Touch
Dugout-focused CapOut drabble, 860 words.
Dugout wasn't popular when he was young.
He went to high school in a small town. He had his handful of friends who he would sit with, share sillybandz with and trade Pokemon cards with. Friends who he weathered middle school dances with, who made eye contact with him when group projects raptured the classroom four kids at a time, who carefully misspelled his name in his yearbook in the spring.
But by the turn of the fourth spring, he and those friends of his were at a mutual understanding. This is where they find a fork in their road: where they part, but without the sweetness of sorrow, and, instead, the weight of the facade of an empty "goodbye".
And Dugout was alone... Without a lasting friendship, and without ever having felt the warmth of another hand in his.
...
Nearly five years later, he finds himself in New York. He finds himself woven into an everyday rhythm, one that harmonizes with the city.
By day, he runds errands for Mrs. Quail. He walks through the streets, hands tucked in the pockets of his long, brown coat, arms looped through the loops of bulky, plastic, grocery bags, which's wrinkled edges sway and sing in the mild breeze of the city streets.
It's not unusual for someone to bump him, nudge him, even trip him, their larger bodies always enough to make him stumble, whether they mean it or not- he's stopped wondering. He'll huff, regain his footing, and continue on his way, not bothering to shout at anyone if he still stands upright, if his groceries are still intact, still wrapped in the plastic safety of the grocery bags, the butter still in one piece, bread un-crunched...
By night, he transforms. He dons his necklace of miracles, and finds himself on the rooftops of New York City, donned in white baseball gear, a baseball cap on his head, adorned with floppy ears, face concealed under a dark mask to protect his anonymity.
And at night, he isn't alone. Bobunny assigns patrol partners, and more often than not, he finds himself at Capricorn's side. It's just how their schedules line up, strings of fate tangling with coincidence, it's just how their cookie crumbles.
Dugout finds more and more that he spends most his time in the graces and warmth of Capricorn's company. Under the ray of their blazing smile, beside the wonder of their paintbrush, and the kindness of their gaze. And in the everything, everything, that is Capricorn, he finds comfort, safety, a home.
And he realizes, by day, that he wishes they were there at his side. There to make a quiet quip about the absolute Karen at the CVS counter, there to buy a donut for, to walk beside, to join he and Mariquita- all as citizens, like the friends he sees sitting in the coffee shop, giggling at the absolute Karen at the counter.
...
It's an accident, the first time he does it. Central park is under the terror and attack of a giraffe-themed akuma. And as a rock flies, soars, shoots, whizzes, over the deep emerald fuzz of the park's grasss, he realizes it's heading right for himself and Capricorn.
Without thinking- acting fully on heroic instinct and fear- fear of losing them. Dugout leaps, practically tackles Capricorn into the soft grass. The chunk of Earth lands, kicking up dirt and dust.
And just behind it, Dugout lays atop Capricorn, body hovering over theirs.
They both gasp, pant, realize that they're still bound to their mortal coils, both still in our realm, intact, and breathing.
Dugout blinks, eyes locked with Capricorn's. His heart leaps in his throat, chest seizing with an anxiety separate from the adrenaline rush of the battle.
His hand is on their cheek. Tenderly, delicately, brushing aside a stray strand of their blue locks.
The moment then fades into the chaos of the battle, lost to the stress and raging adrenaline.
...
Some number of times later, it's no longer a mistake.
Capricorn and Dugout stop by a bakery in the early morning hours. And as they sit atop the small building's roof, they chatter. About things that don't dare approach the risk of revealing their identities to one another: topics that maintain the safety of anonymity. New shows, movies, music.
Capricorn giggles around a bite of donut. And mumbles something through the crumbs. Dugout leans closer to hear her. Only, it makes her stutter, and Dugout feels the warmth of unfettered affection flaring in his chest, as he realizes that he's intentionally teasing her. He chuckles with her as she stumbles. And then, they both find themselves laughing. Dugout leans away, just to see her laugh.
And when they're done, and both flushed from their laughter and joy, Capricorn is left with her wild hair flittering in the breeze.
Dugout reaches, delicately, and tucks Capricorn's hair back into place. Neither of them say anything of it, instead just enjoying the sweetness of donut frosting on their lips, the quiet of the night, the chill of the night air, and the warmth of one another- close enough to touch.. but neither yet reaching out.
