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powpowpunchout · 1 year

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Dinner Night

Octave stared at himself in the reflection of an old store’s tinted window. He looked bad.

He fiddled with the collar of his white dress shirt, he buttoned and unbuttoned his coal-gray suit multiple times, he flattened out the wrinkles on his black pants the best he could, but he still looked bad.

He took a step closer towards the window. It was already hard enough to see himself because of the tint–and the fact it was evening certainly didn’t help–so he could only get a good look at himself when the large, bright blue sign of the neighboring Jazz club flickered. And whenever that sign did provide enough light for Overload, he didn’t like what he saw.

His outfit looked ridiculous. He wasn’t sure why it looked off tonight. He’s worn this plenty of times before and it looked just fine. He pulled on his shirt’s collar again, the dang thing looked like it was choking him, but no matter what little adjustments Octave made, it didn’t change the fact that he looked bad.

Octave stared at his reflection for a moment longer. He took another step closer, his nose an inch away from the glass. Maybe it was his face. Maybe that’s what looked bad.

Octave grabbed his chin and cocked his head at an angle. He soaked in every little disgusting detail on him. The bags under his eyes, the strands of hair in front of his face, the bruises from last week’s fight, his messy stubble, his nose…

‘Bet’cha could smell t’ings miles away with that nose o’yers.’ Aran’s voice rang through his head, among his hundreds of other nose jokes that all bled together. Octave scowled.

He stepped away from the window and kept walking backwards until he felt his back hit a lamppost.

He stood there and stared at the old store in front of him. At it’s slightly torn sign and worn down walls, much like every other building on the block.

The muffled sounds of saxophones and drums could be heard through the walls of the jazz club, followed by cheers and applause.

Its blue sign was still flickering.

It was starting to get on his nerves.

‘Why do ya even care bout how ya look?’ Octave asked himself, ‘Ya know what sorta people care about their looks? Th’ones with nothin’ better to do with their lives. Th’freaks with no personality.’

Octave shoved his hands into his pockets and grumbled.

Maybe he should walk back home and take another shower. Maybe that’ll make him feel better.

Sure, the walk would take 20 minutes, but at least that’d be a good use of his time rather than waiting for Great Tiger to meet him here. Tiger was running late.

‘Tiger ditched ya.’

He should’ve realized that ten minutes past their meeting time.

He should’ve just asked Tiger for the street name the bar was on and meet Tiger there, rather than standing outside like an idiot.

He didn’t even ask for the bar’s name. Moron. Why did–

“Ah, Overload!” He heard Tiger’s voice from… Somewhere.

Octave’s eyes darted around the empty streets, and then he looked up.

Floating gracefully down from the night sky with a smile on his face was Great Tiger, “Aren’t you dressed wonderfully tonight.”

“Tiger,” Octave straightened himself. He scanned Tiger up and down. He had some sorta vibrant-orange shawl that was wrapped around his neck and covered the right side of his chest, completely hiding his right arm. One end of the shawl dangled in front of him, stopping just above his knees. It also had some sorta yellow and purple swirly pattern running along its edges that reminded Octave of flowers. The rest of Tiger’s outfit that wasn't covered–his orange-yellow tunic and his dark magenta pants–were just as vibrant as his shawl. “Talk bout tacky.”

Tiger shot his brows up and put his hand on his chest, but before he could say anything, Octave spoke again.

“I’m just jokin’ round. Just didn’t expect ya to wear somethin’ so colorful.”

“Oh, yes.” Tiger spun around, the end of his shawl trailing behind him, “I was so indecisive tonight. I had no idea what I wanted to wear, so I had several of my clones try on different outfits to see which one I liked most so I could–”

“Is that why ya late?”

Tiger froze. His cheeks grew hot, “No, no, I–that only took a few minutes. You see…” He stroked his beard, “I haven’t been to this part of the city in ages, so I got–perhaps–a little… Lost.”

“Why didn’tcha teleport then? Didn’t feel like puttin’ in the effort or somethin’?” Octave folded his arms.

“I can’t teleport to a place I’ve never been to before, Overload.” Tiger snapped, but his expression softened, “But I did keep you waiting for a while, didn’t I?”

Tiger slowly landed on his feet, the bottoms of his hickory-colored, closed sandals touching the ground with a quiet ‘tap’. He brought his eyes to Overload’s, “And for that, I apologize.”

Octave’s grip on his arms tightened.

He… Wasn’t sure how to respond to that, honestly. He wasn’t even expecting an apology. A strange, uncomfortable sensation flashed through him for just a moment, one that burned the back of his throat.

“Yeah, well,” Octave swallowed as he shoved his hands back into his pockets, “glad ya didn’t get killed or somethin’.”

“Oh, were you worried about me while you were waiting?” Tiger put his hand over his mouth. Despite his concerned tone, Octave could see the playful grin he was trying to hide.

Octave rolled his eyes, “Ya just–Hey, ain’t we gonna be late? Which way do we gotta go for th’bar?”

“Ah, right!” Tiger perked up and hovered right off the ground, “It isn’t too far from here!” He said, waving his hand for Overload to follow, “We might be a few minutes late–but Flamenco’s always the last one to arrive, so we’ll be fine. I’m sure Hondo and Bear won’t mind a little bit of a wait…”

~ ~ ~ ~

“...So halfway through th’call, my phone started actin’ up and I could barely hear Joe on th’other side…” Bear Hugger said while leaning against the outside wall of the bar. Despite how cold the worn down bricks were–and despite the fact Bear was wearing a coral colored short sleeve shirt tonight–Bear didn’t seem to mind the chill.

Hondo nodded along as he stood on the cracked sidewalk that was being basked by the warm, amber lights coming through the bar's arched windows. His eyes scanned the city streets and the night sky as Bear rambled on. It wasn’t particularly busy in this area–even for a weekend night–which should make spotting Don Flamenco and Great Tiger all the easier.

“...And that got me worried cus I’ve had this phone for years ‘n didn’t wanna go through the hassle of gettin’ a new one, so I hurried back home to see if things would get better. Part of me was hopin’ it was a service problem…” Bear fidgeted with the copper acorn pin clipped onto his rosewood-pink, buttoned-up vest with one hand, while keeping a tight clutch on his tote bag with the other.

There weren’t too many cars passing by, and the only people taking up the sidewalk–besides Hondo–were small groups of friends. Most were alongside the street to the far left of where Bear and Hondo stood, lounging around in front of closed stores as they chatted away and filled the night’s air with their distant laughter.

“...But th’moment I got inside, my phone just went ‘n shut down! So I was freakin’ out even more–” Bear shot his arms out and accidentally smacked one of the bar’s windows, getting a few odd looks from the staff. He gave a sheepish smile and an apologetic wave before he quickly checked the contents inside the bag. Once he made sure everything was okay, he rearranged the light-blue tissue paper that was poking outside of the bag and continued, “... But uh, then I realized th’battery died.”

The only other sounds that took over the evening was the faint music coming through the bar’s cracked open black door, and the ocean across the street.

Most stores that were close to the beach were usually bustling with business, but not at this part of the city; not by this part of the beach. Unlike the other beaches that Hondo’s been to, this one was much smaller, its waters were absolutely frigid, and instead of soft sand, the shores were covered with small, jagged rocks, making it quite unpopular.

“...I looked around th’place and couldn’t find my dang cable anywhere, so I stepped outside to think ‘n retrace my steps, and guess what I saw in one of ‘em birdhouses I set up?” Bear asked, adjusting the wine-colored beanie on his head before shoving his band aid-covered hand into the pocket of his pants, which was the same color as his hat and shoes.

“Hm?” Hondo said as he kept his eyes on the streets, tugging at the sleeves of his burgundy-red dress shirt.

“My dang chargin’ cable! One of ‘em critters must’ve nabbed it ‘n used it as a part of their nest! I felt mighty bad bout takin’ it from ‘em, but I gotta keep in touch with my friends somehow…”

Hondo turned and looked down the far right side of the street for any signs of Don or Tiger, but saw nothing. He pressed his lips together and dug the bottoms of his derby, black shoes into the pavement.

“...Anyways, after that whole mess, I finally got my phone up ‘n runnin’ and got to talk to Joe again!”

Hondo didn’t even know why he bothered looking in that direction. The only notable thing on that side of the street was a long, white, cement wall with ocean waves, colorful fish, and seashells painted on it. It was used to divide the city block from a nearby neighborhood, and it was rather tall. There weren’t any entrances either, so there was no way Don could come from over there, and Tiger usually teleports to their get-togethers.

“...He was tellin’ me bout how he ‘n Sandman made some bread together, which I thought was real great–we should do that some time soon, ya know?”

“We should.” Hondo nodded. He wrapped his thumbs around the belt loops of his dark brown pants as worry picked at him more and more.

“Yeah! Well, anyway, Joe goes on to tell me that Sandman hardly had enough ingredients for th’bread, but they were still real determined to make it…”

The more seconds that ticked by, the more tense Hondo became. He tried to lean next to his friend in an attempt to relax, but it wasn’t working.

“...They had bout 2 eggs to work with, not enough butter–so they didn’t use any–no yeast either. It sounded like that bread was gonna turn out horrible, heck, Joe even said when they took it outta the oven, it looked like a mound o’ death…”

Don Flamenco is always late to their dinners. Hondo expects that. But Tiger? That man is hardly ever behind. Tiger should’ve teleported to the bar just minutes after he and Bear had arrived. Where was he?

“...But apparently it tasted great! Ain’t that something?”

“Yes–wait.” Hondo snapped out of his worries and whipped his head over to Bear, “They… Didn’t use yeast?”

“Yup.”

“How–” Hondo stopped and thought to himself for a moment, “How do you make bread without yeast?”

“Well,” Bear put his hands on his hips, “there’s plenty’a recipe books out there, ‘n all sorts of bread, so I’m sure th’two were able to find some sorta recipe that didn’t need it.”

“Yes, but yeast is… The most recognizable component when it comes to making bread. It’s arguably the most important one.”

“Recognizable?” Bear cocked his head to the side, “I’d argue th’dang loaf itself is the most recognizable part bout bread.”

“Yes, but that loaf couldn’t have been made without the yeast. There–”

“Again, there’s a whole bunch’a recipes that probably don’t need yeast.” Bear lowered his brows.

“But most breads do need yeast. If you go to the store and–”

Bear cut him off again, “I don’t go to a store, buy some bread, eat a slice and then go: ‘Dang, wonder if this thing’s got yeast in it.’ Cause I’m focused on th’actual food, not th’ingredients. Th’bread ain’t gonna become not-bread th’moment I find out it doesn’t have yeast.”

“Oh my–” Hondo buried his head in his hands. He couldn’t believe he and Bear were having a genuine discussion over bread of all things, “I am simply stating that when you consume the bread, you are also consuming the yeast that was used to make the bread. Making bread without yeast is like…” He gestured with his hands for a moment, “Like making banana bread without bananas.”

“Banana bread’s also a type of bread that don’t need yeast.”

“That was not the point of my example–”

“Good evening, gentlemen!” A familiar rang through.

The two men spun around to see Don Flamenco standing before them, one hand on his hip and his head raised ever so slightly. Despite this being a casual get-together, Don’s attire was anything but. His dashing, rose-red, Spanish-styled short suit had golden flower petals embroidered into its top and bottom corners. The low v-neck and edges of his suit–along with his sleeve cuffs–were also the same shade of gold, and the shoulder pads he wore were… Well, they certainly got an eyebrow raise out of Hondo.

They weren’t bad, they were just… Extravagant. They were thick, golden-yellow, had a white rim around them, and in the smack center of them was a giant, red rose pattern. Dangling from the edges of the pads were some sort of shiny-looking threads that danced around with every little movement Don made.

“Don! Glad ya made it!” Bear beamed as he went over and gave Don a hug.

“Of course! Did you ever doubt me for a second?” Don asked with a smirk. As soon as Bear set him down, Don adjusted the collar of the white dress shirt he wore underneath before patting down his light red pants.

Hondo rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to tell Don they lied to him and gave him an earlier meeting time just so he didn’t arrive late. It wasn’t worth the headache.

“Nah, course not.” Bear swatted at the air, “Gotta say, that’s a mighty snazzy outfit ya got on.”

Don’s smile only grew wider, “Ah, thank you, my friend. And your attire is quite nice as well.” He slicked his hair back. The sleeves of his suit had thin, yellow lines that ran across them.

“Awh, shoot.” A little bit of pink spread across Bear’s cheeks.

As the two chatted, Hondo couldn’t help but study Don’s outfit. His dress shirt and pants looked on the thinner side, his suit didn’t even reach his waist; the only thing that did look like it’d keep Don warm tonight were his long, white socks. Hopefully Don won’t complain about being cold like he always does.

Hondo tugged at the ends of his white headband, tightening it before he spoke up, “Don, did you happen to see Tiger on your way here?”

“Tiger? He isn’t here already?” Don’s head darted around, and when he saw no traces of the man, he put his hand to his chest, “It seems I am not the last one for once.” He said with a hint of pride in his voice before looking at Hondo, “I bet you feel ridiculous after all that nagging you’ve given me these past few days, hm?”

Hondo’s mouth curled to a frown, “I am focused on Tiger, not your poor time management skills. Tiger is hardly ever late, what if something happened to him?”

Bear stepped between them, “Hasn’t he been busy with helpin’ Bull prep for his next fight? Maybe he lost track of time and is headin’ over right now.”

“Bald Bull has another fight? So soon?” Don said.

Bear nodded, “Right? Poor guy can’t catch a break.”

“I suppose if the man can handle it…” Don folded his arms and started to tap his foot. His black oxford shoes were so polished, so clean, that Bear swore he could see his reflection in them.

Bear’s eyes flickered back over to Hondo, who was staring at the street again, a concerned expression on his face.

Bear put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, “He’ll be comin’ soon–I mean, this is Tiger we’re talkin’ bout. I bet th’moment we sit down, that man’s gonna poof outta thin air right in front of us!”

Hondo pressed his lips together. He glanced at the bar’s door then back to the city streets.

“Yes, but perhaps… We should wait a little longer?”

“I don’t mind th’sound of that.” Bear smiled.

“I do.” Don piped up. The two men looked over to see Don with his arms tightly wrapped around himself, bouncing up and down, “It is freezing out here! I don’t know how you two can stand it.”

“The evenings here are always cold, especially when we are this close to the ocean. I don’t know why you chose to wear something so thin when you know this.” Hondo said.

Don snarled his teeth, “The same reason you’re dressed in that business-looking attire. It looks nice! I love my outfit! I don’t care what the weather is like, if I freeze to death, then at least my corpse will be finely dressed!” Don bounced faster, “We can wait for Tiger inside, surely.”

Bear glanced back and forth between the two, unsure of what to say next. Hondo let out a sigh.

“Fine. We will wait inside.”

“Perfect!” Don’s face lit up. He made his way right up the cobblestone steps and propped the bar’s door open. He motioned an ‘After you’ towards the other boxers.

The men slipped inside–Bear gave a quick thanks to Don–before they were greeted by a waiter.

The waiter guided them across the restaurant, the wooden planks below creaked under their weight and mixed with the faint conversations of the other customers. Hondo took in a deep breath, welcoming in the subtle scent of roasted garlic and olive oil while his cheeks slowly warmed up.

Okay, he’ll admit it.

He’s sort of glad they went inside.

He didn’t realize how cold he was until now.

But no way was he going to tell Don that; he’d probably act smug for the rest of the evening.

When they finally reached the other end of the bar, their waiter waved a hand towards the large, warm-beige, round booth pressed against the left wall before setting down a couple of utensils and laminated menus. Bear Hugger happily sat in the middle of the seat and placed his bag underneath the table. Hondo sat to the left of Bear, and Don scanned for any crumbs and stains on the table-top before he sat to the right of Bear, propping his head up with his hands and smiling.

“Could I start you guys off with anything to drink?” The waiter asked as they pulled out a pen and notepad from the pocket of their black apron.

Don immediately flipped to the backside of the menu where all the expensive wines were. Hondo lowered his brows. Every time they came here. Every. Time. Don just had to choose some new, exquisite wine that cost more than all their meals combined.

Hondo was just thankful they always split the bill after these get-togethers.

As Don chatted to the waiter about their drink options, Hondo turned around to look at the door.

Still no signs of Tiger.

Perhaps he should give him a call?

“Ey Hondo,” Bear said, snapping Hondo out of his thoughts, “ya want th’ice tea as well?”

“Oh,” Hondo blinked, “yes. That’s fine.”

The waiter nodded, jotting all that down before heading off to check on one of the other tables.

Bear hummed as he picked up the menu. Hondo just kept staring at the door. Gentle music and quiet conversations swirled together and filled the air. Everything else around him, from the brick walls, to the little string lights wrapped around the cedar-wood pillars and support beams, to the other booths that aligned the walls, to the waiters that passed by, to the small groups of people scattered throughout the tables, they all blurred together. He couldn’t even take a moment to appreciate the bar’s usual, pleasant atmosphere. He just kept focusing on that door.

Hondo gripped the top of the booth. His nails dug into the thick, garnet-red cushions.

“Holy cow! Don’t that look good?” He heard Bear say.

Hondo shook his head and looked at the direction Bear was facing. It was a couple tables away, but Hondo could see another waiter serving someone a cast iron pan filled with kettle chips, a big burger, and who knows what else .

“Now there’s somethin’ I wanna try!” Bear shoved his face back into the menu, eyes quickly scanning the content, “Wish they had pictures in this darn thing, would love to know what they ordered.”

As Bear kept searching, Hondo’s eyes were drawn to the light blue tissue poking out from under the table. He tried to readjust his position. He inched himself closer to the bag so he could get a peek inside–but the bag was suddenly pushed away by Bear’s foot.

“Don’t think I didn’t see ya.” Bear smirked, “Didn’t take ya as a snooper.”

Hondo’s face got hot, “Apologies. Curiosity got the best of me.”

“S’all good. Look, th’second Tiger’s here is th’second y’all get to see what’s inside. Promise.”

Don suddenly let out a dramatic sigh and fanned himself with the menu.

“I know you two aren’t in any sort of relationship, but I desperately need your advice.”

Bear and Hondo exchange glances.

“Bout Carmen?” Bear asked.

Don nodded and showed off the dessert section of the menu, “You see, I usually get Carmen a slice of their chocolate cheesecake to go, but I’m afraid that it’s getting a little… Repetitive. Do you think I should buy her something different?”

Hondo stared at Don.

“What does being in a relationship have to do with choosing food.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Don looked away.

“Does… Being in a relationship suddenly change how food tastes?”

“Oh, it absolutely does.” Don said, putting his hand to his chest, “Before I dated Carmen, even meals from the finest of restaurants didn’t spark anything within me, but on our very first night out, she took me to a tiny restaurant where–”

Hondo sighed and opened his menu. Welp. He accidentally triggered one of Don’s monologues. At least it’ll provide some nice background noise as they waited for Tiger.

Hondo’s eyes glazed over the options. He wasn't sure if he wanted to try a new meal, or stick with his usual. Maybe he’ll steal a little from Bear’s plate depending on what he orders. Either way–

Don gasped.

Hondo and Bear quickly looked at him.

His eyes were wide. His mouth hung open.

There was a look of disgust on his face that they’ve never seen before.

“What’s th’matter?” Bear asked.

“Overload.” Don whispered.

The colors drained from Hondo’s face.

He turned around, and sure enough–entering the restaurant with Great Tiger by his side–was Octave Overload.

Don yanked Hondo back by the collar of his shirt, “Don’t make it obvious!” He hissed through his teeth.

He quickly let go of Hondo and hid his face in the menu, “Why didn’t you two tell me he was coming?!”

“I had no idea he was coming here.” Hondo whisper-shouted. The two men immediately whipped their heads over to Bear, who threw his hands up defensively.

“Don’t lookit me!”

“Did you offer that invitation to him again?!” Hondo asked.

“No! I didn’t know he was comin’ either, honest!”

Don peeked his eyes past the menu and narrowed them, “So then this is Tiger’s doing.”

The men watched Octave and Tiger from afar.

“I cannot believe him.” Don said, his hushed voice as cold as his glare, “That man should know how vile Overload is to be around, how miserable he is–how–how dreadful his mere presence is, yet he still brings him along?!”

“And he didn’t bother to tell us either.” Hondo said, “Almost as if he knew bringing Overload was a terrible idea.”

“C’mon, knock it off you two!” Bear cut in, “Yer actin’ like th’guy kicks puppies for a livin’. So he changed his mind bout wantin’ to join us for dinner, big deal! There ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.”

Hondo watched as a waiter guided Overload and Tiger closer to their table. He scowled, “Forgive me for not wanting to sit by the man who lashes out over the tiniest of things–the same man who claimed death was a better option than going to this dinner.”

“Let us not pretend that Overload is the only issue here.” Don growled, “After tonight’s dinner, I will be giving Tiger a piece of my mind for making such a foolish decision, for jeopardizing our night, for being absolutely–” Don immediately slammed his menu down onto the table and plastered a big, bright smile on his face, “Tiger! Good evening! We were so worried you weren’t going to make it. And ah, Overload, what a pleasant surprise!”

“It’s wonderful to see you all tonight.” Tiger smiled as he approached the other men.

“Hey.” Octave said from behind.

“We are so sorry for the wait, I got a tiny bit lost while on my way to pick up Overload and–oh, it was such a mess, but we’re here now!” Tiger said as he flew right next to Hondo, leaving just enough room for Overload. The waiter slipped two extra menus onto the table before walking away.

“Oh, it’s all fine. I had no idea Overload would be joining us tonight!” Don’s smile was starting to get unnervingly wide.

Tiger felt his face go hot, “Yes, well, I was going to tell you three about it, truly, but I had gotten so wrapped up with my magic practice and helping Bull that it… It slipped my mind.”

Bear nervously glanced over to Don’s grip on the edge of the table. He swore that man was starting to crack the wood.

Bear quickly spoke up before things took a turn for the worst, “Hey, that’s alright Tiger! We’re just happy ya could make it. Th’same goes for ya too, Octave.”

“Thank you, Bear.” Tiger said as he used his magic to bring one of the menus over to him.

“Yea, thanks.” Octave sat beside Tiger, “Ey, Eyebrows, ya collar’s crooked.”

Hondo shot Octave a bitter look and huffed as he fixed his collar.

“Eyebrows?” Tiger repeated with a chuckle, “That’s one I haven’t heard before. Do you have nicknames like that for everyone?”

“Nah, Hondo’s just got that one recognizable trait bout him, ya know?” Octave said, “I got a li’l nickname for Disco too, though.”

“Oh, do you now? I’d love to know what that is.”

“Headache.”

“Oh, that’s terrible.” Yet despite saying that, Tiger couldn’t help but laugh. And Octave couldn’t help but smirk.

Tiger leaned a bit closer to Octave and started to point around the menu, suggesting some of his favorite meals and beverages while Octave nodded along. The other men remained silent as they watched them. Bear glanced at Hondo. If looks could kill, Tiger and Octave would’ve been dead then and there.

They couldn’t stay quiet forever, especially not while staring at Tiger and Octave. It’d make the night even more awkward, but what else could they talk about? What else could they possibly pretend to care about besides Overload coming in unannounced?

Luckily, the painful awkwardness didn’t last long as their waiter stopped by to drop off a basket of bread rolls, small plates, packets of butter, and their drinks.

As soon as Hondo got his tea, he plucked the lemon wedge off the rim and gave it to Bear, who happily squeezed that and his own lemon into his drink. The waiter then placed a wine glass in front of Don and started to uncork a fancy, pink bottle with beautifully painted clouds sprinkled along its exterior, but the second the waiter tried to pour it, Don grabbed the bottle by its neck.

“Actually, could I buy the entire bottle? I’m going to need it.”

The waiter was taken aback, but they nodded and set the bottle down before they asked Tiger and Octave if they decided on anything to drink yet.

“Raspberry lemonade for me.” Tiger hummed, “And what about you, Overload?”

Octave seemed to be staring at a certain drink on the menu, but he set it down and just said, “Water.”

The waiter nodded and walked off.

Octave heard Don mutter to Bear, “Of course he chose that.”

What the heck did that even mean?

Octave scrunched his nose and opened his mouth–but Bear quickly interrupted.

“Hey! Since we’re all here now, how bout I show ya that li’l surprise I’ve been teasin’ y’all bout?” He asked as he poured a couple of sugar packets into his tea.

“Yes, please do.” Don grinned as he grabbed a bread roll and placed it on his plate.

Tiger clasped his hands together, “Oh, is it another project of yours?”

“You could say that, yeah!” Bear said as he pushed the basket of bread and his drink aside, and pulled the bag out from under the table.

“Well, you always make the most delightful things. I’m looking forward to it!” Tiger said.

Octave just rested an arm on the table as he watched Bear dig through the tissue paper.

As they all waited, Hondo felt his body begin to tense again. He wasn’t sure why–there was no reason he should be getting tense–his friend’s just showing them something he’s worked hard on. Their ‘surprise’.

Hondo glanced at Don, who locked eyes with him for just a moment. Hondo thought back to that little paper crane they had saved from Overload. He thought about how he and Don had already spoiled themselves of this surprise, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from appreciating his friend’s work.

The fact that Bear taught himself origami–a craft that takes so much trial and error, one that is so easy to ruin by one wrong crease–all to express his love to his friends, was absolutely admirable. And Hondo was more than ready to return such love.

Hondo watched as Bear pulled out–

A glass bottle.

What.

Hondo blinked.

Was he seeing things correctly–his tea wasn’t spiked was it?

Before Hondo could check to see if that was a possibility, Bear slid the bottle over to him with a smile.

Hondo stared at it.

It was a round bottle–just a bit bigger than his hand–and its shape was far from perfect. Its base was a circle, but its edges were uneven and bumpy. There was a sakura flower engraved in the center, but its lines were crooked and wobbly. And the bottle itself was ever so slightly lopsided–leaning ever so slightly to the left.

Hondo observed every little imperfection of the bottle. He slowly ran his fingers across the glass, feeling the little bumps and curves along the way before he finally curled his fingers around its stubby neck where a small, pink piece of paper had been tied around it.

All these faults and flaws… Hondo loved them. He loved how much time, effort, and heart was visible on the bottle his friend made. It was marvelous.

Hondo tilted the bottle slightly, surprised to see liquid moving inside. He lifted it up higher and pointed it towards one of the bar’s lights, delighted to see syrup inside.

He then unfolded the little piece of paper, a soft smile spreading on his face as he read the words: ‘Thanks for being such a wonderful friend, Hondo’, with a couple of flowers doodled right beside it.

The bottle was wonderful, it really was. It just… Wasn’t what Hondo expected.

Hondo brought his eyes up to see Don observing his own bottle. It was long, narrow, about the length of his face, and it had a yellow piece of paper tied to its lid. Instead of an engraved flower, Don’s bottle had a lovely rose painted on it. He held it close to his chest with a satisfied expression on his face.

Then Bear took out Tiger’s bottle and slid it over to him. It was just a bit shorter than Don’s with an orange paper tied around its neck. The base was much more rectangular, and at the top and bottom of its body had thin, wavy, horizontal grooves. But unlike Don and Hondo’s, his didn’t have any syrup in it.

“I know y’ain’t big on sweets, Tiger, so I just left it empty. Feel free to add whatever ya like in that thing!”

“Oh, it’s divine.” Tiger said as he used his magic to hover the bottle into the air and tilt it in every direction he could, taking it every little detail.

“Yes, they’re all wonderful, Bear. Thank you, dearly.” Hondo nodded.

“I don’t mean to brag, but I believe mine far surpasses ‘wonderful’. I’d argue mine is the best bottle any man could lay their eyes on.” Don said with pride, raising his bottle into the air.

Hondo rolled his eyes, but his smile never wavered. Bear and Tiger just chuckled.

And then Bear glanced at Octave.

They stared at each other for just a moment before Octave looked the other way.

Bear’s cheeks went pink, “Sorry, Octave, I was plannin’ on givin’ ya yer bottle th’next time we saw each other in–”

“Don’t care. It’s fine.” Octave waved him off, not even bothering to face Bear again.

“Yeah, but I don’t wantcha feelin’ left out or somethin’. I feel mighty bad–if I had known ya were comin’--”

“It’s just some stupid syrup ‘n a bottle. I’ll live.”

It was silent. Then Hondo spoke.

“Did you… Make these yourself?”

Bear beamed, “Yea! I hadda take some workshop classes–and man, I had no idea how much work goes into this stuff! Ya think boxin’ makes ya sweat? Well, just ya wait until ya step into a furnace room–”

As Bear rambled away, Overload just sat there, looking everywhere but at the other boxers. He didn’t know what he could add to the conversation, honestly. He really only came here because of Tiger, not for the other guys. Anytime he talked to Hondo? It’d end in an argument. And anytime he talked to Don? It’d end with a million insults being thrown. So trying to deal with both of them? No thanks.

Bear Hugger wasn’t too bad to talk to, but he was loud. That guy couldn’t control his volume even if his life depended on it.

But tonight Bear wasn’t so bad. Heck, this bar wasn’t as bad as he thought it’d be. It was much quieter than he expected, and it was a heck of a lot nicer than the bars he usually goes to with Aran.

There weren't that many people here, and the ones that were here weren’t all that annoying. No one scraping their utensils against their plates, no one licking their fingers–sure, there were a couple of loud talkers–but he couldn’t complain.

The look of this place wasn't half bad either.

There weren’t any tacky decorations. No stupid posters advertising no-named bands, no raunchy stickers slapped onto the wooden pillars, no bright, flashy fluorescent lights hanging around, no TVs placed in every corner of the bar–all with different channels that talked over each other–there were just the string lights and curtains.

Octave kinda wished more places had string lights, or at the very least, lights that weren’t bright enough to blind a man. He liked how gentle the glow of the lights were, he liked the orange hue they gave off, it sorta reminded him of the city during golden hour.

And the marigold curtains that separated their booth from the neighboring one? That’s perfect. Octave didn’t have to worry about peering behind him and accidentally see someone chewing with their mouths open or some other nasty crap. Not like there was anyone sitting at the booth next to them, but still. Why don’t more places have curtains like this?

Octave watched a waiter pass their table and go through a pair of double doors at the very end of the restaurant. Probably the kitchen.

Octave felt something nudge his shoulder. He looked over–surprised to see his warped reflection in Tiger’s bottle staring right back at him.

“Have you decided what you’re going to eat, Overload?” Tiger asked as he flew the bottle out of Overload’s face.

“Probably a burger or somethin’. What was that one thing ya recommended again?” Octave asked, but before Tiger could answer, he pointed to Tiger’s bottle, “Can I see that?”

Tiger thought to himself for a moment before flying it into Octave’s hand.

“Just be careful.” Tiger said as he flipped the menu back open, “And I had recommended their spicy teriyaki bowl. It’s not as greasy as their other meals here, the kick is quite nice, and it’s always–what are you doing?” Tiger tilted his head as he watched Overload peer through the bottle while holding it at an angle.

“Checkin’ out Don.” Octave said quietly, a smirk on his face, “If ya look at him through th’bottle, his nose gets bout fifty times longer.”

Octave saw the raised brow Tiger gave him.

“I’m serious, look for ya self!”

Tiger flew the bottle back over to him, keeping it at the exact angle Overload did, and looked at Don through the glass–

He suddenly let out a loud sputter and slapped his hand over his mouth. Don, Hondo, and Bear stopped talking and stared at him.

“Are you… Alright?” Hondo asked, occasionally shooting a glare at Overload, who kept that smug little smile on his face.

“Yes. Yes. I’m very fine. I’m fine. I promise. Yes.” Tiger said as he buried his face in his hands. He felt ridiculous for nearly falling into shambles over something so childish, but the image of Don’s face being 70% nose was ruining him.

As Tiger tried to piece himself together, Hondo, Bear, and Don returned to their conversation.

“Anyways, I–shoot. Shoot, what were we talkin’ bout? It’s on th’tip of my tongue.” Bear snapped his fingers.

“Your cuts.” Hondo stated.

“Right! Those.” Bear showed off the couple of bandaids still wrapped around his fingers, “Yeah, I got those when I dropped one of th’glass bottles I brought home.” Bear reached for a bread roll and sliced it open with a butterknife, “I started to freak out cause I didn’t want any of my critters runnin’ over ‘n tryna grab any broken glass, so I scrambled ‘n quickly picked ‘em up.” He then opened a little packet of spreadable butter, “Course, that led to a million li’l glass pieces stabbin’ me in th’hand.”

Hondo and Don cringed at the imagery.

“But I’m all good now! Hands are nearly healed.” Bear smiled as he spread the butter into his roll.

“Look at you, risking your wellbeing just for us.” Don said, gesturing towards Bear with his bottle, “I know if I had broken one of my handmade gifts for Carmen, I would’ve spent the rest of the week weeping away.”

“Oh, trust me. I definitely cried afterwards. Like, a lot.” Bear said before shoving half of the roll into his mouth.

“We appreciate your hard work and sacrifices, Bear. I couldn’t imagine the Major Circuit without your joy.” Tiger added, the other men nodded in agreement. Bear couldn’t help but blush.

“You know what else I would appreciate?” Don asked, tapping his foot impatiently, “A waiter coming over to take our order. There’s hardly anyone else here, the wait should not be this long.”

“It’s been, like, five minutes, Donny. A li’l bit of a wait ain’t gonna kill ya.” Octave muttered. He had his eyes locked on Don’s stupid foot. It peeked just past the edge of the table, letting Octave see the way it kept bouncing up and down. Over and over.

He grit his teeth and scooted closer to Tiger. Luckily, that was enough to get Don’s foot out of sight.

Bear swallowed and stared at Overload.

He then gently nudged Hondo.

Hondo looked over to see Bear wearing a ‘Please try and talk to Octave’ look on his face. Hondo frowned.

“So, Overload,” Hondo said, his words clearly forced, “That’s… A nice suit you’re wearing. Where did you get it?”

“Oh yeah?” Octave leaned back, “Thanks. Stole it from some guy in an alley.”

Hondo widened his eyes.

“I’m jokin’, Pisty. Jeez.”

Tiger perked up, “Actually, while we were walking over here, Overload told me about the store where he got this suit from. Oh, what was it called again?” He stroked his beard.

Octave’s eyes darted around to the other boxers, who were now all staring at him.

“Klasik’s.” He said. He could see Don tapping his fingers impatiently.

“Yes, that’s right!” Tiger smiled, “Apparently it sells a lot of fancy looking outfits for quite a fair price…”

Octave could still see Don tapping. His hands started to get sweaty.

“...They have old hats, robes, Overload even found a pair of old boxing gloves there once! And…”

He didn’t want to snap at Don. Not tonight. Not in front of Tiger. So Octave grabbed a part of his hair and used it to cover his eye, blocking Don from his view. He could still hear him, but at least he didn’t have to see him.

“...They also sell–was it furniture? Am I misremembering?” Tiger asked.

“No, yeah.” Octave’s voice came out stilted and stiff, “Yeah, they gotta couple of old phones ‘n radios. They got an old washin’ machine. Looks freaky. They don’t got it for sale, though. Just for show.”

“So it’s like a thrift store kinda?” Bear asked.

“Do you have anything else you can talk about that isn’t about a washing machine, Overload? Something actually interesting?” He heard Don sneer.

“Hey, I love me a good thrift store!” Bear smiled as he shoved the other half of his roll into his mouth, “Hondo ‘n I went to one a couple’a days ago. It’s where I got this li’l acorn pin.”

“Uh-huh.” Octave immediately clutched at his hair. That was disgusting. That was real disgusting. Bear just chewing like that–his mouth open, those wet sounds, it was so disgusting. Was no one else bothered by this?

Octave saw the judgmental look Hondo was giving him. He tried to act casual–he propped his arm up on the table while still gripping onto his hair, trying to ignore Bear’s nasty noises.

“We should go to that store together one day, Overload.” Tiger suggested.

“Yeah?” Octave swallowed. Was Don’s tapping getting louder? Or was he just losing his marbles? Was Don even tapping anymore? He didn’t want to look.

“Well, if they sell a suit as nice as that, I’m sure there’s plenty more interesting things they have in stock.”

Octave just nodded. He didn’t want to look at Bear either. He wanted to look anywhere else. But he was talking to Tiger. Tiger was staring right at him. He couldn’t just look away, then everyone will get all up in arms about how much of a jerk he is or whatever.

Tiger was still talking, but Octave wasn’t paying attention anymore. If he wasn’t focusing on Don’s obnoxious tapping, then he was fixated on Bear’s lip smacking.

No one else was commenting on the sounds they were making. Was he the only one noticing them? Was he hearing things?

Octave’s eyes kept darting from Tiger’s face to Bear’s. His heart was racing.

‘Just focus on th’conversation, ya dolt.’ He told himself. But he couldn’t.

What’s wrong with him? Was it that hard to ignore all these sounds?

Why can’t he just push through for this one night?

Why can’t he just block sounds out like everyone else?

‘Tiger’s lookin’ at ya funny.’

Octave put his focus back on Tiger. He still wasn’t listening to a word he was saying. But Tiger did look… Concerned? Weirded out?

Octave glanced over to Hondo, who was also giving him a strange look.

Octave’s grip on his hair got tighter. He started to pull on it. He was probably gonna rip a chunk off soon. He was probably gonna make himself bald like Don.

Octave forced himself to nod and mutter an ‘Uh-huh’ to whatever it was Tiger just said.

He wanted to talk to Tiger. He really did. Tonight he finally has the chance to talk to Tiger without being interrupted by Aran, without having to use his phone, and he didn’t want to let some stupid sounds ruin it for him.

He wasn’t going to let Hondo, Bear, or Don’s stupid, sour attitudes ruin it for him.

If they could just shut up, then he could actually focus on the conversation.

Tiger kept talking.

Don kept tapping.

Bear kept eating.

Hondo started to drag his fingers across the sleeves of his shirt, creating an awful, coarse sound. Like someone scraping their nails across sandpaper.

Octave dug his nails into his head.

He held his breath.

His heart kept racing.

A part of him wanted to storm out and leave.

But he wanted to stay here. For Tiger.

If Don just stopped tapping, that’d make things so much better.

If he just stopped tapping.

If he just–

Octave suddenly shot his arm out and grabbed Don’s hand, surprising everyone.

Octave whipped his head over and stared at his hand that was crushing Don’s.

He then looked up at Don, who had a look of repulsion on his face.

“Is there a problem, Overload?” Don hissed.

Octave quickly let go and wiped his hands on his pants, “No–look, you were just tappin’ ‘n–”

“Tapping?!” Don snapped, “Is that your excuse for putting your hands on me? Something so insignificant?”

“Oh, my bad, I didn’t know havin’ a reaction to somethin’ was a crime!” Octave shot back.

“Hey, c’mon guys–” Bear raised his hands, “Octave, ya don’t gotta go ‘n grab people, but Don if he don’t like the tappin–”

“No!” Don said, shooting a cold glare at Bear, “We cannot let this sort of behavior from him constantly slide! Don’t you see what Overload is doing?! He’s using such trivial reasons to insult us! To belittle us!” He lowered his voice, “I can tolerate this behavior in the ring, but outside of it? On our night together?”

“Hey it ain’t my fault most of ya schmucks can’t put in th’effort to pipe down for more than half a second!” Octave pointed at Don. Tiger opened his mouth to speak, but Don spoke up again.

“Oh, get over it. A professional boxer, yet you still throw a tantrum over a little bit of noise. How are you not embarrassed of yourself?”

“Big talk comin’ from th’guy who breaks into tears over his stupid hair flyin’ off!” Octave jabbed a finger into Don’s chest.

Hondo watched as the two men went back and forth, their voices getting louder and louder with each insult thrown.

He held his head in his hands and stared at the table, trying to block them out, praying that this bickering would end soon. But he could still see their reflections on the table’s surface. He could still hear their voices echo in his head.

Why? Why, why, why did Overload have to come here?

If he knew he hated noise–if he knew they were noisy–why did he come along?

Why is he so foul? Why couldn’t he at least pretend to be decent for just one night?

Hondo gripped at his headband as the men grew even louder.

There were so many things Hondo wished he could say to Overload. There were so many things to criticize, he didn’t even know where he’d start.

If Hondo wasn’t so patient, if he wasn’t so controlled, oh, how he’d love to get up and ask–

Don shot up from his seat and shouted, “Why did you even come here if you just wanted to ruin our night!?”

“BECAUSE–!” Octave shouted, but he shut up when he saw people staring.

He looked over to Tiger, who stared at him. Shocked and wide eyed.

Octave’s hands curled to fists as his face grew hot.

He cussed under his breath and stormed away from the booth.

“Overload–” Tiger tried to reach out to Octave, but Hondo put a hand on his shoulder. Tiger’s gem flashed before he looked over to his friend.

“It is alright, Tiger.” Hondo said as he let go, “We appreciate you trying to connect with Overload, but…”

“He isn’t worth the effort.” Don snarled as he sat back down.

Tiger stared at the other boxers. They all looked miserable in their own ways.

Bear seemed embarrassed, Hondo had a disapproving scowl on his face, and Don seemed absolutely fed up with everything that’s happened tonight. Tiger was more than certain that if he went after Overload, their moods would only worsen.

So here he stayed.

#punch out #punch out oc #punch out bear hugger #punch out piston hondo #punch out don flamenco #punch out great tiger #fic #art #HOPE U ALL ENJOY!!!#[thank u all for tha patience...]#punch out wii #punch out!!

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