Work Text:
Shorter stumbled, tripping over his own feet. “Ouch!” He shouted before turning to his giggling companion. “Shh! Shhhhhhhhhhhhh! We’re gonna wake up my sister.”
Ash snorted. “I’m not the one yelling, dumbass.”
“Who you callin’ dumbass, dumbass?” And then he cackled. “Dumbass Dumbass. Pfft!”
Ash bent to take off his shoes. The floor was very far away. And then it wasn’t. It refused to hold still and stay where it belonged. He gave up and just lay down, watching the world spin around him. “Whee!” He whispered, raising his hands above his head like he was on a roller coaster. His knuckles clacked against the floor.
“Shhh.” Shorter sat down next to him. He held one shoe in his hand as though he had forgotten it was there. The other was still on his foot. There was a hole in the toe of his exposed sock. “Comfy?”
“Very.” Ash blinked owlishly. “Why are you multiplying.”
“Dude I dropped outta school. I don’t do that shit no more.”
“No… I mean.” Ash giggled. “There’s like two of you, man.” He waved a hand in front of him until it connected with Shorter’s shoulder. “There. Better.”
“There is not!” Shorter sounded offended. “I am an origi-ginal. Pfffft. Ori-or--oriji… one of a kind.” He dropped his head onto Ash’s stomach.
Ash froze in deeply ingrained terror for just a second before bursting out laughing once again. “Get offa me. You’re heavy.”
“Can’t.”
“Can too.”
“Ok. Won’t. You’re too fuckin’ comfy.”
“What if I was gonna puke?”
“Are you gonna puke?”
Ash thought about it. “No.”
Shorter nodded in what he considered to be a very wise fashion. His hair tickled through Ash’s shirt. “So that’s it then. I live here now.” He flung an arm around one of Ash’s legs, hugging it like a teddy bear.
Ash decided being touched wasn’t so bad after all if it was just to be made into furniture. He could handle being furniture. Even if Shorter was heavy and scratchy. He was warm too. And funny. Shorter wiggled his head again, getting more comfortable. Ash tried to pet his head in a friendly way. He mostly ended up slapping him in the forehead, but Shorter didn’t seem to care.
“Scratch the back of my head. Like a cat.” Shorter made a noise that sounded absolutely nothing like a cat purring. “Meow.” He snorted at his own joke.
“If I scratch your head are you going to bite my hand?”
“Nope. I’m fully domesticified.”
“Do you mean domesticated?”
Shorter thought about it. “Probably.”
“Ok.” Ash patted him, a little more successfully, on the top of his head. “But you aren’t domesticated. You’re totally wild. You shouldn’t meow. It’s mis...uh...misleading.” He snickered. “C’mon. Let’s hear you roar.”
“Nope. I ain’t a wildcat. That’s you.”
“I’m too scrawny to be a wildcat. I’m just like… feral or some shit.”
“Nah, man.” Shorter sat up. Mostly “You’re like a bobcat or some shit. Like small but mighty. He reached over and tugged one of Ash’s ears. I like the ones with the funky ear tufts. Lynxes!” He was clearly proud of himself for remembering. “They’re always watchin’ the crowds at the zoo. Look like pretty spotted cats but those bitches are fast on the draw, just like you Angel Eyes. I saw a squirrel in the cage one day and BOOM! Pounced on and fuckin’ eaten before people knew what happened.”
“Did you just make that story up?”
Shorter paused, looked slightly disgruntled before grinning widely. “Yes. I did.” He poked Ash in the belly. “But my point stands. You are a Lynx.
“So then what are you?” Ash swatted at the hand poking his stomach.
“I, good sir, am a… huh.” Shorter actually scratched his head like a confused Disney cartoon. “Oooh! I’m like a wolf. Wolves are cool.”
“You’re a big puppy, you mean.”
“Why are you so awful? Is it because you needed to be petted more as a kitten? I ask you!” He reached over to ruffle Ash’s hair.
Ash managed to put his hand on Shorter’s face and push him away. He could feel him grinning beneath his palm. Something warm and wet swiped across his skin. “Gah! Shorter, that's disgusting.”
“You taste delicious.” Shorter laughed. He pretended not to notice Ash’s flinch, the way his eyes darted to the door. The way his hand twitched to the knife at his back. “Like corn chips.” He cackled.
“Gross.” Ash’s smile was a little dimmer.
“You’re gross.” Shorter retorted. He flopped his head back onto Ash’s thighs. “But still comfy”
Ash’s stomach grumbled. “Dude!” Shorter giggled. “Shhhh!”
“You are So. Much. Louder. than me.” Ash tried to sound grumpy, but his stomach growled again, even louder.
“Dude are you sick? Cause like don’t puke on me. I will get up.”
“Nah. I’m not sick.”
“You sure?” Shorter rolled across the floor, grabbing at the bright yellow wheeled bucket tucked out of the way behind the counter. “Cause Mop Bucket to the RESCUE!!!” And he rolled it across the floor to bump into Ash’s hip.
“Shorter, that's not a rescue!” Ash snorted. “It’s an…” he grabbed the bucket and shoved it hard and fast back to where Shorter was now almost but not quite managing to sit up again. “ATTACK!!!!!!!”
“SHHHHH!” Shorter cackled as the bucket ricocheted off his shoulder and slammed into the bar. “Betrayed by the bucket!”
“It’s always the brightly colored ones you can’t trust.” Ash snorted, staggering over to poke him in his neon clad shoulder. “Right Mr. Brightside?”
“That song is totally sad, yo. Like it seems happy but… HEY!” Shorter sputtered in indignation. “I’m totally trustworthy. And helpful!”
“Sure you are.” Ash decided to lay back down. He had never been this intoxicated of his own volition. He did his very best to get his eyes to focus. It felt different. There was no cold, caged terror. Instead it felt warm. Like a hot drink on a chilly day. Like having enough to have both food and bullets without having to… Ash found himself smiling. “I bet you’re a dream, an absolute angel of usefulness.”
“I am!” Shorter nodded sagely before giggling again. “I am very helpful, and I will prove it.”
“How? It’s…” Ash looked at his wrist. He was not wearing a watch. “I don’t know. It’s late. And you’re drunk.”
“You’re drunk.”
Ash began to nod, but the room lurched in an unpleasant way. “That. I am that. Drunk. I am drunk. Yes.” His stomach gurgled again. Ash looked down, prodding at it. “Shhh!” He put his finger to his lips.
“Dude, are you hungry?” Shorter sounded almost serious.
“A little.” Ash admitted.
“When’s the last time you ate?” Shorter’s brows were drawn together in concentration.
He wasn’t sure. It hadn’t been that long ago. Nothing to worry about, anyway. “Ummm. What day is it?”
“What???” Shorter looked wounded.
“I… Wednesday. I ate for sure. So how long ago was that?”
“Like forever ago. Like… more than a whole day. Today’s Friday, well Saturday now, so...I think it's…” Shorter began to count on his fingers. “A lot of hours since Wednesday.” He jumped up, stumbled and caught the back of a chair to keep from falling. “I am going to cook you some dinner.”
“Shorter, it’s like ass o’clock. You can’t cook dinner right now.”
“Why not?” He could see Shorter puffing up his chest to inform him that most certainly could cook an amazing meal at whatever time it was.
“Nadia will kill you.” He snorted as Shorter deflated. His mouth falling open into a surprise oh before he rallied his enthusiasm and swung open the kitchen door. It swung back and smacked him in the face. He looked deeply betrayed. “Wait. What were we talking about?”
“Murder.” Shorter nodded seriously. “And Nadia,” Ash added. “And how Nadia will murder you for making dinner at this hour and messing up her kitchen.”
Shorter blinked at him. “You’re right!” He nodded. “BUT! Only if she finds out. Which she will not because SHE is asleep upstairs, and WE are going to cook down here.” It was the perfect solution. It was foolproof and absolutely going to work.
“This is not going to work.”
“Oh yee of little faith.” He paused. “Yee is a funny word. Yeeeeeee! C’mon say it with me!”
“I’m not going to say that.”
“Party pooper.” Shorter lunged, grabbing Ash by the jaw and top of his head and moving his face. Ash slapped at him ineffectually, but didn’t make any kind of meaningful dent in his invasive enthusiasm. “YEEEEEE!” Shorter screeched, holding Ash’s mouth open. He wobbled his head around a bit for good measure before he let go and backed out of punching range. Drunk did not always mean stupid. “See. Fun right?”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.” Ash didn’t respond, just glared at him and crossed his arms. Shorter’s face fell. “You don't, right?”
“Of course not you dumbass.”
“Ok good. Because I will absolutely, definitely not cook for you if you hate me.” Shorter managed to figure out the swinging door into Chang Dai’s kitchen on his third try. “Whooo Boy, let’s get cookin!” He rubbed his hands together. “Wash your hands!” Shorter moved on autopilot to the prep sink. “What do you want? And please say pan noodles ‘cause I know how to make those.”
“Peking Duck.” Ash smirked.
“Sit your ass down and eat your noodles.” Shorter managed to get a pan on the range and some oil into the pan before he stalled out. “Forgot you gotta light this shitty thing with a lighter. You don’t got one, do ya?”
“Actually yeah.” Ash dug into his pocket, pulling out an expensive zippo style lighter. There was a stylized G centered in a crest engraved on the side. “Keep it,” he muttered, tossing it at Shorter.
“You sure? This thing’s probably pretty fuckin’ expensive. That coat of arms thingy looks like it might be real gold.”
“I don’t want it. What do I have to light on fire?”
“A joint? You don’t got one of them in your pockets do ya? Cause Nadia will kick your ass if she catches you.” He leaned over conspiratorially and almost overbalanced and landed in Ash’s lap. “So we gotta do it out in the alley so we can blame Old Man Chang and his glaucoma.”
“I do not have a joint.” Ash knew he didn’t. Dino would skin him. He checked anyway. “Sorry.”
“No worries my dude. No worries at all.” He flicked the zippo. “Ha! Am am mighty warrior! I have made fire!”
Ash cackled until his sides hurt. But Shorter did manage to light the stove. He banged the pan back down on the burner in triumph. Oil splattered across the range. “Oops.”
He left the pan to heat while we went into the cooler to rummage for ingredients. “Here we go! We got onion! We got garlic! We got,” he sniffed at the container “some kind of pork, I think!” As he announced each ingredient he tossed a handful into the heating pan. “Do you like mushrooms? I like mushrooms. We’re gonna have so many fucking mushrooms!” With that he scampered back into the cooler. He emerged a few minutes later with one container holding sliced mushrooms and another holding pre-boiled noodles to find a slightly smoking pan and a companion contemplating a full jar of various spatulas. “Just grab one. Burned garlic tastes like ass.”
“How would you know? You ever tasted ass?”
“Nope. But I’ve got it on authority.”
“Really?” Ash stirred the contents of the pan. The bits of garlic stuck a bit.
Shorter kept adding mushrooms until there was hardly any room for noodles. “Yup!” He popped his p obnoxiously. He leaned over and licked Ash’s cheek. “See! I have now tasted ass, Dumbass!” Shorter guffawed at his own joke. “But you taste better than burnt garlic. You’re mostly just salty.” He snorted. “Shoulda known. Salty bitch.”
“You called for me?”
“I did.” Shorter grinned. “Stir the mushrooms. I gotta take a leak.”
Which is how Nadia came downstairs to find several scattered opened containers of prepped ingredients, a burning saute pan filled with an absurd number of mushrooms and a very confused blond boy blinking drunkenly up at her in her restaurant kitchen.
“What the hell is going on here?” She demanded. Her hair was a tangled rat’s nest, and she was dressed in an oversized t-shirt with a disgruntled looking turtle on it and a pair of black soccer shorts that were at least three sizes too big. Her feet were shoved into a pair of kitchen clogs without socks. Her eyes squinted in the bright light. Ash thought she was beautiful. She snatched the spatula he had been using to prod the contents of the smoking pan, digging down to scrape the bottom.
“Shorter said to stir the mushrooms,” Ash said helplessly. At least his words didn’t slur at all. But he still felt like his mind was trying to work while covered in something thick and sticky. “But they’re sticking. Are they supposed to stick?” He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t think so.
Nadia regarded the pan with disgust before scraping the mess into the garbage and tossing the pan into the sink. And taking down another with a long-suffering sigh. Ash watched in slightly confused concern. She turned down the burner and poured in a reasonable amount of oil. “So where is my dearest idiot brother?”
“Uh, he had to take a… uh… use the bathroom?” He didn’t mean to make it sound like a question.
“Ash, right? Shorter’s favorite stray kitten?” She tossed in some garlic and onion, flipping the pan expertly with one hand.
Suddenly Ash felt guilty. He shouldn’t be here. He didn’t belong in this place with soft, exasperated women that could flip food in a pan with one hand and gather up spilled mushrooms with the other. This wasn’t his place. He wasn’t allowed to be in places like this, that smelled like spices and soap and a little like burnt garlic. People like him, they didn't...He… He started to back up, thinking to slip out the back door, to remove himself before something happened and...
“Freeze, mister. I’m cooking, so you’re eating. Sit down.” Nadia’s glare was direct and unquestionable. Ash sat.
“Is he as drunk as you?”
“Probably more,” Ash admitted.
“Lovely. He’s going to have a wonderful morning.” She gestured toward the drink prep station. “You. Fill up two glasses with water. And then drink one of them.” She paused. “And don’t you dare throw it up, or I’ll, I’ll sit on you and pour even more water down your damned noisy fire-hazard of a gullet.”
Ash blinked. He also drank his water.
Shorter walked back in. “Dude, are you magic? How’d you get the burned part out? OUCH!” Nadia had smacked a rubber spatula across his bicep.
“Shorter, you dumbass. Are you trying to burn down our only source of income?”
“It’s not! I make good money running--”
“Shut. Up. Do not tell me about your...job. I know I’m a hypocrite. Cause I don’t mind that money when rent comes due. But I don’t want to know.”
“Ok. Sorry sis.”
“Don’t you sorry sis me. I will kick your ass. Now bend down here and let your sister kiss the stupid away.”
Shorter dutifully bent. Ash snickered. Shorter flipped him off.
Nadia added the noodles to the pan, flipping the whole dish together before finishing it off with some sort of mustard and soy sauce. She dished up three plates and jerked her head toward the front of the house. “C’mon. Let’s eat. We’ll deal with the mess later.” She put the largest portion in front of Ash. “Eat.”
It smelled incredible. Was he supposed to smack his lips? Was that Japan? Or wait. Maybe India? Shit. He couldn’t think. He didn’t want to be rude. He could be rude to Shorter. Shorter was like him. A fuck up. A violent son of a bitch. But Nadia was good. He could tell even though he’d only met her a handful of times. She was soft and kind. And he didn’t want to offend her.
“Dude, stop thinkin’ about it and eat it. It’s noodles, not some great mystery.” Shorter snapped apart a set of disposable chopsticks and slurped up a bite of noodles. Ash mimicked him.
Nadia smiled. Good. He must have done it right. They were amazing. Rich and slightly spicy and filled with cheap ingredients and MSG and familial love. “This is wonderful, thank you Ms. Wong.”
“Dude, did you seriously call my sister Ms. Wong?”
“Isn’t that...her name?” Did he get it wrong? Did he insult her? And after she’d been kind. Shit. Fuck.
“I mean, yeah, but only the debt collectors call her that.” Shorter flinched away as Nadia smacked him again. “Call her Nadia. Everybody else does.”
“Ok.” He could do that. It wasn’t proper. It would piss Dino off. That made it even better.
She stood while they ate to refill their water glasses. “Ash sweetie, you’re welcome to crash here tonight. But be warned, I plan to wake Shorter up, loudly, very early in the morning so that he can clean up that mess of a kitchen.” She smiled perhaps a bit overly gleefully. “I think you should definitely stay at least until you sober up, though. I don’t like the idea of a kid like you out on the street this late if you don’t have your wits about you.”
She whacked Shorter on the back of the head as she walked by. “I am not kidding, idiot. So drink the damned water.” She ruffled his short, spiky hair and kissed the top of his head, ignoring his affronted squawk and avoiding his flailing hands. “Glad you’re home safe, baby brother. Drink the water. And make sure you don’t make Ash sleep in his street clothes. I’m going back to bed.”
Time and food had sobered them up a bit, but the situation still struck them as funny. Ash and Shorter looked at each other, waiting a full beat after the door closed before they burst out laughing once again.
“How come you get ‘sweetie’ and I get ‘idiot’?”
“Your sister is a woman of discerning taste.”
“And I was cooking for you, dammit.”
“Yup.” Ash popped his p obnoxiously, just like Shorter.
“I hate you”
“No you don’t.”
“No I don’t.” He paused. “You gonna stay this time?”
Ash paused. He never had before. Shorter had offered, but he always felt… wrong... in a regular apartment, like he’d somehow sully it or, or Marvin would show up and ruin everything. He had to be careful how much Shorter knew. He’d never really had friends before. He didn’t want to ruin it. He didn’t want… “Yeah. Sure. Thanks.”
Shorter grinned at him. “I am gonna dress you in the brightest stuff I own. Call me Mr. Brightside will you? I’ll show you!”
Ash smiled. “I bet.”
“Dude. You know whatever it is… that you’re hiding? I don’t care. Ok?”
Sure. Whatever you say. You don’t know what you’re talking about or you’d never say that. “Ok.”
“Ok.” Shorter finished off his water. “Finish your drink. I’m tired.”
“Whatever you say. Idiot.”
“Dude. I will stab you.”
“Not if I stab you first.”
“Do you have a knife?”
He did. But maybe he shouldn’t say… Shorter pushed up his sleeve displaying a sheath strapped to his arm. Ash smiled, tugging up his pant leg. Not high enough to show the marks, but enough to flash his knife. He grinned right back.
“Ok. So you’ve got a knife. And I’ve got a knife. But can we stab each other tomorrow. I’m losing my buzz, and this shit’s less fun. I gotta sleep man.”
“All right, Shorter. I might not even stab you at all tomorrow.”
Shorter yawned. “Sounds nice. Let’s do that instead.”
They stumbled up the stairs together, still snickering occasionally at the other’s clumsiness.
As Ash lay on a pile of old quilts on Shorter’s bedroom floor, listening to his friend snore like a chainsaw, he found himself smiling. This was nice. He closed his eyes, letting alcohol and exhaustion slowly pull him under, enjoying the sure knowledge that he could sleep and Shorter wouldn’t touch him. Wouldn’t even want to.
Maybe he was allowed this. Maybe… maybe this was the beginning of something different. Something real. He hoped so.
Shorter flopped over onto his side, mumbling “Mop bucket tofhthe Rescue!”
Ash chuckled and let sleep take him.