C h a p t e r 4
D o w n W i t h L o v e

"Down with eyes romantic and stupid
Down with sighs and down with cupid
Down with songs that moan about night and day
Brother let's stuff that dove!
Away
Yes, take it away, away
Far away!"

Dash nodded slowly, confirming his last statement. He gave a swift look around the nearest seats and, making sure there was no one around, leaned closer to Bud so they would be only a couple of inches away from each other.

"My parents are retired from hero work, even though it's not illegal anymore. They keep saying all we need is family, blah blah blah." Dash rolled his eyes.

"But what do you think?" Bud interrupted.

"Me? Well, I think that's dumb. We should use our powers and do some good. But anyhow," Dash continued. "My sister and I were trying to join forces to work by ourselves. When mum and dad found out they banned us from using our powers at all."

Bud sighed. "They acted cruelly, didn't they? Banning is not the solution," He said. "Besides, doesn't this all seem a little hypocritical and selfish?"

"How?" Dash raised an eyebrow.

"They, just like all parents, sit every morning to have breakfast with an open newspaper reading out loud things they find outrageous. They complain about the world, how the politics suck and how things are getting worse every minute. But they— and I'm not talking about your parents alone—have the power to make things change; superhuman or not," Bud paused for a brief moment, and then added with a disappointed tone. "Yet, they'd rather keep their lousy jobs and monotonous lives than try to help. Some are more capable of doing anything, like your parents… but they don't."

Dash's mouth was slightly open, as if something had suddenly hit him— and it had. He closed his mouth and swallowed, his throat was already getting dry.

"I see your point, Bud. And I suppose you're right." Dash shuddered. "And since I probably can't change their mind, I better take matters in my own hands. Right?"

Bud nodded. "Exactly." a smile spread across his lips. "A part of me is right now begging to make me tell you that you're wrong and you should keep living like that for your own sake and happiness; because I know you're ought to get hurt in this filthy world we live and I don't want that. But I feel this is your destiny, so…"

Dash bit his lower lip, staring a Bud with and intrigued expression. He was so glad someone cared about him that much. Instead of keeping him from doing something, Bud was supporting him and his decision. That was absolutely amazing to him. Dash opened a broad smile, a little giggle coming out as he did so. He opened his arms and threw them around Bud's neck and pulled himself close to the older man.

"Thank you," Dash whispered.

- - - - - -

Gladly, Dash couldn't see Syndrome's face; he'd get extremely suspicious if he did. Syndrome's expression was of pure horror. He wanted to gain the boy's trust, sure, but he didn't want to feel the need of returning the feeling— and yet, that was exactly the case.

Syndrome didn't easily get attached to other people unless they proved to be worth it. That wasn't something easy to identify. Not only he had to analyze their behaviour but also the way they acted around him. Syndrome relied on his senses immensely. If he felt bad or uncomfortable around someone he'd right away give up any further interactions, thus the reason why he had so few friends.

However, Dash's much smaller arms around his neck felt like heaven, and the boy's tiny body pressed against Syndrome's broad chest was unlike anything he had experienced before. It was like something was exhaling from Dash's body, a good, calming feeling he had experienced only once before in his life: his mother's final, and only, hug.

Mrs. Pine was definitely not the best example of a mother; twelve years and a fatal car accident were the only things that made her realize how much she loved her son. The doctors gave her no more than half an hour to live, after a sharp piece of glass went straight through her right lung and out her chest. They could not remove it without triggering her death, but not doing so would have the same results, only slowly and much more painfully. She chose the second option for the sole purpose of seeing her son one last time. They called him into her room and she, in tears, wrapped her arms around the tiny boy's neck.

"This world sucks, Buddy." She whispered in his ear, sobbing. "Anything you do will always cause damage, no matter how good were your intentions. There is only one thing that'll never fail when true: love."

"Mum…" he cried, in a lack of anything else better to say.

"So go out there and love," She suddenly went serious and raised her tone: "Or I'll send my ghost from Hell with a bunch of little demons and we'll rip off your head!"

Syndrome loved two things in his life: his mother and sarcasm. And he also enjoyed putting the two together in the same sentence. But sometimes he had to admit the woman had done some good deeds, eventually, like teaching him how to shoot a gun… and how to identify the most troublesome of all emotions that is love.

Those thoughts put him in state of denial. If what was coming from Dash was indeed love, then he was in some serious trouble, even though he assured himself it was not reciprocate. He wanted Dash to trust him, not to create an emotional link.

Now I remember why I let others do the social parts of my schemes, Syndrome thought, mentally hammering his own head.

Dash let go of Syndrome's neck and fell back into his seat. He seemed reinvigorated; the look on his face wasn't the same as before. Dash was even moving back and forth his legs under the chair.

"Oh, well!" Syndrome clapped his hands on his thighs and straightened up to break the uncomfortable silence. "A nice compliment! Yes, nice, sure! Thank you!"

Dash was quietly slurping his soda and watching the movie as if he hadn't even listen to Syndrome accidentally letting his mask of constant composure fall.

Glad for being so lucky, Syndrome sighed, loosened up on his seat and remained silent for the rest of the movie.

- - - - - -

"I thought it was gonna be dumb, but whoa!" Dash exclaimed, closing his fists and pretending to punch an invisible foe. "That fight scene was so cool! The guy kept punching the other over and over and over and over even after he was dead!"

Bud eyed Dash with a hateful look on his face.

"No it was not cool!" he shot back. "All Bethenor wanted was to be better acknowledged by everything he had done, how is that such a bad thing! Heavens!"

"Well, yeah! But killing a bunch of people just to get to Anzigflor and then lose miserably to him because Bethenor accidentally underestimated his most fearsome enemy?" Dash rolled his eyes. "Sounds more dumb than proper to me!"

"That shows just how much you know about good and evil." Bud crossed his arms moodily and kept following Dash down the street.

"I think I have a pretty vast knowledge on evil master minds!" Dash protested. "I mean, I was kidnapped by one once… But then I kicked his ass and broke free!"

Bud stopped walking and his expression turned from moody annoyance to a weak little smile. "And what was his name?"

Dash scratched his chin. "Now that's a good question. Disease… Illness… Infection… Disorder…"

"Syndrome?" Bud asked, sounding annoyed.

Dash's eyes widened and he pointed at him excitedly. "Yes, that's it! Syndrome! With a dumb alias like that, how did he expect me to remember!"

"It's not dumb. It's quite clever!" Bud muttered, twisting his mouth to the side and squirting his eyebrows together.

"Yeah? And how do you know?" Dash put his hands on his waist.

"Well… it's… just a guess." Bud muttered again, placing his hands on his coat's pockets and quickening his pace so he would be walking in front of Dash this time.

The walk home was quiet and extremely tense. Bud kept his eyes down at all times and Dash was feeling too uncomfortable to even dare trying to start a new conversation.

When they finally got back into the house, Dash wiped some sweat of his forehead. He had been so worried about Bud's constant mood-swings that he ignored every other feeling, including the most important of all: Bud had not told him a single thing. They had spent over two hours together and all Dash did was babble about himself and then embarrass Bud with his sudden sentimental side.

Dash rushed after Bud, calling his name over and over. "Wait for me! Bud? What's wrong! That's not cool! Bud!"

Bud stopped walking all of a sudden and turned to Dash with a furious look on his face. He pointed a menacing finger at the boy.

"You know what your problem is?" he asked harshly.

"Bud, I-"

"No! Answer my question!" he insisted. "Do you know what your problem is?"

Dash shook his head slowly, unsure of what he had done of so bad.

"You're too damn…" Bud paused to smile. "Annoying!"

He poked Dash on his ribs a couple of times making him giggle.

"Stop, Bud!" Dash looked down shyly. "I've told you before how I hate to be tickled… and if you do that again I'll to have to kick you really hard and not apologize!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry…" Bud sighed and turned around for a second before jumping back in front of Dash and poking him over and over.

Dash didn't like to admit that to anyone, but his weakness was tickling. He lost full control of his body and mind every time. Thankfully, no sane villain would try tickling his opponent to death.

He had one defence system for emergencies, however. He didn't have much control over it, but it was nonetheless efficient. Unfortunately for Bud, that system was about to be activated.

The moment Bud touched exactly under Dash's armpits, the super-boy threw his arms and legs up, hitting Bud's jaw and genital area really hard.

Bud cried in pain and crouched into foetal position on the floor, cupping both his hands over his most sensitive spot.

Dash rushed over to him and grabbed his right shoulder.

"Bud! I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you?" Dash asked, nervously trying to pull Bud's hands from his pants to check it himself.

"I'm ok, don't worry!"

Dash sat back on the floor, feeling overly embarrassed. Not for kicking his friend, but for trying to see if everything was all right. Friends did not look at other friend's genitals, ever! He learned that lesson rather early when he went on a sleepover party and tried to change into his pyjamas in front of the other boys. Dash was laughed at by the others and then had to go through a long, tiring lecture from the boy's mother. He never told his own mum that, feeling too tired for more preaching.

Though he knew it was wrong for even thinking of looking at something prohibited like that, Dash couldn't see any harm on seeing Bud's. Had they grown so close as friends, or was there something else? Did he want to see it because he…

No! Dash mentally shouted.

He couldn't feel that way for Bud because it was not something natural! He was supposed to love a girl, marry her and have tons of babies, just like his parents.

Right?

- - - - - -

Syndrome wanted to curse, to kick that brat's head off and play football with it. He hated to be kicked, punched or involved in any kind of physical contact that could be considered violent. Not that he was peaceful person, he just hated to feel hurt.

"Are you hurt?" said Dash's faint voice.

"Yes," groaned Syndrome. "I'm hurt all right."

"I'll go get some ice!" he announced, all too quickly, and ran back into the kitchen in super speed, then returned with the blink of an eye. "I… forgot the fridge's not working."

Syndrome felt bothered with Dash's sudden wish to help him, especially in a matter such as that. The last thing he wanted was a little boy touching him with his tiny little boy hands.

"Don't worry about it," Syndrome explained, quickly getting up. "I just have to walk a little."

That was, if he could walk. Every time he closed his legs, even if only slightly, pain would overwhelm him.

Noticing Syndrome's difficulty to walk, Dash hurried and grabbed his arm, helping him stand up straight.

"Don't try too hard," Dash said, in an almost bossy tone. "I'll help you get into… bed."

Syndrome noticed right way the embarrassment stamped across Dash's face. Although he found it amusing how the boy was trying so hard to hep him, that was an unfortunate proof of what he had been denying since the cinema.

Dash had feelings for him.

That would only make the revelation of his true self a harder task, for it would hurt the boy deeply. And, for some reason, Syndrome was starting to despise that idea. He came to like Dash, to understand his frustrations of being a super.

For the first time in his life, Syndrome was glad he wasn't a real super. The burden would have been too much for young Buddy to handle, he knew it would.

Syndrome wanted to tell Dash that he shouldn't let those powers take over his life, that he didn't have to try and bring peace to the world—it was too much of an idealistic thought! There would never be such thing as peace.

"Which one is your room?" Dash asked, a streak of sweat sliding down his forehead.

Syndrome pointed to the room in front of them and Dash led him to the bed. Then, with a quiet last apologize, Dash left the house.

As much as he wished to, Syndrome couldn't say a word about those subjects, though. His mask would fall and his identity would be exposed.

Syndrome's plan would fail yet again.

But, for some reason, that didn't seem so bad anymore. If he could just keep Dash with him, then destroying the Parr's wouldn't be necessary. He could slowly change his identity and become Bud forever.

No! Syndrome mentally shouted.

He couldn't feel that way for Dash. It was not natural, in the first place. Then, he had to ensure his revenge and prove he was the strongest.

Right?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I'm so sorry for the long, boring hiatus, but I had some very serious matters to take care of in RL. Now that everything is finally settled down I can start writing again:)

Now, something that might interest you…

Interlude #1 is on my journal!

Why has it been cut out, you ask? Well, it's a lemon version of Dash helping Syndrome after the kick. It does not add anything to the story, it only feeds the pervy mind of the more grown up readers. If you're interested on reading it, go to my journal and check the very first entry of the page. Or, if you're reading this entry too long after 06/13/05, it's in the MEMORIES.

Thanks to all the wonderful reviews/reviewers! You make my days so much merrier every time!

THIS CHAPTER IS PROBABLY FULL OF MISTAKES HERE AND THERE, THAT'S BECAUSE I DON'T GIVE MY STORIES FOR ANYONE TO BETA-READ. I'M HUMAN AND I MAKE MISTAKES, SO BEAR WITH ME. THANKS:)