[Guilty Gear] Interruptus
Title: Interruptus
Fandom: Guilty Gear
Pairing: Sol/Ky
Rating: PG-15
Warnings: Overture-verse with AU overtones, mentions of sex, humor
Notes: I'm having way too much fun imagining those two crazies parenting a kid who's at least as insane as them. Mes excuses.
Interruptus
It was fairly safe to say that Sol Badguy was not a child person.
In his mind, children had always been fragile, annoying and not especially useful, except as a way to ensure the survival of the human species, and after something a little over one hundred and fifty years, he had seen little to revise his opinion. Children were only marginally more tolerable when they were part bioweapon, because that meant they were less fragile and would be useful a little faster than the average human offspring. (Even though the bioweapon part of the equation also gifted the child in question with the reflexes to dodge whatever Sol aimed at him to get him to stop being a pain in the... neck).
It helped, of course, that the brat had a good head on his shoulders and was a quick study (which, if he had been feeling generous, he might have been inclined to attribute to the person to blame for the brat's existence). It more or less balanced out the discovery that "never shutting up" was a genetic defect handed down from one generation to the next.
So yes, on average, Sol did not mind the brat nearly as much as he should. Except right now.
Because right now, he wanted to murder him.
Naturally, it had been too much to hope that the loud crash from down the corridor would be lost on his partner.
Underneath him, Ky stopped his enthusiastic squirming. "Wait..."
Sol thought what they had been doing was much more interesting than listening to what the brat was up to at half past midnight, and expressed his point by jabbing his tongue into Ky's bellybutton.
"Ngh," Ky said, struggling to prop himself up on his elbows. "Stop that. What was that?"
Before Sol could mutter, "Nothing," and employ methods that were sure to help Ky to write off the incident as insignificant, an approximation of a fairly impressive war cry rang through the entire wing.
"What in heaven's name...? ...Let go," Ky said, yanking Sol away from where he had been sucking on his hipbone.
Tumblerollcrash.
Ky frowned, and Sol could practically hear his mind shifting into "concerned parent" mode. Nevermind that this was the kid who had giggled upon being singed by a Gunflame, but he was not about to reveal that tidbit to Ky.
"What is he doing?" Ky had succeeded in raising himself up on his elbows, and Sol knew that it was only due to him mostly lying on Ky that the blond was not already halfway down the corridor.
He sighed. "You never went looking for monsters under the bed as a kid, boy scout?"
Ky paused. "You're not serious-"
Right on cue came the sounds of furniture meeting its unfortunate end, accompanied by a childish scream of, "Die, Gear!"
Ky blinked at the door, blinked at Sol, and flopped rather gracelessly back into the pillow. "You're serious."
The safety of his mostly indestructible son ascertained, Sol thought it was not unreasonable to see if they could pick up where they had left off. Ky did not seem to be of the same mind, as he rather unceremoniously kneed Sol in the stomach.
"Do something about it."
"Hn," Sol said, sure in his knowledge that Ky would correctly translate it to "you have to be fucking kidding me", along with heavy undertones that seriously questioned his sanity.
Ky glared at him accusingly. "You were the one who put Gear-hunting into his head, now you can go and put it out of it."
He refrained from adding the stereotypical "or you can sleep on the couch", but that did not really need to be said. From experience, Sol knew that Ky was unfortunately very much capable of pulling off the cold fish act and banning him from the bed.
"Well?" Ky demanded, nudging him none too gently.
Sometimes, Sol reflected as he groped for his pants, he really, really hated kids.
- Fin -
----
A/N: So, here I am and carefully planning to release a serious, well thought-out fic, and then the crack comes and beats me senseless. twigcollins, somehow this is all your fault. I know I've likely lost everyone's respect now, but hey. At least I can stop beating myself up over this fandom?
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Fandom: Guilty Gear
Pairing: Sol/Ky
Rating: PG-15
Warnings: Overture-verse with AU overtones, mentions of sex, humor
Notes: I'm having way too much fun imagining those two crazies parenting a kid who's at least as insane as them. Mes excuses.
Interruptus
It was fairly safe to say that Sol Badguy was not a child person.
In his mind, children had always been fragile, annoying and not especially useful, except as a way to ensure the survival of the human species, and after something a little over one hundred and fifty years, he had seen little to revise his opinion. Children were only marginally more tolerable when they were part bioweapon, because that meant they were less fragile and would be useful a little faster than the average human offspring. (Even though the bioweapon part of the equation also gifted the child in question with the reflexes to dodge whatever Sol aimed at him to get him to stop being a pain in the... neck).
It helped, of course, that the brat had a good head on his shoulders and was a quick study (which, if he had been feeling generous, he might have been inclined to attribute to the person to blame for the brat's existence). It more or less balanced out the discovery that "never shutting up" was a genetic defect handed down from one generation to the next.
So yes, on average, Sol did not mind the brat nearly as much as he should. Except right now.
Because right now, he wanted to murder him.
Naturally, it had been too much to hope that the loud crash from down the corridor would be lost on his partner.
Underneath him, Ky stopped his enthusiastic squirming. "Wait..."
Sol thought what they had been doing was much more interesting than listening to what the brat was up to at half past midnight, and expressed his point by jabbing his tongue into Ky's bellybutton.
"Ngh," Ky said, struggling to prop himself up on his elbows. "Stop that. What was that?"
Before Sol could mutter, "Nothing," and employ methods that were sure to help Ky to write off the incident as insignificant, an approximation of a fairly impressive war cry rang through the entire wing.
"What in heaven's name...? ...Let go," Ky said, yanking Sol away from where he had been sucking on his hipbone.
Tumblerollcrash.
Ky frowned, and Sol could practically hear his mind shifting into "concerned parent" mode. Nevermind that this was the kid who had giggled upon being singed by a Gunflame, but he was not about to reveal that tidbit to Ky.
"What is he doing?" Ky had succeeded in raising himself up on his elbows, and Sol knew that it was only due to him mostly lying on Ky that the blond was not already halfway down the corridor.
He sighed. "You never went looking for monsters under the bed as a kid, boy scout?"
Ky paused. "You're not serious-"
Right on cue came the sounds of furniture meeting its unfortunate end, accompanied by a childish scream of, "Die, Gear!"
Ky blinked at the door, blinked at Sol, and flopped rather gracelessly back into the pillow. "You're serious."
The safety of his mostly indestructible son ascertained, Sol thought it was not unreasonable to see if they could pick up where they had left off. Ky did not seem to be of the same mind, as he rather unceremoniously kneed Sol in the stomach.
"Do something about it."
"Hn," Sol said, sure in his knowledge that Ky would correctly translate it to "you have to be fucking kidding me", along with heavy undertones that seriously questioned his sanity.
Ky glared at him accusingly. "You were the one who put Gear-hunting into his head, now you can go and put it out of it."
He refrained from adding the stereotypical "or you can sleep on the couch", but that did not really need to be said. From experience, Sol knew that Ky was unfortunately very much capable of pulling off the cold fish act and banning him from the bed.
"Well?" Ky demanded, nudging him none too gently.
Sometimes, Sol reflected as he groped for his pants, he really, really hated kids.
- Fin -
----
A/N: So, here I am and carefully planning to release a serious, well thought-out fic, and then the crack comes and beats me senseless. twigcollins, somehow this is all your fault. I know I've likely lost everyone's respect now, but hey. At least I can stop beating myself up over this fandom?
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