(no subject)
First fic for this fandom here. I wanted to try and explore a bit of Chris D'Amico's darker side with this. It's going to be a two-parter, with part two taking place post-film.
Title: Something to Hold Onto
Length: 1218 words
Rating: A bit mature, but nothing worse than the actual movie.
Summary: Movieverse. Chris D'Amico gets easily attached. Red Mist/Kick-Ass, one-sided.
Chris D’Amico had no friends.
Red Mist had one friend, and that was a considerable improvement. From that moment on, he could have two friends, five friends, one million friends - but the jump from one to a million wouldn’t feel the same as the jump from zero to one. The difference between having nothing and having something was astronomical, and Chris never realized how lonely he used to be until he wasn’t lonely anymore.
They didn’t even know each other’s names. To him, his new friend was Kick-Ass. He didn’t know where Kick-Ass lived, or where he went to school, or what his favorite movie was. He’d never get a phone call from Kick-Ass with an invitation to lunch or a party, or even just a ‘sup, man?’. They sent each other Myspace messages under code names and met up secretly in back alleys. Their relationship was, as one might call it, strictly business.
But Chris had long ago lost the ability to distinguish business friends from real friends, if he ever had it in the first place. Kick-Ass was his partner in crime. Kick-Ass was his best friend. And he was going to have to turn him over to his dad, where he’d be tortured for information and then killed.
Damn.
He wasn’t expecting to like Kick-Ass as much as he did. He was expecting someone much older than him, with a no-nonsense attitude and the ability to take down ten men at once without flinching. What he got was a kid about the same age as him who enjoyed dancing stupidly to Gnarls Barkley in the car and couldn’t even handle a puff of a joint. Chris felt like there had to be some mistake; this guy was just some geek. Just like him. He searched his mind for some other explanation, some excuse, but he couldn’t. A superhero took down his dad’s men. Kick-Ass was a superhero. The superhero, because who else was crazy enough to do it? Yet, Chris couldn’t find it in him to be afraid of this guy who could supposedly kill multiple, armed gangsters.
Maybe he could keep him for himself. Lock him away where he couldn’t hurt dad’s business anymore, and he’d visit him every day and bring him comic books once he was done with them, and they could hang out there. Chris was either too high to be thinking straight, or too misguided to realize that his friendship probably wasn’t worth enough to Kick-Ass to tolerate being locked up for. Probably both.
He wondered what Kick-Ass looked like under that mask. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what he was imagining, but it was somebody perfect. Somebody flawless. Somebody who’d hang around with a guy like Red Mist but who would never waste his time with the likes of Chris D’Amico. Superheroes hang out with superheroes. It was Batman meets Superman, not Bruce Wayne meets Clark Kent. Red Mist meets Kick-Ass, not Chris D’Amico meets…whoever.
He wouldn’t mind being Red Mist forever, hanging out with Kick-Ass, but that thought nagged at the back of his head. He wanted to see him unmasked. He wanted to know who his new friend was. He felt like the whole world knew who he was: he was the rich mobster’s son, that kid that always buys every new comic that comes out every week, the kid that rides around in fancy cars with bodyguards. It wasn’t fair, they got to know him, but he never got to know any of them.
He wanted to know Kick-Ass. And he got what he wanted, even if he’d know him for only a few minutes before some goon came in and shot him in the face. At least he’d be the last friend Kick-Ass ever had. There was something special about that, he thought. He wanted to see Kick-Ass go wild, quit the dorky persona and show him that side of himself that was capable of murder, just the thought of it was so, so-
“The hell’re you doing, man?” Kick-Ass said, giving him a strange look.
Red Mist realized he had leaned in close enough to Kick-Ass to feel his breathing. He also realized that he was quite enjoying it. That was normal, right? He could barely put two and two together right now, let alone rationalize his feelings for his first and only friend. But something about Kick-Ass’s expression told him it was time to back off.
“Sorry, man, fuck,” he said, “This is some strong stuff, I lose my balance sometimes.”
Kick-Ass, who was clearly not experienced in the world of drugs, shrugged it off and seemed to accept that answer. Chris smiled at his successful lie, still not being all too sure of what he needed to lie about.
“So, uh, what’s up?” Chris said, trying to make some friendly conversation.
“What do think is up? Being a fucking superhero,” Kick-Ass said with a laugh.
“Yeah, right, of course,” Chris said, composing himself, “And it’s fucking awesome.”
“Totally.” Kick-Ass replied.
And then there was silence. Not uncomfortable silence, but the silence of two people who shared in on some great secret and didn’t have to talk to know that they were in on it together. At least, for Chris, that’s what that silence was. For Kick-Ass, it might’ve just been awkward.
The sight of fire broke the awkwardness, and broke Chris of his dazed out fixation on Kick-Ass. For the time being, he was thankful for that, but that was about all he had to be thankful for. He ran inside, yelling like a madman.
---
BACK AT THE D’AMICO HOUSEHOLD
---
The evidence on the teddy cam relieved him. He felt as if he should’ve been terrified by the strange superhero that slaughtered the entire warehouse, but all he could find himself focusing on was the fact that Kick-Ass wasn’t guilty of anything. He’d have to use him one more time to get at that other superhero, but from then on they could be friends. He imagined their future exploits, imagined them being so successful that even his own father would have to say he was proud.
Imagined being up close, almost shoulder to shoulder in his car. Hiding in a cramped space together…He shook off those thoughts, refreshing his Myspace. Still no work back from Kick-Ass and it had been two whole days. He sent another message, his third message. Check your goddamn computer, asshole, he thought, if you’re doing some awesome shit offline, I wanna get in on it.
He found himself wandering back to the Youtube page with the camera phone footage of Kick-Ass, which was now the first thing in his Favorites folder. All things considered, it was pretty shitty footage, but he could fill in the blanks on his own. Damn, Kick-Ass seemed even more appealing all bloodied up like that.
He found his hand wandering towards his pants, and it wasn’t the first time. He had come to terms with the fact that this wasn’t exactly normal. Not the usual feelings one is supposed to have towards one’s best friend. He himself was surprised at the way he was feeling for someone he’d known for only a few days. He’d finally gotten close to someone else, and he liked it so much that he couldn’t help but want to be closer. But dammit, he didn’t have anyone else, and everyone needed something to hold onto.
He grabbed a box of tissues and pressed play on the video again.
Title: Something to Hold Onto
Length: 1218 words
Rating: A bit mature, but nothing worse than the actual movie.
Summary: Movieverse. Chris D'Amico gets easily attached. Red Mist/Kick-Ass, one-sided.
Chris D’Amico had no friends.
Red Mist had one friend, and that was a considerable improvement. From that moment on, he could have two friends, five friends, one million friends - but the jump from one to a million wouldn’t feel the same as the jump from zero to one. The difference between having nothing and having something was astronomical, and Chris never realized how lonely he used to be until he wasn’t lonely anymore.
They didn’t even know each other’s names. To him, his new friend was Kick-Ass. He didn’t know where Kick-Ass lived, or where he went to school, or what his favorite movie was. He’d never get a phone call from Kick-Ass with an invitation to lunch or a party, or even just a ‘sup, man?’. They sent each other Myspace messages under code names and met up secretly in back alleys. Their relationship was, as one might call it, strictly business.
But Chris had long ago lost the ability to distinguish business friends from real friends, if he ever had it in the first place. Kick-Ass was his partner in crime. Kick-Ass was his best friend. And he was going to have to turn him over to his dad, where he’d be tortured for information and then killed.
Damn.
He wasn’t expecting to like Kick-Ass as much as he did. He was expecting someone much older than him, with a no-nonsense attitude and the ability to take down ten men at once without flinching. What he got was a kid about the same age as him who enjoyed dancing stupidly to Gnarls Barkley in the car and couldn’t even handle a puff of a joint. Chris felt like there had to be some mistake; this guy was just some geek. Just like him. He searched his mind for some other explanation, some excuse, but he couldn’t. A superhero took down his dad’s men. Kick-Ass was a superhero. The superhero, because who else was crazy enough to do it? Yet, Chris couldn’t find it in him to be afraid of this guy who could supposedly kill multiple, armed gangsters.
Maybe he could keep him for himself. Lock him away where he couldn’t hurt dad’s business anymore, and he’d visit him every day and bring him comic books once he was done with them, and they could hang out there. Chris was either too high to be thinking straight, or too misguided to realize that his friendship probably wasn’t worth enough to Kick-Ass to tolerate being locked up for. Probably both.
He wondered what Kick-Ass looked like under that mask. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what he was imagining, but it was somebody perfect. Somebody flawless. Somebody who’d hang around with a guy like Red Mist but who would never waste his time with the likes of Chris D’Amico. Superheroes hang out with superheroes. It was Batman meets Superman, not Bruce Wayne meets Clark Kent. Red Mist meets Kick-Ass, not Chris D’Amico meets…whoever.
He wouldn’t mind being Red Mist forever, hanging out with Kick-Ass, but that thought nagged at the back of his head. He wanted to see him unmasked. He wanted to know who his new friend was. He felt like the whole world knew who he was: he was the rich mobster’s son, that kid that always buys every new comic that comes out every week, the kid that rides around in fancy cars with bodyguards. It wasn’t fair, they got to know him, but he never got to know any of them.
He wanted to know Kick-Ass. And he got what he wanted, even if he’d know him for only a few minutes before some goon came in and shot him in the face. At least he’d be the last friend Kick-Ass ever had. There was something special about that, he thought. He wanted to see Kick-Ass go wild, quit the dorky persona and show him that side of himself that was capable of murder, just the thought of it was so, so-
“The hell’re you doing, man?” Kick-Ass said, giving him a strange look.
Red Mist realized he had leaned in close enough to Kick-Ass to feel his breathing. He also realized that he was quite enjoying it. That was normal, right? He could barely put two and two together right now, let alone rationalize his feelings for his first and only friend. But something about Kick-Ass’s expression told him it was time to back off.
“Sorry, man, fuck,” he said, “This is some strong stuff, I lose my balance sometimes.”
Kick-Ass, who was clearly not experienced in the world of drugs, shrugged it off and seemed to accept that answer. Chris smiled at his successful lie, still not being all too sure of what he needed to lie about.
“So, uh, what’s up?” Chris said, trying to make some friendly conversation.
“What do think is up? Being a fucking superhero,” Kick-Ass said with a laugh.
“Yeah, right, of course,” Chris said, composing himself, “And it’s fucking awesome.”
“Totally.” Kick-Ass replied.
And then there was silence. Not uncomfortable silence, but the silence of two people who shared in on some great secret and didn’t have to talk to know that they were in on it together. At least, for Chris, that’s what that silence was. For Kick-Ass, it might’ve just been awkward.
The sight of fire broke the awkwardness, and broke Chris of his dazed out fixation on Kick-Ass. For the time being, he was thankful for that, but that was about all he had to be thankful for. He ran inside, yelling like a madman.
---
BACK AT THE D’AMICO HOUSEHOLD
---
The evidence on the teddy cam relieved him. He felt as if he should’ve been terrified by the strange superhero that slaughtered the entire warehouse, but all he could find himself focusing on was the fact that Kick-Ass wasn’t guilty of anything. He’d have to use him one more time to get at that other superhero, but from then on they could be friends. He imagined their future exploits, imagined them being so successful that even his own father would have to say he was proud.
Imagined being up close, almost shoulder to shoulder in his car. Hiding in a cramped space together…He shook off those thoughts, refreshing his Myspace. Still no work back from Kick-Ass and it had been two whole days. He sent another message, his third message. Check your goddamn computer, asshole, he thought, if you’re doing some awesome shit offline, I wanna get in on it.
He found himself wandering back to the Youtube page with the camera phone footage of Kick-Ass, which was now the first thing in his Favorites folder. All things considered, it was pretty shitty footage, but he could fill in the blanks on his own. Damn, Kick-Ass seemed even more appealing all bloodied up like that.
He found his hand wandering towards his pants, and it wasn’t the first time. He had come to terms with the fact that this wasn’t exactly normal. Not the usual feelings one is supposed to have towards one’s best friend. He himself was surprised at the way he was feeling for someone he’d known for only a few days. He’d finally gotten close to someone else, and he liked it so much that he couldn’t help but want to be closer. But dammit, he didn’t have anyone else, and everyone needed something to hold onto.
He grabbed a box of tissues and pressed play on the video again.