Waltz to Kalinka - CQC
Title: Waltz to Kalinka - Prologue: CQC
Pairing: Implied Liquid Snake/Psycho Mantis
Rating: PG-13 for fluff and implied Ocelot hijinks
Summary: Mantis has a panic attack. Liquid helps, with cardboard.
Written by carthight_9, Co-written/Betaed by plus5pencil
Prologue
Chapter 1: Relief
Chapter 2: Daydream
Chapter 3: Xylophone Lullaby
Chapter 4: Something There
Author's Notes: This is my first real attempt at writing out Liquid and Mantis in a serious kind of relationship. My rationality for shipping them is a bit out of the ordinary, but it makes sense in my mind. If you find yourself disturbed and disgusted at the thought of these two going at it, then that's kind of the point. They're not supposed to be a pretty couple. They just are. plus5pencil is my loving and experienced editor with this and the chapters to follow. We were doing a kind of "healing cock" deconstruction, but then I realized I was inadvertently setting it up to work. I'm terrified at the thought of where this might go in terms of writing pronz, but it's working for now. Enjoy~
Beta's Notes: GODAMMIT, OT! You're paying for the fillings I need after this. And the insulin. If I hadn't been writing BDSM NonCon at the same time we made this, I'm pretty sure I would have gone into a diabetic coma. I feel like I just got force-fed 3 pounds of cotton candy. Too sweet and fluffy, ugh. If you need me, I'll be in Ocelot's room. Electrotorture is something I can actually stomach.
-CQC-
No one would deny that Liquid has many quirks to his personality. The only trick to it was that different people were aware of different quirks. Some people knew about his deep-rooted inferiority complex. Others were aware of his distinct love for acrobatics. Others still were very impressed and knowledgeable of his mastery of seven languages. Only Psycho Mantis was aware that he loved cardboard boxes. Some of you might be thinking Mantis learned such a face through careful prodding into Liquid’s mind. That it was simply a matter of probing from a distance. But you’re wrong. It had started with Ocelot torturing someone.
The FOXHOUND team hung out in many a base in their time. Some were small and had a dirt floor; others were modern, big, and full of the latest in toiletries. The base in which they had been staying at was charmingly modern. It even had a torture room for Ocelot to play in with his new “best friend”. The poor enemy soldier they had caught was scared shitless to be left alone with Ocelot, and rightfully so. No one deserved to be alone with the Russian torture technician where he could get at his “toys”.
Naturally, Psycho Mantis had to stumble in on Ocelot in a…a… Well, he could never get out exactly what he had seen Ocelot doing, but it had deeply offended his delicate sensibilities. The smart money was on Mantis walking in on Ocelot getting off on seeing the poor tortured sap on the rack. That usually got him into the twitchy, stuttering mood Liquid would later describe.
So as he walked away quickly from where the alleged horny old bastard was laughing with his hand busy working overtime, finding some far away corridor to stomp down. Behind his mask, his eyes twitched and his mouth spewed forth Russian obscenities even Satan would think twice about saying. The hands that could break a man’s neck with a single gesture were moving wildly. Each sweep and swoop sent out small murderous waves of psychic energy. Many spiders and rats lost their lives in Mantis’s wake until he stumbled into Liquid of all people.
Okay, “stumbled into” is a bit childish considering who we’re talking about, but there was no mistaking the way Mantis jumped at the sudden contact with another human being. He gasped and backed away a few steps, registering the concerned face of his boss.
“Are you alright, Mantis?” The blonde man studied him warily
“I…” Mantis began in English, but the western language quickly failed him. “I was…and Ocelot…I-I don’t…” Articulation failed him in Russian too.
Liquid could tell that something had happened to Mantis and he approached the leather clad man slowly. “Oh bugger,” He swore lightly. “Are you alright?”
Mantis stared at Liquid for a moment before he shook his head. Fast. Almost horror movie fast. He needed to be alone. Needed to lie down. Needed to find some dark corner to curl up in for a little bit. The suddenness of what he had seen was sending him into a sort of acute hypersensitive state. He could feel it in the way his heart was racing and how his head was spinning.
Liquid wrapped his hands around Mantis’. Blondie’s hands, Mantis would later remember, were warm, rough, and large. The psychic’s breathing calmed a little, but he still felt like he needed to find some place to be alone.
“Come with me,” He heard Liquid say a ways off and he was led, momentarily helpless, by that captured hand through a small maze of hallways. A decent portion of the anxiety attack that had been setting itself up slinked off in defeat as Mantis slowly found the better part of his sense and sensibility. They ended up in a very large room with grey painted walls. It was cool to the skin and he could hear the hum of the air conditioning units of the building.
Boxes of all kinds were stacked around them and Mantis felt safe. This was obviously some kind of storage space. It was blessedly quiet. Liquid had let go of his hand and was moving through the piles of empty cardboard boxes stacked at one end of the room, giving a small “aha!” as he pulled out what would have undoubtedly been a very big cardboard box had it not been pressed flat.
A small smile spread like creamy peanut butter on Liquid’s face as he quickly unfolded the box. It was a large specimen, probably used to transport bulk items. You could fit two people under it. Mantis stared at the box from behind his mask. What could you do with a cardboard box? Did Liquid honestly think a little bit of processed paper was going to make him feel better? He kept his arms close to his sides and stepped back a little. Every inch of his body language betrayed some hint of discomfort and confusion.
“Don’t look so afraid,” Liquid chided, setting the box up so that the open end rested on the floor and next to the nearby wall. There was a hint of pink to his cheeks. “I do this all the time.”
“What are you doing?” Mantis asked in Russian, since Liquid had spoken to him likewise.
“I know it sounds odd,” Mantis doubted anything coming from his boss’ mouth could truly be considered such. “But I’ve found that if I stay under a cardboard box when I’m upset, it’s very relaxing.”
He’d been wrong before. “You’ve lost your mind, Boss.”
“Try it. You already wear all the leather as a means of comfort. What’s a cardboard box going to do?”
Now how the hell did Liquid guess that? Mantis’s unnatural poker face remained blank.
“Why should I trust you?” Parts of him were yelling at him. They complained about how he was still over-sensitized and needed some kind of a cool down hug.
Liquid gave him a look that essentially said: “I don’t want to end up waiting for you to get over a three-day hangover over Ocelot. Now shut up and get under the god damned box.”
Who was Mantis to deny a look like that? The team knew his worse habits and there was no real direction to go from here without there being some kind of odd looks between them afterwards. So he nodded and waited for Liquid to lift up one half of the box before walking over and crouching down. Even through the mask, he could smell dust on the cardboard. Liquid knelt down as well and with a small scrape of cardboard against concrete, the two were hidden from sight.
Under the box, things were…cozy. Mantis drew his legs close to himself and became a ball of just-too-skinny limbs wrapped in just-too-tight leather. He barely took up half the space under the box and listened to Liquid rest against the side of the box against the wall. There were little holes cut into the box on several sides.
“You’ve used this one before?” The psychic closed his eyes and breathed deeply and slowly.
“I can’t explain it, really.” Liquid didn’t answer. “I just know that hiding under these boxes makes me happy.”
“Huh…” His back was starting to hurt, but he didn’t know what to do about it.
“You can lean against me.”
Pale eyes opened wide behind the mask. That had gotten through clear and Mantis opened his mind and turned to look at Liquid. He hadn’t noticed it before, but the boss was wearing no shirt as always and dark cargo pants that disappeared into combat boots. In his mind were no perversions common to human nature. There was just concern. Anxiety bubbled in his gut once more, but he couldn’t get over the fact that this was definitely not the worst thing that could happen to him over the course of the day.
Carpe diem, as the saying went.
Mantis slid carefully over to Liquid, turning his back to him. Though he had closed off his mind to the world, he could feel the boss’s blue eyes sizing him up. There wasn’t much to see from the back except for hints of his spine and the back of his chest straps, the psychic knew that much. He pressed himself slowly against his boss, feeling the odd sensation of skin contact through the tight leather. He felt like a doll against this bodybuilder of a man. He felt small and delicate. He felt… He felt…
“I forgot I could feel this comfortable.”
Liquid laughed. Mantis could feel the rise and fall of his chest.
“Strange isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
A moment passed and Mantis went so far as to rest his head against Liquid’s shoulder.
“Why the box?”
“I really don’t know. When I was younger, I once saw a cardboard box, smaller than this, and felt this urge to get underneath it.”
“An urge?”
“Well… You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“I’m under a cardboard box, leaning against you, discussing cardboard boxes and trying not to think of a certain teammate of mine.” The words were harshly deadpan. “No one would believe me.”
“Fair enough,” Liquid’s voice vibrated all through his upper body. “I saw the box, and…it felt like it was my destiny almost to get underneath it. The moment it fell on top of me and settled into place, I felt so at peace. Like the box could keep me safe from anything.”
“Really.”
“Doesn’t make any sense, does it?”
“Not a goddamned millimeter.”
“Well, I tried.”
“I can feel the calm, though. But not for the reasons you have.”
“How would you know?”
“I’m not you.”
“Well, you must be feeling better already.”
“Yes, I am.”
“So what does this do for you, oh crazy one?”
Mantis scoffed. Well, if no one was going to believe this had ever happened, what harm could there be? “My powers,” Mantis shifted a little so he’d be more comfortable. “They make me hypersensitive to just about anything my senses can pick up. If I feel too much at once, I get twitchy and can’t think straight.”
“Is that why you stuttered and became disoriented?” Liquid moved his arms, but whatever idea he had gotten, he abandoned.
“Yeah…” Mantis took several deep breaths and crossed his arms across his waist. “I wear the leather as a means of comforting myself constantly. It’s like getting a hug all the time, and if I need it to be tighter, I tug on a strap.”
Liquid reached up fully this time and gently tugged on one of said straps on Mantis’ gloves. “I never knew powers like yours could make you delicate like that.”
“It’s a weakness people like me aren’t keen on sharing.”
“Then why tell me?”
“You told me about your boxes. As long as this conversation’s never leaving the box, I’ll say whatever the hell I want.”
“So you do have a personality under the temper and the ego!”
“Cram it Blondie. I’m in a good mood.” Mantis smirked behind his mask. His eyes were closed. This was bizarre: bizarre in the way that you can’t really mind. They both fell silent after that, but Liquid did not stay still. He was still curious. Mantis hated being touched, and while they were stuck together in this small space with limited leg room, he was determined to explore. A bad habit to carry over from his younger years, but he doubted that this would lead to his death.
His large and often forceful hands were soft as a whisper as he traced the fabric of Mantis’s gloves with his fingertips. It was harsh and firm material and he could feel far too much of the psychic’s anatomy from beneath, but it was much too interesting to ignore. Mantis, if the man was even still conscious, made no move to stop him. He felt the metal of the buckles and pressed more firmly against the fabric. With the increased pressure, he felt Mantis’s body clench instinctively. It was like beef jerky writhed on him, only it was decorated with bits of decorated shrapnel.
What was he doing? Mantis thought to himself. His mind was buzzing, but he kept his eyes shut to the sensations going through him. Sense and sensibility would often tell him to not use his powers when in a panic, but he just had to know. The trickling thread of thought that was Liquid resounded clearly in his mind and he found the same curiosity from before. How could Liquid be so calm? Oh! Wait… There was the fear. Liquid wasn’t sure he should be doing this. Damn right he shouldn’t! This was his body and he was just touching him like he was some doll!
Pale and bony hands shook with the effort it took not to kill Liquid right there and then. The boss must have taken his non-response as permission, because he continued his exploring touches all the way up to his neck and then down to his chest. They sailed quickly past his ribs and he felt his body clench in apprehension again. No… “No…”
Liquid stopped dead in his tracks. That hadn’t been a command. That was begging. Mantis never begged unless he was getting way out of his comfort zone. “Sorry,” He said, taking his hands away. He shook his head quickly to dispel whatever had come over him. What possessed him to do that? This was Mantis! He was more repressed than a Catholic priest, and a serial hater of humanity.
The gauntly psychic trembled with a different sensation and quickly moved back to the other side of the box, recreating the ball of bones he had made earlier. His eyes were wide behind his mask and he knew Liquid could see how frightened he had become. That touching and near-groping had almost started to feel good. He couldn’t allow himself to feel that. To feel good was to be like all those disgusting people in the world having children and acting like animals…
Liquid knew he had crossed the wrong lines. “Mantis,” He said softly, wincing as the man visibly flinched. “I shouldn’t have done that… I’m sorry.”
“I-it’s okay…” He replied quickly.
“No, it’s not. You’re shaking.”
“I mean it Liquid…”
“It was a stupid thing, and-”
“Shut up!” Mantis yelled. “Just shut up. Please.” He didn’t want to hear this. Didn’t want to hear Liquid being apologetic. He needed re-assurance that humans were a bunch of horny bastards, not sympathetic and understanding intellectuals. He leaned against the box himself, seeking comfort in the cardboard like Liquid would find. It was still there, but oh so faint. One hand went to tug at the straps on his thighs. He pulled and closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of tightness. Focus on the tightness and ignore the world. Ignore that which agitates and focus on keeping yourself calm. You can’t lose control. If you lose control, you set the world on fire.
It was a disheartening and shocking sight for Liquid. This wasn’t temperamental Mantis or drunken Mantis. This was the Mantis the KGB had first warned people about in their blacked out profile on him. “Be warned that while this child has great control over his powers, he is extremely volatile. His powers are tied in directly with his emotional state. The more he feels, the more dangerous he becomes to himself and to others.”
Liquid kept his distance as much as possible. It felt like a good ten minutes before Mantis began to visibly relax. After a few more moments, the smaller man spoke.
“It really is relaxing,” His voice sounded more cracked than it normally did. It was the same kind of crack that got into his voice when his intoxicated temper gave way to the more brooding man that hid behind the ego. This side of Mantis appeared as often as a four leaf clover and was thus extremely hard to deal with. Case and point: comfort to
fear to comfort in a wide swing of emotion.
“I told you it’d help.” Liquid’s voice was calm. It was the voice you used to talk to a wild animal.
“I might try this more often. It’s quiet.” This was one of the few consistencies in the calm following the minor emotional breakdown. Instead of his usual articulate self, Mantis spoke in simple sentences. It was like a computer going through a systems reboot. All the files were there, but it would take a little while before things functioned like they usually did.
“You could definitely benefit from something like this.”
“No one will know, right?”
Liquid gave a wry grin. “Hell no. I’ll take this to my grave.”
“You’ll have a grave?” You could hear the faint smile in Mantis’s voice.
“Oh, yes. Shallow thing. They’ll barely get me three feet under, if I get as much.”
“I think a deep ditch would be more appropriate.”
“And where would that leave you?”
“Crematorium.”
Liquid chuckled.
Mantis gave his own raspy laugh. “You think they’ve noticed we’re gone?”
“Let them wonder. I think you need to rest a little more.”
“I’d like that.”
“Come here you twitchy thing.” Liquid held out his arms. “You haven’t slept much lately, have you?”
“No. I keep forgetting.” Mantis nodded vaguely and shuffled over to Liquid once more. He had gotten used to falling asleep where he could, when he could. Sometimes he’d fall asleep while walking and the only way anyone would know was if he bumped into something or didn’t talk back when they asked him things. If it happened while they were on missions, he’d end up being carried most times by either Octopus or Raven. In times of real exhaustion, he’d fall asleep just about anywhere next to whomever and whatever. Curling up under a cardboard box was a bit out of the ordinary, but hardly the strangest place he’d slept.
Blondie lifted the box and crawled out. “Wait here.” Mantis moved to sit against the wall and hummed approvingly as the warm spot Liquid’s body had left behind. There were many sounds of searching and tearing through boxes until at last Liquid knocked on the box. He lifted it up and passed Mantis two pillows and two blankets.
“Sposbiro,” Mantis stifled a yawn and folded one blanket to be a temporary mattress. It was pretty soft and thick. He liked it. Next came the pillows and he lied down on his back, head tilted slightly to one side as Liquid helped spread the blanket over him.
“I’ll tell the rest of them you went off to kill helpless little animals for fun.”
“Fuck you too, Boss.” Mantis muttered. He really needed to nap or something. Even if he didn’t exactly sleep, he was at least lying down. “How’d you find this stuff?”
“Oh, they bring all the supply shipments here.” The box was replaced and hid Mantis perfectly from sight. “Don’t come back until you can promise that you won’t kill anyone on a twitch.”
“Just go away, Liquid.”
And he was left alone.
And he did sleep, though not for long.
And when he re-joined his teammates, he wasn’t twitchy in any way.
He did give Ocelot a sharp kick in the shin.
It had hurt.
Ocelot howled in pain and everything.
Mantis felt very good during the rest of the time he spent at the base.
Pairing: Implied Liquid Snake/Psycho Mantis
Rating: PG-13 for fluff and implied Ocelot hijinks
Summary: Mantis has a panic attack. Liquid helps, with cardboard.
Written by carthight_9, Co-written/Betaed by plus5pencil
Prologue
Chapter 1: Relief
Chapter 2: Daydream
Chapter 3: Xylophone Lullaby
Chapter 4: Something There
Author's Notes: This is my first real attempt at writing out Liquid and Mantis in a serious kind of relationship. My rationality for shipping them is a bit out of the ordinary, but it makes sense in my mind. If you find yourself disturbed and disgusted at the thought of these two going at it, then that's kind of the point. They're not supposed to be a pretty couple. They just are. plus5pencil is my loving and experienced editor with this and the chapters to follow. We were doing a kind of "healing cock" deconstruction, but then I realized I was inadvertently setting it up to work. I'm terrified at the thought of where this might go in terms of writing pronz, but it's working for now. Enjoy~
Beta's Notes: GODAMMIT, OT! You're paying for the fillings I need after this. And the insulin. If I hadn't been writing BDSM NonCon at the same time we made this, I'm pretty sure I would have gone into a diabetic coma. I feel like I just got force-fed 3 pounds of cotton candy. Too sweet and fluffy, ugh. If you need me, I'll be in Ocelot's room. Electrotorture is something I can actually stomach.
-CQC-
No one would deny that Liquid has many quirks to his personality. The only trick to it was that different people were aware of different quirks. Some people knew about his deep-rooted inferiority complex. Others were aware of his distinct love for acrobatics. Others still were very impressed and knowledgeable of his mastery of seven languages. Only Psycho Mantis was aware that he loved cardboard boxes. Some of you might be thinking Mantis learned such a face through careful prodding into Liquid’s mind. That it was simply a matter of probing from a distance. But you’re wrong. It had started with Ocelot torturing someone.
The FOXHOUND team hung out in many a base in their time. Some were small and had a dirt floor; others were modern, big, and full of the latest in toiletries. The base in which they had been staying at was charmingly modern. It even had a torture room for Ocelot to play in with his new “best friend”. The poor enemy soldier they had caught was scared shitless to be left alone with Ocelot, and rightfully so. No one deserved to be alone with the Russian torture technician where he could get at his “toys”.
Naturally, Psycho Mantis had to stumble in on Ocelot in a…a… Well, he could never get out exactly what he had seen Ocelot doing, but it had deeply offended his delicate sensibilities. The smart money was on Mantis walking in on Ocelot getting off on seeing the poor tortured sap on the rack. That usually got him into the twitchy, stuttering mood Liquid would later describe.
So as he walked away quickly from where the alleged horny old bastard was laughing with his hand busy working overtime, finding some far away corridor to stomp down. Behind his mask, his eyes twitched and his mouth spewed forth Russian obscenities even Satan would think twice about saying. The hands that could break a man’s neck with a single gesture were moving wildly. Each sweep and swoop sent out small murderous waves of psychic energy. Many spiders and rats lost their lives in Mantis’s wake until he stumbled into Liquid of all people.
Okay, “stumbled into” is a bit childish considering who we’re talking about, but there was no mistaking the way Mantis jumped at the sudden contact with another human being. He gasped and backed away a few steps, registering the concerned face of his boss.
“Are you alright, Mantis?” The blonde man studied him warily
“I…” Mantis began in English, but the western language quickly failed him. “I was…and Ocelot…I-I don’t…” Articulation failed him in Russian too.
Liquid could tell that something had happened to Mantis and he approached the leather clad man slowly. “Oh bugger,” He swore lightly. “Are you alright?”
Mantis stared at Liquid for a moment before he shook his head. Fast. Almost horror movie fast. He needed to be alone. Needed to lie down. Needed to find some dark corner to curl up in for a little bit. The suddenness of what he had seen was sending him into a sort of acute hypersensitive state. He could feel it in the way his heart was racing and how his head was spinning.
Liquid wrapped his hands around Mantis’. Blondie’s hands, Mantis would later remember, were warm, rough, and large. The psychic’s breathing calmed a little, but he still felt like he needed to find some place to be alone.
“Come with me,” He heard Liquid say a ways off and he was led, momentarily helpless, by that captured hand through a small maze of hallways. A decent portion of the anxiety attack that had been setting itself up slinked off in defeat as Mantis slowly found the better part of his sense and sensibility. They ended up in a very large room with grey painted walls. It was cool to the skin and he could hear the hum of the air conditioning units of the building.
Boxes of all kinds were stacked around them and Mantis felt safe. This was obviously some kind of storage space. It was blessedly quiet. Liquid had let go of his hand and was moving through the piles of empty cardboard boxes stacked at one end of the room, giving a small “aha!” as he pulled out what would have undoubtedly been a very big cardboard box had it not been pressed flat.
A small smile spread like creamy peanut butter on Liquid’s face as he quickly unfolded the box. It was a large specimen, probably used to transport bulk items. You could fit two people under it. Mantis stared at the box from behind his mask. What could you do with a cardboard box? Did Liquid honestly think a little bit of processed paper was going to make him feel better? He kept his arms close to his sides and stepped back a little. Every inch of his body language betrayed some hint of discomfort and confusion.
“Don’t look so afraid,” Liquid chided, setting the box up so that the open end rested on the floor and next to the nearby wall. There was a hint of pink to his cheeks. “I do this all the time.”
“What are you doing?” Mantis asked in Russian, since Liquid had spoken to him likewise.
“I know it sounds odd,” Mantis doubted anything coming from his boss’ mouth could truly be considered such. “But I’ve found that if I stay under a cardboard box when I’m upset, it’s very relaxing.”
He’d been wrong before. “You’ve lost your mind, Boss.”
“Try it. You already wear all the leather as a means of comfort. What’s a cardboard box going to do?”
Now how the hell did Liquid guess that? Mantis’s unnatural poker face remained blank.
“Why should I trust you?” Parts of him were yelling at him. They complained about how he was still over-sensitized and needed some kind of a cool down hug.
Liquid gave him a look that essentially said: “I don’t want to end up waiting for you to get over a three-day hangover over Ocelot. Now shut up and get under the god damned box.”
Who was Mantis to deny a look like that? The team knew his worse habits and there was no real direction to go from here without there being some kind of odd looks between them afterwards. So he nodded and waited for Liquid to lift up one half of the box before walking over and crouching down. Even through the mask, he could smell dust on the cardboard. Liquid knelt down as well and with a small scrape of cardboard against concrete, the two were hidden from sight.
Under the box, things were…cozy. Mantis drew his legs close to himself and became a ball of just-too-skinny limbs wrapped in just-too-tight leather. He barely took up half the space under the box and listened to Liquid rest against the side of the box against the wall. There were little holes cut into the box on several sides.
“You’ve used this one before?” The psychic closed his eyes and breathed deeply and slowly.
“I can’t explain it, really.” Liquid didn’t answer. “I just know that hiding under these boxes makes me happy.”
“Huh…” His back was starting to hurt, but he didn’t know what to do about it.
“You can lean against me.”
Pale eyes opened wide behind the mask. That had gotten through clear and Mantis opened his mind and turned to look at Liquid. He hadn’t noticed it before, but the boss was wearing no shirt as always and dark cargo pants that disappeared into combat boots. In his mind were no perversions common to human nature. There was just concern. Anxiety bubbled in his gut once more, but he couldn’t get over the fact that this was definitely not the worst thing that could happen to him over the course of the day.
Carpe diem, as the saying went.
Mantis slid carefully over to Liquid, turning his back to him. Though he had closed off his mind to the world, he could feel the boss’s blue eyes sizing him up. There wasn’t much to see from the back except for hints of his spine and the back of his chest straps, the psychic knew that much. He pressed himself slowly against his boss, feeling the odd sensation of skin contact through the tight leather. He felt like a doll against this bodybuilder of a man. He felt small and delicate. He felt… He felt…
“I forgot I could feel this comfortable.”
Liquid laughed. Mantis could feel the rise and fall of his chest.
“Strange isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
A moment passed and Mantis went so far as to rest his head against Liquid’s shoulder.
“Why the box?”
“I really don’t know. When I was younger, I once saw a cardboard box, smaller than this, and felt this urge to get underneath it.”
“An urge?”
“Well… You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“I’m under a cardboard box, leaning against you, discussing cardboard boxes and trying not to think of a certain teammate of mine.” The words were harshly deadpan. “No one would believe me.”
“Fair enough,” Liquid’s voice vibrated all through his upper body. “I saw the box, and…it felt like it was my destiny almost to get underneath it. The moment it fell on top of me and settled into place, I felt so at peace. Like the box could keep me safe from anything.”
“Really.”
“Doesn’t make any sense, does it?”
“Not a goddamned millimeter.”
“Well, I tried.”
“I can feel the calm, though. But not for the reasons you have.”
“How would you know?”
“I’m not you.”
“Well, you must be feeling better already.”
“Yes, I am.”
“So what does this do for you, oh crazy one?”
Mantis scoffed. Well, if no one was going to believe this had ever happened, what harm could there be? “My powers,” Mantis shifted a little so he’d be more comfortable. “They make me hypersensitive to just about anything my senses can pick up. If I feel too much at once, I get twitchy and can’t think straight.”
“Is that why you stuttered and became disoriented?” Liquid moved his arms, but whatever idea he had gotten, he abandoned.
“Yeah…” Mantis took several deep breaths and crossed his arms across his waist. “I wear the leather as a means of comforting myself constantly. It’s like getting a hug all the time, and if I need it to be tighter, I tug on a strap.”
Liquid reached up fully this time and gently tugged on one of said straps on Mantis’ gloves. “I never knew powers like yours could make you delicate like that.”
“It’s a weakness people like me aren’t keen on sharing.”
“Then why tell me?”
“You told me about your boxes. As long as this conversation’s never leaving the box, I’ll say whatever the hell I want.”
“So you do have a personality under the temper and the ego!”
“Cram it Blondie. I’m in a good mood.” Mantis smirked behind his mask. His eyes were closed. This was bizarre: bizarre in the way that you can’t really mind. They both fell silent after that, but Liquid did not stay still. He was still curious. Mantis hated being touched, and while they were stuck together in this small space with limited leg room, he was determined to explore. A bad habit to carry over from his younger years, but he doubted that this would lead to his death.
His large and often forceful hands were soft as a whisper as he traced the fabric of Mantis’s gloves with his fingertips. It was harsh and firm material and he could feel far too much of the psychic’s anatomy from beneath, but it was much too interesting to ignore. Mantis, if the man was even still conscious, made no move to stop him. He felt the metal of the buckles and pressed more firmly against the fabric. With the increased pressure, he felt Mantis’s body clench instinctively. It was like beef jerky writhed on him, only it was decorated with bits of decorated shrapnel.
What was he doing? Mantis thought to himself. His mind was buzzing, but he kept his eyes shut to the sensations going through him. Sense and sensibility would often tell him to not use his powers when in a panic, but he just had to know. The trickling thread of thought that was Liquid resounded clearly in his mind and he found the same curiosity from before. How could Liquid be so calm? Oh! Wait… There was the fear. Liquid wasn’t sure he should be doing this. Damn right he shouldn’t! This was his body and he was just touching him like he was some doll!
Pale and bony hands shook with the effort it took not to kill Liquid right there and then. The boss must have taken his non-response as permission, because he continued his exploring touches all the way up to his neck and then down to his chest. They sailed quickly past his ribs and he felt his body clench in apprehension again. No… “No…”
Liquid stopped dead in his tracks. That hadn’t been a command. That was begging. Mantis never begged unless he was getting way out of his comfort zone. “Sorry,” He said, taking his hands away. He shook his head quickly to dispel whatever had come over him. What possessed him to do that? This was Mantis! He was more repressed than a Catholic priest, and a serial hater of humanity.
The gauntly psychic trembled with a different sensation and quickly moved back to the other side of the box, recreating the ball of bones he had made earlier. His eyes were wide behind his mask and he knew Liquid could see how frightened he had become. That touching and near-groping had almost started to feel good. He couldn’t allow himself to feel that. To feel good was to be like all those disgusting people in the world having children and acting like animals…
Liquid knew he had crossed the wrong lines. “Mantis,” He said softly, wincing as the man visibly flinched. “I shouldn’t have done that… I’m sorry.”
“I-it’s okay…” He replied quickly.
“No, it’s not. You’re shaking.”
“I mean it Liquid…”
“It was a stupid thing, and-”
“Shut up!” Mantis yelled. “Just shut up. Please.” He didn’t want to hear this. Didn’t want to hear Liquid being apologetic. He needed re-assurance that humans were a bunch of horny bastards, not sympathetic and understanding intellectuals. He leaned against the box himself, seeking comfort in the cardboard like Liquid would find. It was still there, but oh so faint. One hand went to tug at the straps on his thighs. He pulled and closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of tightness. Focus on the tightness and ignore the world. Ignore that which agitates and focus on keeping yourself calm. You can’t lose control. If you lose control, you set the world on fire.
It was a disheartening and shocking sight for Liquid. This wasn’t temperamental Mantis or drunken Mantis. This was the Mantis the KGB had first warned people about in their blacked out profile on him. “Be warned that while this child has great control over his powers, he is extremely volatile. His powers are tied in directly with his emotional state. The more he feels, the more dangerous he becomes to himself and to others.”
Liquid kept his distance as much as possible. It felt like a good ten minutes before Mantis began to visibly relax. After a few more moments, the smaller man spoke.
“It really is relaxing,” His voice sounded more cracked than it normally did. It was the same kind of crack that got into his voice when his intoxicated temper gave way to the more brooding man that hid behind the ego. This side of Mantis appeared as often as a four leaf clover and was thus extremely hard to deal with. Case and point: comfort to
fear to comfort in a wide swing of emotion.
“I told you it’d help.” Liquid’s voice was calm. It was the voice you used to talk to a wild animal.
“I might try this more often. It’s quiet.” This was one of the few consistencies in the calm following the minor emotional breakdown. Instead of his usual articulate self, Mantis spoke in simple sentences. It was like a computer going through a systems reboot. All the files were there, but it would take a little while before things functioned like they usually did.
“You could definitely benefit from something like this.”
“No one will know, right?”
Liquid gave a wry grin. “Hell no. I’ll take this to my grave.”
“You’ll have a grave?” You could hear the faint smile in Mantis’s voice.
“Oh, yes. Shallow thing. They’ll barely get me three feet under, if I get as much.”
“I think a deep ditch would be more appropriate.”
“And where would that leave you?”
“Crematorium.”
Liquid chuckled.
Mantis gave his own raspy laugh. “You think they’ve noticed we’re gone?”
“Let them wonder. I think you need to rest a little more.”
“I’d like that.”
“Come here you twitchy thing.” Liquid held out his arms. “You haven’t slept much lately, have you?”
“No. I keep forgetting.” Mantis nodded vaguely and shuffled over to Liquid once more. He had gotten used to falling asleep where he could, when he could. Sometimes he’d fall asleep while walking and the only way anyone would know was if he bumped into something or didn’t talk back when they asked him things. If it happened while they were on missions, he’d end up being carried most times by either Octopus or Raven. In times of real exhaustion, he’d fall asleep just about anywhere next to whomever and whatever. Curling up under a cardboard box was a bit out of the ordinary, but hardly the strangest place he’d slept.
Blondie lifted the box and crawled out. “Wait here.” Mantis moved to sit against the wall and hummed approvingly as the warm spot Liquid’s body had left behind. There were many sounds of searching and tearing through boxes until at last Liquid knocked on the box. He lifted it up and passed Mantis two pillows and two blankets.
“Sposbiro,” Mantis stifled a yawn and folded one blanket to be a temporary mattress. It was pretty soft and thick. He liked it. Next came the pillows and he lied down on his back, head tilted slightly to one side as Liquid helped spread the blanket over him.
“I’ll tell the rest of them you went off to kill helpless little animals for fun.”
“Fuck you too, Boss.” Mantis muttered. He really needed to nap or something. Even if he didn’t exactly sleep, he was at least lying down. “How’d you find this stuff?”
“Oh, they bring all the supply shipments here.” The box was replaced and hid Mantis perfectly from sight. “Don’t come back until you can promise that you won’t kill anyone on a twitch.”
“Just go away, Liquid.”
And he was left alone.
And he did sleep, though not for long.
And when he re-joined his teammates, he wasn’t twitchy in any way.
He did give Ocelot a sharp kick in the shin.
It had hurt.
Ocelot howled in pain and everything.
Mantis felt very good during the rest of the time he spent at the base.