Fic: Post-Drift Rituals
Title: Post-Drift Rituals
Author: Talayse
Fandom: Pacific Rim
Pairing: None
Rating: PG
Warning(s): None
Genre: Fluff/Friendship
Notes: I wasn't sure what the canon term for the armour the pilots wear while piloting the Jaegers was, (I called it bio-armour just to give it a name) and idiosyncratic kindly informed me it's called a 'drivesuit' in the novelization, so I've edited the fic to reflect that. Thanks!
Summary: Mako had Raleigh's toes in her nose again.
Mako had Raleigh's toes in her nose again.
Okay, she had to rephrase that even in her own mind, because it sounded like she and Raleigh were having weird, kinky sex, which they weren't. No matter how often they told people they weren't--- and comments like this about having Raleigh's toes in her nose didn't help any--- people never believed them.
The fact still remained that Raleigh's toes were in her nose, which was an unfortunate but common occurrence. No sex was involved.
What was involved was their post-Drift ritual, which started with wrestling--- once they had left their new Jaeger Gypsy Rogue and stripped out of the drivesuit. The Drift always left them wrung out, empty in their own heads when they were no longer linked, and the wrestling, even though they were usually exhausted, was comforting. And Raleigh had freakish toes that always, always ended up in her nose.
"Freak toes," Mako muttered, pulled the offending digits from her nostrils.
Raleigh wiggled his toes at her face. Mako took his ankles and flipped him over on his stomach, then sat on his back.
They were both drenched in sweat, and would shower it and the aches and pains away in another few minutes. Then they would head to the mess where they would eat all the food. All of it. Jaeger techs had learned early on not to get between a post mission Jaeger pilot and the food. (It was in the Jaeger technicians' 101 class, subsection 'How to Deal with Pilots'.)
Raleigh was trying to buck her off his back, so she grabbed his hair and pulled his head back to unbalance him. He could try to get his feet under himself---she was light enough that he could probably stand with her clinging to his back---but he either hadn't thought of it or was saving it for a last resort.
Neither looked up when the door to the Pilots' Lounge opened and Marshal Hansen said, "And this is the Pilots' Lounge . . . the juvenile delinquents on the floor are the pilots of Gypsy Rogue, Mako Mori and Raleigh Becket, who despite appearances are not squabbling siblings."
Raleigh started laughing even as he finally dislodged Mako, by rolling. Hansen was probably the only one who understood that they were more like siblings than anything else. To have become lovers after first sharing their minds would have been creepy and unlikely. And people forgot to take things like orientation into consideration when they randomly paired people off on such superficial reasoning. Mako knew Raleigh better than anyone, and some days, she was Raleigh and Raleigh was Mako. It was the nature of the Drift, sure it got confusing sometimes, not knowing who she was. However, she knew that Raleigh had only ever looked at her as a fighter, a friend and an ally. He looked elsewhere for romantic love, if he bothered to look at all.
Now, sitting on the floor next to each other, they each waved at the trainee pilots that Hansen was showing around, proving that though they were not currently sharing a brain, some of the influence of the Drift lingered. Mako noticed, and shoved Raleigh, playfully. He shoved her right back.
"When the two of you are done embarrassing yourselves, there's Shepherd's Pie in the mess and it might be gone if you linger much longer," Hansen said, leaving with the trainees.
Mako and Raleigh bolted off the floor, racing down the hall to their shared quarters and leaping into separate showers, and it was there they slowed, finally. The adrenaline wore away under the heat of the water as they showered, and dressed slowly. Raleigh fussed over a bruise on her shoulder until she shoved him hard enough to bounce him off the wall.
They then headed for the mess, certain there would be food for them, but eager for it all the same. On the way, they began the final stage of their post-Drift ritual, an ongoing argument of which had been better: Gipsy Danger or Gypsy Rogue. So far, neither one of them was close to winning the argument, largely because they couldn't agree on the parameters of 'better'.
But it was certainly the best way to end the day.
Author: Talayse
Fandom: Pacific Rim
Pairing: None
Rating: PG
Warning(s): None
Genre: Fluff/Friendship
Notes: I wasn't sure what the canon term for the armour the pilots wear while piloting the Jaegers was, (I called it bio-armour just to give it a name) and idiosyncratic kindly informed me it's called a 'drivesuit' in the novelization, so I've edited the fic to reflect that. Thanks!
Summary: Mako had Raleigh's toes in her nose again.
Mako had Raleigh's toes in her nose again.
Okay, she had to rephrase that even in her own mind, because it sounded like she and Raleigh were having weird, kinky sex, which they weren't. No matter how often they told people they weren't--- and comments like this about having Raleigh's toes in her nose didn't help any--- people never believed them.
The fact still remained that Raleigh's toes were in her nose, which was an unfortunate but common occurrence. No sex was involved.
What was involved was their post-Drift ritual, which started with wrestling--- once they had left their new Jaeger Gypsy Rogue and stripped out of the drivesuit. The Drift always left them wrung out, empty in their own heads when they were no longer linked, and the wrestling, even though they were usually exhausted, was comforting. And Raleigh had freakish toes that always, always ended up in her nose.
"Freak toes," Mako muttered, pulled the offending digits from her nostrils.
Raleigh wiggled his toes at her face. Mako took his ankles and flipped him over on his stomach, then sat on his back.
They were both drenched in sweat, and would shower it and the aches and pains away in another few minutes. Then they would head to the mess where they would eat all the food. All of it. Jaeger techs had learned early on not to get between a post mission Jaeger pilot and the food. (It was in the Jaeger technicians' 101 class, subsection 'How to Deal with Pilots'.)
Raleigh was trying to buck her off his back, so she grabbed his hair and pulled his head back to unbalance him. He could try to get his feet under himself---she was light enough that he could probably stand with her clinging to his back---but he either hadn't thought of it or was saving it for a last resort.
Neither looked up when the door to the Pilots' Lounge opened and Marshal Hansen said, "And this is the Pilots' Lounge . . . the juvenile delinquents on the floor are the pilots of Gypsy Rogue, Mako Mori and Raleigh Becket, who despite appearances are not squabbling siblings."
Raleigh started laughing even as he finally dislodged Mako, by rolling. Hansen was probably the only one who understood that they were more like siblings than anything else. To have become lovers after first sharing their minds would have been creepy and unlikely. And people forgot to take things like orientation into consideration when they randomly paired people off on such superficial reasoning. Mako knew Raleigh better than anyone, and some days, she was Raleigh and Raleigh was Mako. It was the nature of the Drift, sure it got confusing sometimes, not knowing who she was. However, she knew that Raleigh had only ever looked at her as a fighter, a friend and an ally. He looked elsewhere for romantic love, if he bothered to look at all.
Now, sitting on the floor next to each other, they each waved at the trainee pilots that Hansen was showing around, proving that though they were not currently sharing a brain, some of the influence of the Drift lingered. Mako noticed, and shoved Raleigh, playfully. He shoved her right back.
"When the two of you are done embarrassing yourselves, there's Shepherd's Pie in the mess and it might be gone if you linger much longer," Hansen said, leaving with the trainees.
Mako and Raleigh bolted off the floor, racing down the hall to their shared quarters and leaping into separate showers, and it was there they slowed, finally. The adrenaline wore away under the heat of the water as they showered, and dressed slowly. Raleigh fussed over a bruise on her shoulder until she shoved him hard enough to bounce him off the wall.
They then headed for the mess, certain there would be food for them, but eager for it all the same. On the way, they began the final stage of their post-Drift ritual, an ongoing argument of which had been better: Gipsy Danger or Gypsy Rogue. So far, neither one of them was close to winning the argument, largely because they couldn't agree on the parameters of 'better'.
But it was certainly the best way to end the day.