go to sleep at all on nights like these.

But just tonight, Poison wanted to be alone with someone, wanted the intimacy of a space shared only by them instead of the intimacy created by two bodies in ecstasy. Maybe they wanted that too.

They reached the Trans Am and opened the backdoor, finally letting go of Ghoul’s hand to sit down on the backseat to pull off their shoes. Their feet felt hot. They’d have blisters tomorrow.

They tossed the shoes into the sand, well aware of the risk that someone might steal them overnight, because those were some really nice fucking heels, but they weren’t comfortable anyway, and these parties were always a give and take. They had picked up an adorable fur coat that way before, which was completely useless in the desert, but they still considered it a worthy trade.

Ghoul had basically not said a word at all so far, but now he yawned, loud and without covering his mouth.

Poison crawled into the Am and collapsed on the backseat. They were feeling pretty beat, too.

Ghoul followed them without hesitation, and for a moment Poison thought he was going to kiss them again, but instead he just flopped down on top of them, head on their chest, half caught up between their legs.

The car door was still open, allowing the night air to circulate. The backseat was too small to lie on it comfortably together, but it was better than sharing a room with ten other ‘joys. Ghoul’s cheek was resting against their breastbone and Poison assumed he was going to fall asleep any time now. Ghoul was always quick to fall asleep once he was comfortable and the alcohol seemed to make him even more droopy.

They vaguely felt like they should be disappointed, but they were too happy for that. It worried them a little how content they felt with Ghoul’s weight on top of them.

“I love ya,” they mumbled and put their arms around Ghoul loosely.

“Love ya, too, Pois,” Ghoul muttered back and Poison smiled in the dark. They knew Ghoul loved them, of course, he had his ways of showing it without words. They didn’t think he’d actually said it back before though. It was good to hear, and also a little bittersweet.

They closed their eyes and briefly thought that they’d hopefully wake before Jet and Kobra found them in the morning. After all, their position looked kind of suspicious.

But maybe the fact that they were still fully dressed - down to the boots in Ghoul’s case - would convince them that nothing had happened between them. Which might be worse, because then Poison’s feelings would become plain obvious.

They felt exhausted, but not dead tired yet. They could have gotten out from underneath Ghoul, let him sleep in the Am while they found someone to blow off some steam with. But even though they hadn’t gotten laid in ages already, they preferred simply falling asleep with Ghoul in their arms to having sex with anyone else. Which was strange, because they fell asleep with Ghoul in their arms almost every night, and somehow it still felt like the most special thing in the entire world to them.

Chapter Text

It was the hottest day in a while. Poison was slumped down in the diner booth, trying to move as little as possible. Every surface felt sticky to the touch. They were beginning to think the problem might actually be their skin.

They had decided to stay inside, although it was only marginally cooler here. Ghoul and Jet were trying their luck outside, hoping for a breeze that would probably never come. Poison could see them through the blinds. Jet was in shorts and a cut-off vest, Ghoul was in a pair of swim trunks. Poison had seen the tattoos on his chest before a couple of times, but the ones on his thighs were a rare sight. His skin was glistening with sweat. For someone so skinny, his body looked surprisingly soft, clearly muscular, yet like it was made for you to leave fingerprints and bitemarks behind.

They remembered what his body had felt like against them, dancing around the bonfire only a little over a week ago, they estimated. They hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it ever since. Ghoul’s hands on their hips, their thigh between his legs, their arms around each other, the shifting of his muscles against them, the movements of his pelvis, his lips on theirs, dry and quick. Neither of them had mentioned it, they’d just woken up with a headache and untangled themselves from each other the next morning. Poison wasn’t even sure if Ghoul remembered.

The line between his breasts in particular looked very sweaty.

“Here,” Kobra said, his voice startling Poison so much they flinched. They had gotten pretty absorbed in the view.

Kobra placed a can of soda on the table in front of them.

“The heat seems to be making ya thirsty.”

“Shut up,” Poison muttered, but they did feel slightly embarrassed. They opened the soda can and made a face at the first sip. It was so warm, it felt like drinking piss and not even in a fun way.

Kobra had sat down opposite them. His hair, that was usually so perfectly in shape, hung down the sides of his face in sweaty strands.

“I’m just looking, ‘kay?”

“It’s not your eyes I’m worried about,” Kobra clarified. “It’s your hands.”

Poison tried to roll their eyes, but a part of them also felt relieved that someone had noticed, or more precisely, that Kobra had noticed. They hadn’t been subtle about their flirting at all, but precisely because of that it had felt like hiding a big secret in plain sight. They had never been good at keeping secrets from Kobra.

“I can control myself, y’know?” they muttered. “It’s just a nice view, is all.”

“I know he’s your type,” Kobra said. “Knew from the moment you brought him home that you wouldn’t be able to leave it alone.”

He was looking at Poison very openly. His slim face still made him look very young, or maybe it was just Poison who couldn’t let go of the need to protect him. At the same time, they felt like they wanted to break down and ask Kobra for comfort. It had always been Poison who’d looked out for Kobra, but Kobra was the one who’d been there to make sure Poison didn’t fall apart. Poison might have saved him by taking him to run away from Bat City, but they wouldn’t have had the strength to run on their own. They had saved each other. 

So whenever they felt confused or scared or helpless, they instinctively turned to Kobra. They didn’t know what to do about Ghoul and they wished they could just spit their heart into their brother’s hands to let him decide what to do with it instead.

“Just promise me you won’t fuck him,” Kobra said.

Poison made a disgruntled noise, mostly because the straight-forwardness had taken them by surprise. But then Kobra wasn’t one for beating around the bush.

“I don’t even know if …” They broke off. This was one of the reasons their feelings for Ghoul confused them so much that they had longed to talk them through with someone, without daring to bring it up. Poison usually didn’t suffer from low self-esteem. But around Ghoul, they felt insecure. “Do you think he’d even be up for that? I mean, have ya ever talked to him ‘bout his preferences? ‘Cause I dunno anything ‘bout that.”

Kobra hesitated. Poison had sounded a little too urgent it seemed. It was hard to miss the fact that they were very much concerned about this. Kobra sighed.

“He’s a ‘joy, ‘kay? As far as I know, he’s pretty adaptable in his preferences.” He paused, apparently trying to decide how much he was supposed to share. But Kobra had never been good at keeping secrets from Poison either. “And I did catch him looking at ya a couple of times, too. Though he’s got the decency to be subtle ‘bout it at least. So I dunno for sure, but ya might’ve a shot with him.”

“Good,” Poison simply said.

“It doesn’t matter though.” Kobra shook his head. His face was glistening with sweat, too. Poison wondered why they had to have this conversation on a day this hot. “Because ya shouldn’t even try to fuck him. That’d be just as shitty as actually doing it.”

Poison huffed, looking out of the window briefly, only to check if Jet and Ghoul were still outside and wouldn’t suddenly stand behind them or anything.

“Did ya just bring it up to bully me ‘bout it?” they mumbled and took another sip from their soda. It still tasted disgustingly warm, but a little less so once you got used to it.

“I’m not bullying you,” Kobra said. His tone wasn’t overly emotional, but for his means, his voice was gentle. “I want ya to be happy. But Ghoul’s off-limits. I love that lil’ fucker. And so does Jet. He’s our family. Ya can’t make things awkward for all of us, just ‘cause you’ve got the itch for him.”

Poison scrunched up their nose, trying not to take Kobra’s words too personally.

“I know he’s family,” they said. “Whadaya think why I haven’t made my moves on him yet? I know that, Kobes. Dunno why ya feel the need to tell me that.”

“Ya know why Jet always hides the popsicles at the back of the fridge and never tells you ‘bout it when we get some from Tommy?” Kobra changed the topic.

Poison made even more of a face. “Thought it was to surprise me. Like a birthday present even when it’s not my birthday.”

“It’s ‘cause ya always eat the damned popsicles immediately when you know they’re there,” Kobra corrected. “You’ve got no self-restraint.”

Poison raised their hands, feeling attacked even though Kobra wasn’t technically wrong.

“It’s not like I steal ‘em from y’all,” they clarified. “I only ever eat my ration.”

“Yeah, and then when we eat ours, you look so miserable, me ‘n Jet will let you have a bite.”

Poison crossed their arms in front of their chest, unable to refrain from getting defensive.

“I never ask for it, though,” they said. “I’m not forcing ya to share with me.”

Kobra nodded. “Yeah, but that’s not the point. ‘Cause we’re gonna let you have a bite anyway. I don’t want me ‘n Jet dealing with your shit, just ‘cause ya didn’t have the self-control to keep your hands off Ghoul.”

Poison tutted and looked out the window again. “Ghoul’s not a popsicle.”

“Right, so don’t lick him.”

In spite of themself, Kobra’s dead-serious tone made them laugh.

“I’m not gonna,” they promised. “I know it’d be awkward for everyone if I tried.”

After all, they knew that if Ghoul didn’t return their feelings, it would be awkward at the diner for a while, with everyone trying to ignore the tension in the air and pretending not to know what was going on. 

“Not just awkward, Pois,” Kobra corrected. It wasn’t like him to keep pushing, which meant this had to be important to him. He was usually there to listen to Poison, but he wasn’t the most open when it came to discussing feelings.

“‘Cause what if ya really fuck this up? You’re the leader, so what if you make him feel like he isn’t welcome anymore? Even if ya don’t mean to and I know ya wouldn’t mean to. But y’know how long it took for him to trust us.”

Poison’s throat suddenly felt tight. They had liked it better when they had still been able to feel defensive.

The thought of Ghoul feeling like their love might not have been genuine from the start made them want to cry. Maybe he’d feel like he wasn’t allowed to stay if he couldn’t give Poison what they asked of him. They never wanted to make him feel pressured, they never wanted to make him feel like their love was anything but unconditional.

“Fuck, you’re right,” they admitted. Their voice sounded choked, only slightly, faint enough to keep it hidden from anyone but Kobra. Their only reason for not making a move so far had been fear of rejection. “I was just thinking of myself.”

“I know you’re not selfish, though, that’s why I’m reminding ya, yeah?” Kobra reached across the table and gave Poison’s arm a light squeeze. “I’m not tryna be a dick. But I’m your brother and if ya fight, I’m gonna stick with you. But it wouldn’t be fair to make me lose Ghoul, ‘cause he’s important to me, too. And it wouldn’t be fair to Ghoul either. He’s been alone for long enough. And I know ya love him and wouldn’t wanna hurt him. So just watch out.”

Poison looked out the window, where Ghoul was still lying in the sun. They wanted to kiss down his sweaty body. They wanted him to look up and accidentally catch their eyes. They wanted Ghoul to give them a brief smile that wasn’t meant for anyone else in the entire world.

They turned back to Kobra.

They wanted to tell him about the kisses they had exchanged at the party recently. They wanted to discuss the fact that Ghoul slept in their bed almost every night. They wanted Kobra to acknowledge that it had to mean something, that their feelings might not actually be a burden to him at all, that maybe they wouldn’t ruin anything if they slipped up.

But there was no point in arguing, because every point Kobra had made was so completely true and reasonable that even hope couldn’t outweigh them.

“It wasn’t a choice,” they said quietly in their defence. They had wanted to love Ghoul from the very start. They hadn’t meant for him to carve out a place in their chest like this though. They couldn’t even pin down the moment their feelings had switched from intrigue to something more solid, something that was nearly impossible to get rid off. They had learned to live with it by now. It was just an underlying ache tugging at their insides whenever they looked at Ghoul, that felt like the heat of the desert - on some days it bothered them more than on others, but all in all, they hardly noticed the discomfort any more, because it just was what it was.

“I know,” Kobra said warmly. “But you have a choice now. So, please, don’t fuck this up for us.”

Poison nodded and propped up their arm to rest their chin on their hand. Their head felt heavy. Maybe they should try lying down outside too, where the air was slightly fresher at least. They also wanted to be alone for a while.

“I won’t do anything stupid,” they promised. And they really thought that they’d be able to do it. After all, they’d already gotten used to the feeling and managed quite well so far, even though they hadn’t been able to hide it from Kobra. But in the end, they never managed to hide anything from Kobra for long anyway.

“Good,” he said. He gave them a small smile, that seemed to express support but also gratefulness that Poison had actually listened to him.

And they were genuinely thankful for the reminder of what the right thing to do was here. They had always wanted to be what the world needed them to be. And they’d be what Ghoul needed them to be, too.

Chapter Text

“Whatcha doin’?” Ghoul yelled and Poison blinked themself awake.

They’d been dozing off in the hammock they had put up with their own two hands, so they weren’t going to let anyone take it from them. The temperatures had gone down to a bearable level again, though they were still in shorts and the sunglasses were a must to shield their eyes against the radiation out here.

“Napping,” they admitted, hoping Ghoul would leave them alone, but of course he didn’t.

He appeared by the side of the hammock and made Poison cry out in protest as he tried to climb into it without warning. It tilted dangerously low to the side, nearly causing Poison to topple over. There wasn’t enough space for two people inside and Poison tried to defend their place by kicking out at Ghoul, which didn’t help stabilising the hammock. They both nearly fell out, but then Ghoul slumped down on top of them and at least balance was restored, even though they still swung from one side to the other violently enough to make them seasick.

“Get outta here, motherfucker,” Poison complained. “T’is my hammock, get your own.”

Ghoul cackled, clearly enjoying the fact that he was pissing them off with his behaviour. His weight was heavy on top of them and it was still too hot to get this close to anyone. They felt squished like a slice of bread in a sandwich maker.

“Just lemme, t’is big ‘nough for two,” Ghoul begged.

“It’s not,” Poison grumbled and shoved at Ghoul again to make him get up, risking to flip the hammock over. Only Ghoul didn’t move one bit.

“Please?” Ghoul asked and stretched himself enough to reach Poison’s face. He placed a short, gentle kiss on their lips which made Poison still immediately.

Ghoul pulled back again almost instantly and grinned as widely as if he had just pulled a very successful prank.

The kiss hadn’t been intense. It had felt like a peck on the cheek that had been slightly misplaced. It had been planted on their lips too precisely though for it to be accidental. But of course, they’d kissed like this before, even though drunk, and it had turned out to mean nothing back then either. Maybe Ghoul had taken that casual party kiss as a blanket permission for future casual kisses. He was an affectionate guy after all.

“Destroya, ya can stay,” Poison said and hoped they weren’t actually blushing. They didn’t blush very easily, but their cheeks right now felt insanely hot.

“Knew you'd give up,” Ghoul announced and rolled over, causing the hammock to tilt dangerously once more. He was now lying next to them, but because the hammock was so small, they were squeezed together like they were staying in the barracks of Bat City.

Poison tried to dislike the situation with all their heart.

“But if ya fall asleep, Imma make your ass hit the ground immediately,” Poison threatened. They hoped very much that Ghoul wouldn’t realise that a kiss from him got them confused enough to let him get away with absolutely everything. Both because of what Kobra had told them, and because it would simply turn Ghoul insufferable.

“I won’t.” Ghoul chuckled against their shoulder, his hand was resting on their chest and his index finger trailed the letters on their shirt that told him to keep smiling. It tickled a little, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

“Where’s Kobra and Jet?” Poison asked, mostly because they didn’t want to be caught all cuddled up to Ghoul in the hammock by Kobra. They had really kept their shit together ever since their talk. And after all it would only look weird to reject physical contact suddenly, so they weren’t doing anything wrong either. They still couldn’t help feeling a little guilty for how much they enjoyed feeling Ghoul’s body against themself, though. He felt warm and familiar and it was calming, even if it was hot and sweaty, too.

“They’re inside, reading and bein’ no fun whatsoever.”

“So ya were bored and decided to pester me,” Poison concluded.

They were slightly surprised, because Ghoul could bury himself in comic books for hours, too, though he avoided the paperback novels they had lying around. It was quite obvious he wasn’t the most skilled reader, but Poison had caught him snuggled up to Jet before who’d been reading out to him. Ghoul liked stories.

“Yeah,” Ghoul confirmed.

They kept quiet for a moment and Poison thought that they might actually manage to doze off again. Ghoul’s hand had come to rest on their chest, only his thumb was still moving, caressing them mindlessly.

They could smell him when they turned their head: smoke and gasoline and something burned. Poison had never thought they’d grow to love this specific smell as much as they did.

It made them feel guilty again.

“Also wanted to talk to ya ‘bout something,” Ghoul finally added.

Poison’s heart seemed to leap into their throat and they forced themself to stay calm. Out in the desert those words usually meant bad news, but Ghoul wouldn’t be lying next to them this comfortably if it had been anything serious. No one had gone missing. No one was dead.

“Sure,” Poison said.

“So, I, uh, made somethin’ for ya,” Ghoul said and tried to sit up, almost falling out of the hammock in the process.

Poison laughed and placed their hand on Ghoul’s thigh to keep him steady.

“Careful,” they warned.

Ghoul reached into one of his many pockets, seemingly searching for something.

It wasn’t unusual for him to present them with small gifts, it was definitely his favourite way of showing affection. He’d once watched Kobra pick up a fancy looking bottle cap and by now, Kobra had a whole shelf in his room lined with all kinds of bottle caps that Ghoul kept bringing home whenever he went out. Kobra clearly didn’t have the heart to tell Ghoul that he wasn’t actually collecting them and had instead accepted his fate as the owner of the soon-to-be biggest bottle cap collection in the Zones.

Usually, Ghoul didn’t seem nervous about it though.

“And ya totally don’t have to take it, that’d be shiny too, y’know. I’m not gonna get weird ‘bout it, if ya don’t want it.”

He pulled something from his pocket. Poison wasn’t sure what they’d expected, but they’d already braced themself for a weird bug in a matchbox or the like. Ghoul could get pretty excited about weird bugs.

Instead, Ghoul held up a braided bracelet. It was green and yellow, their identifying colours. It definitely looked self-made, too. They hadn’t been aware Ghoul knew how to make something like this; he usually lacked the patience to create anything that didn’t blow up immediately.

“By the Witch, Ghoulie, I love it!” Poison exclaimed and took the bracelet from Ghoul to inspect it more closely.

They could now see that it wasn’t just their colours Ghoul had used, he had actually woven their logos into the bracelet, the menacingly grinning smiley face on yellow ground and the yellow pill with the X below it in front of a green backdrop. It must have been pretty difficult to make.

“Really? Ya wanna keep it?” Ghoul made sure and stared into his lap with the prettiest smile. The scar seemed to cut deeper into his face when he smiled like this. Most of the time, Poison didn’t even notice it anymore, it was just what Ghoul’s face looked like. He was beautiful from head to toe.

For a moment, Poison thought that it would be alright to never tell him how they felt. Just knowing Ghoul loved them the way he did and being able to hold him in their arms at night was enough to keep them happy.

“Of course, look at that fuckin’ shit.” Poison held up the bracelet next to their face. “Looks stunning with my hair.”

Ghoul laughed, but it sounded slightly irritated.

Poison wondered if they’d done something wrong. They were genuinely happy about the present and were pretty sure their enthusiasm showed enough that it should put Ghoul at ease. Yet he still seemed self-conscious about the gift.

“That’s the most important thing of course,” he confirmed, his voice cracking slightly on the last word.

Poison held the bracelet out to Ghoul again.

“C’mon, put it on me, sweetpea,” they demanded and offered their wrist that already had the rosary wrapped around it.

Ghoul’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink, which wasn’t surprising, because he usually reacted quite strongly to pet names.

“You sure?” he asked and took the bracelet back. He sounded like he really didn’t trust Poison to mean their words.

“Absolutely,” Poison insisted. “I was meaning to incorporate more bracelets into my fashion anyway. And this looks so rad. It’s my new favourite accessory of all times, even better than that shiny brooch I found last week, the one that was all shiny and golden.”

“Party, this is not …” Ghoul broke off and cleared his throat.

“What?” Poison asked.

“Y’know what,” Ghoul said and shook his head. “It’s nothin’. I’m glad you like it.”

Poison pulled back their arm.

“What?”

Ghoul sighed. The hammock had mostly stilled, but it started swinging again as soon as one of them moved. Poison felt like the balance of the situation was very fragile.

Ever since Kobra had talked to them about Ghoul, they were worried that all of their emotions were openly on display. They were worried of not being able to do anything right anymore, because it would make Ghoul feel uncomfortable immediately.

“I was just meaning to say that this is no golden brooch,” Ghoul said in a small voice. “Ya don’t have to be so nice ‘bout it.”

“I mean it though,” Poison clarified. “You made this, it’s better than some lame-ass brooch. I don’t care for the brooch. Let the Crows have it for all I care.”

They hoped that they weren’t sounding too emotional. Ghoul could hand them a trash bag and they’d wear it, if it made him smile. To be fair, Poison would probably still manage to look fabulous in a trash bag anyway.

“C’mon,” they insisted and extended their arm again. “Lemme wear it, please.”

Ghoul hesitated briefly before he finally slung the bracelet around Poison’s wrist. He leaned in to tie a knot to fasten it, looking very focused. Hair was falling into his face and Poison noticed the powder burns on his hands. He tied a knot tight enough to never come off again.

“Thank you,” Poison said and held out their arms to ask for a hug. They could tell Ghoul was still a little off and they wanted to comfort him. They weren’t sure what they had done to upset him though and the stubborn part of themself that wanted to be a good leader felt the need to keep digging. But the other, more reasonable part, told them that it was better to let some things slide occasionally and that Ghoul would talk to them when he was ready. That reasonable part of their brain actually sounded a lot like Kobra.

“It’s nothing,” Ghoul said and looked a little indecisive. He usually didn’t hesitate to throw himself into anyone’s arms anymore, so this was really getting weird.

Poison decided that it was up to them to make the situation feel normal, so they lunged forward, wrapping their arms around Ghoul to pull him in. Unfortunately, they had underestimated the shakiness of the hammock and shifting their weight towards Ghoul was the final tipping point.

The hammock tilted, Ghoul yelped and then both of them were falling already.

Ghoul hit the sand first, landing on his back, Poison’s arms still around him and their body very much on top of him.

Although they hadn’t fallen from a great height, the collision was hard enough to force the air out of their lungs for a moment. Ghoul swore.

Poison giggled and tried to untangle themself from Ghoul without actually getting off him.

“Fuck ya, you fuckin’ fucker,” Ghoul whined and reached up to touch his head. “That fuckin’ hurt.”

“Aw, babyboy,” Poison teased and pushed themself up just a little further. “Want me to kiss it better?”

“Yeah,” Ghoul said.

The reply startled Poison so much that their face was definitely changing colour now. They had just been meaning to tease Ghoul in the same flirting way that always got him flustered; they hadn’t expected him to take them up on it. But if they pulled back now, it would definitely make the situation weird. They simply had to go through with it as if this was what they had meant to do all along.

They couldn’t tell if Ghoul was just being headstrong and had found a new way to challenge their attacks, or if he genuinely wanted them to kiss him. Either way, kissing him seemed like a very bad idea, because it might change their relationship entirely, and if it changed for the worse, Ghoul might lose his family and Poison had to keep him safe. More than anything, they had to keep him safe and loved.

They placed a purposely wet kiss on Ghoul’s cheek, kissing up to his temple and then down to his jaw, making obscene moaning noises that were so over the top that it had to become obvious they didn’t mean it.

Ghoul giggled and tried to kick them, but Poison’s body was still very much on top of him.

“Not like that,” he protested and Poison kissed his forehead and his hair aggressively, no longer checking where their lips landed. “You’re givin’ me another concussion.”

Poison laughed and stopped to look down at Ghoul. His hair was all over his face and spread out in the sand around his head. He looked like an unkempt lion.

“You’ve got a concussion, yeah?” they asked and shifted their weight to free their hand. “How many fingers am I holdin’ up?” They gave Ghoul the middle finger.

“Fuck off,” Ghoul said and slapped their hand away with an annoyed chuckle.

Poison laughed and rolled over, letting themself fall into the sand next to Ghoul. Both of them were staring up into the sky without moving. Through their sunglasses, it looked dark blue.

“I’m real happy ‘bout the bracelet,” Poison said and moved their hand until they found Ghoul’s.

Ghoul didn’t pull back, but allowed them to entwine their fingers. They didn’t turn to look at him.

“I know,” Ghoul said. “I know you’re happy.”

Poison exhaled. At least it wasn’t anything about their joy that had seemed dishonest. Ghoul still sounded a little off, though. But he kept holding on to their hand nonetheless.

They wondered if the bracelet had actually meant something. They would like to believe that it had meant something more, that there was a reason why Ghoul had given it to them of all people. But that was probably just wishful thinking. It was better, if it meant nothing.

“Ya could make some for Jet ‘n Kobra, too,” Poison said to cover up how badly they wanted the bracelet to be special.

Maybe they had reacted a little too excitedly. Maybe it wasn’t just Kobra who had noticed but Ghoul, too. Maybe he was starting to feel uncomfortable around them, because he couldn’t even give them a simple little present without them getting all worked up about it. Maybe asking to be kissed had been a test to see how far Poison was willing to go.

“Yeah, maybe,” Ghoul agreed, but he didn’t sound too thrilled. “Maybe I’ll make some for ‘em, too.”

Chapter Text

Dr. D had made an announcement on the weather forecast and warned every killjoy to stay in tonight, but Poison was still surprised by how the colour of the sky had changed. It was both yellow and dark blue at once and from an artistic standpoint really quite beautiful. They had to admit though that the rumbling sound of thunder wasn’t exactly comforting. 

They had eaten early tonight and it had been Poison’s duty to help Jet clean the kitchen, which meant they had entertained Jet with their witty ramblings while he cleaned the kitchen.

Kobra was sitting on the floor, trying to fix up an old jukebox they had found on one of their raids. Just Ghoul hadn’t moved from the diner booth yet. He sat fixed in place and stared out the window.

Poison had noticed that he’d been restless ever since the weather forecast and they felt an unpleasant sort of tension as well. The air pressure had been weird all day, giving them a light headache. Moreover, exterminators tended to be on the run during thunderstorms, every motorbaby knew that. With the noise of the thunder, you didn’t hear the roar of their machines when they came. The Witch was busy on stormy nights.

“Wanna play a game, Ghoulie?” Poison asked. “Winner gets to pick outfits for everyone for a week.”

Kobra sighed. “That’s no fun. Somehow you always win when these are the stakes.”

“It’s ‘cause I cheat like a motherfucker when it matters.” Poison grinned and looked over at Ghoul, but he hadn’t even turned to look away from the window.

He held his hands in his lap awkwardly. They were bandaged currently, because he had burned himself during one of his little explosive experiments. The burns hadn’t been too severe, but his palms were still sore and according to Jet it would take a couple of weeks for them to heal completely. He wasn’t as helpless as he’d been with his broken arm, but the fact that he was limited in his activities clearly pissed him off. Even considering that, he seemed especially on edge today.

“You a’ight, Ghoul?” Jet asked.

Ghoul gave a small shrug and Poison looked at his hunched back, feeling helpless. They were usually good at dealing with Ghoul. They knew how to distract him and how to soften his sharp edges. They never knew how to handle it when he withdrew himself like this, though. It still happened from time to time.

“It's just the weather,” Ghoul said. “‘S makin’ me all tingly.”

“Ya scared of thunderstorms, honey?” Poison asked and took a step towards the booth. Their tone hadn’t been teasing and they were getting closer to Ghoul to subtly offer physical comfort. Ghoul usually cuddled up to them on his own accord when he needed it though, and today he had consequently kept his distance, which probably meant he needed space.

“They just make me tingly,” Ghoul repeated, sounding defensive rather than challenging, which was always a bad sign with him.

“Is there anything we can do?” Jet wanted to know.

Ghoul shook his head, finally looking back at them and mustering a small smile. He looked very pale. He looked like he might be sick. Somehow, it made his eyes seem larger.

“‘S fine, really. It’s only one night anyway. I’ll just keep watch by the window.”

Poison felt like Ghoul didn’t want to burden them, but they also had no idea how to distract him. He seemed too itchy to concentrate on anything.

They looked at Ghoul and then at Jet, who looked back as if he hoped that Poison would come up with something. For a moment, the room was silent, before dark thunder rang out, causing Ghoul to visibly curl up in on himself further. Poison wished they had the slightest idea of what to do.

“We should build a fort,” Kobra said matter-of-factly.

Poison stared down at him. Kobra was still busy with his screwdriver and hadn’t even looked up yet.

“A what?” Poison asked.

Kobra finally halted his motions, still keeping his head down.

“A fort,” he repeated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Like we did when we were kids. Back in Bat City. Ya always built a blanket fort when I was scared and then we hid in it. That usually helped.”

“Right,” Poison said slowly. The memory had slipped their mind almost completely, they were surprised that Kobra remembered.

When Kobra had been younger, he grew scared easily, be it because there were inspections in the neighbourhood, or because their parents used their hushed voices again that were definitely not supposed to worry them but still did, or because the last movie they had watched had been a little too scary. And to calm him down without alerting their parents, Poison had sometimes built a cosy little cave in their room for them to hide in. They’d plugged in the fairy lights and Kobra had miraculously calmed down.

It was silly of course and should only work on small children, but it had always been a lot of fun, too. Poison had nearly forgotten how much fun it had been.

“Ghoul?” they asked. “Have ya ever built a blanket fort?”

Ghoul and Jet looked at them like they were out of their damned mind. Poison rolled up an invisible pair of sleeves to indicate they were ready to get to work.

“Killjoys,” they announced. “Tighten your boots and put down your guns. Tonight, we’ll need every blanket and all the pillows you can find. We’ll need ropes too, and something to fasten the blankets with. Large pieces of clothing such as ponchos are welcome, too. Now get those asses moving.”

“We should move the mattress from Ghoul’s room as well,” Kobra suggested. “He’s never sleeping there anyway.”

“Good thinking, Kobes,” Poison complimented and pointed at their brother. “The Kid is second in command.”

Jet and Ghoul were still just staring at them.

“C’mon, Jet, you’re gonna help me with the mattress. Ghoul, since ya can’t grab stuff well at the moment, you’ll be collecting blankets. Kobes?”

Kobra got up from the floor. “I’ll make sure we’ll be able to keep the blankets in place somehow.”

Jet gave a small shrug and Ghoul hesitantly got up. They weren’t quite in the spirit yet, but Poison would get them there eventually.

They waved them to follow as they strutted off towards the motel. Ghoul went into Jet and Kobra’s room, where they kept most of their spare blankets for cold nights, when it got so freezing they all curled up together.

Jet helped them lift the mattress. It was difficult to handle, so rather than carrying it back to the diner, they hauled and shoved it there, dragging it across the dirty floor. The mattress had been extremely dirty to begin with though. They didn’t exactly purchase their belongings in proper stores, everything they owned had either been handed down to them or stolen.

Ghoul followed them, a heap of blankets in his arms and what Poison identified to be one of their favourite long skirts.

Back at the diner, Kobra proudly presented a collection of clothespins of which Poison had had no idea that they owned them. They were pretty sure that they’d been intended as decoration since they were very colourful, and not to hang actual laundry, what the fuck.

Kobra had started putting up ropes as well, using the counter as a starting point. It looked like a big spider web was unfolding in the room.

“Here, Ghoulie, help me with that,” Poison asked, not so much needing the support as wanting Ghoul to feel engaged.

They grabbed one of the blankets Ghoul had dropped on the floor and started draping it over the ropes to form a tent. Ghoul did his best to help, pulling on the blanket while only using his fingertips, careful not to touch anything with his bandaged palms.

Poison fastened the first blanket with the clothespins while Ghoul held it in place. Kobra was currently educating Jet on the specific string lights they would need to create the right atmosphere.

Poison started humming under their breath, pretty pleased with how they were progressing.

“Destroya, Pois, the statics is a disaster,” Kobra scolded and grabbed a pillow to prop up the blanket Poison had just fastened.

“Oi, I said second in command!” Poison protested and grabbed another pillow to slap Kobra over the head with it. “That’s munity!”

Kobra dodged them smoothly and Ghoul laughed. It was the first time Poison had heard him laugh today.

“Why don’tcha stick to decorating?” Korba asked and nodded at Jet, who was trying to untangle a string of fairy lights.

Poison wanted to protest, but they also happened to like that part best.

“Fine,” they muttered and tossed their pillow at Kobra, who caught it effortlessly. “But I’ll decorate this place so hard, your stupid statics won’t know what hit ‘em.”

Kobra rolled his eyes, Jet snorted and Ghoul chuckled and Poison felt very lucky to be able to share moments like these.

They went over to help Jet with the lights, while Kobra and Ghoul went to work on rearranging the blankets, admittedly stabilising the whole construction significantly.

“We should give it a name,” Poison mused out loud. “I vote for Party Fort.”

“I vote for whatever doesn’t have your fucking name in it,” Kobra grumbled.

“It’s ‘cause we’re gonna have a party inside,” Poison defended themself. “Not ‘cause I’m vain.”

Ghoul snorted, making it very obvious that he did not believe them.

“How ‘bout the Fabulous Fort?” Jet suggested, always the peacemaker.

“The Fabulous Four livin’ in their Fabulous Fort?” Poison repeated. “I dunno ‘bout that, love.”

“I like the name,” Ghoul said, sounding almost a little shy.

“This ain’t a democracy,” Poison said and shook their head. “But I’ll think about it.”

“And I’ll get the guillotine,” Kobra muttered under his breath.

Poison was going to come up with an extremely witty remark, but a sharp light cut through the room, followed by growling thunder immediately. Ghoul flinched and looked back at the window. For a while, he had seemed distracted enough, but he clearly still felt tense.

“I used to be scared of thunderstorms,” Jet said. He spoke very casually as if he was simply sharing an anecdote that had just crossed his mind and which had nothing to do with making Ghoul feel less self-conscious. Jet was kind like that. “My brothers teased me ‘bout it a lot when we were motorbabies. Told me stories ‘bout the Witch going ‘round just to gimme a scare.”

Poison wished they’d have a story to share as well, but in Bat City, the weather had been nothing to be afraid of. Their first thunderstorm in the desert had been impressive, but it hadn’t frightened them. They had never learned to be scared of lightning.

“My ma ‘n pa used to sing to me to calm me down when there was a thunderstorm,” Ghoul said quietly. He was watching his hands instead of looking at any of them. Poison pretended to be busy with the string lights, although they were already untangled. They observed Ghoul out of the corner of their eyes. “Still remember the first one without ‘em. Couple ‘a weeks after they went missing. I was still waiting for ‘em to come back.”

Poison wondered if that was what Ghoul was thinking about when he looked out the window; his parents and the memory of waiting for them, lonely and scared. They wanted to tell him that they were sorry, but Ghoul knew that and at some point, words started to feel meaningless anyway. At least they would make sure he’d never feel lonely again.

“I decided on a name for the fort,” they announced. They caught Kobra frowning slightly, but ignored him. They were looking at Ghoul. “Gonna name it Fun Fort, ‘cause we’re gonna have fun in it.”

Ghoul looked up and met their eyes briefly. He gave them a small smile, not challenging or cocky or amused, just shy and grateful and vulnerable, and they loved that smile on him, because it meant he wasn’t trying to guard himself at all.

They would never be able to replace his family. Poison knew better than anyone that the grief and the regret and the feelings of I-could-have-I-should-have never left. But at least it wasn’t a burden you had to carry on your own, it wasn’t a pain that would break you, not as long as you still had love in your heart.

“I like that one,” Jet agreed.

“Yeah, me too,” Kobra added, and Ghoul looked at his hands and then at the ceiling, doing a pretty poor job at not getting emotional.

“And we’re almost done, too,” Poison said to give him a break and inspected the tent the blankets were now forming. They had to admit that Kobra had surpassed his former teacher and the whole thing looked a lot more solid than anything they had constructed in their days. “Just gimme a few minutes inside.”

They found the entrance that was covered only by their skirt now serving as a curtain and got on their knees. They crawled inside, their way lit by the battery-driven fairy lights in their hand. It was relatively easy to wrap the lights around the ropes holding up the blankets, making it feel like a sky full of stars was hanging right above them.

The mattress underneath made it comfortable to sit, but they also spread out the pillows they had collected to make it cosier.

“You can come in now,” they yelled. “But switch off the lights.”

It went dark outside immediately, no light falling in through the blankets anymore; only the fairy lights illuminating their little cave.

Ghoul’s face appeared behind the skirt and Poison could see the lights reflecting in his eyes as he crawled towards them. He looked absolutely awe-struck.

“Pois,” he whispered. “This is beautiful.”

Poison patted the pillows next to themself and Ghoul came closer to sit down next to them. He was followed by Jet, who looked equally impressed. For a moment, Poison feared he’d be too tall to sit up properly without tearing down the entire construction, but thankfully, there was enough space. They were all sitting so close to each other, that their legs were touching one way or the other.

Kobra entered last and a smile spread across his face, much wider than the one he usually displayed. It made Poison smile in return, just because the old magic still seemed to work.

“Our best work yet,” he observed.

Poison nodded. “We had help this time, though.”

“It’s real shiny,” Jet agreed, still looking around himself as if he couldn’t quite believe how comfortable it was inside here. It was already turning stuffy, but they could just hike up the skirt for fresh air in case it got too bad.

Ghoul was sitting next to Poison quietly, his legs tucked up and his head tilted back to look at the lights above. He looked beautiful the way the light played on his dark hair and his tattoos stood out against his pale skin.

“You like it, Ghoulie?” Poison asked, although they already knew the answer.

Ghoul nodded and his eyes seemed to glisten even more as if he was tearing up. He was holding his hands in his lap awkwardly again as if he would have liked to hold on to something but couldn’t because of the burns.

“Yeah, thank y’all so much,” he said and his voice sounded a little choked, too. Sometimes it still caught Poison by surprise just how much Ghoul had begun to open up to them. “Ya didn’t have to do this for me. I’m just …” He broke off as if he knew that whatever he was about to say would only get him scolded.

Poison knew what he was thinking though, that he was only the latest addition to their crew, that was why he had tried to be tough about it at first, just planning to spend an anxious night by the window without bothering anyone about it. He still didn’t feel like he had the right to ask for comfort as much as anyone else.

“Oi, sugar,” they said sternly. “We’re your crew. Whatever you need. Anytime.”

“Yeah,” Ghoul whispered, and it sounded like he really did believe them.

Thunder rolled outside, but the sound was dampened by the blankets, or maybe the storm was farther away by now. This time, Ghoul didn’t flinch.

He looked at Poison and Poison felt overcome by so much affection that they decided to fuck it. They just wanted to express all the warmth and tenderness they felt and they knew that Ghoul would understand the gesture.

They reached over and took hold of his chin to lift his face. Then they leaned in and pressed a short kiss to Ghoul’s lips. As if instinctively, Ghoul returned the pressure, even though it only lasted for a brief second.

Poison was aware that it had to look weird to Jet and Kobra, but it didn’t feel weird. Their kisses were starting to feel more and more casual to them. It was just another way to express affection, like a hug or patting someone’s head.

They pulled back again and even though it hadn’t felt like a big deal at all, they avoided looking at Kobra. They didn’t need another lecture about popsicles any time soon.

Chapter Text

Poison peaked into their room before heading off to the first watch shift of the night. Kobra and Jet were about to go to sleep, but Ghoul hadn’t been in their room nor at the diner, so Poison secretly hoped that he had curled up on their mattress, so they’d be able to slip in under the pre-heated blankets once their shift was over.

But the room was empty, which was quite irritating. They had moved Ghoul’s mattress back to his room, but he hardly ever spent time in there anyway, only when he didn’t want to bother anyone while practising on Jet’s guitar or when he felt the need to be alone for a bit. He never slept in there anymore though.

Poison walked down the corridor and stopped short in front of Ghoul’s door. It was closed, which was even more unusual. They felt a painful knot of worry tying in their stomach. They obviously had no reason to be worried, they were at the diner, everyone was safe, but Ghoul’s hands were still bandaged, rendering him somewhat helpless and Poison liked to keep their eyes on their crew.

They listened closely and a high, whiny sound seemed to come from the other side of the door. Their mind short-circuited. They immediately pictured Ghoul injured, shot by a loose Crow, hurt during one of his detonation experiments, his burnt palms infected, and him trying to deal with it alone, because he was stupid, so damn stupid, and he didn’t want to worry anyone.

Poison didn’t take time to think, they just threw open the door to check on Ghoul, fighting down the urge to pull out their gun.

Ghoul shot into an upright position instantly, the last needy little moan dying on his lips the moment the door swung open.

Poison stared at him.

Ghoul wasn’t naked. In fact, he was still fully dressed. Poison wasn’t quite sure if that made it better or worse.

Nonetheless, it was very obvious what they had walked in on. Ghoul looked flushed, red in the face, pupils blown, sitting on the mattress and staring up at Poison with a mix of shock and embarrassment. He looked like the painting of a saint about to get sacrificed. Between his clothed legs he held a pillow that he had apparently just been dry humping desperately.

“Destroya, Ghoulie. I hope ya intended to wash that thing after,” Poison said.

“Ever heard of knockin’?” Ghoul asked angrily.

Poison grinned. It wasn’t the first time they’d accidentally walked in on someone’s private time, they were living together in close proximity after all and they didn’t feel nearly as embarrassed by it as Ghoul. Admittedly, they hadn’t just tried to fuck a pillow. Slowly, it began to dawn on them just how amazing the situation actually was. They’d be able to tease Ghoul about this forever.

They slipped into the room and closed the door behind themself.

“Don’t come in, ya fucker,” Ghoul cursed. “Make your stupid joke and then piss off.”

“I need some time to figure out where to start,” Poison said and gestured at Ghoul and the whole situation he was in. “There’s simply too much material to work with.”

Ghoul snarled, but he was also still holding the pillow in front of himself like a shield, which didn’t really make him look threatening.

“Seriously though, what’s wrong with having a lil’ private wank in the bathroom like the rest of us?” Poison wanted to know.

They eyed Ghoul’s pants that were definitely still in place. They couldn’t help feeling curious if they’d accidentally stumbled in on some sort of kink here. Not that they would be in a position to judge, but they were always interested in what got other people going. And who knew, it couldn’t hurt to tuck away the information for future reference, or whatever.

Ghoul held up his bandaged palms.

“‘S taking weeks to heal,” he said. “And this …” He flicked his wrist in a jerking motion. “... hurts like a motherfucker, ‘kay?”

Poison made a face, just imagining the friction against the sore palms. It sounded as if Ghoul had at least tried.

“I haven’t gotten off in forever, if ya need to know.”

Poison licked their lips. They thought of Ghoul grinding against the pillow, his hard dick straining against the inside of his pants, chasing the friction, desperate, so desperate to finally get off. The way that image made them feel was not remotely appropriate.

“Ya could’ve said something. Y’know I’m helpful. Always ready to offer a hand to a ‘joy in need.”

Ghoul snorted, but his eyes darted past them as if he couldn’t bring himself to look at Poison directly.

And that was when it hit them, full on, like someone had cut the breaks of the Trans Am. They had spoken jokingly, because obnoxious flirting was kind of their thing, but now they realised that this might actually be their chance.

They had thought about this so much - getting their hands on Ghoul, getting their mouth on him, sliding their hands over his naked body, tasting him, hearing him cry out their name.

But they hadn’t wanted to pressure him, hadn’t wanted to make him feel like they were asking for something from him to be worth their time. In this situation, though, they weren’t asking for anything. They were offering. It could be disguised as a simple favour, offered out of the kindness of their heart. Ghoul had been looking at them, too, after all. He might take them up on it considering the desperate, helpless state he was currently in. All they had to do was to pretend that it meant nothing.

“T’is not funny, Pois,” Ghoul said.

Poison walked towards the mattress and knelt down in front of it, bringing themself to eye-level with Ghoul. One of their knees was still on the floor, the other one on the mattress. It felt awkward, mostly because they were suddenly overly aware of their own body. They wanted to look so irresistible that Ghoul simply had to agree to their proposition.

“What if I’m not joking?” They kept their tone light, planning to let Ghoul’s reaction decide on their next move.

“You’re such a tease,” Ghoul mumbled, clutching the pillow to his chest. His voice sounded insecure and he was still avoiding eye-contact. Poison took the fact that he wasn’t telling them to fuck off as a good sign. If anything, he seemed scared that Poison would just start laughing in his face any moment now, which probably meant that he hoped they wouldn’t.

“Hey, hey, just trust me on this, yeah?” Poison said, deciding to stake everything on one card. Their tone was completely serious now. “I can help ya out. It’s not a big deal.”

They moved in and Ghoul scrambled away to create space for them until his back hit the wall. He was sitting probed up, the pillow still shielding his crotch, facing Poison. He looked flushed, his skin glowing with a light sheen of sweat, bringing out the dark tattoos on his neck. His hair was hanging in his face and he looked disarranged and worked up and beautiful, just his expression was impossible to read. He looked stressed, most of all. 

Poison felt almost predatory for making him look this small and confused and they wanted to pull back. But they couldn’t let up now, because this might very well be the only chance they ever got. They had promised Kobra that they wouldn’t make a stupid move on Ghoul, but this didn’t count. It was just casual.

“And it will feel so much better than what the pillow has to offer,” they coaxed and moved in between Ghoul’s legs. He had kept them spread as if he’d wanted to leave room for Poison. “Plus it will keep your pants clean.”

They chuckled, but Ghoul didn’t join in with their laughter as they had hoped. He did however finally look up to meet their eyes. Poison still couldn’t decipher what his expression meant, but it made the blood pound in their ears. They didn’t feel as excited and turned on as they had always assumed they would. They rather felt thrown into a blind panic that told them they had to keep pushing, because otherwise Ghoul would slip away and they couldn’t let go, they couldn’t because if they did, everything would fall apart.

“Ya don’t have to,” Ghoul said quietly.

“I want to though,” Poison whispered, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. “And I know you’ve been looking at me with those pretty doe eyes, too. Just lemme make ya feel good, baby.”

Ghoul relaxed at the sound of the pet name. His grip on the pillow slackened, he was just holding it somewhat awkwardly in his lap now.

“‘S alright,” Poison muttered, feeling like they needed to continue talking to keep Ghoul at ease.

They knelt between Ghoul’s legs and reached out to hook their fingers through the belt loops of his pants to pull him closer and into their lap somehow. They didn’t want to get on top of Ghoul, didn’t want to make him feel caged in. Ghoul followed their movements without much agency of his own, just letting himself be guided, until his legs were draped over Poison’s thighs, his ass still on the mattress. Poison had wanted this to be perfect, but it wasn’t perfect, there were legs fucking everywhere and they had no idea how to arrange them properly, and Ghoul left them completely alone in this, as if the legs were Poison’s problem or as if he was scared to mess this up by becoming too active.

Poison had to keep their left hand on the small of his back to stabilise him. When they had finally found a position that strained their shoulder only a little, they reached out with the other hand to brush back Ghoul’s hair. He looked blushy and insecure and Poison had to admit that things were happening too fast, but they couldn’t slow down. If they slowed down, one of them might change their mind and then things would go to shit.

Their face was close to Ghoul, close enough to feel his warm breath on their lips.

“Imma kiss ya now, ‘kay?” they made sure.

“‘Kay,” Ghoul whispered back and Poison was almost surprised he agreed. 

Kissing obviously couldn’t be brushed off as being entirely casual. To play it safe, Poison should have put their hand down Ghoul’s pants and told him to close his eyes while giving him a quick handjob. They’d still be able to hear him moan, to watch his blissed out face; it should have been enough. But they were greedy and hoped that Ghoul would assume they just wanted to put him in the mood and not that they’d been thinking about kissing him for months now.

Ghoul placed his hands on Poison’s shoulders, too, not grabbing them because of his injured palms, but getting his arms around them loosely to hold on to them. It made Poison feel a little better about kissing him.

They closed the distance between them, pressing their lips to Ghoul’s, opening their mouth immediately so it wouldn’t feel like one of the chaste kisses they had exchanged so far. They wanted Ghoul to feel the difference, prying his lips open with their own. Once more, he complied surprisingly easily, kissing back almost shyly. Poison had always imagined him to be a more aggressive kisser, but this wasn’t bad either. Their whole body seemed to tickle, their spine seemed to be covered in fairy dust and if they became any happier, they’d just straight up start levitating. They were kissing Ghoul, Fun Ghoul, Ghoulie, and it didn’t matter that the kiss was a bit hesitant, because they’d never enjoyed kissing a person more anyway.

They wanted to deepen the kiss, they wanted to shove their tongue into Ghoul’s mouth, licking and sucking and biting him, but they were worried of scaring him away with their passion. Not because they thought Ghoul couldn’t handle a bit of rough kissing, but because they feared he’d be able to tell how much despair was in that kiss, how much they wanted to savour it, because they might never get the chance to kiss him again.

It was safer to just stick to getting the job done.

They reached down, shoving the pillow aside without breaking the kiss to cup Ghoul through his pants. He was hard and they felt his dick twitching against their palm even through the fabric.

Ghoul let out a small moan right into their mouth, and they could hear it and feel it and nearly taste it. They felt like this had to be the sexiest thing that had ever happened to them.

They broke the kiss, scared they wouldn’t be able to hold back any longer if they didn’t stop right fucking now. Instead, they rested their nose and lips against Ghoul’s cheek, hearing him pant into their ear.

They let go of his dick and trailed their hand upwards to unbutton his pants.

Ghoul’s hands went from their shoulders to the side of their head and he grabbed their hair and this was what Poison had always imagined him to be like, greedy and demanding, and then Ghoul winced, high and pained and he let go of their hair again, his hands dropping back to their shoulders.

“Pois,” he whimpered.

Poison pulled back immediately, getting enough distance between them to check on Ghoul properly. He looked like he was in pain, way more pain than his hands should put him in.

“Pois, I can’t …” he said and Poison’s heart skipped a beat, he couldn’t, he couldn’t, before Ghoul raised both of his hands to show off his bandaged palms. “I can’t even touch you.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Poison tried to shush him, but they seemed unable to calm down themself. Blood was rushing through their ears too loudly, they could barely hear their own voice. “Ya don’t have to do anything. Just lay back and relax. Imma take care of everything.”

They did their best to sound seductive, but it suddenly felt like they’d never seduced anyone in their life before.

They reached for the waistband of Ghoul’s pants, undoing the button. Ghoul didn’t move to stop them, but they were struggling anyway, their movements clumsy and awkward. They felt incredibly nervous. Maybe it made sense they were nervous, after all they’d never tried to sleep with anyone they were so close with before.

“Imma suck ya off, yeah?” They wanted it to sound like a promise, but it came out as a plea. 

“But …”

Poison looked up, hands halting on his fly, to meet Ghoul’s eyes. They looked hazel and scared.

“Just a favour between friends, yeah?” Poison whispered. “Doesn’t have to mean anything. We can pretend it never happened afterwards.”

“No,” Ghoul said quietly and for a moment, Poison just stilled, hoping the word now standing between them would just go away again. “Party, no.”

Poison let themself fall back, giving Ghoul space to retreat towards the wall again, putting distance between them.

“Fuck,” they said.

“Yeah,” Ghoul agreed and let his head fall back against the wall. “Fuck.”

They sat in silence and Poison wished they’d be screaming at each other instead, that Ghoul would have shoved them away, called them disgusting for coming on to him, they wished they’d fight. But the room was quiet and they felt like staring at the shards of something precious with no idea how to fix it. They felt too sad to even run and hide.

“I’m sorry,” Ghoul finally said. “I wish I could change my feelings, y’know? But I can’t do it like this.”

Poison shook their head, trying to ignore the stinging pain in their chest. Ghoul knew. Ghoul knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel the same. The pity made it worse. The fact that he wished he could change it for their sake.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have …” They broke off and looked at Ghoul helplessly. “I shouldn’t have.”

They shouldn’t have made Ghoul feel like he had to give it a try. They shouldn’t have made him feel like he had to kiss back. Ghoul looked miserable. They shouldn’t have burdened him with their feelings.

“We’re still good though, right?” they asked in a small voice. Maybe it was good they weren’t yelling, that they weren’t slamming doors. It might have been easier to deal with, but at least this way, there was still something left to fix.

“Yeah,” Ghoul said hastily. “I mean, I don’t want anything to change between us. Please.”

Poison wasn’t sure what he was pleading for, but they nodded. Ghoul was biting down on his lip so hard it seemed he wanted to tear it open.

“I’m sorry,” Poison said again, because they had nothing else to offer.

“I’m sorry,” Ghoul whispered as if he wanted to echo them.

The room suddenly seemed too small for both of them.

“I should …” Poison gestured towards the door. “I need a … I’m on watch duty now.”

“Yeah,” Ghoul said. “Yeah.”

Poison got up and made their way to the door. They felt like they should say something, but nothing could possibly change the situation. So they left without another word, closing the door behind them on their way out.

They needed a moment to refresh themself, the thought of just going outside seemed unbearable all of a sudden. They wanted to lock themself inside a small confinement, in their room, in a closet, a box so tiny no one would ever find it.

They went into one of the two bathrooms, locking the door behind themself. They bent over the sink, frisking their chest. It felt as if they’d been shot. Their body was in actual, physical pain and they didn’t know why.

They turned on the tap, letting cold water run over their hands and splashing it into their face. Their eyes felt too hot and there was a pressure behind them they had to fight down. The water cleared the fog for a moment, they dried their face on the sleeve of their shirt.

Only then did they look up into the dirty bathroom mirror. Their face looked puffy, tangled hair was falling across their forehead. They looked disgusting. Poison couldn’t help staring at the bright colour of their hair dye that seemed so desperate to distract from what was underneath. The self-confident leader, the sharp-edged rebel, it was all just a cover to hide what was really underneath, someone scared and pathetic, giving their love away without asking for anything in return, because they knew - because they fucking knew - they didn’t deserve it. And Ghoul knew them far too well to not see through this and he pitied them, pitied them and yet he could not change his feelings.

Poison couldn’t stand looking at themself anymore and dropped to the floor, sitting down on the cold tiles with their back against the wall and then it rose in their chest. They had assumed it was the tears that would come first, but it was their voice instead.

They covered their mouth with their hand, bit down into their palm painfully hard to keep it down, because they couldn’t let anyone hear, they couldn’t let Ghoul hear. Because he wasn’t allowed to realise that Poison was hurting, because he’d feel guilty and he might even feel like he couldn’t stay, and he was family, family, and Kobra had been fucking right, they should have known better.

The muffled sound that came out of their mouth ranged somewhere between a scream and a whimper, a high-pitched howling they tried to shove back inside. They felt like a wounded animal. They felt like bleeding out on the floor. The voice wasn’t theirs, it tore its way out of their mouth like a caged spirit.

They managed to keep it quiet and after a moment of screaming and screaming and biting and fighting it down, the tears finally came. It felt like a struggle to get them out at all, they weren’t so much crying as they were sobbing, the kind of sobbing that was more wailing than tears and yet their face felt wet and swollen.

Watch duty should already have started, but they couldn’t bring themself to get up. Even if they’d manage to sneak past everyone without being seen, they couldn’t go out into the world, because it was too dangerous to step outside with an injury like this. They needed to curl up and nurse their wounds.

They sat for what felt like a long time, before there was a knock on the door. Poison somehow managed to stop their whimpering immediately.

“Pois, you in there?” Kobra called out. “You’re on watch, no time for beauty care.”

“Piss off!” Poison yelled back and they raised their voice angrily to cover up how hoarse it sounded. “I’m fucking busy in here, ‘kay?”

Kobra was quiet for a moment.

“Ya ate that expired Power Pup ‘gain?” he asked. “Told ya to stay away from that.”

Poison sniffled. They stared at the door, waiting for Kobra to leave. But they couldn’t hear his footsteps. He was just standing there to make sure they were alright, just like he always did.

Poison leaned over to turn the key, before scrambling back so far, they were nearly curled up underneath the sink.

“Ya can come in,” they called out.

The door opened and it took Kobra a second, before his eyes found Poison on the floor, all crouched up and puffy from crying.

“Are you …?”

“I’m not hurt,” Poison said quickly, and Kobra pulled the door shut behind himself, before he sank to his knees next to Poison.

He pulled them in awkwardly, but Poison didn’t care that the position was uncomfortable, they just let themself fall against their little brother and their voice came back, louder this time, but still muffled against Kobra’s shoulder. And finally, the tears came properly, too, so many tears that it shook their body violently.

“It’s okay,” Kobra said and rubbed their back. “Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay, Party. It’s going to be okay. I’m here, it’s okay.”

The words didn’t mean much, but it was important that they kept coming. Out here in the desert, they were often the only thing one had to offer. Even with all the grief and loss, the ones who were left behind eventually moved on, because ultimately, it was going to be okay, as long as someone was holding your hand.

“I fucked up,” Poison confessed once they’d caught their breath again, their forehead still resting against Kobra’s shoulder. “I fucked up about Ghoul.”

Kobra’s soothing hand on their back stilled.

“He’s not leaving, is he?” he asked, quietly, clearly trying not to sound accusing, but obviously worried all the same.

“Don’t think so,” Poison muttered, unable to look up. They were still crying, but quieter now, more tears, more snot, less noise.

“Then it’s okay,” Kobra said and his hand moved up from their back to grab their neck instead. “Then it’s okay, you didn’t fuck up too badly. Then it can be fixed.”

“He didn’t want to,” Poison whispered and just admitting it out loud made the pain flare back up all over again.

“So nothing happened,” Kobra said, still holding them. “It’s okay.”

“It hurts so bad, Kobes.” They let out another whine against Kobra’s shoulder, getting his shirt wet not only with tears, but with drool, too. It felt like they had lost control over their face. “He doesn’t want me.”

They inhaled shakily, pulling back to wipe their eyes with their knuckles, looking at Kobra helplessly. They felt like they were holding the shards of what they had broken out to him, hoping he would know how to fix it. They felt like the younger sibling.

“I really thought …” They broke off. They felt ashamed to admit that they had thought all the looks and touches and kisses meant something more. “But I was stupid.”

They were breathing so unevenly that talking gave them a hiccup.

“Why does it have to hurt so much?”

Kobra’s usually inexpressive face softened, like clay left out in the desert sun.

“Oh, Party,” he said gently.

“Should’ve listened to you,” Poison mumbled. “Ya tried to warn me.”

“No.” Kobra shook his head. “No. I thought ya wanted some quick ‘n easy. I was asking ya not to toy with him.” He paused, scanning their face as if searching for a hint of what he had missed so far. His next sentence sounded like a question. “Didn’t know ya were tumbled.”

Poison nodded meekly. There was something relieving about finally hearing the word out loud.

“Tumbling head over heels for my crewmate.” Poison sniffled. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not,” Kobra said immediately. “I really thought he liked you, too. I thought you’d fuck him and then act like nothing happened and that it’d hurt him. I was tryna protect Ghoul. I'd have given you better advice if I’d known.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Poison shrugged and wiped their eyes again. “‘Cause he doesn’t feel the same.”

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry he doesn’t.” Kobra reached out as if he wanted to pull them into another hug. Instead, Poison curled up, laying down on the cold bathroom floor, placing their head in Kobra’s lap. Just for a little while, they wanted to be taken care of. They still felt like they’d been wounded.

Kobra placed his hand on top of their head. It wasn’t the first time Kobra had to comfort them; they were quite emotional after all. But it had never been over a heartbreak like this before.

“Want me to get you something? Maybe food? For comfort?” Kobra asked. “I could get ya a popsicle.”

“We have popsicles?” Poison didn’t look up. They stared at the bathroom wall. Someone had drawn a little comic strip on the tiles, about a girl learning how to fly.

“Yeah, we just didn’t tell ya,” Kobra confirmed, ruffling their hair ever so gently.

“Nah.” Poison licked their lips. They tasted very salty. “If I eat mine now, I’ll only complain when I have to watch y’all eat yours later.”

“Ya can have mine,” Kobra offered.

Poison chuckled, but their chest still hurt. They felt no appetite whatsoever.

“What happened to not licking the damned popsicle?”

“I don’t care ‘bout the fucking popsicle,” Kobra said. “I care ‘bout you.”

“It isn’t his fault, y’know?” They weren’t sure why they felt the need to clarify that. They’d probably be angry if anyone dared to hurt Kobra like this, even if it was someone they loved.

“I know.”

For a moment, they sat in silence. Poison had finally stopped crying. They weren’t sure yet if they felt relieved. Mostly, they felt tired.

“Someone ought to be on watch duty,” they said.

“I’ll take your shift,” Kobra offered.

Poison sighed and sat up. They wanted to lay down on a proper mattress.

“Pois?” Kobra asked, making them look up. “Y’know, as your brother, I really want to give you a couple of weeks to mope around, listen to sad music and burst into tears randomly. But as our leader …”

He sounded hesitant, but Poison nodded. They’d known all along.

“I need to get my shit together,” they agreed.

“Ya need to fix this.” They could tell how sorry Kobra was for them and how much he wished he could do it in their stead. But Poison would have to deal with this on their own.

“I’ll talk to him,” they promised. “I just need a minute.”

Kobra nodded shortly and got up first, extending his hand to help Poison to their feet.

“I’ll be on the roof, if you need anything,” he said.

Poison clapped his shoulder one last time to assure him they appreciated the offer before shushing him out of the bathroom.

Then they turned towards the sink again, cleaning their face, washing away the tear stains and hoping that the puffiness around their eyes wouldn’t show all that much. They took their time to really calm down before they left, going back to their room to change into comfortable clothes for sleeping.

The room was dark and empty. A part of them had hoped to find Ghoul curled up on their mattress as if nothing had happened, but even if he wasn’t actively trying to avoid them, he’d probably want to give them space.

They debated just lying down and sleeping on it, dealing with it tomorrow once they were a little more rested and hopefully more level-headed. But they also knew they wouldn’t be able to fall asleep.

The door to Ghoul’s room stood open, showing that it was empty as well. Poison’s pulse seemed to throb in their ears again, but they reassured themself that all of Ghoul’s stuff was still there. He’d have taken some of it at least if he had left.

So they peeped into Kobra and Jet’s room and there he was, wrapped all around Jet like a vine, small and frail yet holding on to his loved ones with a deathgrip. Poison wasn’t sure if they felt relieved or jealous, seeing the two of them cuddled up together like that.

Maybe they should let them sleep, but they were scared that time would make it worse, heal the wounds, but heal them all wrong.

They snuck into the room, quietly to not wake Jet, and knelt down by Ghoul’s side of the mattress.

“Ghoulie?” they asked, just a whisper, not enough to wake him if he was already asleep.

Ghoul turned over immediately and sat up, careful not to pull the blanket away from Jet while he did. Poison hadn’t switched on the lights, so it was dim, but Ghoul’s eyes looked puffy, too. It would be like him to cry over hurting Poison, stupid, kind and soft-hearted idiot that he was.

“I’m still up,” he announced, his voice low and cracked and hoarse. “Can’t sleep.”

“Can you …?” Poison didn’t know how to phrase their request. “Would you sleep in my bed tonight? I feel like if we start being weird about this, we’ll keep being weird about this and I don’t want that.”

“Yeah,” Ghoul muttered before leaning into them without warning, awkwardly burying his face against the crook of Poison’s neck, his body warm as always. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Poison would have expected the pain in their chest to feel worse, but instead it finally seemed to subside as they put their arm around Ghoul. At least they wouldn’t lose him.

“C’mon,” they whispered after a moment and got up, pulling Ghoul along, who refused to let go of them. He kept his arm around their waist all the way into their room as if he was scared to let go of them ever again. Poison assumed he was just as relieved that they were still able to do this, relieved that there was still comfort in the familiar touch and that it hadn’t turned sour.

They let go of each other only briefly to slide in under the blankets, facing each other. Usually, Poison slept on their back or facing away from Ghoul, with Ghoul draped all over them, but they were looking straight at each other now. Their bodies weren’t close enough to touch, but close enough for the shared space underneath the blanket to feel intimate. It was so dim, that they could only make out the lines of Ghoul’s face, because they knew it so well.

They had thought that they’d need to hide the fact that they had cried to prevent Ghoul from feeling guilty, but now they didn’t care anymore. Ghoul would know how they felt anyway, and that was alright.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” Ghoul asked quietly.

“Of course not,” Poison said immediately and reached out, their hand on Ghoul’s waist. They were glad that they were still allowed to touch him, that he didn’t recoil but instinctively seemed to lean in closer.

“Wish I could be what ya want me to be,” Ghoul admitted.

“Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter,” Poison soothed him. They were both talking quietly. “Ya don’t have to be anything for me. You’re my crew. That’s what matters. This matters.”

They pulled Ghoul a little closer even, so he lowered his face to avoid them breathing on each other. This closeness was the only thing that mattered. All the lust and infatuation and heartbreak, it all fell away compared to the genuine love they felt for Ghoul. They’d handle the rejection, they’d handle the pain that came with it, because they had people to help them through it, and ironic as it was, Ghoul was one of them.

“Yeah, I feel the same,” Ghoul confirmed. “Just don’t wanna lose ya.”

“You won’t,” Poison promised, and then they fell quiet, because that was really all there was to be said about it. They knew that Ghoul wasn’t going to leave.

“Pois?” Ghoul asked and stirred. “Could ya …?” He turned, rolling over so he had his back on them. A fearful sting shot through Poison, because Ghoul never slept with his back on them, he always had his arms around whoever he was pairing up with for the night. “Could ya hold me?”

“Of course, sugar,” they whispered and wrapped their arm around Ghoul from behind. The request tied their stomach into knots, some of them unpleasantly tight, some of them warm and secure.

They pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of Ghoul’s neck, and it didn’t feel strange at all. It felt as natural as it always had.

Ghoul reached for their hand where it was resting against his chest, wrapping his fingers around it so loosely, they were barely touching his palm at all. Poison still felt the rough fabric of the bandage on their skin.

They closed their eyes, knowing that it was going to be okay. After all, someone was holding their hand.

Chapter Text

Poison shuffled on their seat, elbow propped up on the diner’s counter, watching Jet do inventory of their kitchen supplies to decide what they’d need from Tommy and when the next supply run would be due. Kobra and Ghoul were in the shed; they spent a lot of time in there together, Kobra working on his cars and Ghoul working on his bombs. Poison wasn’t even sure if they talked in there or just tinkered about in wholesome silence.

Ghoul’s bandages had come off only the other day and he was eager to put his hands to good use again. He’d probably jerked off furiously in the meantime, too, but Poison tried not to think about that. Neither of them had mentioned the awkward incident again and things had gone back to normal - fully normal with cuddles and teasing, but it still felt different to them. All of it made them slightly sad now that they knew it wasn’t going anywhere. 

Poison wished they’d been better at not thinking about stuff.

“Ya gonna tell me what’s on your mind, or ya gonna keep me guessin’?” Jet asked rather casually. He was done with writing out his list and pulled up a glass. That was fancy. They rarely used glasses for drinking.

Poison sighed.

They had hung around Jet all day, debating whether or not to bring it up. It might be better to not drag Jet into this mess as well, but he was the one Poison trusted the most when it came to people; he was the one they usually turned to for advice rather than just comfort.

They weren’t even sure what their question was, though.

“So ya can tell, yeah?” They should have known that Jet would see them through easily. He was very good at telling when someone was troubled. Kobra was observant too, but he didn’t always draw the right conclusions. They wouldn’t be surprised if Jet already knew about their feelings.

“You’ve been roughed up for a while now. Ya don’t eat ‘nough either.”

Jet got a bunch of ice cubes from the fridge. Ice cubes were a rare occasion, too. Poison wondered when Jet had put them in there. Their fridge was too small to waste space in it, they usually consumed their drinks at room temperature.

“‘S Ghoul,” they admitted. “We had a bit of an argument. All solved ‘n shit, but I still feel bad ‘bout it.”

Jet put the ice cubes into the glass and opened a can of soda - Poison’s favourite flavour - and poured it, creating an alluringly sizzling sound.

“Yeah? Then ya should tell me ‘bout it. The lil’ detonator’s been off lately, too” Jet said and put the glass onto the counter to push it towards Poison.

“Really?” Poison hadn’t noticed anything especially weird about Ghoul’s behaviour lately, but then they’d been pretty preoccupied with being heart-broken.

“Destroya, yeah,” Jet confirmed and rounded the counter to pull up a bar stool next to Poison.

Poison took a sip of the soda. The drink was extremely refreshing. The taste also made them feel comforted. Jet always showed affection like this - making your favourite drink or bringing out an extra blanket to your shift when he noticed you were feeling down.

“I know you’re not that experienced with serious relationships yet,” Jet said and Poison frowned. He wasn’t wrong about that of course, they’d never made it past a couple of dates and flings that blew over before the next heatwave came around, but they weren’t sure what that had to do with anything. “But don’t worry too much. It’s completely normal to have arguments with your boyfriend now and then. I’m sure you and Ghoul are fine.”

Poison played his words through in their head again to find out when exactly Jet had lost them.

“My what?” they asked. “Ghoul’s not my boyfriend.”

“Course he is,” Jet said, his voice full of genuine conviction as if he wanted to reassure Poison that there was no point in lying. “You’ve been dating for weeks already.”

Poison stared at Jet.

Jet simply looked back, the black string of his eye patch a stark contrast against his skin, his curly hair surprisingly clean for living out in the fucking desert. He was usually so good with people. It didn’t make sense that he would have misunderstood the whole situation so completely.

“We’re not … You think we’re dating?”

Jet’s lips twitched, it wasn’t quite clear if he was fighting a grimace or a smile. It finally seemed to dawn on him that they were actually not on the same page about this. In fact, Poison felt like they’d been reading an entirely different book.

“I think you’re dating,” Jet clarified. “Dr. D thinks you’re dating. Destroya, I’m pretty sure even Korse thinks you’re dating at this point.”

“What in the Zones made ya think that?” Poison frowned.

“For one, ya have been smooching each other right in front of the Witch and everyone,” Jet pointed out.

Poison had to admit that they had kissed Ghoul on the lips in front of Jet and Kobra before.

They crossed their arms in front of their chest. They felt defensive as if Jet had accused them of some sort of crime.

“T’was just friendly smooching, ‘kay? Didn’t mean anything.”

“And you’ve been wearing the matching band for weeks,” Jet continued unfazed and nodded at Poison’s wrist.

Poison stared down at their wrist as if they needed to check, when there was only one thing Jet could possibly be referring too. They hadn’t taken off the bracelet with their logos ever since Ghoul had given it to them.

“The what?” they asked.

“The Phoenix Witch take me,” Jet exclaimed and shook his head. “The matching band. Don’t tell me ya just put that on without knowing what it is.”

Poison looked at the bracelet again and felt their cheeks heating up.

“Thought t’was pretty,” they mumbled. “‘N Ghoul made it for me.”

“T’is shiny,” Jet agreed. “He probably worked on it quite a bit, too.”

Poison nodded, because that was what they had figured as well.

“Then what does it mean?” they asked, feeling stupid. Jet’s scolding hadn’t been mean, he still spoke warmly, but he sounded slightly exasperated.

“It’s a Zone tradition,” Jet explained. “Ya give it to someone if ya fancy ‘em. Has to be self-made, too. Means he’s courting ya.”

Poison looked at Jet, still waiting for the punchline, because that couldn’t have been it. Ghoul had given them the bracelet weeks ago. None of his behaviour made any sense if he was into Poison.

“He’s what now?” Poison asked incredulously. 

“Courting ya,” Jet repeated patiently. “There’s different kinds of bands. There’s one for crewmates, too, but that one’d have your logos on a neutral background. Logos on each other’s colours means ya wanna entwine your fate with someone. T’is more than crewmates. T’is romantic. Every Zone Rat knows that. The bands are for the Witch, so she’ll know where to take ya if someone’s already waiting for ya. In case ya don’t remember, ‘cause they gotcha before ya got dusted.”

Poison stared down at the band. They felt incredibly stupid. They felt like they were supposed to know this kind of stuff if they really belonged out here in the desert. Bli seemed to control their life even now, it felt like they couldn’t shake off the city entirely, no matter how hard they tried.

“And what …?” They were stuttering, but Jet was looking at them patiently. Poison felt their cheeks heating up with a violent blush anyway. They hated feeling stupid. They hated not knowing things and they hated being wrong about something. “If someone gave this to you … what would the appropriate reaction to that be?”

“If ya liked ‘em back?” Jet made sure. Poison was grateful that he didn’t ask them to elaborate on their feelings for Ghoul. They were probably obvious.

Poison nodded.

“Well, if you’re interested, ya keep the band and see where it goes. If ya put it on, it means ya feel the same. That usually means you’re dating. And if ya really wanna seal the deal, ya give ‘em a matching band, too. Kind of official then. So you’ll never lose ‘em again, not even if ya get ghosted.”

“Oh,” Poison mumbled. The idea of Ghoul not wanting to lose them ever again after it had taken him so long to open up was getting them emotional. 

Then something else occurred to them. “Hold on, does that mean he thinks we’re dating?”

“Pois.” Jet leaned forward to look at them almost sternly. “You’ve been wearin’ that thing for weeks. Pretty sure ya would’ve noticed if Ghoul thought ya were dating. Even though apparently you’re both dense as fuck, ya can’t be that dense.”

“Yeah, right,” Poison agreed and chuckled insecurely. Ghoul hadn’t acted like they were dating. In fact, he hadn’t acted that way at all. “No, wait,” they said. “Ya have to be wrong ‘bout that. It doesn’t make sense. See, I’ve pulled my moves on him. Couple a days ago, that’s why we were arguing. Turned me down with a bang like he exploded one of his bombs in my face. How’daya explain that?”

Jet frowned.

He shook his head very slowly, his curls swinging from side to side. Deep lines were showing on his forehead like he was trying to solve a very complicated puzzle.

“Can’t be,” he finally said. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

“He couldn’t use his hands, right?” Poison held up their own open palms to illustrate the problem. “Offered him a lil’ help. Even offered to keep it all casual ‘n stuff. But he told me he couldn’t do it ‘n that he was sorry for bein’ unable to change his feelings.”

Just saying it out loud hurt all over again. Poison would rather bite off their tongue than admit to anyone outside their crew how pathetic they’d been, pleading and bargaining, only to be rejected anyway.

“Destroya, Pois,” Jet said and touched his forehead, as if Poison’s words were giving him a headache. “And it didn’t even occur to ya he might’ve been talking about the casualness? Probably thought ya were tryna use him as a pastime. Might’ve tried to apologise for being tumbled for ya.”

Poison tried to replay what had happened in their mind. They’d done that a hundred times during the last couple of days already. They had constantly felt like shit for fucking it up.

Now they had to admit that Jet’s interpretation of the events couldn’t be ruled out entirely though. But it didn’t seem likely to them. Ghoul couldn’t possibly be that oblivious to their feelings.

“But I talked to Kobra ‘bout it,” Poison said stubbornly. “He believed it when I told him that Ghoul didn’t like me back.”

Admittedly, they hadn’t told Kobra the story in much detail. And Kobra had also assumed that Poison was after nothing but an easy hook-up. Maybe they did give off that impression a tiny little bit.

“I love Kobes,” Jet said. “But ya really wanna take relationship advice from him? He doesn’t understand jackshit ‘bout people.”

Poison snorted, because they had to admit that Jet was right.

“Maybe I should’ve talked to ya sooner,” Poison said.

Jet sighed dramatically. “No one in this crew should have a fuckin’ thought without consulting me first.”

Poison laughed, but for a change, they didn’t argue. Very slowly, they were beginning to think about what this actually meant, if Jet was right.

“So ya really think he likes me?” they asked, more shyness and insecurity in their voice than they usually let on. They tried to ignore the churning feeling at the pit of their stomach. They didn’t want to get their hopes up. It would hurt all the more if it turned out that Jet was mistaken.

“I think ya should fucking talk to him,” Jet clarified. “And this time be clear ‘bout it.”

“Yeah,” Poison agreed, but pulled up their shoulders. They thought that they should feel like running out to Ghoul and kissing him and pouring their heart out to him. But they didn’t feel happy and excited yet. They felt scared. They wouldn’t mind putting this off for a little while longer. “I will.”

“I’m done here anyway,” Jet announced and picked up the supply list he had created earlier. “I’ll ask Kobra to drive down to Tommy’s with me. So you’ll have some privacy.”

He got up from the bar stool and Poison instinctively reached out to grab him by the shoulder.

“Now?” they asked and it sounded pleading. They wanted to be a brave leader, but really, they just wished Jet would go out into the shed and ask if Ghoul wanted to date them yes-no-maybe like they were motorbabies. They couldn’t recall the last time they’d been so scared of anything.

“‘S gonna be alright,” Jet said and he stood in front of Poison, placing one hand reassuringly on their thigh. “Even if ya fuck it up, ‘s still gonna be alright. Ghoul’s your best friend. Even if he doesn’t feel the same, he’s not gonna hate ya for it.”

Poison started at Jet. Kobra had told them to fix things. Ghoul had reacted as if things needed fixing as well. But Jet acted like nothing could possibly be broken.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. ‘S just what Bli’s telling us, that love can be wrong, or that ya can love the wrong person or love ‘em the wrong way. ‘Cause they want us lonely and scared, ‘cause lonely and scared people are easier to control,” Jet said and gave their thigh a light squeeze. “But that’s why they’ll never win. ‘Cause we’re brave ‘nough to be vulnerable. We’ll never fight alone.”

Chapter Text

The door to the diner swung open and Poison could taste their nerves at the back of their throat like bile, sour and bitter all at once.

The Am had sped off a couple of minutes ago and they had tried to come up with some sort of speech, but their thoughts were jumbled and they didn’t even know where to start. The word love should definitely be mentioned at some point, but they weren’t sure if they should lead with it or draw into it as the final conclusion.

“Jet told me ya wanted to talk to me,” Ghoul said and eyed Poison suspiciously, seemingly wondering whether their request would be reasonable, or if he should tell them to fuck off preemptively.

His face was partly covered in grime as if he had just witnessed a small explosion close up.

“Yeah, it’s about this,” Poison said and held up their arm on which they were wearing the self-made bracelet.

They had expected Ghoul to look confused, but his eyes darted straight to the matching band as if he had just waited for this moment. The change in his body language was very subtle, he pulled his shoulder up only slightly, but it made him look smaller instantly.

“So y’know,” he said.

“Jet told me.”

Ghoul nodded shortly and his eyes darted back to Poison’s face.

He didn’t look scared. In fact, he had looked more freaked out when Poison had kissed him. He looked resigned rather than frightened, like he wasn’t bracing himself for an argument but rather for a conversation that would probably turn out to be extremely awkward.

“Knew you’d figure it out eventually.” 

Since he seemed relatively calm about their reaction, his heart obviously wasn’t in it anymore. Of course he knew Poison wasn’t going to kick him out. But he didn’t look scared of getting hurt either. 

Poison’s heart seemed to slip through their ribcage down to the pit of their stomach like there was nothing to stop it, like they were completely hollow.

No more assumptions, though, no more hurting before the words were even out. They straightened their back.

“You want it back?” they asked.

Ghoul frowned, an honest look of confusion on his face. Poison thought they should have sat down for this conversation. They were standing in the middle of the diner several feet apart like they were about to have a motherfucking shootout.

“What? Nah, ya can keep it. T’is just a band. Nothing valuable. Ya can just throw it out if ya don’t want it.”

“No,” Poison said quickly and closed their hand around their wrist as if Ghoul would jump forward and rip the band off if they didn’t guard it closely enough. “I wanna keep it. I wanna keep wearing it. Just thought maybe you changed your mind ‘bout me. ‘Cause you turned me down the other day.”

Ghoul looked up and underneath the grime his face seemed to turn slightly red.

“No,” he said. “No, I mean, I didn’t. Thought ya knew t’was ‘cause I didn’t wanna be no quick ‘n easy for ya.”

Poison shook their head, feeling incredibly stupid once again, but this time the feeling came with a sense of relief.

“Just said that ‘cause I thought it would be easier for you to accept,” they confessed. “Radiation must’ve burnt out my last brain cells.”

“Thought ya knew,” Ghoul repeated, almost stubbornly. “Ya make me blind ‘n deaf like an explosion. Can’t see anything else when you’re in the room. Even teased me ‘bout it. How I was lookin’ at ya. Thought ya knew.”

“I know I’m pretty,” Poison corrected. “Didn’t know if you …” They broke off, because even now it still felt presumptuous to just say the words out loud first.

“I’m in love with you,” Ghoul said, plain and simple, as if he just wanted to help them out. He said it without hesitation.

For a moment, Poison just stared at him, feeling absolutely pistol whipped. The words had hit them like a blow to the head.

They had always thought of themself as a brave leader, not smart or heroic or without fail, but brave. But it was Ghoul who said it out loud first, because they’d been too scared. Ghoul, who’d seemed so frail and frightened and like an animal ready to bite when he had first arrived at the diner. And yet he had stripped himself of his armour and made himself vulnerable the very moment someone took the time to ask him to. He was the softest and bravest person Poison had ever met and they wanted to wrap themself around him like a hard shell to keep him safe.

“Ghoulie,” they said and finally decided to breach the awkward distance between them. They stepped towards Ghoul and put their hands on his shoulders, no longer able to refrain from touching him. “Fucking hell, Ghoulie.”

Ghoul tilted back his head to look up at them and now he looked scared, his eyes large and glistening as if he was ready to cry. And Poison realised what his indifference so far had really been; it had been the utter lack of expectations, it had been the belief that things couldn’t possibly end well for him anyway.

But now there was hope written all over his face and his expression was pleading. Poison could hear the unspoken words hanging in the air between them. They had been in every snarky comment at the beginning, in every withheld hug while he settled in and they’d been in the way he had looked at them when they had kissed. Ghoul was silently begging them to not hurt him.

“I didn’t know,” they whispered softly. “I just didn’t understand what you were trying to tell me. I didn’t know what it meant.”

Ghoul granted them a small, wistful smile.

“I know,” he said. “Figured it halfway through our conversation that ya had no clue what the band meant. ‘S okay though, wasn’t your fault.”

“Ya could have explained it to me,” Poison said and dug their thumbs into Ghoul’s shoulders lightly, trying to let him know how much they wished he had. They could easily imagine how his courage must have failed him, though: working up the nerves to give them the band in the first place only for his confession to be misunderstood. They wished they could just put a bandaid over the wound they must have inflicted by pure accident.

“Nah, just made me realise it wasn’t meant to be, y’know? Ya didn’t understand ‘cause you’re city shiny.”

Poison scrunched up their nose. They couldn’t help but feel that it sounded like an insult. They hadn’t understood, because they were from the city, because even now, they were a step behind every other killjoy in the Zones and they couldn’t catch up to them no matter how fast they ran, because their headstart was just too big.

“You’re beautiful, like your skin is unreal smooth, and ya can talk all proper, if ya want to. Ya should be with someone who buys ya fancy jewellery, like that shiny brooch. Not someone who weaves ya stupid bracelets. Someone should take ya out on shiny dates, like go see the pictures ‘n shit. But I don’t know how to do any of that. I’m just a Zone Rat. I’m no good with words and not much to look at either.”

He reached up absent-mindedly to rub his cheek, right where his scars were, and the sight stirred a vague memory. He’d touched his face like that more often when they’d first met. He’d touched his face like that when Poison had first started calling him pretty.

And they realised that Ghoul actually meant every word he had just said and it made them want to cry.

“Ghoulie,” they said again, gentle and sad. They cupped his face with both hands. They ran their thumbs over his cheeks, rubbing away some of the grime to get a better look at his face; touching his scars ever so gently, caressing him like he was something precious that could break between their palms. “They don’t make droids as pretty as you.”

They thought of the slick and shiny pornodroids created only to appeal to the human eye and which had nothing - absolutely nothing - on Ghoul’s dirty and scarred face.

“And ya don’t have to use fancy words with me. I know your heart. I know it, Ghoul. ‘S the biggest heart I’ve ever seen. How much clearer do I have to get, huh?”

They smiled down at Ghoul tenderly and Ghoul smiled back at them, and it was an honest, happy smile that nonetheless turned the corners of his eyes soft like a good cry.

“I’d rather be in a firefight with you than in the fanciest restaurant of Bat City with anyone else. And I meant what I said. I don’t need a brooch or any kind of jewellery. I’m happiest when I’m right here with you and you don’t have to take me out anywhere or write me poetry. Because when you smile, that’s like all the jewellery and all the poems in the world and …”

“Party,” Ghoul interrupted them, and he sounded tender and loving and like he was only seconds away from rolling his eyes at them. “You’re good with words, but you talk too fucking much. Shut up ‘n kiss me.”

The scolding took Poison so much by surprise that they snorted with laughter, but Ghoul had already grabbed the collar of their shirt to pull them down, and they were still laughing when their mouths collided. Their teeth clinked together, which made them laugh harder and Ghoul’s tongue slipped in between their lips, and then they weren’t laughing anymore, but kissing back. It was messy, but after a moment, they found their rhythm, like they’d always known Ghoul would kiss like this. He rushed into it, panting into their mouth, but Poison knew he was expecting them to meet him with just as much force.

Their hands were still cupping Ghoul’s face while he was clinging to their shirt, and now Poison pushed him back without breaking the kiss. Ghoul stumbled backwards until he hit the counter, coming to a sudden stop that made their bodies bump into each other abruptly, but Poison didn’t give him space and pressed him up against it instead.

Ghoul bit their lower lip and they whined against him, but this kind of sweet pain was exactly what they were looking for. Their chin felt wet as if they’d been drooling on themself and the whole thing was just so messy, but this time, it was perfect. Messy and chaotic and perfect.

Ghoul pulled back, his chest heaving like he was out of breath.

“Wait, wait,” he said. “That means you like me, right?”

Poison snorted with laughter again. “Well, if you had just let me finish my perfectly structured and very informative speech, you would have …”

“Fuck off,” Ghoul said and pulled them down again. His hand had snuck from their collar to the back of their neck and was now making its way into their hair, grabbing the strands to pull them in for another kiss.

Poison met his lips again, a little slower this time, their lips and tongue moving firmly enough to force Ghoul to adjust to their pace, until their kiss turned slow and deep. They licked the back of his teeth, their hands no longer on his face but on his hips, holding him in place.

Ghoul let out a small sigh into their mouth, the vibration of the sound sensual against their lips.

They smiled, making the kiss feel more uncoordinated again, so they broke it, placing light pecks on the corner of Ghoul’s lips and across his scarred cheek.

“I’m also in love with you, Fun Ghoul,” they whispered as they got closer to his ear. “So much, it’s actually embarrassing. Just fucking static on my mind except for thoughts of you.”

Ghoul shuddered against them as if they’d been fucking him with their words, which was both adorable and quite thrilling. They wondered what else they’d be able to achieve with their mouth.

“Want me to blow ya on the counter?” they asked in a low voice.

“Nah.” Ghoul pushed against their chest firmly enough to make them take a step back. “Want ya spread out on a bed for me.”

Poison let out an exaggerated moan and took another step into the direction of the motel.

“Destroya, Ghoulie, I think I just tumbled for ya a second time.”

Ghoul giggled and caught up to them just when Poison turned to the door. He wrapped his arms around their waist from behind and placed kisses on their exposed shoulder while they tried to walk. It made Poison laugh as well and they wanted to scold him, but they knew Ghoul well enough to be absolutely sure he wouldn’t let go of them anyway until they’d reached their room.

“Oi!” they protested when teeth scraped their shoulder, but Ghoul was biting down so lightly, it was clearly meant to show affection.

“Sorry,” Ghoul mumbled sheepishly and quickly covered the bite mark with another kiss, but Poison was sure he’d do it again. They didn’t mind.

“C’mon, ya lil’ limpet, let go,” they said and tugged on Ghoul’s arm as they stumbled into their room.

Ghoul somehow managed to not break body contact as he made them turn in his arms. Poison moved almost instinctively. Their bodies just seemed to fit together perfectly as if all the cuddles and play fights had put them so in tune with one another, that they knew how to react to even the smallest movement.

Ghoul’s lips found theirs again and Poison thought that they’d missed kissing Ghoul, although their walk here had taken less than a minute. Their lips were starting to feel a little tingly from all the kissing and it made them light-headed. They vaguely thought that they should definitely make it onto the mattress at some point.

But then Ghoul already pulled back and Poison inhaled so greedily, the sudden oxygen intake nearly gave them a headrush. They hadn’t been aware of what a poor job they’d done at kissing and breathing at the same time.

They wanted to suggest moving to the mattress, but before they could even open their mouth, Ghoul had already dropped to his knees right in front of them.

He reached for their belt with jerky, impatient and yet very decided motions and started undoing it. Poison stared down at his unwashed scalp. They couldn’t tell exactly when they’d grown this hard, but their dick was straining against the tight jeans painfully.

Ghoul was done with the belt and moved on to the button of Poison’s jeans, but then he stopped to look up.

He was just kneeling there, looking up at them with these large puppy dog eyes as if the sight alone couldn’t give a ‘joy a heartattack.

“Pois, wait,” he said, although he was the one with his hands on the motherfucking zipper of their jeans.

Poison snorted, but they couldn’t bring themself to laugh right now, because they were too desperate for Ghoul to help them out of these tight pants.

Ghoul kept still, hands resting on the waistband of Poison’s jeans.

“I know Zone culture is getting what ya can while you’re still here. And if ya fancy someone, ya should go for it. But I’m not really made for that and if we do this, y’know, I’d like to be the only one ya doin’ this with, if that’s okay with you.”

“Ghoulie, babe.” Poison brushed back the hair from Ghoul’s face and caressed his cheek. He tilted his head ever so slightly, leaning into the touch. It made them feel both powerful and absolutely awestruck that anyone would put themselves into their hands like this, least of all someone as amazing as Ghoul. “‘S more than okay. Wanna have a proper relationship with you, too. And I’m not just saying that, ‘cause I’d tell you literally anything you wanna hear right now.”

Ghoul chuckled and then licked his lips with a wide grin, which looked extremely promising considering the position he was currently in.

He finally pulled down the zipper and started wrestling with Poison’s jeans, still impatient but reasonably careful not to hurt them. The pants were so tight that it wasn’t easy to get them down at all and when Poison’s erection sprung free, they sighed with relief. Ghoul immediately took hold of their dick and placed open-mouthed kisses down the shaft as if he’d been waiting for this moment for years.

Poison moaned when his tongue slid over the sensitive head and they really hoped that Ghoul would let them fuck his mouth, rough and unapologetic, but then he already let go again to use both hands to tug at their jeans, getting them further down their thighs before they got stuck again.

Ghoul leaned in, resting his forehead against Poison’s leg where it met the hip. Their hand was back in his hair and they gently caressed his head. His warm breath was very tangible on their skin, he was breathing hard as if he was trying to inhale as much of their smell as possible.

He kept kissing their thigh, too, rubbing his nose against their skin, while still tugging at their jeans somewhat uncoordinated. He growled quietly when they hit Poison’s knees and got stuck again.

“What the fucking fuck are these?” Ghoul complained. “Fucking chastity jeans?”

Poison laughed. “They make my ass look great, ‘kay?”

“Think your ass would look better without ‘em,” Ghoul grumbled and sat back. “Y’know what? Get out of ‘em your-fucking-self.”

“So impatient, sugar,” Poison teased, but bent down to take off the jeans themself as Ghoul rose, starting to fumble with his own belt.

They had, however, underestimated how tight the jeans actually were and how much their motion range was limited, because they were already down at their knees, and somehow they managed to lose their balance and toppled over. Thankfully, they were standing right next to the mattress, so at least they didn’t hurt themself when they landed flat on their ass, but it didn’t look very dignified either.

Ghoul burst out laughing, into the kind of wide, open laugh where he threw back his head and showed all of his teeth.

“Oh, fuck you,” Poison muttered and struggled with their pants, managing to get them down to their ankles at least, where they puddled up in a way that made it seem impossible to ever get them past their feet.

“Ya need a pair of scissors?” Ghoul asked and laughed again. Poison hadn’t thought there would be so much laughing involved in sleeping with Ghoul, but exactly this made it better than anything they had hoped for.

They looked up and the sight made them halt all of their efforts. Ghoul had slipped out of his pants and was now kicking off his boxers. Poison stared at his tattooed legs, the ink running up all around them, at his hard cock and the line of hair trailing down to it. For a moment, they completely forgot they were supposed to move.

Ghoul looked up and met their eyes, a blush colouring his cheeks and his neck all the way down to the collar of his shirt once he realised that Poison had been watching him.

“Pervert,” he said and Poison laughed, and then Ghoul was already on top of them, lunging himself forward with his usual lack of restraint.

He crashed into Poison, hands on their shoulders and pushing them down onto the mattress to climb on top of them and straddle their thighs. The jeans were still around their angles, almost making it feel like their legs were tied and in combination with Ghoul’s weight pinning them down, Poison enjoyed that maybe just a little too much.

“Party,” Ghoul whispered, his voice hoarse and full of affection as he looked down on them. His hair was an absolute mess and he looked wild and unhinged as he leaned down to kiss them again.

Their cocks brushed against each other and they both moaned into the kiss. Ghoul smelled sharp, like gunpowder. His hands were still on Poison’s shoulders. They were kissing slowly. Once more, Poison felt like it had been far too long since their last kiss. From now on, they’d have to take kissing breaks between every activity. Eating a can of Power Pup? Changing clothes? Taking a piss? That was about as long as they’d be able to go without kissing Ghoul from now on. Jet and Kobra would be thrilled.

Ghoul sat up again and reached past the mattress, pulling up the second shoe box from a whole lineup, most of which were filled with jewellery, handkerchiefs and makeup. Except for the second box of course, which was filled with something else.

“Oi, how’d ya know ‘bout that?” Poison wanted to know as Ghoul lifted the lid.

“You’re not very good at hiding stuff,” Ghoul observed and got out a bottle of lube that was already half empty. Poison took a mental note that they’d definitely have to get more of that asap, the Witch knew from where though, this one had been a lucky find.

They huffed and watched as Ghoul popped open the lid.

“Borrowed your vibrator a couple times,” Ghoul confessed.

“Ghoulie!” Poison exclaimed scoldingly. They were the last person to respect anyone’s personal possessions, but this was taking it a step too far.

“What?” Ghoul frowned, his face still covered in dirt. “I cleaned it afterwards. I’m no animal.”

“Kept wondering why the battery was always empty.” Poison shook their head. “Shit’s hard to get out here, ya bastard.”

Ghoul shrugged and squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. Poison wasn’t entirely sure where he was going with this, but he acted like he had a plan, which was already pretty hot in and of itself.

“And why were ya whining ‘bout not getting off then?” they rambled on. “If ya don’t need your hands apparently?”

“Couldn’t work myself open for it,” Ghoul said as if that was a completely normal thing to say, even though he sounded slightly breathless. “Couldn’t just get it in like that.”

Poison’s mouth went dry as they imagined Ghoul struggling to work the vibrator inside of him.

“Maybe I could help ya with that sometime,” they offered and hoped they didn’t sound as brain dead as they felt. The image seemed to have flicked off a switch inside their mind, terminating all ongoing thought processes at once. “Make ya take it. Make ya take it for me.”

Ghoul moaned, his eyes briefly fluttering shut as if the words had touched him just right, then he let himself fall forward, no longer straddling them but pushing himself up on his knees while bending over them. His hand was next to their shoulder for support, while the other one disappeared between his legs.

He moaned again as the first finger pushed into him, at least Poison assumed that was what was happening. When they looked down, all they could see was Ghoul’s tattooed lower arm and his hard cock hanging between his thighs.

They licked their lips.

“Ya … ya don’t want me to do that for ya?” they asked.

“Will be faster if I do it myself,” Ghoul said. “Don’t wanna waste time.”

Poison looked back up at his face. He was still flushed, but this time with arousal and no longer with embarrassment, or maybe it was actually a mixture of both. He was very clearly in a hurry, since he was still wearing his shirt. His eyes looked hooded and he was breathing heavily as he started rocking back his hips to fuck himself on his own fingers.

Poison’s cock was throbbing, but they couldn’t even focus on that. All they could do was watch Ghoul, everything but him was just white noise.

“Ya have condoms?” Ghoul’s voice cracked while he panted out the words.

Poison managed a weak snort. “Does this look like a fucking pharmacy to you?”

“Destroya.” Ghoul interrupted himself with a low moan. They were barely touching, but Poison was very aware of Ghoul’s knees digging into their sides and the heat radiating off his body. “Ya better be clean.”

“I’m clean,” they promised, because in spite of their reputation they didn’t leave the diner all that much and were usually responsible in their sexual encounters, not so much out of consideration for themself but for their partners. “I’m so fucking clean.”

Ghoul let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a moan. His eyes still looked clouded as if he wasn’t really seeing Poison at all.

“Then ya better get ready,” he ordered. Poison hadn’t expected him to be this bossy, but they couldn’t say that they minded.

They scrambled to pick up the lube Ghoul had tossed aside earlier and poured some into their palm, so it would warm up at least a little before they fisted their cock with quick strokes. They moaned at the sensation that was almost overwhelming already in their current state of arousal.

They looked up at Ghoul, flushed, dirty and sweaty, his jaw slack and his eyes threatening to roll back in his head. He kept making small, suppressed noises, whiny and moaning and panting. They were pretty sure that they could come like this, just touching themselves while looking at each other.

Ghoul let out an especially loud moan as if he had just hit the right spot and his eyes looked empty like he was miles away.

“Ya even need me here?” Poison teased and immediately Ghoul’s eyes focused again, meeting their gaze head on. They looked dark, pupils blown wide.

“I need you so badly,” he whispered, and he sounded painfully earnest, like he really meant it, like he would fucking die without them like a man without water. It was that overwhelming vulnerability again, as if he was throwing the doors to his heart wide open to let anybody in who dared to knock.

“Fuck,” Poison said. Ghoul smiled briefly and pulled back his hand. Poison could hear the squelching slide of the lube beneath their heavy breathing.

Ghoul sat up and adjusted his position, reaching for his ass to spread himself open while Poison was still holding on to their cock almost helplessly.

A part of them had secretly assumed that Ghoul was kind of inexperienced sexually based on how stand-offish he had been at first, but he moved like someone who’d definitely done this before a couple of times. He’d surprised Poison with his social skills at the Zone party as well, so he must have gotten his fair share of hook-ups at least. Or maybe, and that thought might have been even more thrilling, he’d just practised a lot by himself already, possibly even thinking about Poison while he did.

They sensed Ghoul pushing down onto them, tight pressure against the head of their dick. They inhaled sharply as Ghoul lowered himself, going a little too fast for comfort. His face scrunched up, the muscles in his thighs were visibly tense.

“Easy, sugar,” Poison shushed, but then they already bottomed out, Ghoul’s body clenching down on them as he kept taking them in deeper.

“Fuck.” Ghoul tilted back his head, exposing his neck with the black ink on his flushed skin. Poison wanted to bite down on it, but all they could do was lay back and let Ghoul take the lead. “Knew ya were big ‘cause of those stupidly tight pants already. Didn’t think you’d make me feel this full though.”

“Ghoul.” Poison’s voice sounded whiny, too. “Ya can’t just say shit like that. Imma blow my load immediately.”

And Ghoul started laughing, just right fucking there with their dick half burried inside of him, his skin absolutely glowing and his eyes so beautiful. He trembled and Poison could sense it all over their cock.

“Loser,” Ghoul said.

Poison jerked up their hips, driving the rest of their dick into Ghoul in one go. He howled out and slapped their chest while simultaneously pushing his hips down to meet their thrust. His expression ranged somewhere between pain and utter bliss.

“Motherfucker,” he hissed out.

Poison grinned and Ghoul started moving, lifting himself off their dick to slam back down. He wasn’t just using his hips, but put his entire body into it, not building up a steady rhythm but instead going fast and hard right from the get-go. He was riding them like he got places to be.

The sensation made Poison see fucking stars at the edges of their vision, white and flickering and it felt slightly painful on their dick, too. Although they had used enough lube to make the sliding easy, Ghoul was just so tight and he was giving neither of them time to adjust.

“Slow down, babe,” Poison rasped. They had known this would be quick and dirty, that they’d take more time the second or maybe third time around, but with the pace Ghoul was currently setting, he’d knock the orgasm straight out of them.

“Party, fuck, please, Party.” He was keeping his voice down like he was only talking to himself, making their name sound incredibly soft as it spilled from his lips.

He had his head thrown back, his long hair falling down onto his shoulders. His perfectly shaped eyebrows were knitted tightly and he looked oddly focused.

“Party. Party, please, Party.” The sound of their own name was making them dizzy and there was just something about Ghoul’s utter lack of words that got to them. He seemed to know no way to express himself except for repeating their name over and over again like a prayer.

Poison wished they could thrust up into him, fuck that pretty voice right out of him until he got loud enough for the entire Zone to hear. But they’d have to spread their legs farther to get more leverage to move, and they couldn’t because of those stupid jeans tying their ankles together. All they could do was stare up at Ghoul in awe and let him use them to frantically chase his own orgasm.

“That’s it, baby,” Poison encouraged instead. “Fuck yourself on my cock.”

Ghoul let out a strained groan and briefly they feared that they’d pushed their teasing too far. He grabbed the black, tattered shirt Poison was still wearing and wrung the fabric between his fists like he desperately needed to hold on to something. His breath was coming rapidly by now and even his neck glistened with sweat.

“Keep talking,” he pressed out.

When it came to Poison, this really wasn’t a request anyone had to make twice. In fact, it was the stellar opposite of what people usually told them to do, and they weren’t going to pass up on their chance to finally shine.

“Ya like that, sugar? Like it when I tell ya what to do?” Poison teased. “Just keep going like this, you’re doing so good. Looking so pretty. Being so fucking perfect for me, Ghoulie. I can tell how much you love this, how much ya love my cock. So good, bet ya can come like this without even touching yourself, that’s how much ya love it.”

They were just babbling, sputtering the first nonsense that came to their mind, but it seemed to work, because the volume of Ghoul’s moans kept increasing and his hands were still entangled in their shirt.

His movements, though, seemed to slow down, his pretty face looked desperate.

“Fuck, please,” he whimpered, not there yet, not quite, and his body clearly beginning to give out on him.

“Hey,” Poison whispered and ran their hands up Ghoul’s thighs until they reached his hips. “Can ya get off for a sec? Wanna try something different.”

Ghoul seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then he gave a short nod and pushed himself up on his knees, carefully getting off Poison’s dick. It felt strange to just slip out of him and Ghoul bit his lower lip.

Poison sat up and took hold of Ghoul’s hips again to guide him as they scrambled to prop their back up against the wall, so they were able to slide down just far enough for Ghoul to properly sit in their lap. Both of them were upright now, so their faces were closer together and Ghoul leaned in and kissed them, slow this time and gentle, tongues sliding over lips and hot breath in each other’s mouths. They kissed like they’d done it for ages already.

Ghoul still smelled of gunpowder, now mixed with sweat.

He pulled back and Poison reached for the hemline of his shirt.

“May I?” they asked almost formally.

Ghoul lifted his arms and allowed Poison to strip the shirt off over his head. Poison returned their hands to his hips and then trailed their fingers upwards again, following their gaze. Their fingertips went over the toned stomach, outlining the tattoos on Ghoul’s chest, bumping over small scars every now and then that they had never noticed before, because they were so faded you only recognised them by touch.

They reached Ghoul’s neck and brushed the hair from his face with both hands. Ghoul was looking right at them, his eyes incredibly clear.

“Do you even know how much I love you?” Poison whispered.

“Yeah.” Ghoul nodded. “I think I do.”

Poison gently placed their palm on his lower back and Ghoul reached down to take a hold of their dick as he lowered himself on it again. They could have used more lube, but Ghoul was still loose, so it went easier this time nonetheless. The sensation was relieving and strangely familiar.

“Slow,” Poison said, but it was unnecessary, because their position didn’t allow for fast movements anyway. Ghoul could no longer push himself up and down, he had to grind his hips against them slowly. The slide was lazy and intense and intimate.

Poison watched the tattoos on Ghoul’s skin move with each rolling of his hips, his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He was making noises again, but quietly this time, so quiet that Poison felt like the luckiest person in the world to catch them at all.

They had their hands on Ghoul’s hips again, guiding him to a steady rhythm. The bliss no longer seemed to shoot through them in violent waves, instead it buzzed directly underneath their skin, now and then rising up like the tide.

Their eyes were fixed on Ghoul, who was looking right back at them. His hands were on their shoulders, this time fisted into the fabric of their shirt where the sleeves had been cut off.

“Party.” There it was again, their name under his breath like a prayer. “Party.”

They slid their hand over his hip bone, getting closer to his hard, leaking cock.

“Baby, please,” Ghoul whined.

Poison gave in and wrapped their hand around Ghoul’s throbbing dick, giving it slow, deliberate strokes that matched the rhythm of Ghoul’s movements.

He moaned and bit his lip again, and it looked absolutely stunning.

“Anytime, honey,” Poison said quietly. “Whenever you’re ready.”

And as if he’d actually been waiting for permission, Ghoul started spilling all over their hand, his body clenching and pulsing around them, and it made them gasp.

“Fuck, I …” They realised they should have asked sooner, but Ghoul’s fingers already dug into their shoulder, he was moaning shamelessly and his strained thighs were trembling against them.

“‘S okay,” he panted out while he arched his back. “Inside me.”

He didn’t even seem able to form coherent sentences anymore and somehow it was that, which made the orgasm rip straight through Poison. They held on to Ghoul, panting and breathless themself, keeping him down on their cock while they came inside of him.

Ghoul’s grip on their shoulders had slackened, but they were still holding on to each other, their sweaty skin sticking together as they rode out the last aftershocks and tried to catch their breath again.

“Holy fuck,” Poison said and shifted their body a little.

“Yeah,” Ghoul agreed and pushed himself off again, this time getting off their lap completely, falling to the side and then rolling onto his back. He remained lying there while staring at the ceiling, his sweaty chest heaving.

Poison bent down to finally strip off the jeans, which suddenly proved a lot easier now that their motions were no longer jerky with impatience. They also took off their shirt, using it to wipe themself down before tossing it aside.

Then they leaned over Ghoul, cupping his cheek and giving him a lazy, open-mouthed kiss that he returned just as slow and tender. Poison smiled as they pulled back, rolling onto their side, propped up on one elbow to look down into Ghoul’s face.

“It was hot when you called me baby,” they said. “You never do that.”

“Destroya, shut up,” Ghoul said and turned his head to face away from Poison. After everything that had just happened between them, this was what made the blush spread down his chest again.

“No, seriously, please, do it again,” Poison mocked and leaned closer. “I wanna hear you say it.”

Ghoul groaned and covered his face with his hands. It was the cutest thing Poison had ever witnessed. Ghoul usually turned snarky or he withdrew himself completely to cover it up when he felt embarrassed. They’d never seen him show it so openly before.

“Shut up,” Ghoul repeated, his voice muffled by his hands.

“C’mon, please.” Because they couldn’t access his face, Poison just pressed kisses to Ghoul’s hands, all over his fingers and his tattooed knuckles. “Tell me I’m your baby. You seemed so into it, too. Baby, baby, please.”

“Imma deliver myself to Bli,” Ghoul muttered. “Their torture can’t be worse than your fucking mouth.”

Poison laughed and let themself fall back down onto the mattress next to Ghoul. They would have loved to annoy him some more, but they were also quite exhausted, sweaty and slightly sleepy.

They were lying on their side, studying Ghoul’s profile once he lowered his hands again. Their own fingers were drawing lazy patterns on his chest. They wanted to explore his body properly, but they knew they’d get to that. Jet and Kobra would know better than to come home early today. There would be a second round, after some talking and maybe a little nap, where they’d kiss down each other’s bodies, and just tonight, they wouldn’t be on the run; just tonight they’d have all the time in the world. Just tonight they’d pretend that they could live forever.

Ghoul took their hand, hooking his forefinger under the matching band on Poison’s wrist.

“Sorry for not getting ya one, too,” they mumbled. “Just wanted to talk to you as soon as possible. Wanna give you one, too, though.”

Ghoul rolled over to his side as well, so they were facing each other.

“Ya gave me so much already,” he said quietly. “Ya gave me a home. Ya gave me a family. Ya gave me all that when I didn’t even dare to ask.”

He reached up and for a moment, his hand just lingered, as if he wasn’t quite sure if he was really allowed to touch. But then he brushed back a strand of Poison’s hair, fingers grazing their cheek gently. Ghoul was usually stormy in his display of affection, he’d hugged and even kissed them countless times already, but Poison couldn’t recall that he had ever touched their face this gently before. It felt like a last piece of himself that he had withheld until now.

He trailed his fingertips across their cheekbone, touching the back of their nose, tracing the shape of their eyebrow like he wanted to map their face.

“Didn’t think this would happen, y’know?” Ghoul carried on. “Me ‘n Poison. Couldn’t believe it when Pony first introduced us, that ya were the real thing. Thought ya were pretty full of shit.”

Poison snorted. Ghoul’s fingers were now outlining their jaw.

“Didn’t think I’d grow on ya that much either,” they owned up.

“Even when ya did, y’know? Didn’t think it’d be meant for me. Everyone in the Zones knows ya. Didn’t think you’d even look my way twice. You’re fucking Party Poison, motherfucker number one.”

Poison turned their head, trying to catch Ghoul’s hand with their mouth. They placed a few light, uncoordinated kisses on the inside of his wrist.

“Y’know that’s all just talk, though, sugar. Y’know I’m just as clueless as the rest of ‘em. That shiny leader everyone’s talking ‘bout doesn’t exist. None of it’s true.”

“Except it is,” Ghoul said, moving his hand down to their neck to rest it there as if feeling for their pulse. It was oddly soothing. “‘S all true. I can see why people turn to you. You’re not the smartest ‘joy out there, or the best fighter, or even the smoothest talker. But ya got that compassion and you’re so fierce ‘bout it, it inspires people. Your love burns so bright, ‘s like a beacon in the night, so people’ll always follow ya to not get lost.”

Poison smiled, but they felt a little choked up.

“‘S like looking straight at an explosion. You’re a motherfucking bomb, baby.” Ghoul whispered the pet name as softly as if he was telling them a secret.

“A bomb’s useless unless someone blows it up,” Poison said just as softly. “Love spawns love. ‘N you're my fucking detonator, Ghoulie.”

They thought about what Jet had told them. That it was love and the ability to be vulnerable which made them stronger, because it would prevent them from ever fighting alone. And maybe that was the ultimate weapon - making each other feel less isolated and fully accepted just the way they were, so they’d never, never feel the need to conform or tone themselves down. Maybe that was the true core of resistance.

Ghoul smiled at them and Poison felt like their chest was exploding with happiness.

Bli would never win, because the killjoys got something they’d never take from them. They got compassion and community, and they got love.

They got the bomb.