Chapter Text
“And so, apparently Dad was really close to the guy who goes fishing down at that overhang under the bridge—“
Medkit sits next to Sword against the soft vinyl, Rocket’s hands making wide gestures on the other side of the booth that make Medkit glad he’s not going to get slapped by a prosthetic.
Mid-morning light pours through the diner’s large windows. This place is a hidden nook (Thankfully not stuffed with people) Medkit managed to find it close to Banhammer’s apartment, and it sells one of the best coffees he’s drunk, frankly, in years.
Sword is nodding away, eating his burger (Medkit watches as the tomato nearly slips out), as Rocket talks about the latest gossip in the Inpherno world.
Medkit would deny if asked, but alas...
He had an indulgence for gossip.
A shameful admission, he knows, someone like him? Like trashy gossip and rumours?
And so when he drinks his coffee, scoffing over Rocket's wild gestures, he is secretly hanging onto every word.
“But when Dad was younger—” Rocket continues, snatching a fry from Swords’ plate with a sharp grin. “Little younger than Med, actually—that green M&M tried to put the moves on him! Can you believe it? That wide-smile freak?”
Medkit raises an eyebrow, trying to look as uninterested as possible.
“...How did you even learn this information?”
Rocket's attention snaps to him, and that grin widens, pulling out a photo and sliding it across the table like a business card deal. Medkit stares at said ‘green M&M’, and Zuka, grimacing.
Rocket was right; that smile was far too wide, reminding him far too much of the Broker. Good riddance; he doesn’t have to see that… thing’s face again.
“...Hm? Isn’t that one of the Swords?”
Medkit mutters, and Sword pokes over his shoulder like some overeager bird (only one of a very selective group that Medkit doesn’t mind being physically close to; other examples include Rocket and Zuka).
“Oh, uncle Darkheart—“
Medkit turns as Sword freezes mid-burger bite, staring at the photo.
“UNCLE DARKHEART AND YOUR DAD??”
Medkit gently pushes Swords’ burger over the plate so it doesn’t drip onto the photo, that tomato miraculously not falling out.
“Yeah! Found this up in the attic; it’s crazy to think what Dad was up to when he was young and kicking.”
Rocket's gaze turns to him, lingering a little too long. There's still soot under his right eye, surely from when he was helping his father earlier with their gearsmithing business.
Medkit fights to not lick his thumb and wipe it off cleanly.
The two engage in a staring match, Sword too busy eating his burger to step in.
Before Rocket says something truly terrifying.
“Soo... when are you gonna get into a relationship, Med?”
Medkit nearly spits his coffee out.
What.
WHAT?
How did this turn into HIS relationship problems??
“I—fail to see a correlation between this...?”
Rocket leant on the table, his prosthetic making a hearty clunk. “Oh, c’mon! Sword and I don’t even know your type. It’s not fair, you know.”
That was the look of a friend who would make some sort of dating profile for him, and Medkit wasn’t too fond of the idea.
“...That didn't answer my question.”
Sword leant onto Medkit's shoulder, burger safely consumed.
“I think he means when Zuka was around your age, he was already dating...”
Swords face turned into a comical frown, the small wings fluttering in displeasure. “...Uncle Darkheart, but surely you have better taste, right?”
Medkit's jaw opened before snapping shut again.
His... taste, huh?
Medkit had been out of the dating pool for years, after finally leaving the church and all.
Did he have anything he gravitated towards? Probably someone who could deal with his snippy attitude. Not afraid to sass him back, perhaps?
“... I suppose I would have to be close to someone before even looking at them in that way.”
Medkit replies vaguely, a frown pursed on his lips.
His cup makes a clunk as he puts down his coffee. “Besides, I don’t think there would be anyone who would want to date this supposed.. old,” Medkit shoots a look at Sword, who immediately glances away from him. “Victorian-dressed,” Rocket looks away sheepishly. “Healer.”
Sword and Rocket look at each other before Rocket pipes up. “...You could try speed dating?--”
“Absolutely not.”
Rocket huffs loudly, nearly knocking over his drink like some cat, ice clattering against the glass. “And we wonder why we call you ‘Gramps—“
Medkit clicks his tongue, and Rocket falls quiet again with a scowl like a scolded child.
Sword and Rocket start up some sort of petty argument to fill the silence– something, something, waffles or pancakes.
“Oh, right, how has it been living with Banhammer?” Sword asked, head tossing towards Medkit, successfully winning the argument with how pancakes were better.
(Medkit disagrees, thinking french toast was far more versatile but—)
“...Banhammer.”
Well, it’s true he’s been living with the warden for about a month; it hasn’t been smooth sailing.
It’s practically what he imagines house arrest is like, but with added benefits.
First off, the first day he woke up in the apartment, he was forced to eat a far heartier breakfast than coffee and spite.
Their relationship was strange; Banhammer looked out for him during PHIGHTS, but it was more like he was tailing him around, but not too close to make it obvious he was worried or something.
All his actions seem to be pointed towards concern and care, but in a rather brash way of doing it.
Medkit flicks his brain back on as he realises he’s been internally monologuing, and both of them are staring at him with slight concern on their faces.
“Ah... Apologies, he’s fine. He’s a fine roommate.”
“Oh. That’s it…?” Rocket presses, raising an eyebrow. “No, like… I don’t know, handcuffs?”
“Why on earth— No.”
Medkit deadpanned back, earning a tinge of laughter from the duo.
The two chat with each other, leaving Medkit with his thoughts, coffee still clinging to his tongue.
He leant back against the booth, watching through the windows clouds shift and change, the forecast is said to be bright, but he's probably the only one in Crossroads who regularly applies sunscreen.
Relationships, huh.
... Maybe he’ll think about it.