Chapter Text
"Daddy, what does 'fucktard' mean?"
Knockout almost slammed down on the brakes in the middle of an intersection, and had to force himself to keep his eyes o the road, not whirl around and demand to know where his sweet little baby boy had heard such words. He swore, if it was any of those shows Breakdown kept letting him stay up and watch- Instead, the poor man kept his cool, replying as calmly as he could.
"Sweetheart, where did you hear that word? Was it on the TV? It not a very ni-"
"Dragstrip said it!"
Ah. Right. Knockout's knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than he probably should, forcing a smile.
"Well, let's not talk to Dragstrip anymore, okay?"
That kid had been a menace ever since he joined the same class as their darling Wildbreak, yanking the other kid's hair, snatching toys, being horribly rude to teachers and always taking more than his fair share of anything. For the pas t few weeks...he'd zeroed in on Wildbreak, probably because he was the least likely to tattle on him, een though it was pretty obvious. He'd come home with fresh scrapes and bruises, tear stained but always refusing to say anything about it. Little monster like that ought to be kept away from the other children. It was quiet for a few minutes, Knockout simmering to himself about the words he'd be having with the principle about these incidents, and why nothing was being done, why his angel was being abused and name-called! He was only snapped out of his own head when his son piped up again.
"...Can he come over on Saturday?" Wildbreak's chubby cheeks were smushed up into a smile, kicking his feet a little as he held Rabbit against his lap, looking up at the little mirror where he could see his daddy's face. "You said I could have someone over for a sleepover this week if I wanted, so can I?"
Knockout might hate that kid, but he knew he couldn't say no to that little face.
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Wildbreak knew Dragstrip wasn't mean because he hated him. Or 'cause he was mad at him for anything. He was just kinda always mad. He didn't like to share, but that was okay. Maybe he just really liked the things he snatched and didn't want the other kids to ruin them? He wasn't totally sure, but he knew he wasn't a bad person. There were lots of times when he could've been even meaner to him, like squeezed his juice carton to make it go all over him, or covered him in paint, or hidden or ripped his rabbit when he brought it in for show and tell, but he didn't. He didn't seem to have any friends. Not really. He'd seen him with two other older boys a few times, but he needed a proper friend! And Wildbreak was determined to be that friend.
Chasing after him at home time, Wildbreak managed to grab onto the blonde's wrist before he left the school gates. Alone, as usual. Did nobody ever come pick him up? He knew better than to ask about his dad, though. That never ended well.
"Ah, Dragstrip-!"
Ignoring the glare he got, the smaller boy bounced on his heels with a beaming smile, his ladybird backpack jolting up and down.
"Whattdaya want? I'm goin' home, piss off!"
Wildbreak just grinned, and closed the boy's hand around something, grabbing both straps of his backpack to adjust it with another bounce, and Dragstrip's scowl deepened. There was something seriously off about this kid. Feeling a hard lump in his hand, he peeled his fist open, blinking down at the...thing resting in his palm.
"The fuck's this?"
"I'm letting you borrow it!"
It was a tiny cat figurine, attached to a keychain. Which was totally useless. Dragstrip didn't have keys. What was his game?
"Dad said you can come over for a sleepover tomorrow, and I thought you might say no, but now you gotta come!" This was honestly the smartest idea he'd ever had, and Wildbreak was very proud of his scheme. "You gotta come over so you can give it back, right?"
Yup. He was cracked. Dragstrip watched the brunette run off, bright red backpack glinting in the sun, and shoved the stupid cat thing into his pocket, trudging off in the opposite direction t head off home. Like hell he'd go over to that weirdo's house. Huh. He kicked at the dirt in the cracks of the sidewalk, scuffing his shoe against weeds and moss, fist still rammed in his pocket. It was stupid. Why should he? He didn't have to give it back at all, but he didn't wanna keep it.
Glaring down at the plastic tabby, with its stupid little smile and one paw up. Like it was trying too hard to be cute. Fingers closing around it again, Dragstrip reeled back, narrowed eyes pinpointing on the train tracks not too far away. He could get that. Hah, see it get mangled under the next train, chopped into tiny little pieces- But he stopped, arm all the way back, tensed and ready to throw. He just stared at the tracks, chewing the inside of his cheek. He just stood there, for a good minute of so, before a barked laugh behind him made his hand shoot back into his pocket, shoulders hunched defensively. Shit.
"Whatcha got there, kid? Ain't nice to be throwin' shit, 'specially not with an arm like yours!" Whirling around, Dragstrip scowled up at the older boy who's said it. He already knew who it'd be. Heatseeker, with Slashmark not too far behind. He wanted to wipe that smirk off that prick's gross face, but he just glared, and stayed quiet."Come on, stop starin' out into the horizon and get your ass home, 'fore ya daddy starts gettin' worried."
Heatseeker sneered the word out, a nasty grin on his stupid square face, trying to make himself look even taller by towering over Dagstrip, but the boy just ignored him and kept walking. Jackasses. He knew they'd follow, they lived in the same neighborhood, but he wished they didn't. He hated having the two of them watch him go home, even if most of the time they e=seemed preoccupied with each other. He didn't get just five minutes to himself. They talked with each other as they got closer to home, and Dragstrip, as usual, found himself straining to listen. Just Heat bragging about ho he was gonna get on the rugby team next year. Slash reminding him that had reading homework for tomorrow. Dragstrip never did his homework, he just tossed it in the trash soon as he got home. He was pretty sure Heat was just too stupid to remember he had homework. Too stupid to do anything without Slash there to prod him into stuff.
Finally shaking the duo, he slid into the backdoor, closing it quietly before dumping his rucksack and kicking his shoes off, waiting to listen for any movement before clambering up on the counter, grabbing a biscuit from the jar where they were hidden, jumping down and racing up to his room, dodging squeaky floorboards and diving onto his bed. He couldn't be too careful. Taking out that little cat again, Dragstrip flipped its smug little face off, and tossed it into a corner.
Wildbreak could go suck pineapple chunks, the freak.