kiss me you animal!

“I’m not a child, not now.” Gar says through gritted teeth, wishes that he knew some way of making his body unclench, un-ready itself for the fight. The animal instinct doesn’t know if it’s backed into a corner yet. “But it will mean something, a whole city got wiped off the map in the process--what if it happens again? The Joker’s not the only deranged psycho in the world.” 

“That’s not what I mean,” He huffs and drags both of his hands through his hair. He’s the good natured one, the one always ready with a joke or a positive comment to pick up the morale, he doesn’t know what to do with frustration and anger. How could they have let this happen? They were heroes, and what good was that title if people still died? 

“I--I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.” Gar is no stranger to tragedy, but this feels so much bigger than his parents, or the Doom Patrol, or his damn skin being green, this is a hole just got ripped through all of them. He wrings his hands, shrugs his shoulders. 

His mood instantly brightens when Vic’s form leans over him, and he rolls his eyes with fondness. “This is why my millennial ass is always on that phone.” Gar squawks when the box is removed from where he definitely hasn’t been cradling it close to his chest. “You are my best friend in the world, don’t act like you don’t know that I didn’t stop to read the label. I still haven’t learned my lesson about choosing things with teeth over things with claws, I gotta get the taste of person out of my mouth.”

“Did you say something?” Gar pulls one of his earbuds out, pauses in his pursuits of shoving handfuls of dried cereal into his mouth. Milk is a fools errand, the product of an uncreative mind who doesn’t like their sugar products a little on the dry side. Or someone less lazy than he is right now. 

“It means you shouldn’t insult the person who so generously offered you food.” He rolls his eyes again and shakes his head. “And you’re from Gotham dude, I wouldn't go throwing around carrying diseases as a joke.” 

“I mean, not wrong, but he’s not like--aesthetically displeasing. Plus, I will always beg that I was raised in the literal jungle by a team of the people nobody wanted--I had minimal experience to work with.” He shrugs his shoulders and laughs brightly, feels his cheeks warm. 

Gar rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to his cooking. If he doesn’t talk no one in this room is going to, and that is possibly the most unbearable thing he can think of. He grew up in the damn jungle, the only thing he knows is constant noise. “You ever hear the one about biting the hand that feeds you?” He says, raises an eyebrow. 

“I’ll tell you a secret, but you have to promise not to tell.” He says and leans in, puts a hand over his heart solemnly. “When I first joined the Titans I had a huge crush on Nightwing. He once asked me to train with him and he beat me every time because I couldn't think of any animals except farm animals.” He kind of still does have a crush on Nightwing, but he thinks that just might be a part of development as a human being--a universal attraction to Nightwing. 

“I mean, yeah, that’s kind of like the ultimate validation in our line of work.” He chuckles and feels his cheeks heat up. Other heroes his age--they have mentors, people who check up on them and guide them into being better versions of themselves. Gar’s only ever had himself, learned because he had to survive in the jungle or the Doom Patrol. Being league would mean that he didn’t need all that other stuff. “I mostly want to turn into an actual bat behind him when he speaks, swoop down from the rafters when he walks by, but the whole doing good on a universal scale thing is pretty dope too. Plus if I’m there I’ll just back you up all the time--be like we could listen to batman, but cyborg is more handsome and smart than he is?” 

He’s kind of genuinely surprised until he remembers that Booster’s kid is technically an alien, so it kind of makes sense that she isn’t freaked out by him. He bounces around and rolls in the grass, wags his tail as happily as he can, barks excitedly and puts his front paws on the table like he’s trying to get a better look at the painting before transforming back into himself.