Five hours after the fight, Overkill still hadn’t stopped laughing.
“What was that bullshit?” he said, trying in vain to stop the giggles bubbling up from his chest, but they still snuck through his lips in traitorous snickering little bursts of air. “That guy was 1000% a Tick villain—why the hell did we have to deal with the goddamn Chucklemaster?”
“Everyone deserves a vacation,” Dangerboat replied with cool professionalism, clearly fucking loving this. “And you promised Arthur and the Tick you’d pull your weight while they were gone, no matter how silly the crimes were.”
“The laughing gas will wear off soon,” Dot said, squeezing Overkill’s knee sympathetically. “It should have done already, honestly, I don’t know why it’s still affecting you this long after the fight. It took me like half an hour to get it out of my system.”
“Ohhhhoho, that’s real helpful, Dot,” Overkill replied, trying to grit his teeth against the laughter, only for it to make a break for it as an undignified snort. “Oh god, this sucks. Tell me something sad, quick.”
“I don’t think it works like that,” Dot said.
“There are less than six thousand tigers remaining in the wild,” Dangerboat said, because, unlike some people, he was a good friend. “Also, it turns out that giraffes might not even be one distinct species and, since we’re not sure how many different kinds of giraffe there are, it’s not really obvious how endangered different subspecies are, but they are all for sure doing a lot worse than we thought.”
“Argh, okay, that sucks,” Overkill said, the laughter abating a little. “Good. Hit me again. Come on. Make me cry.”
“I was only humoring you when I said that your outfit was cool,” Dangerboat said. “You look ridiculous in that mask.”
“Low blow. But I don’t believe you, soooo no dice,” Overkill said, before breaking off into hissing giggles again. “I look badass with the skull mask. Try again.”
“I prefer the Straight Shooter uniform,” Dangerboat said. And that … straight bucket of cold water right to his chest. “Which is saying something, because that’s also not gr—oh. Oh no, you’re crying for real. Dot, he’s crying, do something!”
“Come on, D.B.!” Dot said. “‘Say something sad’ clearly does not mean ‘sucker punch me with my tragic backstory.’ Not cool.”
“I’m sorry!” Dangerboat replied. “I thought it would help! And it’s not like I really mined the depths there, it could have been much worse. I could have said that he’d let the Flag Five down and it was his fault they died, or something.”
“Dude!” Dot said, as Overkill sobbed harder and turned his face into her shoulder.
“Oh, god, I’m sorry!” Dangerboat repeated. “Really, I am, Overkill, I obviously didn’t mean that. I didn’t even say it, really, it was just a hypothetical example of something that would be awful to say, so when you think about it—”
Dot narrowed her eyes, shaking her head, and Dangerboat lowered his camera in shame.
“No, you’re right, Dot, that was not cool. I’m sorry, Overkill.”
“It’s fine.” Overkill said with a sniff and sat up straighter. “Argh! Okay. I’m over it. Shrugged it off like a champ.”
“Do you think maybe you needed to cry?” Dot said. “Or … do you want to talk about it some more maybe?”
“What? No,” Overkill said. “That’s lame. And I cried about it like three years ago, so I’m not due for another two.”
“It’s true, it’s on his calendar,” Dangerboat said, and Dot sighed.
“Okay, well, whatever,” she said. “Nobody’s laughing or crying anymore and we’re all super Vulcan and in control of our emotions, or whatever other tropey bullshit you prefer. Dealer’s choice.”
“Gritty antihero every time,” Overkill said, blinking the last of his tears away and scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand roughly with one last sniff. “It’s a classic.”
“Maybe we could evolve the genre a little,” Dot said, poking him in the side, and he shoved back playfully against her shoulder. She could probably just feel the metal bite of his fingers beneath the gloves, but she still smiled and pressed back against his hand. “Just a tiiiiny bit of sincere, non-badass expressions of emotion. A smidge. Maybe even some schmalz, who knows. As a treat?”
“What, you want me to wear bright primary colors and say cheesy bullshit about justice and good deeds?” Overkill asked, smiling. “Gross. We have the Tick for that shit. Let me do my thing. You like my thing.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Dot said, rolling her eyes and bumping shoulders with him again before kissing his cheek. “What can I say, I never got the chance to have a broody bad boy phase, because I had to spend all my time being a good girl and looking after my brother when I was the right age for it, so now I’m re-parenting myself and letting my fourteen-year-old self live her would-be moody goth fantasy. I like it. But to be clear it is not cool.”
“Yeah it is,” Overkill said, reaching over to boop her on the nose with a gloved index finger. “You think I’m cool, admit it. You like me because I’m an antihero. There aren’t enough antiheroes in your life.”
Dot scrunched up her nose, lacing their fingers together and starting to lean in before Dangerboat cleared his throat loudly. Or made a throat clearing noise, anyway, in the absence of having a literal throat he could clear.
“I’m still right here, you know,” he said. “And I’d tell you guys to get a room, but that’s kind of a problem with our whole ... deal.”
“Ugh, perfect,” Overkill said, dropping his forehead onto Dot’s shoulder in frustration, before darting up again to give Dot a quick, chaste kiss on the tip of her nose and turning back to face Dangerboat’s camera lens. “If we give you money to download a movie could you turn off your cameras and keep yourself busy for a while? I hear the new Barbie’s thing is supposed to be pretty good. You like Ryan Gosling, right?”
“Oh fine,” Dangerboat said with a huff. “And I’ve already downloaded the Greta Gerwig Barbie movie, as well you know, so you can keep your $19.99—marked down from the full $29.95 that I paid before it was discounted. I’ll turn off all interior monitoring except for the bridge, so the two of you can go and do … the thing. But Dangerbed is at best twelve inches wide, so best of luck with whatever filth you intend to get up to in there.”
“Hold hands, mostly,” Dot said, and Overkill let out an offended gasp. She turned and stuck her tongue out at him, before reaching over to take his hand again. “See you later, D.B.!”
“Be safe!” Dangerboat said. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”
“Yeah, that’s not taking a lot off the table,” Overkill said, laughing again as Dot started to tug him toward the door. “Love you, buddy! Hasta la vista.”
“Well, I’m glad we were able to put that turbulent and contentious point in our partnership behind us!” Dangerboat called after them, only for the door to hiss shut behind them with no reply. He sighed. “Typical.”
The sound of laughter from the corridor outside filtered through the door, muffled because Dangerboat had already turned most of his microphones off.
“They could at least pretend to be serious sometimes,” Dangerboat said, tutting. “At least I have you to keep me company, Ryan. That will have to be Kenough.”