(no subject)
cushion me from this fall
[A gundam00 gen fanfiction][PG-13][squint in different directions to see Lockon/Tieria or Allelujah/Tieria, or even Lockon/Allelujah/Tieria]
Disclaimer: Gundam 00 is copyright Sunrise and Kouga Yun.
Summary: Lockon brings a drunk Allelujah back to his room and runs into Tieria. Set just after the events of episode 11.
Author's Notes: The first posted fic of the new year! *cooks red bean rice* Also my first Gundam00 fic. As such - I hope you enjoy this! Con crit is always very deeply appreciated.
cushion me from this fall
17th February 2008
*
Lockon turns the corner and bumps into Allelujah.
More appropriately, the younger pilot crashes into him, and Lockon has to let go of the travel handle to catch hold of him. Momentum sends them both backwards till Lockon’s back hits the wall, Allelujah mumbling something incoherent in his arms. Lockon can smell the tinges of brandy on his breath, feel the warmth of the alcohol emanating from his body.
It’s a surprise for Lockon. There are only two people on Ptolemaios who drink and Lockon doesn’t drink brandy. (He will drink Irish whiskey till the day he dies. In his more morbid - or drunk - moments, he figures that might not be too far away.) Allelujah must’ve approached her - Sumeragi doesn’t strike him as the sort who goes around dispensing booze for no reason. And Allelujah’s recourse to alcohol is unexpected.
‘Allelujah,’ Lockon says, giving the other Meister a slight shake. ‘You alright?’
‘Hmm...? M’ fine,’ Allelujah slurs, looking at Lockon, who sighs and steers them back to the travel handle. Back to their rooms and then he can get a little water into Allelujah and get him into bed. Heaven knows the number of times he did that for his brother and his comrades back home -
Lockon slams down on that train of thought and concentrates on Allelujah instead. The problem is, travel handles were never made for two, so Lockon struggles a little, finally closing Allelujah’s fingers around the grip and clamping his own hand over his, encircling Allelujah’s torso with his other arm to keep him upright. Inelegant, but it’ll have to do.
From here, he’s so close he can smell the scent of Allelujah’s hair, the scent of shampoo and the shower, entwined with the warmth of Allelujah himself, letting Lockon hold him up. Body contact is not common on Ptolemaios. He wonders if Allelujah would let himself be held like this, if he were sober. He wonders if he would hold Allelujah, if that were the case.
Probably. Lockon suffers, occasionally, from the sheer need to be touched, to be leaned against, to hold someone. For human contact, to remind himself. That’s usually when the whiskey makes an appearance, because there is no one to touch on this ship.
He shakes off that thought as well.
What’s so significant about the HRL colony mission? Allelujah suggested it so the other pilot definitely has links to the place, but he knows nothing more than that, nothing to explain Allelujah’s reaction, and nothing to explain Allelujah’s resorting to drink.
Then again, in Celestial Being very few people know anything about anyone else.
Once out of the main passageways the half-gravity kicks in and Lockon can half-walk, half-drag Allelujah down the corridor that all four of them share. He stops outside Allelujah’s door and asks, ‘Allelujah? We’re at your room. What’s your access code?’
No reply. Lockon rolls his eyes but tries again. ‘Allelujah-’
‘You aren’t going to get him to tell you. He is clearly intoxicated.’
‘Tieria?’ The purple-haired pilot is standing in the doorway of his own room, looking askance at the two of them with a book cradled in his arms. For once, the dreadful (Lockon would never dare say it to Tieria’s face, but still) pink cardigan is nowhere in sight. Dressed in loose white flannel pajamas, Tieria looks somehow softer, more mellow - though his ever-sanctimonious expression reassures Lockon that that is not the case.
‘I know his code,’ Tieria says, coming over and brusquely brushing aside Lockon and his armful of drunk Gundam pilot.
Lockon stiffens slightly, though Allelujah remains happily oblivious. ‘What is the point,’ Lockon says, keeping his voice carefully neutral, ‘Of giving us access codes to ensure privacy if the information is readily available-’ to you, he doesn’t say, ‘- in Veda?’
The door slides open and Tieria turns to glare properly at Lockon. ‘The information is indeed stored in Veda but I assure you that I have not looked at it. Allelujah once told me something. I guessed from there.’
‘Oh,’ Lockon answers a little sheepishly. ‘My bad, then.’
‘Yes,’ Tieria sniffs. ‘Your bad.’
Lockon stifles a laugh as he guides Allelujah into the room and lets the Meister fall onto the bed. ‘Get a glass of water, Tieria.’
‘To pour on his head,’ is Tieria’s only comment.
Lockon grins and focuses on getting Allelujah’s boots off. The younger man is probably a little more awake by now, because he wriggles his foot around a little in an attempt to help, and manages to mutter a ‘sorry’ when he kicks Lockon in the solar plexus. Lockon glares balefully at him and gives the offending foot a prod in the instep, and Allelujah makes a squeaky noise and inches away.
Lockon’s grin evolves into a smirk and he’s about to do it again when Tieria clears his throat very loudly and Lockon starts guiltily. The look that Tieria gives him is so dry it should have evaporated the glass of water in his hand.
Lockon feigns nonchalance and takes the glass from Tieria with a quick ‘Thanks.’ He props Allelujah upright, half-leaning against his own body, and presses the glass to his lips. ‘C’mon,’ he coaxes, arm around Allelujah’s shoulders. ‘Just a little. You’re not that drunk, but you’ll still have a helluva headache in the morning.’
Allelujah blinks a couple of times and his bleary grey eyes finally focus on Lockon. ‘Lockon?’
‘That’s right,’ Lockon encourages. ‘It’s water. Just get a bit of it down, Allelujah.’
‘Mmkay,’ Allelujah opens his mouth and Lockon tilts the glass, letting the water trickle in. Allelujah swallows obediently and Lockon continues till the glass is empty and Allelujah is drowsing against his shoulder, nestled against Lockon’s neck and breathing lightly, a light susurrus of air tickling Lockon’s skin.
‘He’s not fit to be a Meister,’ Tieria says derisively.
‘Last time I checked, Tieria, ability to hold drink isn’t part of a Meister’s duties,’ Lockon replies calmly.
‘Alcoholism is not a characteristic worthy of a Gundam Meister.’
‘One drink hardly makes him an alcoholic,’ Lockon points out. ‘Loosen up, Tieria. He’s had a hard time. Can’t you understand that?’
‘It is part of our duty to face what we have done without running away,’ Tieria replies coldly.
‘It’s human to feel depressed,’ Lockon fires back. ‘Human to need to forget.’
‘I do not forget,’ Tieria says. ‘Veda does not forget.’
‘Hallelujah,’ Allelujah suddenly murmurs, brow creasing into a frown. ‘Hallelujah, no!’
‘Hallelujah,’ Tieria repeats, frown deepening. ‘Him again.’
‘Who?’ Lockon asks, raising one confused eyebrow. ‘You know what Allelujah’s talking about?’
‘Hallelujah, stop it!’ Allelujah’s panicked cry rises in volume and he begins to struggle in Lockon’s arms.
‘Whoa, whoa, Allelujah! Calm down!’ Lockon yelps as Allelujah flails a fist into his shoulder.
Tieria steps forward and deftly grips Allelujah’s wrists, holding him still. ‘Allelujah Haptism!’ he commands, and Lockon has to give it to Tieria, whose voice is low and firm, calm and almost mesmeric, because Allelujah stops struggling and slowly fights his way back to consciousness, his eyes coming to rest on the other Meister, leaning over him. ‘Tieria?’
‘Go to sleep, Allelujah,’ Tieria orders.
Allelujah looks at Tieria for a moment more and Lockon’s eyes narrow a little at the tableau and the look in Allelujah’s gaze, and as Allelujah sinks back into unknowing rest, he turns to Tieria with the question clear in his eyes.
‘You should ask him yourself,’ Tieria says, glancing at Allelujah. ‘It is not my place to tell you. And,’ Tieria says, cocking his head thoughtfully at Lockon, ‘You may be more able to tell him what he needs to hear. I... you understand human comfort better than I do.’
Lockon raises the other eyebrow. ‘You seemed to be doing just fine a moment ago.’
Tieria stiffens. ‘That... that is not comfort. Veda has shown me-’
Lockon laughs at that, not unkindly. ‘Veda is a machine,’ he points out. ‘You and Allelujah are flesh and blood. Circumstances vary from the plan, Tieria, and slight deviations are not failures. It’s normal. And trust me, that was comfort, even if your methods of expression are a little strange. Just thought you needed to know that,’ he adds. Completely unnecessary, but it’s nice to rile Tieria.
Tieria doesn’t say anything, just stares at Lockon, then at Allelujah, then back at Lockon again.
‘When did you and Allelujah get so close, anyway?’ Lockon asks, not a little ruefully. He’d always thought he was the approachable one, but then again, maybe not.
‘After... after Nadleeh,’ Tieria replies, and in that one moment Tieria loses his certainty and his poise, and the expression in his eyes is breathtakingly vulnerable. Somehow, in that one moment Tieria looks unbearably young, an innocent like those Lockon has seen wandering the streets in fear and in hope of finding their loved ones’ or the corpses of their loved ones. That haunted expression, and the longing with the dread.
Ah.
‘Tieria,’ Lockon says, getting up. ‘We’re not God. No one is. And you may not want to hear this, but neither is Veda. Failure is inevitable. Don’t beat yourself up - there are plenty of people who are perfectly willing to do it for us,’ he points out sardonically. ‘And don’t be too hard on Allelujah. Heaven knows why - but he actually likes you.’
Tieria says nothing.
Lockon tugs the sheets over Allelujah’s slumbering form. ‘Goodnight, Allelujah,’ he whispers. ‘Goodnight, Tieria. Think about it.’
Tieria walks to his own room, silent. The background hum of Ptolemaios is a soft purr against the sleep-silence of the humans on board the ship - but still, it’s not quite loud enough to mask Tieria’s near-inaudible ‘Goodnight, Lockon.’
Lockon smiles to himself.
[A gundam00 gen fanfiction][PG-13][squint in different directions to see Lockon/Tieria or Allelujah/Tieria, or even Lockon/Allelujah/Tieria]
Disclaimer: Gundam 00 is copyright Sunrise and Kouga Yun.
Summary: Lockon brings a drunk Allelujah back to his room and runs into Tieria. Set just after the events of episode 11.
Author's Notes: The first posted fic of the new year! *cooks red bean rice* Also my first Gundam00 fic. As such - I hope you enjoy this! Con crit is always very deeply appreciated.
cushion me from this fall
17th February 2008
*
Lockon turns the corner and bumps into Allelujah.
More appropriately, the younger pilot crashes into him, and Lockon has to let go of the travel handle to catch hold of him. Momentum sends them both backwards till Lockon’s back hits the wall, Allelujah mumbling something incoherent in his arms. Lockon can smell the tinges of brandy on his breath, feel the warmth of the alcohol emanating from his body.
It’s a surprise for Lockon. There are only two people on Ptolemaios who drink and Lockon doesn’t drink brandy. (He will drink Irish whiskey till the day he dies. In his more morbid - or drunk - moments, he figures that might not be too far away.) Allelujah must’ve approached her - Sumeragi doesn’t strike him as the sort who goes around dispensing booze for no reason. And Allelujah’s recourse to alcohol is unexpected.
‘Allelujah,’ Lockon says, giving the other Meister a slight shake. ‘You alright?’
‘Hmm...? M’ fine,’ Allelujah slurs, looking at Lockon, who sighs and steers them back to the travel handle. Back to their rooms and then he can get a little water into Allelujah and get him into bed. Heaven knows the number of times he did that for his brother and his comrades back home -
Lockon slams down on that train of thought and concentrates on Allelujah instead. The problem is, travel handles were never made for two, so Lockon struggles a little, finally closing Allelujah’s fingers around the grip and clamping his own hand over his, encircling Allelujah’s torso with his other arm to keep him upright. Inelegant, but it’ll have to do.
From here, he’s so close he can smell the scent of Allelujah’s hair, the scent of shampoo and the shower, entwined with the warmth of Allelujah himself, letting Lockon hold him up. Body contact is not common on Ptolemaios. He wonders if Allelujah would let himself be held like this, if he were sober. He wonders if he would hold Allelujah, if that were the case.
Probably. Lockon suffers, occasionally, from the sheer need to be touched, to be leaned against, to hold someone. For human contact, to remind himself. That’s usually when the whiskey makes an appearance, because there is no one to touch on this ship.
He shakes off that thought as well.
What’s so significant about the HRL colony mission? Allelujah suggested it so the other pilot definitely has links to the place, but he knows nothing more than that, nothing to explain Allelujah’s reaction, and nothing to explain Allelujah’s resorting to drink.
Then again, in Celestial Being very few people know anything about anyone else.
Once out of the main passageways the half-gravity kicks in and Lockon can half-walk, half-drag Allelujah down the corridor that all four of them share. He stops outside Allelujah’s door and asks, ‘Allelujah? We’re at your room. What’s your access code?’
No reply. Lockon rolls his eyes but tries again. ‘Allelujah-’
‘You aren’t going to get him to tell you. He is clearly intoxicated.’
‘Tieria?’ The purple-haired pilot is standing in the doorway of his own room, looking askance at the two of them with a book cradled in his arms. For once, the dreadful (Lockon would never dare say it to Tieria’s face, but still) pink cardigan is nowhere in sight. Dressed in loose white flannel pajamas, Tieria looks somehow softer, more mellow - though his ever-sanctimonious expression reassures Lockon that that is not the case.
‘I know his code,’ Tieria says, coming over and brusquely brushing aside Lockon and his armful of drunk Gundam pilot.
Lockon stiffens slightly, though Allelujah remains happily oblivious. ‘What is the point,’ Lockon says, keeping his voice carefully neutral, ‘Of giving us access codes to ensure privacy if the information is readily available-’ to you, he doesn’t say, ‘- in Veda?’
The door slides open and Tieria turns to glare properly at Lockon. ‘The information is indeed stored in Veda but I assure you that I have not looked at it. Allelujah once told me something. I guessed from there.’
‘Oh,’ Lockon answers a little sheepishly. ‘My bad, then.’
‘Yes,’ Tieria sniffs. ‘Your bad.’
Lockon stifles a laugh as he guides Allelujah into the room and lets the Meister fall onto the bed. ‘Get a glass of water, Tieria.’
‘To pour on his head,’ is Tieria’s only comment.
Lockon grins and focuses on getting Allelujah’s boots off. The younger man is probably a little more awake by now, because he wriggles his foot around a little in an attempt to help, and manages to mutter a ‘sorry’ when he kicks Lockon in the solar plexus. Lockon glares balefully at him and gives the offending foot a prod in the instep, and Allelujah makes a squeaky noise and inches away.
Lockon’s grin evolves into a smirk and he’s about to do it again when Tieria clears his throat very loudly and Lockon starts guiltily. The look that Tieria gives him is so dry it should have evaporated the glass of water in his hand.
Lockon feigns nonchalance and takes the glass from Tieria with a quick ‘Thanks.’ He props Allelujah upright, half-leaning against his own body, and presses the glass to his lips. ‘C’mon,’ he coaxes, arm around Allelujah’s shoulders. ‘Just a little. You’re not that drunk, but you’ll still have a helluva headache in the morning.’
Allelujah blinks a couple of times and his bleary grey eyes finally focus on Lockon. ‘Lockon?’
‘That’s right,’ Lockon encourages. ‘It’s water. Just get a bit of it down, Allelujah.’
‘Mmkay,’ Allelujah opens his mouth and Lockon tilts the glass, letting the water trickle in. Allelujah swallows obediently and Lockon continues till the glass is empty and Allelujah is drowsing against his shoulder, nestled against Lockon’s neck and breathing lightly, a light susurrus of air tickling Lockon’s skin.
‘He’s not fit to be a Meister,’ Tieria says derisively.
‘Last time I checked, Tieria, ability to hold drink isn’t part of a Meister’s duties,’ Lockon replies calmly.
‘Alcoholism is not a characteristic worthy of a Gundam Meister.’
‘One drink hardly makes him an alcoholic,’ Lockon points out. ‘Loosen up, Tieria. He’s had a hard time. Can’t you understand that?’
‘It is part of our duty to face what we have done without running away,’ Tieria replies coldly.
‘It’s human to feel depressed,’ Lockon fires back. ‘Human to need to forget.’
‘I do not forget,’ Tieria says. ‘Veda does not forget.’
‘Hallelujah,’ Allelujah suddenly murmurs, brow creasing into a frown. ‘Hallelujah, no!’
‘Hallelujah,’ Tieria repeats, frown deepening. ‘Him again.’
‘Who?’ Lockon asks, raising one confused eyebrow. ‘You know what Allelujah’s talking about?’
‘Hallelujah, stop it!’ Allelujah’s panicked cry rises in volume and he begins to struggle in Lockon’s arms.
‘Whoa, whoa, Allelujah! Calm down!’ Lockon yelps as Allelujah flails a fist into his shoulder.
Tieria steps forward and deftly grips Allelujah’s wrists, holding him still. ‘Allelujah Haptism!’ he commands, and Lockon has to give it to Tieria, whose voice is low and firm, calm and almost mesmeric, because Allelujah stops struggling and slowly fights his way back to consciousness, his eyes coming to rest on the other Meister, leaning over him. ‘Tieria?’
‘Go to sleep, Allelujah,’ Tieria orders.
Allelujah looks at Tieria for a moment more and Lockon’s eyes narrow a little at the tableau and the look in Allelujah’s gaze, and as Allelujah sinks back into unknowing rest, he turns to Tieria with the question clear in his eyes.
‘You should ask him yourself,’ Tieria says, glancing at Allelujah. ‘It is not my place to tell you. And,’ Tieria says, cocking his head thoughtfully at Lockon, ‘You may be more able to tell him what he needs to hear. I... you understand human comfort better than I do.’
Lockon raises the other eyebrow. ‘You seemed to be doing just fine a moment ago.’
Tieria stiffens. ‘That... that is not comfort. Veda has shown me-’
Lockon laughs at that, not unkindly. ‘Veda is a machine,’ he points out. ‘You and Allelujah are flesh and blood. Circumstances vary from the plan, Tieria, and slight deviations are not failures. It’s normal. And trust me, that was comfort, even if your methods of expression are a little strange. Just thought you needed to know that,’ he adds. Completely unnecessary, but it’s nice to rile Tieria.
Tieria doesn’t say anything, just stares at Lockon, then at Allelujah, then back at Lockon again.
‘When did you and Allelujah get so close, anyway?’ Lockon asks, not a little ruefully. He’d always thought he was the approachable one, but then again, maybe not.
‘After... after Nadleeh,’ Tieria replies, and in that one moment Tieria loses his certainty and his poise, and the expression in his eyes is breathtakingly vulnerable. Somehow, in that one moment Tieria looks unbearably young, an innocent like those Lockon has seen wandering the streets in fear and in hope of finding their loved ones’ or the corpses of their loved ones. That haunted expression, and the longing with the dread.
Ah.
‘Tieria,’ Lockon says, getting up. ‘We’re not God. No one is. And you may not want to hear this, but neither is Veda. Failure is inevitable. Don’t beat yourself up - there are plenty of people who are perfectly willing to do it for us,’ he points out sardonically. ‘And don’t be too hard on Allelujah. Heaven knows why - but he actually likes you.’
Tieria says nothing.
Lockon tugs the sheets over Allelujah’s slumbering form. ‘Goodnight, Allelujah,’ he whispers. ‘Goodnight, Tieria. Think about it.’
Tieria walks to his own room, silent. The background hum of Ptolemaios is a soft purr against the sleep-silence of the humans on board the ship - but still, it’s not quite loud enough to mask Tieria’s near-inaudible ‘Goodnight, Lockon.’
Lockon smiles to himself.