AuelxSting - for Spiritsmelding
Title: His Memories
Pairing: Auel Neider x Sting Oakley
Rating: T
Words: 1280
Summary: He knows his memories have been controlled since he was small, too, cropped and twisted to fit whoever demands his use. That doesn't bother him much, either, except there are some things he's decided he wants to remember.
Notes: To Spiritsmelding, who gave me this pairing as a challenge a few months ago and I just got around to finishing it :D
Sting doesn't really have an opinion on much, nor does he care about much.
Sting knows that he is part of a mass experimental procedure, part of an attempt to one-up the Coordinators with pills rather than genetics. It isn't important whether he has to take pills or not; whatever will kill those bastard Coordinators. He knows that he has been trained since he could crawl to be a deadly killing machine, ready to slay in any situation possible. It's useful; he had been nearly assaulted once in a city and killed the man who had tried. He knows that he's been brainwashed. He doesn't much care; he's resigned himself to be the perfect killing machine, resigned himself to serve others higher than him. He knows his memories have been controlled since he was small, too, cropped and twisted to fit whoever demands his use.
That doesn't bother him much, either, except there are some things he's decided he wants to remember.
He's known only two people continuously throughout his life: Stellar and Auel. He didn't much care for Stellar's quiet personality until something simple perks her interest. She reminded him too much of a primitive form of man, like an orangutan, fearful but curious of everything. He did not like how she twirled about her dress, her hair flying around her prominent cheekbones that made her look slightly malnourished.
Auel was vastly different and therefore vastly more entertaining. His sarcastic wit was something to lift up their spirits in the tough times, when Neo wouldn't get off their asses about yet another failed battle, even if Stellar almost never understood his words, dripping in their acidic cynicism. His intelligence was not only proven through those biting remarks but by his tactical advantages on the battlefield. Sting was snatched time after time from death's clutches every time a missile burst from the water and rocketed into his enemy. His hair combed to the side nicely, his face, cocked in a smirk most of the time, visible.
His personality was a refreshing spray of air in an otherwise inferno-of-a-world.
Sting didn't find it unusual to be attracted to Auel, either. The shorter boy had flirted with him briefly before, before Stellar stared at them oddly before returning to her food. They had dropped it after that, only the slightest bit concerned she would tattle to Neo.
Sting knows that attractions usually fade, as he had shyly admired Stellar when they were very young (he hates himself for it now). He thought that those snakes writhing in his stomach for Auel had dissipated as the tide of the war turned for the grim. It wasn't until the blue-haired boy gave him a quick kiss before a battle once that the reptiles began to slither once more in there. They had both survived, retreating back to the ship.
Sting kissed him back that night while they were changing in the bathroom. It wasn't weird at all, like he thought it would be. Instead it was nice, relaxing for some reason, and a few weeks later Auel kissed him again, once again while changing. Sting didn't remember how it happened, but somehow they had ended up a tangled mess of naked limbs in a toilet stall, pressed against the cold metal of the wall.
Neo encouraged each of them to keep a “log” of their journey aboard the ship (Stellar said hers was a “diary” and immediately put a lock on it). Sting was careful not to mention anything about his strange relationship with Auel in there, and if he did it was very vague or a double entendre, but in a thoughtful mood one rainy Monday in the Mediterranean, he penned a short entry:
I find it odd but somehow fascinating that the human mind can go blank for long periods of time, even if all five of the senses picked up the event in intense detail. I have many battles stored in my memory that I can hardly remember: suiting up and dress down where the two main events, with only touches of sensory detail like the sight of my controls glowing and the roaring of the metal exploded all around me. I've learned that other events in my life have produced a similar mind wipe, and I wish for those memories back.
If Neo was suspicious of anything, he did not bother to follow up with his musings and generally let the pilots alone, occasionally for Stellar. That is, until she took off and went missing.
------------
Sting and Auel wondered who was supposed to occupy the empty pod for a while, but gave up after Neo firmly “suggested” that they spent their free time devising new battle strategies. Of course, they disregarded his opinion and did other things.
They discovered both liked math to some extent (which was to the extent they had been taught, which was basic arithmetic). Neo had ordered some bald man to tutor them in math, teaching them algebra and geometry and calculus at an extraordinary rate. When they did not have someone to supervise them, they headed to the abandoned, broken bathrooms in the basement of the ship.
Auel knew an unhealthy (to some) amount about sex, and he playfully made Sting try out everything he had learned from “a secret source.” Most of them were actually quite pleasureful and they did not hesitate to add them to their normal routine every Thursday evening before bed.
Sting knew everything was going too well. Something would tear this away from him, his snakes whispered to him in the glowing light of his pod as he slept, something would like they always had. He wasn't aware of this, only remembering the basics of battle school and of Auel. But soon those recollections of battle school would be taken away from him like a slave child ripped from the arms of its mother, and every last grain of Auel would be scorched from his brain, bacteria in an oven, and he wouldn't even know it. It was a wretched pain in his stomach, like he had eaten too much but not yet enough to regurgitate it.
Auel exploded first, his Gundam bursting from the inside out before sinking to the wretched dark pits of the ocean. Sting, dragged away by mechanics, cried all during the medication process, watery dark snakes telling him he would never be with Auel again.
------------
His eyes stung painfully as he awakened, sitting himself up as the glass bubble covering hissed up. Two empty pods flanked his, and he frowned. Was it always like this? I think so.
Uneasiness lodged in his gut.
He waved to Neo, pointing at the two other bubbles with his index finger and thumb. “Were those always empty?”
The masked man stared at him for a long moment, the question hanging in a deadly silence in the stale-tasting air, before his lips danced into a despicable smile. “Of course they have. What makes you think otherwise?”
His frown deepened into a scowl as Sting realized that the older man was mocking him. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
Sting knows that he is part of a mass experimental procedure. He knows that he has been trained since he could crawl to be a deadly killing machine, ready to slay in any situation possible. He knows that he's been brainwashed. He doesn't much care; he's resigned himself to be the perfect killing machine, resigned himself to serve others higher than him.
None of this bothers him much, either, except there are some things he's decided he wants to remember.
But he doesn't remember them at all.
or at ff.net: here
Pairing: Auel Neider x Sting Oakley
Rating: T
Words: 1280
Summary: He knows his memories have been controlled since he was small, too, cropped and twisted to fit whoever demands his use. That doesn't bother him much, either, except there are some things he's decided he wants to remember.
Notes: To Spiritsmelding, who gave me this pairing as a challenge a few months ago and I just got around to finishing it :D
Sting doesn't really have an opinion on much, nor does he care about much.
Sting knows that he is part of a mass experimental procedure, part of an attempt to one-up the Coordinators with pills rather than genetics. It isn't important whether he has to take pills or not; whatever will kill those bastard Coordinators. He knows that he has been trained since he could crawl to be a deadly killing machine, ready to slay in any situation possible. It's useful; he had been nearly assaulted once in a city and killed the man who had tried. He knows that he's been brainwashed. He doesn't much care; he's resigned himself to be the perfect killing machine, resigned himself to serve others higher than him. He knows his memories have been controlled since he was small, too, cropped and twisted to fit whoever demands his use.
That doesn't bother him much, either, except there are some things he's decided he wants to remember.
He's known only two people continuously throughout his life: Stellar and Auel. He didn't much care for Stellar's quiet personality until something simple perks her interest. She reminded him too much of a primitive form of man, like an orangutan, fearful but curious of everything. He did not like how she twirled about her dress, her hair flying around her prominent cheekbones that made her look slightly malnourished.
Auel was vastly different and therefore vastly more entertaining. His sarcastic wit was something to lift up their spirits in the tough times, when Neo wouldn't get off their asses about yet another failed battle, even if Stellar almost never understood his words, dripping in their acidic cynicism. His intelligence was not only proven through those biting remarks but by his tactical advantages on the battlefield. Sting was snatched time after time from death's clutches every time a missile burst from the water and rocketed into his enemy. His hair combed to the side nicely, his face, cocked in a smirk most of the time, visible.
His personality was a refreshing spray of air in an otherwise inferno-of-a-world.
Sting didn't find it unusual to be attracted to Auel, either. The shorter boy had flirted with him briefly before, before Stellar stared at them oddly before returning to her food. They had dropped it after that, only the slightest bit concerned she would tattle to Neo.
Sting knows that attractions usually fade, as he had shyly admired Stellar when they were very young (he hates himself for it now). He thought that those snakes writhing in his stomach for Auel had dissipated as the tide of the war turned for the grim. It wasn't until the blue-haired boy gave him a quick kiss before a battle once that the reptiles began to slither once more in there. They had both survived, retreating back to the ship.
Sting kissed him back that night while they were changing in the bathroom. It wasn't weird at all, like he thought it would be. Instead it was nice, relaxing for some reason, and a few weeks later Auel kissed him again, once again while changing. Sting didn't remember how it happened, but somehow they had ended up a tangled mess of naked limbs in a toilet stall, pressed against the cold metal of the wall.
Neo encouraged each of them to keep a “log” of their journey aboard the ship (Stellar said hers was a “diary” and immediately put a lock on it). Sting was careful not to mention anything about his strange relationship with Auel in there, and if he did it was very vague or a double entendre, but in a thoughtful mood one rainy Monday in the Mediterranean, he penned a short entry:
I find it odd but somehow fascinating that the human mind can go blank for long periods of time, even if all five of the senses picked up the event in intense detail. I have many battles stored in my memory that I can hardly remember: suiting up and dress down where the two main events, with only touches of sensory detail like the sight of my controls glowing and the roaring of the metal exploded all around me. I've learned that other events in my life have produced a similar mind wipe, and I wish for those memories back.
If Neo was suspicious of anything, he did not bother to follow up with his musings and generally let the pilots alone, occasionally for Stellar. That is, until she took off and went missing.
------------
Sting and Auel wondered who was supposed to occupy the empty pod for a while, but gave up after Neo firmly “suggested” that they spent their free time devising new battle strategies. Of course, they disregarded his opinion and did other things.
They discovered both liked math to some extent (which was to the extent they had been taught, which was basic arithmetic). Neo had ordered some bald man to tutor them in math, teaching them algebra and geometry and calculus at an extraordinary rate. When they did not have someone to supervise them, they headed to the abandoned, broken bathrooms in the basement of the ship.
Auel knew an unhealthy (to some) amount about sex, and he playfully made Sting try out everything he had learned from “a secret source.” Most of them were actually quite pleasureful and they did not hesitate to add them to their normal routine every Thursday evening before bed.
Sting knew everything was going too well. Something would tear this away from him, his snakes whispered to him in the glowing light of his pod as he slept, something would like they always had. He wasn't aware of this, only remembering the basics of battle school and of Auel. But soon those recollections of battle school would be taken away from him like a slave child ripped from the arms of its mother, and every last grain of Auel would be scorched from his brain, bacteria in an oven, and he wouldn't even know it. It was a wretched pain in his stomach, like he had eaten too much but not yet enough to regurgitate it.
Auel exploded first, his Gundam bursting from the inside out before sinking to the wretched dark pits of the ocean. Sting, dragged away by mechanics, cried all during the medication process, watery dark snakes telling him he would never be with Auel again.
------------
His eyes stung painfully as he awakened, sitting himself up as the glass bubble covering hissed up. Two empty pods flanked his, and he frowned. Was it always like this? I think so.
Uneasiness lodged in his gut.
He waved to Neo, pointing at the two other bubbles with his index finger and thumb. “Were those always empty?”
The masked man stared at him for a long moment, the question hanging in a deadly silence in the stale-tasting air, before his lips danced into a despicable smile. “Of course they have. What makes you think otherwise?”
His frown deepened into a scowl as Sting realized that the older man was mocking him. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
Sting knows that he is part of a mass experimental procedure. He knows that he has been trained since he could crawl to be a deadly killing machine, ready to slay in any situation possible. He knows that he's been brainwashed. He doesn't much care; he's resigned himself to be the perfect killing machine, resigned himself to serve others higher than him.
None of this bothers him much, either, except there are some things he's decided he wants to remember.
But he doesn't remember them at all.
or at ff.net: here