I think of you when you're sleeping
WHO: Keith Anyan (motherloaded) and Jonah Matsuka (coffeematsuka)
WHERE: Keith's room in the MAC.
WHEN: Shortly after this post.
WARNINGS: Mild violence. Death threats.
SUMMARY: Keith calls on Matsuka for more than just coffee.
FORMAT: Prose.
Matsuka takes more time than is strictly necessary over the coffee - taking extra pains, and also anxiously watching the network responses and exchanging text messages back and forth with Bakura, thoughts spiraling in worry and doubt.
Eventually the coffee's done, and despite any misgivings, Matsuka leaves his own little apartment to stand at Keith's door, a steaming mug in one hand, knocking politely with the other. "Keith? It's Matsuka."
* * *
Keith hasn't moved from his desk. There he sits, hands folded in front of him, moving only when it's necessary to activate the speaker on his communicator. As Matsuka calls, he stops doing even that. For a moment, he just sits there, staring at the wall, letting Matsuka wait. Then he gets up and makes his way to the door, letting himself feel a flash of irritation that he needs to get up, that he can't open the door from a distance. It's a pointless thing to feel, and he knows it--but he needs somewhere to vent the helpless frustration he can't quite turn on the 'Porter for what it did to him.
He pulls the door open. "Come in." Perhaps that's why he called Matsuka, too, he thinks; to have someone to vent at. He knows that's not the whole truth, but it's easier to think it is.
* * *
Matsuka waits, patiently, until the door is opened and the way is clear for him to step through. He keeps his head meekly inclined as he does, but watches Keith anxiously; he couldn't help but feel the waves of agitation that have radiated off him since he received the 'Porter's "reply," as much as Keith has tries to keep his thoughts and feelings locked down.
"I brought your coffee," he says, quietly, offering up the mug.
* * *
That anxious gaze does nothing to make Keith feel better. It only makes him more frustrated with himself. Matsuka is worried about him. It's not supposed to work that way; Matsuka is supposed to fear and obey him, not worry about his well-being. He's not supposed to be vulnerable enough to trigger feelings like that. So as usual, it's without a word of thanks that he reaches for the coffee. It's also without recalling that he's not wearing gloves, and that unless he concentrates, the extra shields the 'Porter granted him don't shield his surface thoughts.
His fingers brush Matsuka's. Right now, his surface thoughts are strong.
(Bewildered hurt, like a puppy that got hit for bringing his master the newspaper. Frustration. Among that, a thread of coherent thought: he knows he called Matsuka more for the moment of shared company than for the coffee, and he holds nothing but contempt for himself for it. He's not supposed to need people. Especially not Matsuka.)
* * *
Matsuka's breath hitches a little at that glancing contact, for all that he tries to catch himself; involuntarily he pulls back his hand to hold curled against his chest. Sympathy for that hurt and that need for company far overrides the sting of knowing how Keith thinks of him.
He bites his lip, standing still and trying very hard not to draw attention to the momentary lapse of Keith's psychic defenses... for all that it's probably a lost cause.
* * *
The moment Matsuka catches his breath, the gates slam down. Keith remembers: he can't come to rely on his shields so much here. He has to use training and willpower as well. It was a regrettable mistake to forget.
The only clue to that mistake in his expression is the sudden distinct lack of animation to his face. He strides the few steps back to his desk and sets the mug down (just slightly harder than he needs to, so that the coffee inside it swirls just a little--he wouldn't do anything as wasteful and blatant as slam it down, of course). Then he turns back to Matsuka.
He covers the distance back to him lightning-fast, and then he's resting one hand on Matsuka's shoulder. For a split-second, it's almost a kind gesture. That's until he shoves hard, pushing Matsuka up against the wall. He leans in close. "You should know," he murmurs. "There isn't any good time to try to take advantage of me."
* * *
The worst part is that Matsuka had the brief chance to retreat - could have maybe ducked out with a murmured apology and retreated to the flimsy sanctuary of his own apartment, and left Keith to his black mood. But it never really even occurred to him to leave Keith alone, and even if it had, knowing what he knows, he couldn't bear to.
So he's trapped, pinned against the wall, flinching back a little as Keith leans in.
"I wasn't." His voice wavers a little as he looks up at Keith, but stays quiet, in an odd way almost calm.
* * *
Good. Good. Keith wants Matsuka not retreating. That's the way it's supposed to be--Matsuka fears him, but not quite enough to back down entirely all the time. He wouldn't keep him around if that weren't the case--
--and right now, he doesn't want to be alone at all. But that's not something he'll admit to, not ever. Instead, he just lets go of Matsuka, steps back, and looks down at him with contempt. "That's right. You're too much of a coward to try. Just like the rest of them. You know I'll destroy you someday, but you hope for change instead of striking back."
* * *
Matsuka straightens himself up from the wall when Keith steps back, meeting that contemptuous look with clear, steady eyes, for all that his shoulders quiver. He can't just let that stand, can't quite keep himself from pushing back a little bit: "Is that what you want?"
* * *
Nobody is supposed to know that. Even Keith barely allows himself to know that. He stops, not quite taken aback. Of course Matsuka would know. He's the one who warped him away from Soldier Blue and out of the Megiddo's way; he's the one who was there to watch Station E-1077 fall into the atmosphere. But that doesn't mean he can let Matsuka's acknowledgment of it stand, because it isn't meant to be acknowledged.
"If it was what I wanted, I'd have picked someone more capable than you to do it." His voice is flat and cold, to disguise the faintest gleam of hunger in his eyes. He doesn't *really* think Matsuka is incapable. "I could kill you right here and you wouldn't even defend yourself."
He lifts a hand, looks thoughtfully at Matsuka's throat.
* * *
Matsuka's eyes drop briefly to Keith's raised hand, and he swallows, his head inclining slightly and his gaze dropping farther to the floor. This, he can't argue; he's already accepted that Keith will be the death of him someday, knows even better than Keith how right Keith is.
"You'd have to make your own coffee," he says in a soft voice.
* * *
Keith could push more. He could see just how much Matsuka would take. Before, back in their world, he had no doubt: push hard enough in the right ways, and Matsuka would kill him. That was how he was programmed. That was how his script played out. Just as Mother Eliza had made Keith to be the pinnacle of the SD system, Keith had made Matsuka to be his weapon and his end. But here, there's the slightest trace of something approaching doubt--not quite the emotion itself, as that's not yet something Keith is capable of. But just the barest trace of the word maybe. If he follows that thought to its logical conclusion--
He doesn't. He lets it go. Instead, he pushes the self-destructive urges away, reminds himself that this is foolishness, he needs to live long enough to eradicate the Mu and protect Superior Domination and humanity. No, it's not that Matsuka might not accomplish what Keith wants him to. It's simply that Keith isn't allowed to want that yet. "...You're right." His gaze flicks to the door. "You brought the coffee. I have no further need of you."
* * *
"...I can stay if you want." Matsuka dares to look up, brows lifting in hesitant inquiry. He knows that he's been dismissed... but that flash of emotion, the desire not to be alone, is still fresh in his mind. "In case you need anything else."
* * *
"I never needed anything but the coffee." Keith's voice is flat. That momentary lapse in his shields--it's back where even he can't find it now. He doesn't need other people as anything more than pawns. Not anymore. And now, he doesn't even meet Matsuka's gaze. Instead, he turns to go back to his desk.
* * *
"All right." Matsuka smiles painedly. "If you say so." After a last hesitation, he starts toward the door. He'll just be in the next room over, anyhow... though he doesn't think Keith's pride will let him call, now, no matter how strong the impulse becomes. Still, what else can he do?
* * *
Right now, there's nothing to be done. Keith is locked up inside himself again. He doesn't even look at his communicator as he settles back down at his desk, and he keeps his eyes painstakingly clear of Matsuka. Instead, he watches the wall. It's about as expressive as he is.
WHERE: Keith's room in the MAC.
WHEN: Shortly after this post.
WARNINGS: Mild violence. Death threats.
SUMMARY: Keith calls on Matsuka for more than just coffee.
FORMAT: Prose.
Matsuka takes more time than is strictly necessary over the coffee - taking extra pains, and also anxiously watching the network responses and exchanging text messages back and forth with Bakura, thoughts spiraling in worry and doubt.
Eventually the coffee's done, and despite any misgivings, Matsuka leaves his own little apartment to stand at Keith's door, a steaming mug in one hand, knocking politely with the other. "Keith? It's Matsuka."
* * *
Keith hasn't moved from his desk. There he sits, hands folded in front of him, moving only when it's necessary to activate the speaker on his communicator. As Matsuka calls, he stops doing even that. For a moment, he just sits there, staring at the wall, letting Matsuka wait. Then he gets up and makes his way to the door, letting himself feel a flash of irritation that he needs to get up, that he can't open the door from a distance. It's a pointless thing to feel, and he knows it--but he needs somewhere to vent the helpless frustration he can't quite turn on the 'Porter for what it did to him.
He pulls the door open. "Come in." Perhaps that's why he called Matsuka, too, he thinks; to have someone to vent at. He knows that's not the whole truth, but it's easier to think it is.
* * *
Matsuka waits, patiently, until the door is opened and the way is clear for him to step through. He keeps his head meekly inclined as he does, but watches Keith anxiously; he couldn't help but feel the waves of agitation that have radiated off him since he received the 'Porter's "reply," as much as Keith has tries to keep his thoughts and feelings locked down.
"I brought your coffee," he says, quietly, offering up the mug.
* * *
That anxious gaze does nothing to make Keith feel better. It only makes him more frustrated with himself. Matsuka is worried about him. It's not supposed to work that way; Matsuka is supposed to fear and obey him, not worry about his well-being. He's not supposed to be vulnerable enough to trigger feelings like that. So as usual, it's without a word of thanks that he reaches for the coffee. It's also without recalling that he's not wearing gloves, and that unless he concentrates, the extra shields the 'Porter granted him don't shield his surface thoughts.
His fingers brush Matsuka's. Right now, his surface thoughts are strong.
(Bewildered hurt, like a puppy that got hit for bringing his master the newspaper. Frustration. Among that, a thread of coherent thought: he knows he called Matsuka more for the moment of shared company than for the coffee, and he holds nothing but contempt for himself for it. He's not supposed to need people. Especially not Matsuka.)
* * *
Matsuka's breath hitches a little at that glancing contact, for all that he tries to catch himself; involuntarily he pulls back his hand to hold curled against his chest. Sympathy for that hurt and that need for company far overrides the sting of knowing how Keith thinks of him.
He bites his lip, standing still and trying very hard not to draw attention to the momentary lapse of Keith's psychic defenses... for all that it's probably a lost cause.
* * *
The moment Matsuka catches his breath, the gates slam down. Keith remembers: he can't come to rely on his shields so much here. He has to use training and willpower as well. It was a regrettable mistake to forget.
The only clue to that mistake in his expression is the sudden distinct lack of animation to his face. He strides the few steps back to his desk and sets the mug down (just slightly harder than he needs to, so that the coffee inside it swirls just a little--he wouldn't do anything as wasteful and blatant as slam it down, of course). Then he turns back to Matsuka.
He covers the distance back to him lightning-fast, and then he's resting one hand on Matsuka's shoulder. For a split-second, it's almost a kind gesture. That's until he shoves hard, pushing Matsuka up against the wall. He leans in close. "You should know," he murmurs. "There isn't any good time to try to take advantage of me."
* * *
The worst part is that Matsuka had the brief chance to retreat - could have maybe ducked out with a murmured apology and retreated to the flimsy sanctuary of his own apartment, and left Keith to his black mood. But it never really even occurred to him to leave Keith alone, and even if it had, knowing what he knows, he couldn't bear to.
So he's trapped, pinned against the wall, flinching back a little as Keith leans in.
"I wasn't." His voice wavers a little as he looks up at Keith, but stays quiet, in an odd way almost calm.
* * *
Good. Good. Keith wants Matsuka not retreating. That's the way it's supposed to be--Matsuka fears him, but not quite enough to back down entirely all the time. He wouldn't keep him around if that weren't the case--
--and right now, he doesn't want to be alone at all. But that's not something he'll admit to, not ever. Instead, he just lets go of Matsuka, steps back, and looks down at him with contempt. "That's right. You're too much of a coward to try. Just like the rest of them. You know I'll destroy you someday, but you hope for change instead of striking back."
* * *
Matsuka straightens himself up from the wall when Keith steps back, meeting that contemptuous look with clear, steady eyes, for all that his shoulders quiver. He can't just let that stand, can't quite keep himself from pushing back a little bit: "Is that what you want?"
* * *
Nobody is supposed to know that. Even Keith barely allows himself to know that. He stops, not quite taken aback. Of course Matsuka would know. He's the one who warped him away from Soldier Blue and out of the Megiddo's way; he's the one who was there to watch Station E-1077 fall into the atmosphere. But that doesn't mean he can let Matsuka's acknowledgment of it stand, because it isn't meant to be acknowledged.
"If it was what I wanted, I'd have picked someone more capable than you to do it." His voice is flat and cold, to disguise the faintest gleam of hunger in his eyes. He doesn't *really* think Matsuka is incapable. "I could kill you right here and you wouldn't even defend yourself."
He lifts a hand, looks thoughtfully at Matsuka's throat.
* * *
Matsuka's eyes drop briefly to Keith's raised hand, and he swallows, his head inclining slightly and his gaze dropping farther to the floor. This, he can't argue; he's already accepted that Keith will be the death of him someday, knows even better than Keith how right Keith is.
"You'd have to make your own coffee," he says in a soft voice.
* * *
Keith could push more. He could see just how much Matsuka would take. Before, back in their world, he had no doubt: push hard enough in the right ways, and Matsuka would kill him. That was how he was programmed. That was how his script played out. Just as Mother Eliza had made Keith to be the pinnacle of the SD system, Keith had made Matsuka to be his weapon and his end. But here, there's the slightest trace of something approaching doubt--not quite the emotion itself, as that's not yet something Keith is capable of. But just the barest trace of the word maybe. If he follows that thought to its logical conclusion--
He doesn't. He lets it go. Instead, he pushes the self-destructive urges away, reminds himself that this is foolishness, he needs to live long enough to eradicate the Mu and protect Superior Domination and humanity. No, it's not that Matsuka might not accomplish what Keith wants him to. It's simply that Keith isn't allowed to want that yet. "...You're right." His gaze flicks to the door. "You brought the coffee. I have no further need of you."
* * *
"...I can stay if you want." Matsuka dares to look up, brows lifting in hesitant inquiry. He knows that he's been dismissed... but that flash of emotion, the desire not to be alone, is still fresh in his mind. "In case you need anything else."
* * *
"I never needed anything but the coffee." Keith's voice is flat. That momentary lapse in his shields--it's back where even he can't find it now. He doesn't need other people as anything more than pawns. Not anymore. And now, he doesn't even meet Matsuka's gaze. Instead, he turns to go back to his desk.
* * *
"All right." Matsuka smiles painedly. "If you say so." After a last hesitation, he starts toward the door. He'll just be in the next room over, anyhow... though he doesn't think Keith's pride will let him call, now, no matter how strong the impulse becomes. Still, what else can he do?
* * *
Right now, there's nothing to be done. Keith is locked up inside himself again. He doesn't even look at his communicator as he settles back down at his desk, and he keeps his eyes painstakingly clear of Matsuka. Instead, he watches the wall. It's about as expressive as he is.