[Gundam 00] Not Quite Normal
Title: Not Quite Normal
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Unbeta-ed, PWP, TWT, crack-ish, probably OOC-ness, AU-ish (?)
Genre: General, humour
Word Count: 2016
Main Character(s): Lockon, Allelujah, Setsuna, Tieria, Sumeragi & the Ptolemy crew, Saji, Louise and Haro
Summary: "A gundam is better," said Setsuna, not so helpfully. "I am gundam." One shot.
Disclaimer: Kidou Senshi Gundam 00, characters and places are copyright to Sunrise and Bandai.
AN: A what happens after the war sort of fic but not quite. It’s crack-ish and quite OOC-ness here and there. I tried to stick to canon as much as possible but I must confess I fail at that. *woe* That said, I was quite amused by writing this.
Normal life was just not normal at all.
As Tieria had said in his elegant way (tactless and know-it-all): "None of us will ever be normal."
Well, Lockon will bloody show him and live as normally as possible, fucking ex-terrorist be damned.
"The first step is getting a place to live."
Which he did. A modest two-storey house away from the bustling city of Tokyo in a nice residential district. He had moved in with only the bare minimum. Being a formerly wanted terrorist didn’t pay much (none at all) and he could only afford a few things. A futon, some extra clothes and a single chair. What he was going to do with that chair, he wasn’t quite sure yet. Offer it to his guests? That is if he had any guests coming. The kitchen, thankfully, had built-in cabinets and a stove pre-installed.
"The second step is getting a job. Preferably one that pays."
It took him six interviews at six places before he finally landed one job and it wasn’t even the type of job he liked. It was low minimum and the hours were long and it was too far from his house (he had yet to call it home), and he had second thoughts of becoming a sniper for hire. By the time he clocked off and reached his house, he was so dead tired he just promptly collapsed on the futon and went to sleep.
"The third step is... there is no third step. All you can do is to adjust to life and just live."
Haro was good company in the house. He (Lockon never referred to the orange mechanical ball as ‘it’) rolled about on the hardwood floors, chirping and chattering about inane things. Sometimes he pointed out the most obvious things to which Lockon responded. Haro was cheerful; it was the way he was designed. He also tended to hop right into the neighbour’s swimming pool. Lockon would have to go rescue the orange ball and apologise profusely to the neighbours who were more amused than annoyed.
Allelujah showed up on his doorstep one spring afternoon, a bag in one hand and a box in the other. Lockon let him in. He would never admit it but he was glad for human company. There was only so much he could talk with Haro before he’d go crazy. Plus, Alle can always go and fish the thing out of the neighbour’s swimming pool when Haro decides to go swimming. Lockon gave him the only chair in the house, watching as a bemused Allelujah looked for a place to put it.
Sumeragi came to visit on a warm evening. Tagging along with her were Ptolemy’s former crew. She had with her a brown bag and Lockon had a suspicion of what’s inside.
"For your house warming!" She beamed at him at the doorstep. He was sure it was meant for her only and she brought it along so she could have an excuse to drink. The real housewarming gift was a microwave oven from everyone carried by Lasse.
"Uh, take a seat?" He gestured the single chair in the sparse living room. He noticed their wide eyes. Lichtendahl looked as if he wanted to say something but an elbow from Lasse prevented it.
"It’s, um, nice," said Christina, stumbling over her words.
Haro broke the awkwardness by rolling into the room with a loud cry. Feldt bend over to pick the thing up, greeting it quietly. Sumeragi announced they were going to have a party here, furniture or no furniture. As the sort of captain on Ptolemy, she had right to the chair while everyone can just sit on the floor. Licht and Lasse were send out for food and drinks (the alcoholic kind).
It sort of a party, Lockon supposed. Everyone was here and there was much laughter and talk, reminiscing of the past and all that. Sumeragi drank too much again. Licht told his corny jokes that made everyone groaned. Christina was chatting happily with Allelujah, gesturing wildly. It was like old times. Almost.
Setsuna was supposedly doing quite well with that Princess. They were not lovers, per say. It would have been scandalous, considering the woman was old enough to be his older sister and was a royal whereas Setsuna was, well, he could be called a street rat. It reminded Lockon of that old, old carton he’d watched once. About a genie and a princess and a street rat. Except Setsuna was never a street rat but a terrorist.
Or perhaps not as well, thought Lockon when he opened his front door on a sunny summer morning and found the aforementioned street rat in front of the door with a large suitcase in both hands. The scarf was flopping limply around his neck and his face was red, from dragging the suitcase all the way from the driveway up to the doorstep. He let the boy in, tried to carry the suitcase only to nearly topple over. It was heavy as lead. Allelujah immediately pounced on the boy, fussing over him, giving him a bone-crushing hug and dragging the heavy suitcase (probably filled with bricks) upstairs to the bedroom without even breaking out in sweat.
"Damn super soldier freak," muttered Lockon.
Setsuna was taller but not much. His eyes were now level at Lockon’s jaw and he still needed to look up at Lockon when they talked. He was less aloof and a little more warmer, a little less robotic. The Princess was good for something.
Maybe not, he amended when Setsuna nearly jumped to the ceiling at the doorbell and brandished the frying pan at their neighbours, looking like he was ready to beat their heads in. He sighed deeply, preparing to apologise some more. He was sure the neighbours had written him and everyone (Allelujah and now Setsuna) in the house as nutjobs. But so far, no men in white coats had came for them. Lockon assumed the neighbours found his antics and Haro’s constant swimming (or sinking) in their pool their one source of entertainment in this dull place.
They settled nicely into a daily routine. Allelujah was quite the house person. He cleaned, dusted and cooked (at least none of them looked like the results of some mad science experiment). Not that there was much to be dusted or cleaned. It was two weeks after Setsuna moved in that they finally got a nice sofa set for the living room. They were all still sleeping on mattresses in their bedrooms. Allelujah, in a moment of ingenious (or madness, one could never tell), made a clothesline in all their bedrooms so they could hang up their clothes. Well, it’s better than digging through piles of laundry on the floor and wearing badly wrinkled clothes.
Tieria showed up one afternoon. For a moment, Lockon wondered if he was going to move in with them.
The young man (still wearing that horrible pink granny cardigan) sniffed disdainful at him before inviting himself into the house. He was critical of nearly everything in the house. From the bare walls to the new sofa set to the clothesline in their bedrooms to the non-existence layer of dust on the coffee table. Lockon didn’t tell Tieria that they all eat their breakfasts, lunches and dinners at the coffee table. In hindsight, they should have bought a dining table set first but the living room had been woefully empty with that single chair. The chair has since made its way to Setsuna’s room. On it was a framed photo of a certain blue-eyed royal.
"Are you going to tell us we’re not fit for this house?" asked (demanded) Lockon.
"It’ll be a waste of my breath if I do," replied Tieria, pushing his glasses up, giving him a superior look like he was looking at weed.
"Tieria, do you want to stay for dinner?" Allelujah, ever polite and sweet, asked, not noticing the frantic head shaking and waving hands from Lockon behind Tieria.
"Seeing as I don’t have any obligations tonight, I don’t see why not."
Lockon slumped in defeat. Setsuna merely munched into the apple he had in hand.
Tieria, despite being tactless, held his tongue when they ate at the coffee table. Although he did raise one eyebrow elegantly. He ate his meal in silence, not saying much as Allelujah chattered. He did thanked them for the dinner before he left. In a flashy purple-coloured car that would cost Lockon his entire life’s worth of salaries. Lockon stared glumly at the sports car.
"A gundam is better," said Setsuna, not so helpfully. "I am gundam."
"You’re not a gundam," said Lockon, slamming the door without meaning to. "Go to bed."
"Hn," said Setsuna, sounding snotty and bratty, and very Tieria-esque all at the same time. He turned and went upstairs.
A few weeks later, the Crosswind - Crossroad, Setsuna had corrected, Saji Crossroad - kid came. Tagging along with him was the loudest, bossiest and spoilt blonde girl Lockon had ever set eyes on. Saji Crossroad, in contrast, was quiet, polite and well-mannered. He made the best tempura ever which earned him a bonus in Lockon’s eyes. The girl, Louise-something or other, however...
"Your name can’t really be Lockon," she said, suspiciously, eyeing him as if he was the devil in disguise.
"Well, it is." Lockon smiled at her blandly from behind his cup. "My parents thought it’ll be funny to give me such a name." He didn’t need to tell her his real name or the reason for his codename.
"I could never make the prawns turn out so fluffy," said Allelujah, looking at the tempura prawns in admiration as if they were diamond encrusted prawns instead of ordinary deep-fried prawns.
Setsuna grunted around his mouthful in agreement. Saji blushed and beamed at them happily.
Saji was nice. In fact, he was so nice that Lockon wondered if he had a backbone from being shoved around by the bossy Louise. He and Setsuna seemed close. Well, as close as Lockon could see. He and Allelujah got on really well, discussing the techniques used for making the best beef stir fry.
Louise was still eyeing him suspiciously. Lockon turned on his megawatt smile at her. She glared even harder.
Crossroad and his blonde dominatrix left an hour later with Saji promising to come visit sometime next month and Louise grumbling about why they had to come back here again.
"Do you know what I think he does?" said Lichtendahl.
The Ptolemy crew and Sumeragi were here again. This time, they were gathered at the backyard. Sumeragi was already on her fourth beer, chugging down like there’s no tomorrow. Feldt and Haro were having what looked like intense conversation until one passed by them and the illusion was shattered.
"Who?" Sumeragi asked. She remarkably still up and alert.
"Tieria." Licht nodded but to whom, Lockon didn’t know. "I think he’s a critic. A food critic."
Lasse snorted. Christina’s eyes were wide. "Really?"
"Or maybe he’s a critic critic! The kind who just sits and criticise everything and everyone and gets paid to do it." Licht waved his hand wildly. The beer spilled over the rim of the glass, splattering on the ground.
"Don’t be ridiculous," said Sumeragi. "There’s no such thing."
"But it could be!" cried Licht. More beer fell on the ground. Lockon wondered if the grass was going to shrivel up and die.
Allelujah and Setsuna brought the platter of hot dogs and burgers over. There was coleslaw and potato salad, chicken wings and soda for Setsuna since he was still underage, though it didn’t stop Sumeragi from trying to shove the glass of amber liquid in his hands.
"Sumeragi-san!" Lockon yelped at the fourth attempt.
"Lighten up!" The woman burped.
"Lighten up! Lighten up!" Haro chirped then promptly dove into the neighbour’s swimming pool.
"Haro!" Feldt cried out as the neighbour’s three children screamed with delight from behind the sliding glass door.
Lockon felt a headache coming on.
Normal life was just not very normal at all. When it comes to their lives.
Fin.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Unbeta-ed, PWP, TWT, crack-ish, probably OOC-ness, AU-ish (?)
Genre: General, humour
Word Count: 2016
Main Character(s): Lockon, Allelujah, Setsuna, Tieria, Sumeragi & the Ptolemy crew, Saji, Louise and Haro
Summary: "A gundam is better," said Setsuna, not so helpfully. "I am gundam." One shot.
Disclaimer: Kidou Senshi Gundam 00, characters and places are copyright to Sunrise and Bandai.
AN: A what happens after the war sort of fic but not quite. It’s crack-ish and quite OOC-ness here and there. I tried to stick to canon as much as possible but I must confess I fail at that. *woe* That said, I was quite amused by writing this.
Normal life was just not normal at all.
As Tieria had said in his elegant way (tactless and know-it-all): "None of us will ever be normal."
Well, Lockon will bloody show him and live as normally as possible, fucking ex-terrorist be damned.
"The first step is getting a place to live."
Which he did. A modest two-storey house away from the bustling city of Tokyo in a nice residential district. He had moved in with only the bare minimum. Being a formerly wanted terrorist didn’t pay much (none at all) and he could only afford a few things. A futon, some extra clothes and a single chair. What he was going to do with that chair, he wasn’t quite sure yet. Offer it to his guests? That is if he had any guests coming. The kitchen, thankfully, had built-in cabinets and a stove pre-installed.
"The second step is getting a job. Preferably one that pays."
It took him six interviews at six places before he finally landed one job and it wasn’t even the type of job he liked. It was low minimum and the hours were long and it was too far from his house (he had yet to call it home), and he had second thoughts of becoming a sniper for hire. By the time he clocked off and reached his house, he was so dead tired he just promptly collapsed on the futon and went to sleep.
"The third step is... there is no third step. All you can do is to adjust to life and just live."
Haro was good company in the house. He (Lockon never referred to the orange mechanical ball as ‘it’) rolled about on the hardwood floors, chirping and chattering about inane things. Sometimes he pointed out the most obvious things to which Lockon responded. Haro was cheerful; it was the way he was designed. He also tended to hop right into the neighbour’s swimming pool. Lockon would have to go rescue the orange ball and apologise profusely to the neighbours who were more amused than annoyed.
Allelujah showed up on his doorstep one spring afternoon, a bag in one hand and a box in the other. Lockon let him in. He would never admit it but he was glad for human company. There was only so much he could talk with Haro before he’d go crazy. Plus, Alle can always go and fish the thing out of the neighbour’s swimming pool when Haro decides to go swimming. Lockon gave him the only chair in the house, watching as a bemused Allelujah looked for a place to put it.
Sumeragi came to visit on a warm evening. Tagging along with her were Ptolemy’s former crew. She had with her a brown bag and Lockon had a suspicion of what’s inside.
"For your house warming!" She beamed at him at the doorstep. He was sure it was meant for her only and she brought it along so she could have an excuse to drink. The real housewarming gift was a microwave oven from everyone carried by Lasse.
"Uh, take a seat?" He gestured the single chair in the sparse living room. He noticed their wide eyes. Lichtendahl looked as if he wanted to say something but an elbow from Lasse prevented it.
"It’s, um, nice," said Christina, stumbling over her words.
Haro broke the awkwardness by rolling into the room with a loud cry. Feldt bend over to pick the thing up, greeting it quietly. Sumeragi announced they were going to have a party here, furniture or no furniture. As the sort of captain on Ptolemy, she had right to the chair while everyone can just sit on the floor. Licht and Lasse were send out for food and drinks (the alcoholic kind).
It sort of a party, Lockon supposed. Everyone was here and there was much laughter and talk, reminiscing of the past and all that. Sumeragi drank too much again. Licht told his corny jokes that made everyone groaned. Christina was chatting happily with Allelujah, gesturing wildly. It was like old times. Almost.
Setsuna was supposedly doing quite well with that Princess. They were not lovers, per say. It would have been scandalous, considering the woman was old enough to be his older sister and was a royal whereas Setsuna was, well, he could be called a street rat. It reminded Lockon of that old, old carton he’d watched once. About a genie and a princess and a street rat. Except Setsuna was never a street rat but a terrorist.
Or perhaps not as well, thought Lockon when he opened his front door on a sunny summer morning and found the aforementioned street rat in front of the door with a large suitcase in both hands. The scarf was flopping limply around his neck and his face was red, from dragging the suitcase all the way from the driveway up to the doorstep. He let the boy in, tried to carry the suitcase only to nearly topple over. It was heavy as lead. Allelujah immediately pounced on the boy, fussing over him, giving him a bone-crushing hug and dragging the heavy suitcase (probably filled with bricks) upstairs to the bedroom without even breaking out in sweat.
"Damn super soldier freak," muttered Lockon.
Setsuna was taller but not much. His eyes were now level at Lockon’s jaw and he still needed to look up at Lockon when they talked. He was less aloof and a little more warmer, a little less robotic. The Princess was good for something.
Maybe not, he amended when Setsuna nearly jumped to the ceiling at the doorbell and brandished the frying pan at their neighbours, looking like he was ready to beat their heads in. He sighed deeply, preparing to apologise some more. He was sure the neighbours had written him and everyone (Allelujah and now Setsuna) in the house as nutjobs. But so far, no men in white coats had came for them. Lockon assumed the neighbours found his antics and Haro’s constant swimming (or sinking) in their pool their one source of entertainment in this dull place.
They settled nicely into a daily routine. Allelujah was quite the house person. He cleaned, dusted and cooked (at least none of them looked like the results of some mad science experiment). Not that there was much to be dusted or cleaned. It was two weeks after Setsuna moved in that they finally got a nice sofa set for the living room. They were all still sleeping on mattresses in their bedrooms. Allelujah, in a moment of ingenious (or madness, one could never tell), made a clothesline in all their bedrooms so they could hang up their clothes. Well, it’s better than digging through piles of laundry on the floor and wearing badly wrinkled clothes.
Tieria showed up one afternoon. For a moment, Lockon wondered if he was going to move in with them.
The young man (still wearing that horrible pink granny cardigan) sniffed disdainful at him before inviting himself into the house. He was critical of nearly everything in the house. From the bare walls to the new sofa set to the clothesline in their bedrooms to the non-existence layer of dust on the coffee table. Lockon didn’t tell Tieria that they all eat their breakfasts, lunches and dinners at the coffee table. In hindsight, they should have bought a dining table set first but the living room had been woefully empty with that single chair. The chair has since made its way to Setsuna’s room. On it was a framed photo of a certain blue-eyed royal.
"Are you going to tell us we’re not fit for this house?" asked (demanded) Lockon.
"It’ll be a waste of my breath if I do," replied Tieria, pushing his glasses up, giving him a superior look like he was looking at weed.
"Tieria, do you want to stay for dinner?" Allelujah, ever polite and sweet, asked, not noticing the frantic head shaking and waving hands from Lockon behind Tieria.
"Seeing as I don’t have any obligations tonight, I don’t see why not."
Lockon slumped in defeat. Setsuna merely munched into the apple he had in hand.
Tieria, despite being tactless, held his tongue when they ate at the coffee table. Although he did raise one eyebrow elegantly. He ate his meal in silence, not saying much as Allelujah chattered. He did thanked them for the dinner before he left. In a flashy purple-coloured car that would cost Lockon his entire life’s worth of salaries. Lockon stared glumly at the sports car.
"A gundam is better," said Setsuna, not so helpfully. "I am gundam."
"You’re not a gundam," said Lockon, slamming the door without meaning to. "Go to bed."
"Hn," said Setsuna, sounding snotty and bratty, and very Tieria-esque all at the same time. He turned and went upstairs.
A few weeks later, the Crosswind - Crossroad, Setsuna had corrected, Saji Crossroad - kid came. Tagging along with him was the loudest, bossiest and spoilt blonde girl Lockon had ever set eyes on. Saji Crossroad, in contrast, was quiet, polite and well-mannered. He made the best tempura ever which earned him a bonus in Lockon’s eyes. The girl, Louise-something or other, however...
"Your name can’t really be Lockon," she said, suspiciously, eyeing him as if he was the devil in disguise.
"Well, it is." Lockon smiled at her blandly from behind his cup. "My parents thought it’ll be funny to give me such a name." He didn’t need to tell her his real name or the reason for his codename.
"I could never make the prawns turn out so fluffy," said Allelujah, looking at the tempura prawns in admiration as if they were diamond encrusted prawns instead of ordinary deep-fried prawns.
Setsuna grunted around his mouthful in agreement. Saji blushed and beamed at them happily.
Saji was nice. In fact, he was so nice that Lockon wondered if he had a backbone from being shoved around by the bossy Louise. He and Setsuna seemed close. Well, as close as Lockon could see. He and Allelujah got on really well, discussing the techniques used for making the best beef stir fry.
Louise was still eyeing him suspiciously. Lockon turned on his megawatt smile at her. She glared even harder.
Crossroad and his blonde dominatrix left an hour later with Saji promising to come visit sometime next month and Louise grumbling about why they had to come back here again.
"Do you know what I think he does?" said Lichtendahl.
The Ptolemy crew and Sumeragi were here again. This time, they were gathered at the backyard. Sumeragi was already on her fourth beer, chugging down like there’s no tomorrow. Feldt and Haro were having what looked like intense conversation until one passed by them and the illusion was shattered.
"Who?" Sumeragi asked. She remarkably still up and alert.
"Tieria." Licht nodded but to whom, Lockon didn’t know. "I think he’s a critic. A food critic."
Lasse snorted. Christina’s eyes were wide. "Really?"
"Or maybe he’s a critic critic! The kind who just sits and criticise everything and everyone and gets paid to do it." Licht waved his hand wildly. The beer spilled over the rim of the glass, splattering on the ground.
"Don’t be ridiculous," said Sumeragi. "There’s no such thing."
"But it could be!" cried Licht. More beer fell on the ground. Lockon wondered if the grass was going to shrivel up and die.
Allelujah and Setsuna brought the platter of hot dogs and burgers over. There was coleslaw and potato salad, chicken wings and soda for Setsuna since he was still underage, though it didn’t stop Sumeragi from trying to shove the glass of amber liquid in his hands.
"Sumeragi-san!" Lockon yelped at the fourth attempt.
"Lighten up!" The woman burped.
"Lighten up! Lighten up!" Haro chirped then promptly dove into the neighbour’s swimming pool.
"Haro!" Feldt cried out as the neighbour’s three children screamed with delight from behind the sliding glass door.
Lockon felt a headache coming on.
Normal life was just not very normal at all. When it comes to their lives.
Fin.