Chapter Text
The funny thing was, up until they got the page to come deal with the rogue NEXT on the west side of town, Kotetsu had been having a wonderful day. It was truly amazing how quickly a good day could turn bad.
“Don’t space out on me now, old man,” said Barnaby.
“Shut up, I’m thinking,” Kotetsu snapped, peevish.
“I knew I smelled something burning.”
“Yeah, what’s left of our dignity.”
Barnaby shot him a dirty look (Kotetsu could tell, even with the visor in place). He was trussed up just like Kotetsu was, both of them in their Hero suits and tangled hopelessly in the weird alien webbing that had erupted from the nondescript little boxes set out all over the room. The boxes looked like nothing so much as Roombas that had vomited silly string—if silly string was as strong as carbon fiber and stuck tenaciously to every surface as though cemented in place.
Both of them had already used their Hundred Power, because technically they had already apprehended the rogue NEXT, and had just been going through the catacomb of warehouses on this street to help flush out any remaining minions and dangerous traps. Technically, setting off the webbing boxes was part of that job, which meant they had to wait around until either their Hundred Powers had recharged or someone came with the tech to get them out. That was all well and good (if annoying), but then their wrist pagers went off and Agnes’s brusque voice was in their ears.
“Heroes! The suspect you apprehended is an impostor, she just confessed everything. The criminal is still at large, report back—”
“Shit,” said Kotetsu, much louder than he meant to.
“We’re coming,” Barnaby said, with a confidence that was at least as exasperating as it was inspiring. “Send us coordinates, we’ll head right over.”
“Oh, did Bunny grow a pair of pizza cutters in place of his arms? That’s wonderful!” Once again Kotetsu tried to yank his arm away from where it was shellacked to the wall. It did not budge even a centimeter. Kotetsu cursed under his breath again.
“This is ridiculous,” Barnaby said loudly. “Here, aim your laser cannon this way, and—”
“I can’t even move my arm, how am I supposed to aim anything?”
“Ah yes, the great Hero team, back in action again.” A new voice spoke up from the end of the room, behind Kotetsu’s back, back the way they had come into the warehouse. Kotetsu snapped to attention. He strained to turn his head enough to see behind him, but the NEXT—Kotetsu didn’t know that for sure of course, but who else could it be?—was standing where they couldn’t be seen. “I was hoping I’d catch you here.”
“Keep them talking. Blue Rose and Fire Emblem are on their way here now.” Barnaby’s low, urgent voice was inside Kotetsu’s helmet, right in his ear, the barely-there whisper he used when he wanted to use the comms inside their helmets and not be overheard.
“What do you want?” Kotetsu asked, warily. He could hear the sound of slow footsteps, echoing off the walls and ceilings of the cavernous warehouse they were in. The building hadn’t been used in easily ten years, thick with dust and grime accumulated from the wet fog that rolled in off the convergence of the rivers that flanked Sternbild City.
The NEXT chuckled. Instinctively, Kotetsu glanced across the room at his partner, wishing that Barnaby’s faceplate was up so that Kotetsu could see his expression, try to better guess what Barnaby was planning, but he might as well have been staring at the brick wall. Even if he wasn’t, Barnaby was still trapped in place just like Kotetsu was.
“I want a lot of things,” the NEXT said, his tone conversational. “But what I specifically want from you is for you to stop lying to everyone about your relationship.”
Kotetsu had his mouth open to fire off some quip—something about bullies and criminals never getting their way—but at this his mouth snapped shut. He felt the crack in his jaw of his teeth colliding too hard together, and winced, but his attention was still back at that completely out-of-the-blue comment.
“Our relationship?” Barnaby repeated. He sounded as flat-footed as Kotetsu felt.
“Don’t play dumb with me,” said the NEXT, his tone abruptly harsh, the ease vanishing like smoke in a stiff breeze. “You think you’ve been so clever, that no one can tell, but you can’t fool me. I thought you were supposed to be big heroes who stand up for what’s right, but here you are lying to everyone!”
“Uh,” said Kotetsu. He looked at Barnaby. “Do you know what they’re talking about?”
“I SAID STOP LYING!” shrieked the NEXT. A wave of percussive force swept through the room, making Kotetsu vibrate inside his hero suit, his ears ringing and his eyes watering as the weird webbing holding them in place reverberated with energy.
“Tiger!” Barnaby’s voice, urgent. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine! What the hell was that?” Kotetsu winced, shaking his head a little to try to clear his vision.
“That was one of my sonic bombs,” said the NEXT, the deranged malice gone again from his voice as if it had never been there at all. “Just a little one. I make them myself. They’re so elegant. And the best part is they can do so much damage and you’ll never even see it coming.”
“Sound waves,” Barnaby said slowly. “That’s what those bombs are we kept finding.”
“Correct,” said the NEXT. “But you won’t be able to find them without my help, because they don’t look like anything at all. And there are soooo many more where that one came from. I have them hidden all over the city.”
He said this quite cheerfully, as if he was telling Kotetsu and Barnaby the weather, a vicious contrast to the way Kotetsu’s blood suddenly ran cold. “You’ve hidden bombs all over the city,” Barnaby repeated. His voice was strained. A quick glance confirmed the way his hands were bunched into fists, barely able to restrain himself. “All this just because of us?”
“I’m your biggest fan, you know,” said the NEXT. “I have all of your interviews, Bar-na-by. And yours too, Tiger. All the photos and TV spot and ads. I’ve seen every episode of Hero TV either of you have been in. You really inspire people, you know that? You do so much good. And you help make people understand that just because we’re different, doesn’t mean we’re evil. You give hope to all the other NEXTs. It took me awhile to realize that you were putting up a front. I have to give you that much credit, you’re good at hiding it.”
Kotetsu shivered. He could feel goosebumps humping painfully all over his skin, like someone had poured cold water down his spine. He was starting to think that he and Bunny had badly underestimated both how dangerous and how unhinged this guy was—not to mention what he actually wanted.
He glanced at the clock inside his suit; another seven minutes before they’d be able to reactivate their NEXT powers and break free.
“But you shouldn’t lie,” the NEXT continued. “You really shouldn’t lie. It’s wrong. So I figured I had to make you pay attention somehow. You owe it to the fans to be honest with us.”
“About our relationship,” Barnaby said. “Well. You know. We’re… we’re private people. We have to keep something to ourselves.”
Kotetsu’s head snapped up. He stared across the room at Barnaby, wishing for the second time in five minutes that he could see his partner’s face. What are you doing? he hissed into the mic.
Trust me, came back the barely-heard whisper.
“We have an image to keep up,” Kotetsu said, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.
It was the wrong thing to say. Another wave of percussive energy erupted, and Kotetsu cried out in pain as it shattered through his suit, his skull and jaw aching with the force of the vibration. He sagged, gritting his teeth as the throbbing followed after; he was closer to the NEXT than Barnaby was, and judging by the alarmed voice in his ear, Kotetsu had gotten the brunt of it, at least this time.
“You have an image to keep up,” repeated the NEXT. His voice had gone higher-pitched, straining under the force of his poorly-contained rage. “Your precious image of two buddy Heroes. Pah!”
Kotetsu shook his head, straightening up once more. He checked the timer; four minutes till they could power up again. “You still haven’t told us what you actually want us to do,” Barnaby said loudly. Something in his voice made Kotetsu glance over, and he couldn’t have said what it was specifically about his partner’s posture that told him, but he knew, knew that Barnaby was preparing to do something stupid.
That’s my job, Kotetsu thought, and opened his mouth.
“No, they already told us,” he said quickly. “They want us to come forward with our relationship.”
The tension in the air, which had moments ago been as heavy and thick as the front before a storm, relaxed. “That’s right,” said their rogue NEXT. He sounded downright pleasant now. “I want everyone to know that you’re a couple. It’s important for Heroes to be honest about these things.”
“Absolutely,” said Barnaby, because Kotetsu’s mouth had fallen open and he was literally incapable of speech for several seconds due to temporarily choking on his own tongue. “But surely you can understand that with so much of our lives being so public already, the last thing I want to do is share this part of it. And unlike me, Tiger has a family whose privacy he still wants to protect.”
The footsteps came back, the sound fading and then getting louder again, fading and getting louder again—their opponent was pacing, Kotetsu realized abruptly. “I really thought you’d understand,” said the NEXT. The agitation in his voice was sending chills down Kotetsu’s spine. “You’re better than this. You have to be above this. Well, I suppose I will just have to help you.”
Help us avoid your crazy face, Kotetsu thought. Sixty seconds left. Aloud, he said, “I don’t know why you think blackmail is such a good—”
“Your crime has just been put on hold!”
For several seconds, everything was very confusing.
Kotetsu saw Barnaby move before Blue Rose had even finished speaking; his partner’s eyes were glowing, Barnaby ripping himself away from the wall with an animal yell. The weird webbing clung viciously to Bunny’s flank and legs, but he tore free anyway, launching himself not towards the NEXT at the rear of the room, but at Tiger. “Barnaby!”
Barnaby slammed into him, the force of his speed carrying him and Kotetsu into the brick wall he was shellacked against, the bricks crumbling beneath their combined weight—and a split-second later the sonic boom hit them both, sending them flying through the remains of the wall and into the next room. Kotetsu hit the ground with a groan, Barnaby on top of him. It took him a few moments of ringing ears and throbbing skull to realize that Barnaby had moved just in time to take the brunt of the blast.
“How did you know I couldn’t power up just yet?” Kotetsu demanded, feeling at once dazed and a little pissed off.
“I was paying attention,” Barnaby said.
Kotetsu was going to say something smart (or at least angry), but yelling and the sounds of fighting was now penetrating the ringing in his ears. He grunted, lifting his arms to shove Barnaby off him. Barnaby moved at the same time, trying to haul himself upright, but the movement was arrested by the same elastic goo that had kept them both tied to the wall for the past thirty minutes or so; the explosion had thrown them right on top of a pair of the web-spitting boxes, and now the two of them were all but cocooned together like a spider’s unfortunate prey. Barnaby strained upwards, the gears and servomotors of his suit whining under the stress, only to collapse back against Kotetsu within seconds, gluing them even more tightly together.
“Can’t you rip us out of this?”
“I can’t get into a strong enough position to get out without crushing you,” Barnaby said. And it was true—in this position, with the added width of their suits, the best he could manage was a cramped bow-legged posture, legs and arms spread too wide to gain any traction.
“This is really undignified,” Kotetsu muttered.
“I would think you’d be used to that by now,” observed Barnaby.
“You! So disrespectful!” Kotetsu was close enough to see the fleeting smile on Barnaby’s face, even through his visor. He’d seen it many times before, the flashes of Barnaby’s true self, the one he usually hid beneath a veneer of determined professionalism and pleasant acting. But for whatever reason, today that smile reached into his chest and grabbed hold with a tightness as painful as it was sweet.
Normally he wouldn’t have cared, but with what that idiot NEXT had just been going on about, he was very, very aware of Barnaby’s weight on top of him, and what else a couple might do in this particular position in another set of circumstances. Fuck, thought Kotetsu, and tried to think of literally anything else. It didn’t work very well. At least they were both in their suits.
They tried several times to rip free of the webbing, straining with all their might, Kotetsu finally able to ignite his Hundred power and adding his own strength, but each time it ended the same. Defeated by the elasticity of the webbing that sent their own strength rebounding back against them, they collapsed back against each other, stuck even more tightly; Kotetsu could feel the bulwark of the suits scraping against each other, stressed from the friction.
The sounds of fighting in the next room got progressively louder (or at least, their ears steadily recovered from the deafening effects of the blast), but when both of their Hundred Powers had run out yet again, Barnaby finally flopped down against Kotetsu with a disgusted sigh. The one comfort was that the other Heroes had arrived by this point, although apparently so had reinforcements for their opponent.
“What the hell is this stuff?” Kotetsu turned his head, regarding the long off-white strands with distaste.
“I think it might be the new material Saito was working on,” Barnaby said after a moment. “He mentioned that he wanted something that could withstand our Hundred Power during battle, but he hadn’t perfected it yet.”
“So it was stolen, then. That’s great.” It did make a degree of sense, though; their as-yet unnamed nemesis did say that he was Barnaby and Kotetsu’s biggest fan, and in the insane mental headspace of the sort of stalker-fans that (mostly) Barnaby had, Kotetsu supposed that being on top of Tiger and Barnaby’s tech counted as being a good fan.
If you were fucking crazy, anyway.
The battle ended shortly thereafter, Blue Rose finding them in their cocoon of shame and cemented webbing on the ground amidst the rubble of the warehouse wall. Extraction took another twenty minutes after that—Fire Emblem ended up having to incinerate the webbing, and even with the extreme heat of his NEXT abilities, it took a good ten minutes of sweating heavily in the protective armor of the suit before Kotetsu was able to haul himself off the ground, relying more heavily on Barnaby than he wanted to admit. The webbing might have been stolen technology, but either Saito had insane ideas about what threshold their tech needed to surpass, or the webbing had been further modified after it had been stolen.
Turned out there was good news and bad news. The good news, as relayed to them by Agnes via video chat on the way back to the Heroes headquarters, was that they had apprehended all of the minions and associates of their NEXT, as well as deactivated all of their immediate bombs and traps, even taking a few in for analysis by Saito.
The bad news one was that they still had no fucking idea what the bastard looked like. “All of our pictures are indistinguishable,” said Agnes in disgust. “Blue Rose and Fire Emblem fought this guy for ten minutes and neither of them can give us a solid description. Everything gives us the same image; they might as well have been fighting a cloud of smoke.”
“Is it some kind of illusion?” Barnaby asked. He and Kotetsu were half-in and half-out of their beat-up, charred suits on the ride back to headquarters, safely out of sight of news cameras, the public, and (theoretically) their new nemesis. “Is it related to the sonic energy they can manipulate?”
“We don’t know,” said Agnes. She looked pissed; probably because half of the footage they’d filmed was totally unusable, since it was worthless to show a fight with an enemy you couldn’t see or identify. “Until Jake and Ouroborous, it was thought that every NEXT had just one ability, but now that we know some can have two, we can’t rule anything out.”
“Hell of a time for Ben to take a vacation,” Kotetsu remarked under his breath. That was being obtuse, of course; Ben hadn’t taken a vacation because he wanted to, he’d taken a doctor-ordered vacation with strict orders to relax and not work until he was done with his rehab and his heart condition was more stable. Still, he couldn’t shake the idea that Ben would have had some keen insight for them if he hadn’t been on official hiatus for the time being.
Kotetsu slouched backwards against the wall of the small jet, his mind wandering. He was only half-listening to the discussion, still distracted by the idea that their rogue NEXT had been so insistent on: that he and Barnaby were secretly in a romantic relationship that they were hiding from everyone. Where on earth had this superfan gotten such a crazy idea?
But the trouble was, after the initial ludicrousness of the idea, it… no longer seemed quite so ludicrous. The more Kotetsu thought about it, the more he could start to maybe see why their stalker had thought such a thing.
He and Barnaby spent an inordinate amount of their time together, after all. Even with Kotetsu in the second league as well as joining up with the first, and both of them busy with Hero and promotional work alike, they still saw more of each other than almost anyone else. Kotetsu had spent the night at Barnaby’s many times (but could the NEXT know that, Kotetsu wondered—what if he did? That was creepy), and they sparred together, trained together, and of course fought together. Kotetsu was closer to Barnaby than to any other person in the world—even his own family, honestly.
Who thinks about this kind of thing? he wondered, equal parts irritated and bemused. But he couldn’t help but be curious. How did they think the relationship dynamic worked, behind closed doors? Surely they thought Kotetsu was the manly partner; he was the older of the two, after all, Barnaby’s senior. But the idea of Barnaby being the more effeminate partner was weird. Kotetsu wrinkled his nose instinctively as he contemplated it. Barnaby was so attractive as to blur the lines between “beautiful” and “handsome,” but he was definitely very masculine; he was one of the biggest idols in the country, gracing the cover of what seemed like a half-dozen magazines a year.
Maybe if— “Kotetsu!”
“I’m listening,” he blurted, sitting upright so hard and fast that he cracked his head on a crossbeam. “Ow!”
“Pay attention, Tiger,” said Agnes on the bigscreen, sounding exasperated and not bothering to hide it.
“You pay attention,” Kotetsu said sullenly.
Kotetsu saw Barnaby’s expression change, his lip twitching ever so slightly. “That doesn’t even make sense,” he said, but his voice was mild. “Either way, Agnes, this person was very serious. He sounded like he was prepared to commit further violence if Tiger and I didn’t agree with him.”
“This is your public image we’re talking about here,” Agnes countered. “You can’t bow to the delusions of one aggressive fan, just because—”
“They said that they planted bombs all over the city,” Kotetsu cut in. “That’s something we should take seriously.”
“We are taking it seriously, we have the second league out collecting information right now and we’re doing everything we can to track them down,” Agnes retorted. She sounded even pissier now. “I don’t make these kinds of decisions, you’ll have to talk to your sponsor about it.”
“We will,” said Barnaby. He and Kotetsu looked at each other, their expressions mutually grim. Kotetsu felt a flush of warmth and relief for the fact that, despite their past differences, he and Barnaby were almost always in sync on the really important things.
It was one reason they worked so well together. Kotetsu tried not to wonder if there was another reason he hadn’t ever thought about.
* * * * *
Reflecting on it later, Kotetsu wasn’t even sure what he’d thought was going to happen when they talked to Lloyds about the situation. In reality, they never actually got that chance—by the time they got back to headquarters, Lloyds was waiting on the landing pad, his expression grim. “You need to come inside right away,” was all he said, and Kotetsu and Barnaby could do nothing but follow in his wake as they strode back up to Lloyds’s office. Kotetsu got one look at Karina’s and Nathan’s concerned expressions (their other teammates were still on the other side of town, fighting an unrelated break-in) before he was hurrying up the stairs after Barnaby.
“We got a very distressing missive from the NEXT you were out fighting today,” said Lloyds, as Barnaby and Kotetsu came into his office and the door shut behind them. “When Saito went to do maintenance on your suits, this email was waiting in the message inbox.” He reached over and touched a button at the interface on his desk, and a hologram screen popped up against the wall, the message blown up to the size of a poster. Kotetsu scanned the few lines of text, his stomach lodging itself in his throat as he absorbed its contents. Beside him, he heard Barnaby suck in a sharp breath.
Tiger and Barnaby: I know your secret, and it’s past time for it to be public. Either make your relationship common knowledge by 3 pm tomorrow, or all of the children who are your biggest fans will pay the price. Do the right thing. Enigma.
Neither of them said anything for several seconds. “What do you want us to do?” Barnaby said at last, breaking the silence first.
“We can’t give in to blackmail,” Lloyds said, hesitant. “But we can’t ignore an obvious threat to the public, especially when children are the named targets.”
“We can’t not take this seriously,” Kotetsu said. There was a lead brick in his stomach now; he was picturing Kaede, remembering all too well the awful fear he’d felt the times she’d been in danger, danger because of him. It had woken him up in the middle of the night, that ice-cold hand around his heart, inside his chest, at the thought of his baby girl frightened or pain. He couldn’t do that to anyone, least of all someone else’s child. “This… Enigma has already planted and detonated several of his sonic bombs; he’s clearly willing to do the damage he threatens.”
“We don’t have any guarantee he won’t go ahead and do it anyway even if we give in to his demands,” Barnaby pointed out. He was looking at Kotetsu now, instead of Lloyds, and although Kotetsu could read the tension in the aristocratic lines of his cheekbones and jaw, that was all he could get right now—whatever Barnaby was thinking was totally inscrutable. It made Kotetsu nervous. He didn’t like not knowing what his partner was thinking.
But hearing him play devil’s advocate was just making Kotetsu cranky. “Well, fine,” he said. “We can’t give in to blackmail, but I’m not going to risk children getting hurt, either. Alert the police that there’s a threat to public safety, so that children stay home from school and normal activities tomorrow while we search out possible bombs the best we can. In the meantime, we make a—a public declaration. We don’t say it’s blackmail, we make it sound like our own decision.”
Lloyds was looking at him with an expression that bordered on incredulity, mixed with reluctant admiration. Kotetsu figured he should probably be annoyed, but he was sadly used to people not taking him seriously at this point in his career. “That’s …not a bad idea,” Lloyds said grudgingly. “Barnaby, what do you think?”
“I think Kotetsu is right,” Barnaby said immediately. Kotetsu could feel Barnaby’s eyes on him; he resolutely blocked out the implication of what he’d just suggested, focusing solely on the people he was trying to protect, and how he could best achieve that. “Unless we apprehend this individual somehow in the next eighteen hours, I see no other better options available to us.”
Lloyds sighed. “This is going to destroy your image,” he said, raising a hand to his face and rubbing his temple with the air of the much-put-upon. “We have to figure out the best approach to take.”
“We’ll handle it,” Barnaby said, with a firmness Kotetsu did not quite feel but could not help being heartened by. “We’re Heroes.”
“As long as we can still do our job, that’s what I care about,” Kotetsu added—mostly because he felt like he should say something, and if he kept on acting like this was his idea and he was totally in control, maybe he wouldn’t freak out about it.
Lloyds crossed his arms, glancing from Barnaby to Kotetsu and then shaking his head. “Well, go get cleaned up,” he said. “I’ll discuss it with your sponsors and we’ll get back to you tonight. I doubt anyone else will think of a better way to address the threat, but nothing is official till I’ve sent word.”
“Yes, sir,” chorused Barnaby and Kotetsu. Kotetsu even managed a jaunty little two-finger salute and a grin that was probably twice as cheesy as it felt. It earned him an eyeroll from Lloyds and a genuine smile from Barnaby, though, so it wasn’t a total waste.
The show of confidence lasted all the way through their post-battle showers and debriefing with Saito; the discussion of the stolen tech and its possible uses was interesting enough to distract Kotetsu from the increasingly loud, circling thoughts of I’m going to have to pretend to be dating Barnaby what the fuck what the fuck.
He made it all the way to their locker room before it really hit him. Kotetsu was changing into his civilian clothes, wondering absently what to make for dinner, when he happened to glance down the aisle towards the next block of lockers and saw Barnaby standing there in just his jeans and bare feet, pulling on his undershirt. The gold chain his partner always wore around his neck caught Kotetsu’s attention, and Kotetsu found himself arrested, staring, frozen directly in the path of the oncoming freight train of anxiety.
And right at the front of that runaway train was the unnerving realization that Kotetsu was all too aware of the fact that of all the people to have to pretend to date, why did it have to be his younger, handsomer, better half?
As if hearing the clamor of Kotetsu’s anxiety pushing at the inside of his skull, Barnaby paused, looking over his shoulder at Kotetsu. Kotetsu’s stomach immediately knotted in on itself. “I thought you left already,” Barnaby said. He sounded exactly as pleasant and composed as he always did. Kotetsu found himself wishing he knew what Bunny was thinking, and kicked himself for being so wound up.
“Nah, I only just finished showering,” he said. “I’m an old man, remember. I’m slow.”
“You’re not that old,” Barnaby said mildly. “Although sometimes you are not as quick on the uptake as I would like.”
“Quicker than you,” Kotetsu retorted, half-instinct and half-genuine irritation. Counterintuitively, the jab relaxed him, and he was able to grab up his own shirt and pull his arms through the sleeves, buttoning it up as he walked over to Barnaby. “What do you think of all this? I’ve never had a stalker before, it’s pretty creepy.”
Barnaby made a face. He finished pulling his shirt over his head before answering, meticulously tucking it into his pants as he chose his words. “I’ve had a couple of fans that crossed a line into what you might call stalking, or at least obsession, but never to this degree,” he said. “It is certainly unpleasant.”
“Understatement of the year,” muttered Kotetsu.
“I have to say I was very impressed at you volunteering like you did,” Barnaby continued. He looked up at Kotetsu, his green eyes very intense behind his glasses. “You are normally such a private person that I would never have expected you to want to volunteer for the lime light.”
It was Kotetsu’s turn to make a face. He wrinkled his nose, fiddling with the last few buttons of his shirt as he tried to come up with a good way to answer this that didn’t simultaneously advertise the intense anxiety and self-awareness he was feeling. “What else could I do?” he asked, trying for nonchalant. “Besides, I’m used to being unpopular or criticized. When you get to my age, you don’t let that kind of thing bother you.”
Barnaby let out a short laugh, interrupting the frown that had been tugging at the corners of his mouth, something Kotetsu was grateful for. He didn’t need Barnaby making that worried face at him; it did more to make him actually feel old than any amounts of aches and pains or grey hair. “It’s true, you are very good at focusing on what’s really important,” he conceded, shaking his head slightly.
Kotetsu found himself distracted by the flaxen-gold color Barnaby’s hair turned when wet, darker than its normal light blond. The wet strands caught the light as Bunny shook his head, and Kotetsu actually missed the next words out of his partner’s mouth. “What?” he repeated, too loud and a little too slow.
Barnaby arched an eyebrow at him. It was the exact same bitchy little facial expression he’d leveled at Kotetsu any number of times—usually after Kotetsu had made some observation that displeased him, or (he had to be honest) done something foolish or embarrassing—and usually Kotetsu’s response was mostly to want to make fun of him or poke him a little. This time, though, it just made Kotetsu suddenly and viciously aware of how alone they were in the locker room, and of the fact that he could smell Barnaby’s shampoo (or whatever hair product it was). It smelled like coconut. Kotetsu felt his face go hot, and had never been so devoutly thankful for his dark complexion as he was at that moment.
“I said,” Barnaby repeated, enunciating carefully as though Kotetsu had temporarily become both slow and hard of hearing, “did you want to come over and have a drink tonight?”
“What?” Kotetsu said stupidly, and then waved his hand when Barnaby’s other eyebrow went up. “Sorry, I’m—yes. That sounds good.” He let out a forced sigh, dropping his eyes and rubbing the back of his head, out of sorts, and only partly for the reasons Barnaby no doubt thought. “Better than sitting in my own apartment freaking out about what we’re gonna say tomorrow, that’s for sure.”
He dared a glance up at Barnaby’s face, and was comforted to see how it had softened a little. “That’s why I asked,” Barnaby said. “Did you want to go home and get a change of clothes, first? We can get take-out too.”
This was how Kotetsu spent more of his nights than not, recently; if they weren’t busy with work, or he wasn’t taking a trip home to visit Kaede (something he did a lot more frequently these days) he was often over at Barnaby’s apartment, or having Barnaby over to his. He went over to Bunny’s a little more often than he had Bunny over, though he couldn’t have said why; maybe just that Barnaby’s place was closer to their work than Kotetsu’s was.
“Yeah, I’ll stop by my place real fast,” Kotetsu said. “If you order something I’ll pick it up on my way over. Noodles?”
“We got noodles last time,” Barnaby said. “How about the curry place you found last month? I think they do take-out.”
“Good idea,” Kotetsu said, perking up a little. He’d almost forgotten about the restaurant Barnaby just mentioned; it was a brand-new little Malaysian restaurant that had only been open for about three months. Kotetsu devoutly hoped they were successful, because they had some of the best curry in town, and actually spicy enough to bother with, something he loved. It was really fun to watch Barnaby try to eat the spicy food Kotetsu made or ordered; Barnaby was plenty tough in most ways, but like most white people Kotetsu knew, he couldn’t really handle spicy food without nearly keeling over or drowning himself in a bathtub of soda. “Order us something and I’ll grab it on my way over.”
“Sounds good,” said Barnaby, and smiled—his real smile, not the one he put on for the cameras and the glossy photo shoots. Kotetsu had often thought to himself that as handsome as Barnaby came across in his professional life, as cultured and dignified as he seemed in interviews and TV spots, the truth was that if any of his fans could see his real smile, Barnaby would never get another minute of peace in his life from all the people following him around.
Kotetsu had always been more or less immune to that smile. He wasn’t really sure why today was different. Probably just the stress of what they were most likely about to do in the morning, he decided. That was all.
He hoped.
* * * * *
The forty minutes it took to stop by his apartment and grab a change of clothes and a six-pack did much to calm Kotetsu’s nerves. By the time he was walking up the front steps to Barnaby’s swanky apartment building with the beer and the curry take-out, he was feeling almost normal.
“There you are,” said Barnaby, pulling the door open maybe fifteen seconds after Kotetsu rang the bell. “That was fast. I got dessert on my way home, too; that grocery store by the coffee shop at work had fresh red bean buns.”
Kotetsu let out a noise that was definitely not a squeal of delight, because he was a dignified adult who did not make such ridiculous noises. Barnaby laughed and held the door open, deftly snagging the bag of take-out from Kotetsu’s left hand so that Kotetsu could take off his shoes and jacket without having to resort to levitation. “I brought beer,” Kotetsu added as an afterthought.
“I see that,” Barnaby said. He sounded amused. “How drunk do you think we need to get tonight? I’m sure the only thing that would improve having to get up on TV and tell everyone you’re my boyfriend is being hungover while doing it.”
And just like that, all thoughts of avoiding the subject was thrown out the window. “Well if we’re going down that road, you clearly need to get much, much drunker than I do,” Kotetsu said matter-of-factly. “I get the good end of this deal. You’re the King of Heroes, and the only reason I’m not relegated to the second league is because we’re more popular as a duo than alone.”
Barnaby made a noise that might have been indignation. “Don’t talk about yourself like that,” he said, grabbing the six-pack from Kotetsu’s other hand and turning to head back towards the kitchen. “You volunteered to go work in the second league because you wanted to mentor new Hero trainees, it’s not a punishment.”
Kotetsu waved a hand and shrugged. “Seriously, though,” he said. He followed Barnaby into the kitchen, snagging one of the beers out of its cardboard carrier and popping it open on his belt buckle. “This is going to be weird, isn’t it? Too weird?”
Instead of answering, Barnaby continued to the counter, where he set the six-pack (now five-pack) down and then set about opening and dishing out their dinner. “I guess it’s strange, yes,” he said after a moment; his attention was on the dishes in front of him, not Kotetsu, who was lounging against the counter, sipping his beer and watching his partner. “But mostly because I don’t like the idea of having to make public announcements about my private life. Though I suppose I would have had to either fake dating a woman or announce that I prefer men sooner or later, either way, so maybe this is for the best.”
Kotetsu had been in the middle of a long swig of beer when Barnaby got to that comment, and he promptly choked on it, spraying some out his nose and all but collapsing against the counter in a coughing fit. Barnaby turned towards him in alarm, eyebrows raised; Kotetsu waved a hand and shook his head, eyes watering as he coughed up the beer that had gone down the wrong pipe. “You what,” he wheezed, and made a face; he sounded like the drunk down on the corner by the liquor store, six sheets to the wind and angry at the world. “You—you don’t like women?”
“I thought you knew,” Barnaby said. He was staring at Kotetsu with an expression that Kotetsu couldn’t quite place, and it took him until he’d finally managed to stop aspirating light beer to catch on that it was as close to anxious as Barnaby ever visibly got.
“I didn’t know,” Kotetsu said, and immediately wished he’d phrased it better. “I mean—I didn’t—okay, uh, let me start again.” Barnaby said nothing, returning his attention to the dishes on the counter in front of him, which were now full of curry and rice. Kotetsu wasn’t fooled.
He took a deep breath and set his beer down. “I don’t care who you like or who you would prefer to date,” he said firmly. He was okay with fumbling his way through other interactions, but this one he was not willing to fuck up. “I just never really thought about it, that’s all. It didn’t seem important.”
Barnaby didn’t look up, but Kotetsu saw the way his shoulders eased. He watched Barnaby pick up the plates of food and carry them over to the table, meticulously arranging everything in place before finally responding himself. “I suppose you’re right,” he said, his voice light. “It’s certainly never been a big concern of mine. Neither of us has had any time to date.”
Kotetsu snorted. “I’m no good at dating,” he said dismissively. “There was only ever one person who was interested, and … you know how that turned out.”
It was Barnaby’s turn to snort. “You really are clueless, old man,” he said.
There was about eighteen ways Kotetsu could read that line, and almost all of them were terrifying. He chose to deftly side-step it, because if there was one tactic in life that had gotten him the farthest, it was to pointedly ignore the things that made him uncomfortable or he didn’t understand. “It’s part of my charm,” Kotetsu said instead, and winked cheesily. “Ask Kaede. The two of you can start a club. I bet Karina would join, too.”
Barnaby’s mouth quirked, the smile he was fighting to keep from showing slowly winning. “I don’t think Kaede would want any part of the club Karina and I would start,” was all he said before turning back to the food on the table. “C’mon, let’s eat, I’m starving.”
Kotetsu was more than happy to turn his attention to the delicious-smelling curry. Barnaby had ordered mango curry and red curry, and they shared, much to Kotetsu’s amusement. Barnaby ate with obvious enjoyment, but by midway through the meal his face had gone ruddy, beads of sweat standing out on his forehead from the spice.
“Need another beer? Maybe some yogurt?” Kotetsu asked as he got up to get another beer for himself, unable to keep from teasing a little. Barnaby shot him a murderous glare that would have held significantly more venom if not for the way he had started to leak profusely. Kotetsu chuckled and snagged another bottle, setting it down by Barnaby’s plate.
They retired to the couches when they were done eating, Barnaby putting on the third in the series of the ridiculous action movies Kotetsu insisted on watching with him.
(“What kind of sequel name is ‘2 Fast 2 Furious’?” Barnaby had asked, probably rhetorically. “What kind of person hasn’t seen these movies already?” Kotetsu had demanded in response. Barnaby had given it up as a bad job after that, or maybe just resigning himself to Kotetsu’s terrible and amazing taste in cinema.)
Kotetsu slouched on the long L-shaped end, while Barnaby perched more carefully against the arm at the other end. Barnaby’s apartment was as spotless as ever—probably the other reason he preferred to have Kotetsu over instead of go over to Kotetsu’s, now that Kotetsu thought about it—but he’d spent enough time here that now it felt comfortable, familiar.
“When we’re done with these movies, I’m going to make you watch something more intellectual,” Barnaby remarked, as the player booted up.
“No documentaries,” Kotetsu said. “And no sad endings.”
Barnaby made a noise, glancing over at him. “What do you have against serious cinema?”
“Come on, how much depressing stuff do we have to deal with on a regular basis, and you’re telling me you still want more in your entertainment? It’s like you want to be sad.”
“Having empathy for the human condition is not the same as wanting to be sad,” Barnaby said. Kotetsu had a brief but intense mental image of a bird with its feathers all ruffled and puffed up, affronted by some interloper in its space.
“I have plenty of empathy. It’s why I became a Hero.” As if to punctuate this statement, Kotetsu took a long swig of his beer and then belched loudly. “Hey, what’s taking the movie so long to come up? Is your player broken?”
Barnaby was still leveling an expression of deep and undeserved suffering at Kotetsu when this question was raised. He blinked, and then frowned, unfolding himself from the couch and crossing to the small wall of controls by the desk. He fiddled with it for a second, then sighed. “Ah… it seems that it needs an update, and won’t load until it has done so.”
“Technology.” Kotetsu gestured widely with the hand still holding his beer bottle. “This is why robots and technology can never really replace people. Can you imagine if your robotic surgeon needed to update itself before it could start an urgent surgery?”
He sat up, moving his arms in short, choppy gestures and dropping his voice, adopting a pseudo “robotic” tone that sounded more like he’d gotten really stoned on cold medication than anything else. “Sorry, Mr. Patient… bleep bloop! I can’t… save your life—beep! Until you’ve updated my operating system!”
He peeked at Barnaby as he finished this masterful impression. Barnaby was watching him with raised eyebrows, mouth slightly open, as though he felt he should say something but had absolutely no idea what. “What?” Kotetsu demanded, when he’d waited ten seconds and no response had come. “Come on! It’s funny!”
“Of course it is,” said Barnaby, shaking himself a little and straightening up. “You are truly a prophet, old man.”
“Hrmph.” Kotetsu slouched back into his seat, folding his arms over his chest with a huff. “For charming Hero, you’re not very friendly today.”
“I’ll try to fix that for you,” Barnaby remarked, a real smile hovering on his lips again now. He tapped a few more buttons on his control display and then sat up. “It’s downloading now, I’ve set it to auto-install once the download is done. It should be just a couple of minutes. Sorry for the wait.”
Kotetsu snorted. “No worries.” He took another drink of his beer, shutting his eyes for a moment as his slightly alcohol-loosened mind wandered. Later, he would blame the next words out of his mouth on the three beers he’d already had to drink before the movie even started. “So what do you think this fake-dating thing is going to be like? How dedicated are we going to have to be?”
Barnaby glanced at him. He came back to the couch and retrieved his beer, settling back in as well and folding his long legs beneath him as he sat down. “I really couldn’t say,” he said after a moment. “Some of it depends on things we don’t know, like exactly how well this ‘Enigma’ has infiltrated our establishment. It’s no good to announce a relationship publicly and then act normally in private if this person sees any part of our more private lives.”
“At least then maybe he would realize how delusional he is,” Kotetsu said fervently.
“Maybe,” Barnaby agreed. “Or maybe he’d do something even more dangerous. He’s already shown us he’s willing to resort to violence to force support of his worldview. I wouldn’t want to set him off on innocent people.”
Kotetsu made a face. “I’m starting to think maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to agree to humoring this psychopath,” he muttered. “I hope we don’t regret it.”
“Unlike most civilians, we at least have our NEXT abilities to fall back on to protect ourselves,” Barnaby said, sounding entirely too reasonable for someone who’d had at least as much to drink as Kotetsu. Or maybe he’d only had two beers; Kotetsu was no longer very sure. “And at the end of the day, our job is to protect the innocent. Even if it’s at some personal cost to ourselves.” He shot Kotetsu a meaningful look when he said this last, a very definite smile warming his face now. It made him entirely too handsome.
Kotetsu let out a long sigh. “Why do you always quote that back at me at the most inconvenient time?” he asked, a querulous note creeping into his voice. “You little shit.”
“Oh, but didn’t you just saw that pretending to get to date me is the luckiest you’ve been in awhile?” Barnaby’s eyes had gone wide, his expression very earnest. “I would never want to deny you that joy, Kotetsu. Especially not if it serves the public interest!”
“If I get interviewed about what kissing you is like, I can’t promise I’ll be able to hold back.” Kotetsu was grinning now too. He strongly suspected the expression was dopey. It felt dopey, felt like he couldn’t quite get control of his muscles; his face felt funny, whether from the booze or from something else, he couldn’t say. “Make all the teenage girls hate me.”
“And here I thought you’d be telling them I didn’t know how to kiss because I’m so young. That you had to show me the way, with your years of experience.” Barnaby was outright smirking now.
“Oh, that’s true. Maybe kissing you would be like kissing a washing machine.” At this, Barnaby’s mouth fell open. Kotetsu burst out laughing as his partner threw a pillow at him. “Ha! A washing machine with perfect hair!”
“Get out of my house,” Barnaby said, and Kotetsu felt his face crease as he laughed harder, unable to dodge as Barnaby threw another pillow at him. The movie booted up on the big screen on the wall as Kotetsu crumpled on the couch, laughing like an idiot while Barnaby walloped him with pillows, and it took almost until the title credits had finished for him to calm down again.
Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as he was afraid of.
* * * * *
As it turned out, the next day wasn’t as bad as Kotetsu was afraid of. It was exponentially worse.
Kotetsu ended up not sleeping very well, despite passing out from a total of five beers on Barnaby’s couch. He woke up and showered around 4 am and curled up on the couch with the tablet Barnaby had given him as a gift last Christmas, browsing listlessly for reports of their newest nemesis, but aside from the major one about the Heroes dispatching the bomb threat successfully the day before, there was nothing. Kotetsu supposed that was to be expected.
He wasn’t even that hungover—he almost wished that he was; then he could blame the anxiety sitting like a piece of melted lead in the pit of his stomach on that. Not even getting drunk would save him from having to stare his new problems in the face with clear eyes, apparently. He fingered the golden band on his ring finger absently, wondering if he would have found himself in such a ridiculous position if Tomoe was still here to keep him out of trouble.
Probably not. Then again, if Tomoe was still alive, Kotetsu would probably have retired and stuck with it when his power had started to decline. Tomoe had always supported his Hero work and would never have asked him to quit, but Kotetsu suspected he would have found puttering around the house much less empty with his wife’s laugh echoing from the kitchen.
Around 6, he heard Barnaby’s alarm go off. A few minutes later the tell-tale sound of water in the pipes told him that his partner was up and about, and for lack of anything better to do (the news reports and the shifting city lights outside were starting to depress him) he dragged himself up off the couch and went into the kitchen. He dug out a skillet, some eggs, and some vegetables from the fridge, got a pot of coffee going (he usually preferred tea but today he thought he might need something stronger), and set himself to the task of making breakfast for both of them.
Barnaby appeared in the door about fifteen minutes later, pausing for a moment in the doorway with a sort of blank lack of comprehension that was replaced by groggy surprise after a moment. “I didn’t expect you to be up yet,” he said, as Kotetsu glanced up at him. Kotetsu gestured at the cheerfully percolating machine, and Barnaby recovered himself enough to cross the room to the coffee pot, going into the cupboard to get himself a mug.
“Ah, I just happened to wake up a little earlier than you, that’s all,” Kotetsu said mildly. He felt Barnaby’s eyes on the back of his neck, but kept his own gaze directed downwards at the sizzling eggs and vegetables in the pan. “Breakfast is almost ready, I hope a vegetable omelet is okay.”
“No, that sounds good,” Barnaby said. When Kotetsu glanced up in search of the vegetable oil spray, Barnaby was still watching him, an inscrutable look in his eyes. But if he was thinking about Kotetsu’s fib—if he was awake enough to tell at all—he didn’t say anything, just went into the fridge to get cream for his coffee. “Thank you for making breakfast, Kotetsu.”
Kotetsu waved a hand by way of acknowledgment, and Barnaby disappeared towards the front door, returning with the newspaper and some kind of bulletin that he did not even so much as glance at before pitching into the waste bin. Kotetsu served the omelets and toast a few minutes later, and they ate in companionable silence.
On other occasions when he’d stayed the night, Kotetsu was usually given to either being totally insensate at this time of day (if they were really worn out from Hero work the day before) or chattering Barnaby’s ear off with his rambling. Barnaby was more regular in his habits—he almost always rose early except in very rare circumstances—but Kotetsu was definitely more the morning person. Barnaby hardly qualified as human till after his second cup of coffee.
(Kotetsu had found this dichotomy so entertaining that he’d been unable to resist poking Barnaby over it a little. The last time he’d come over, he’d gone out of his way to dig out a recent economics magazine with a particularly humorous cover. The illustration was one of what appeared to be a sullen-looking Kodiak bear in a blue business suit, complete with a hat and a black briefcase. Kotetsu had waited with all the grace of a five-year-old at the kitchen table, and when Barnaby had shuffled blearily into the kitchen, Kotetsu had waved the magazine at him and waggled his eyebrows.
“I found a portrait of you before you have your morning coffee, Bunny!” he had chirped. Barnaby had glared at him over the rims of his glasses, making a noise of deep and gravel-voiced disgust that any grizzly would be proud of. Kotetsu had found himself stuck with a lot of paperwork that day.)
Today, though, Kotetsu all but had to force himself to eat, picking distractedly at the omelet and toast he’d made. Barnaby said little, but when Kotetsu got up to pour himself another cup of coffee he heard the chair legs scrape back from the table as Barnaby rode as well. “You should ride in to work with me on my bike,” Barnaby said.
Whatever he’d been expecting Bunny would say, it wasn’t that. “Eh?” Kotetsu turned around, his coffee poured but un-sugared, eyebrow raised. “You know I don’t like motorcycles.”
“That’s because you’re a stick-in-the-mud,” Barnaby said matter-of-factly. “Time to get with the times, old man.”
Kotetsu’s jaw dropped. “I’M the stick-in-the-mud?” he demanded. “You don’t loosen up unless someone steals your belt!”
“If you’re still too much of a chicken to do it, by all means drive in by yourself.” Barnaby was smiling very faintly now, watching Kotetsu fixedly over the top rims of his glasses.
It was obviously bait. He shouldn’t rise to it. Kotetsu’s lip curled, and he took a sip of his coffee, still glaring at Barnaby. He spat it out immediately (Barnaby’s coffee was strong and bitter) and resolutely ignored the way Barnaby’s grin widened as Kotetsu turned around again to add the sugar and cream he’d neglected before. “I’m not scared of motorcycles, I just think they’re trying too hard,” he said loudly. “But if you’re gonna get hung up on something so dumb, I guess I have to make a point of it.”
“I guess you will,” Barnaby agreed, standing up. He gathered up the dishes and took them to the sink, quickly cleaning them off and putting them in the dishwasher. “Finish your coffee, old man. I’ll go get the extra helmet for you.” Kotetsu shot a dirty glare at the back of Barnaby’s head as his partner vanished towards the bedroom again, sipping his coffee and muttering to himself.
The ride in was exhilarating, if nothing else. Kotetsu spent most of it with his arms clamped tight enough around Barnaby’s waist to serve as an amusement ride seat belt. It didn’t seem to matter that he spent a huge amount of his time jumping off tall buildings or being thrown through walls; something about traveling at such high speeds between fast-moving vehicles made Kotetsu clamp up and his heart rate speed like he’d been stabbed with epinephrine.
The bike was one of Barnaby’s few extravagances, and one of the few things he seemed to take visible delight in; he’d gotten it during the year Kotetsu was away, and had been trying to goad Kotetsu into riding it with him since Kotetsu’s return to Hero work. It was a newer model, fast and light but well-made, surprisingly powerful for how small and sleek it was—much like Barnaby. Kotetsu wasn’t really sure why he’d let himself be persuaded today of all days, but the thought of sitting inside his own head on public transport or even in a car on the way into work had been too much to bear.
(He was keenly aware of the warmth of Barnaby’s body through his leather suit, would even swear that he could smell Barnaby’s cologne and hair products despite the wind and the helmets they both wore. But the speed of their drive was such that his thoughts narrowed to nothing more than those physical sensations, blotting out anxiety and guilt and all manner of swirling negative thoughts, and so he was glad to tie his consciousness to those things: the faint, musky scent of Barnaby’s skin mixed with his aftershave, the creak and press of his riding leathers, the mechanical roar of the bike, the blur of the city’s sounds and lights and smells around them as they drove. Maybe this was why Barnaby liked to ride: it sheared his consciousness down to just sensation, a spirit just experiencing the world around him.)
The little bubble of serenity burst as soon as they got to work. Kotetsu had barely pulled the helmet off his head and wiped the sweat from his forehead when their unit on their wrists beeped, Lloyds’s voice telling them to come up to the meeting room straight away. Kotetsu exchanged a look with Barnaby, and the two of them headed for the elevator.
“Hello, Heroes,” said Lloyds as Kotetsu and Barnaby stepped into the room. Agnes was here too, her arms crossed over her chest; she was in one of the chairs across from Lloyds’s desk.
Lloyds stood up behind his desk, resting his fingers lightly on the polished dark wood, his expression set. “It’s time to brief you on our game plan. I’ve been in contact with your sponsors, and while none of us like having to sacrifice your image, we hope to be able to spin this to make you even more popular and not put anyone at risk.”
“I’m clearing the end of your week for interviews and other opportunities that arise,” said Agnes. “You’ll be off Hero duty for a few days, except of course if a true emergency arises. But you’ll be in the public eye when we go through with this.”
“Ah,” said Kotetsu. His voice failed him; he shoved his hands uselessly into his pocket, for lack of anything better to do with them. Instinctively he glanced at Barnaby, standing beside him, and as if that was the cue he was waiting for Barnaby straightened a little and stepped forward.
“What’s the approach?” he asked. “And who will know the actual truth?”
“Only the people in this room, plus your sponsors,” said Lloyds.
That surprised Kotetsu. “Not the other Heroes?” he asked.
“They’ll know as soon as we can be sure of telling them, but Enigma is finding information out about you two somehow,” said Agnes. “We don’t suspect any of your teammates of anything, but the culprit is probably masquerading as an employee here somewhere, and might have access to more than we realize. The other Heroes can’t leak anything they don’t know, so we can’t tell them yet.”
“Your story is straightforward,” Lloyds continued, ignoring the small noise of protest Kotetsu made. “The fewer details we release, the better. But the approach we are taking is that the two of you have been a romantic pair for awhile, but chose to hide your relationship until now.”
“We can’t give the appearance of giving in to blackmail, so our official reason for you choosing to make your relationship public now is that you have just become engaged,” said Agnes.
“What?” yelped Kotetsu. “Engaged?!” Barnaby glanced at him and then back at their bosses, his own raised eyebrows the only indication that he was as surprised as Kotetsu was.
“We needed some reason,” Agnes retorted, looking a little nettled. “And since neither of you are capable of getting pregnant, this was what we could come up with on short notice.”
“Naturally,” Barnaby said, his tone deceptively mild. “So we’re engaged and decided that now was the time to be honest about it.”
“Correct,” said Lloyds. “There’s a few more details, however…”
Inwardly, Kotetsu groaned. He reminded himself again that this had been his idea, or at least he’d been the first to verbally champion it, but that wasn’t really doing much to save him from his buyer’s remorse right now.
The intensely private part of him was recoiling at this public dog-and-pony show. Worse even than that, though, was the part of him that cherished his marriage to Tomoe and his partnership with Barnaby as two of the three most precious things in his life (the third being Kaede), and to see them both made so tawdry in one go was putting an awful taste in his mouth.
But there was nothing for it, now. All he could do was hold on and do his best.