Hiiii!
I have a fic prompt, no compromises of course! <3
We all love and admire Badd for his dedication and his kind heart... but it's impossible for me to not think about how he's only a teen at a very difficult age, so I'd adore any kind of fic where he commits a mistake, he does something wrong, but he's treated with understanding and compassion... I adore how much he tries to be the best possible brother for Zenko, but since he's still growing himself, I'd love to read something where the pressure is eased off his shoulders, and where his... right to be not perfect? is acknowledged and respected ^^ I'd ADORE if the fic included Sekingar, BTW!
Love u <3
[picks up Metal Bat and puts him on a shelf] I'd put money on me being taller than ONE. He can have Badd back when Badd gets told he's a good boy who is doing a good job! I don't care by who! (Lies, I care a little.)
Three lacerations, one broken bone, two liters of blood lost, over thirty stitches, bruises everywhere - Badd's had worse. He walked away from the fight, his whole team did. They would have all walked away in a lot better shape if fucking anyone could accurately rank monster threat levels before heroes got pummeled into the ground. The Hero Association had always been hot garbage at it, tossing out threat levels based on vibes or something equally as meaningless, and ratcheting them up as heroes got wheeled off to the hospital. Neo Heroes isn't showing itself to be much better at figuring out what's dangerous and what's really dangerous. At least Badd knows how to deal with that particular brand of useless.
All the rookie heroes they've put him in charge of don't though.
And what's worse, those powersuits give them all way too much confidence. They rush in and don't think, which is fine if you're Badd. Badd knows what kind of hits he can take and has reflexes honed through experience. People can talk all they want about how he's just swinging a bat and breaking shit, it's true, but he does a real good job of it. He learned how to swing the right way, hold a bat with the best grip strength. His team is just a bunch of fresh meat throwing punches that wouldn't even stand in a street brawl. The suits are doing it all. Badd had stopped wearing his after two days. The boost in strength is cool, but that's what his Fighting Spirit is for. (He's a little worried that Child Em- Wild- Isamu has stopped wearing his. The kid is a genius and tougher than any other ten year old out there, but he's still a kid and the suit would keep him safe in the field. Badd might mention it to him.)
Demon or Dragon, he's supposed to be able to handle it. It shouldn't have mattered if he had a head's up or not. He is- was an S-Class hero, he's been given the position of Neo Leader. People depend on him and they got hurt. That never should have happened!
One of the nurses had been nice enough to let him know that no one on his team had been seriously injured before getting all nurse-fussy with him and checking his wounds. It's good to know that Badd wasn't a total failure. Things could have gone worse. Still, they shouldn't have gone as bad as they did.
He glares at his reflection in the shiny, metal table where all the medical equipment stands. He has a split lip and a cut on his eyebrow. No black eyes, though. His hair is a mess, more down than up at this point. He looks like he won a fight, but he doesn't feel like it. He feels like a failure. His chest is tight and he can't take a deep breath, every muscle in his body is tense, his jaw hurts from clenching it but if he eases up even a little his lip starts to wobble. He's angry, but more than that he's ashamed.
There's something else in the mix, too. Something he can't - or won't - name that's worse than the shame somehow. It's cold and dark and though he knows in his heart what it is it's unfamiliar in the way his elementary school yard is - long in the past and rarely thought of.
A soft knock at the door steals his attention. The door opens after another few seconds and Sekingar walks in holding two bowls. Instantly, the smell of food overtakes the sterile smell of the hospital room. Even if Badd isn't hungry at least he won't have to keep smelling antiseptic for a little while.
"Metal Bat," Sekingar greets him, voice and eyes kind. "How are you feeling?"
Badd pulls on a smile and a cocksure attitude. He's meant to be protecting Sekingar as well, there's no reason for the man to worry about him. "Jus' fine," he says. "They didn' need to patch me up as much as they did, I've had way worse."
For some reason, that earns him a frown, and that makes Badd's guts twist a little, like when his mom would tsk after seeing him come home covered in mud. Again. It feels weird. He ignores it.
"Just because you can walk off an injury, doesn't mean you should," he says, and sets down one of the bowls on the tray at the foot of Badd's bed. His tone is firm, but Badd doesn't feel like he's being told off. "Now, eat up. It's not much, but your body needs fuel to heal."
Looking at the bowl he can see it's a simple rice and miso soup. Easy to digest and hard to fuck up, but the shame has his guts twisted and the guilt is heavy where it fills his stomach. He doesn't want to eat anything. He also doesn't want to let Sekingar in on how upset he is about his screw up. He's sure there will be a lecture or a write up or some other way for Neo to make a note and let him know they know he fucked up. He expects it, he's used to it after almost a year with the Hero Association. It's the waiting for it to happen that keeps him on edge. He'll eat after they tell him how much trouble he's in.
"Thanks, boss, but 'm good," he says, turning bodily away from the soup.
Sekingar lets it go with a sigh. He sips at his own soup, something different smelling than Badd's miso, but he's not sure what it actually is. The silence lasts a few mouthfuls, and Badd is grateful when Sekingar speaks again.
"You'll be discharged tomorrow morning if all goes well. They want to make sure there's no internal bleeding that could have been missed," he states. Normally, he's all business with an edge of daring that gives someone enough pause to wonder if he might be more dangerous than he seems. Right now, the information sounds more like an olive branch than anything. It feels like he's being careful with Badd, and Badd doesn't understand it. "Should I send someone to pick up your sister?"
That has Badd blinking in surprise. No one ever asks about Zenko when he gets hurt. He's always gotta find a phone and call her himself, fill her in on what a knucklehead he is and reassure her that he'll be home in no time. (His hospital stays weren't lengthy, usually, so long as giant, mutant centipedes didn't parade all over his bones.) The offer was... nice, but Badd didn't really know what to do with it either. Who would Sekingar send? Could Badd really trust them with Zenko? Did he want to owe someone a favor that huge?
"Nah," he waves the offer off. "I always keep some leftovers frozen for her to make in case I'm not home for dinner. If it's jus' for tonight I'll give her a call and let her know."
Sekingar nods and sips at his soup again. Badd can see his eyes - real and robotic - watch him. He's got something he wants to say and he's weighing either how to say it or if he even should. It's making Badd's blood itch. If Sekingar wants to tell him that he doesn't feel like Badd can handle this mission they're on he wishes he'd just come out and say it already. He might be a man respectable enough to get his hands dirty and put his life on the line alongside the heroes he's in charge of, but he's still an executive, Badd reminds himself. He's where he is because he's always planning and thinking three steps ahead, something Badd almost never does. He'll never be as straightforward as Badd is or wishes people were.
Out of respect - because Badd does respect Sekingar, the guy has earned it with blood and sweat and action - he keeps quiet and lets him decide when to speak. He can't stop himself from wondering what it'll be about, though. Is he going to tell Badd he's not good enough to handle keeping him safe alone? He doesn't know who else from the Hero Association they could send over that they could trust - Tank Top Master is honest, but the entire Tank Topper Army would follow, Pig God and Watchdog Man are both trustworthy, but Pig God isn't mobile enough and Watchdog Man hardly ever leaves City Q, Darkshine would have been a great choice if he were still an active hero, he's kind of surprised Genos isn't part of Neo already.
Badd is brought out of his mental checklist when Sekingar clears his throat. He's finished the soup, empty bowl set off to the side. Now he's facing Badd fully. He's ready to talk and Badd feels nervous for the first time in a long time.
"You'll be on leave for the next three days," he says, matter-of-fact. It's such an unexpected blow that Badd can't hold his tongue any longer.
"Three days!? I know I fucked up, but ain't that a bit harsh? The nurse said no one was seriously hurt!" He's on his feet and he can hear his heart thundering in his ears. He's never been put on leave before. "Are they gonna keep the team from doin' any hero work if I'm not there? What about-"
"Badd! Let me finish!"
Sekingar does not raise his voice, he doesn't need to. His tone makes each word crack like a whip, and the use of Badd's name instead of his title stuns him into silence. He feels his teeth clack against each other as he snaps his mouth shut. He feels young and he feels small. No one has spoken to him in a tone like that, using his name, in years.
"Three days, rest and healing," Sekingar continues. He is no longer cracking a whip, but his voice makes it clear Badd will not interrupt again. "Going based off of previous medical records that is how long the doctors believe it will take for you to make a full recovery. Neo doesn't want injured heroes on the field if they don't need to be."
So... it wasn't a punishment. It was medical leave. "Oh..."
He feels foolish and embarrassed and he can feel his cheeks warming with it.
"Now that you understand that," Sekingar takes a few measured steps towards Badd until there's only a foot or so of space between them and Badd has to look up to keep eye contact. "What's this about you having, ahem, 'fucked up'?"
If Badd thought his cheeks were warm before they are on fire now, surely as cherry red as his hero shirt. Him and his big mouth.
He considers playing dumb, it's what he's good at, but he can tell Sekingar isn't going to let this go, and if he thinks he needs to pull in back up to get Badd to talk he will. Badd shudders to think of who he might call on, each possibility worse than the last. So, he comes clean.
"Well, I did, didn' I? I'm the team leader, but I let 'em get hurt. I shoulda been able to take that monster out! Instead, I let it knock me around enough that everyone had to fight on their own until I could get back to the action."
The stern look on Sekingar's face falls away with each word Badd speaks and is replaced with an expression that is sheer disbelief.
"Badd, that's what a team does," he says, finally. "They fill in where other's might fall short. Being the leader doesn't mean doing everything yourself, it means leading those that follow you to do and be the best they can."
He knows Sekingar is right, the words make sense and when he thinks about them later it will all feel so obvious, but right now the shame is bubbling up in him, higher and higher. "I'm supposed to keep them safe!" he insists. "They count on me to make sure they ain't in over their heads!"
Sekingar's face is pinched, and Badd knows that face, has seen in on adults more times than he can count. It's sadness, pity. Sekingar feels bad for him. From anyone else it would be easy to ignore, brush it off like he always has, but from Sekingar it stings, it cuts. Badd wants to get angry and yell and throw that pity back in his face, but his chest just aches and his throat closes up.
"You did that, though. They are safe," his voice is softer than Badd could have ever imagined it. They don't sound a thing alike, but he's reminded of his dad. "They respect and trust you, but you're putting too much pressure on yourself to look after them. They agreed to be heroes, and each and every one of them is at least five years older than you, if not more. They are adults, Badd, you don't need to treat them like children."
His face squinches in distaste at the very idea. "Not treatin' 'em like kids," he mutters. He's looked away from Sekingar, unable to stand listening and looking at the same time.
"But you are," he insists. "You don't delegate tasks, you dispatch monsters before any of them even take a swing, and now that some of them have gotten scratched up, superficially I might remind you, you're beating yourself up over it. Here's the thing, though, they're capable adults who were warned of the dangers of hero work before they were ever sent out onto the field.
"You, on the other hand? As strong as you may be, you are a child and have been your entire hero career. I know the Hero Association doesn't warn about the dangers of heroing properly. They don't want to scare applicants away. I won't pretend to know everything about you, but I do know that you are shouldering burdens meant to be shared by more than one adult."
Badd is frozen. He knows all of this. He knows it, he lives it every day. His life is hard. He's an orphan with a little sister to take care of and a dangerous job to do. He knows. But...
No one's ever said all of this to him. No one's ever walked up to him and so obviously said that they see him, see how hard it is, how hard he's trying.
"Put some faith in your team, give them some responsibility. You don't need anymore, Badd. What you have would already break most people."
Sekingar's words come out soft, quiet. Badd's eyes are burning and his chest hurts and when Sekingar puts a hand on his shoulder he breaks. Just a little.
He throws himself at Sekingar, this man, this adult, who sees him and feels for him and still respects him. He holds tight, calloused hands gripping onto the back of his suit jacket while his shoulders shake and tears fall silently. In return, Sekingar holds him back, rubs soothing circles and offers no judgement. He lets Badd cry.
Later, Badd will thank him. Not with words, he's too clumsy with those. He cooks, dares to bake and does his best to remain focused. He presents several containers with food, saying only that it's for him. He feels young and he feels small, but that might be an okay thing to feel sometimes.
