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There is a certain kind of poetry to sex. It’s the curve of her spine as she arches towards you, the gasping ‘o’ of her mouth when she claws at your hair, the way her toes curl as you move lower, tongue darting along her thighs. Sunday afternoon and you and Kanaya finally have some time alone, if by alone you mean time to tear off each other’s clothing after approximately three seconds in her presence. Her hand yanks you up from your ministrations, pulling you into a sharp, needy kiss while her other hand works its way between your legs, one thin, long digit snaking between your folds.
The alarm shrieks to life, making the pair of you jump. She laughs and you nuzzle into her hair, rocking against her palm. You’ve not been rotated in, yet, you’ve never even fought a Kaiju before, there’s no way they would call you out. Not now. You tune out the loud clang as best you can, clinging to your girlfriend’s shoulders, trying to convey that you need her right there, no, there, and she’s panting in your ear and everything is her and you and the slowly building pressure between your legs.
“I’m- fuck keep going I’m about to-”
“Rose I need you on deck right-” The door to your room is slammed open, Karkat standing in the entryway. “You goddamned SHIT FISTING MORON THE ALARM JUST WENT OFF FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST CAN YOU STOP HUMPING EACH OTHER LIKE RABBITS IN HEAT FOR ONE BULL FUCKING MOMENT AND PUT ON SOME PANTS?” His face is turning an alarming shade of red and your girlfriend scrambles back from you as though you shot her. You stand, stumbling to pull on clothes.
“You’re sending Dave and me in?” It’s an honest question, but your voice is still laced with the frustration of an almost orgasm.
“Calliope and Caliborn are indisposed and no you do not get to know why I would pass up their ability to punch everything in sight into the next dimension. Equius is still laid up and Nepeta won’t leave his sweaty, absurdly muscular side until he’s healed, and Lucky Judge’s still got acid in her cockpit.” He practically drags you out the door, still trying to get your bra aligned properly on your shoulders. “The two of you tone-deaf douche flowers are ready. Or you should be, the good public has spend how many thousands of dollars training your sorry, fumbling asses now?”
He’s still ranting as you’re lead into the prep room, Dave already half suited and paler than normal. His mouth sits in a thin, flat line, shades off, eyes glancing to you.
“Hey wombmate, hows about we go and rip this monster a hundred new holes. We’re gonna be so good, shit, it’s like we’re Santa Claus and it’s Christmas and everyone is getting swords through their chests. It’s straight up festive in here, we should get some little hats to put on, jingle bell-” and he’s being shoved into his helmet. You put your arms out, let the suit click shut around you. This isn’t your first time in a suit. This won’t be your first time drifting, and this won’t be your first time in Amber Prophet either. This is however your first time when it’s real, when there is a real, not computer simulated monster out there, heading straight for you. Your skin breaks into a cold sweat and you swallow, focusing on the task ahead of you, eyes trained forward.
You climb into your station in the cockpit. Dave steps in on your left, and you turn to face him as the wires on your suit are unceremoniously plugged into the hulking machine around you.
“Jingle bells? Really?” Your mouth curls into a smile, reflected on the plexiglass of his faceplate.
“It’s the holidays.” The sweat on his forehead is worse, heart monitor blinking to life. One hundred forty three beats per minute for him, one hundred thirty for you. “We really need to get a handle on ourselves. We can flip directly off the handle and into a vat of blue after the show but until then we need to hold our applause and stay seated, thank you ladies and gentlemen.” He coughs, taking a shaking breath while the lights slowly flick on around the pair of you. A soft, mechanical voice informs you that you will be drifting in ten seconds. “What made you so late, anyways?”
“You’re about to be in my thoughts. I can assure you, the reason for my tardiness is front and center.” His eyes roll in your general direction and you are slammed backward, huffing air and trying to stay calm.
Eight and picking up his first weapon no ten and staring at a girl at school and thinking you’re not normal no eight again and learning how to fight, knees apart and awkward and facing your sister- facing your brother- fifteen there’s a monster in San Francisco sixteen and winning every award you can think of eighteen and being offered a job by a very serious man eighteen and being wired into his/her brain-
You/he opens your/his eyes. It’s calm, even as you’re falling down, blood rushing to your head until you crash on the body of your Jaeger, legs spread, knees bent. He/you scoffs at you/himself, images of Kanaya flickering through your vision. Really. Really that is why you were late? His thoughts assume dominance for one moment and you retaliate, shoving a particularly nasty thought his way. Shut up and disembowel a monster. The metal construct splashes down into the bright afternoon water of the Pacific, and it begins to walk.
“Can someone please tell me what it is we’re dealing with?” You are speaking and he is moving, drawing weapons with a few clicks of his fingers. Twin swords slide down the machine’s arms, the sensation transferred along your/his arms making you/him clench your/his fist reflexively, holding the razor sharp blades aloft.
“Schemering, category twosies, which is a fancy-pants way of sayin’ a dude who will absolutely wreck you if you’re not careful. We’re thinkin’ he’s gonna go for the ankles, pow, bring you down so you kiddos wanna just be on the alert. Dude’s a swimmer and his hips make me think he can’t even stand straight, so be ready to meet him at his level.” Roxy’s voice bounces through both of your minds, cheery as ever.
“Thanks babe, we weren’t going to do that or anything, we’re complete noobs pooping our baby diapers over here. What are we going to do, shit’s unreal, it’s not like we’ve ever done a single dry run or anything, ever.” Dave’s words echo through your/his mind, feeding back from his/your thoughts to his mouth. The two of you drop in tandem, one knee bent, the other extended in front of you/him, swords held by your/his sides. Your/his weight settles on your back leg, monitor showing the creature heading directly at you/him.
Closer.
Closer.
You/he prepare to pounce, weight moved forward. A decade of sword fighting, two years of Jaeger training, and six months of dry runs have prepared you/him for this moment. This will be easy, this will be quick, and then you/he can go back into Roxy/Kanaya’s arms-
“Wait, you and Ro-” and then there is visual contact, the machine rolling forward as you/he move and he/you shoves his/your right arm forward. The Kaiju shrieks as you slice off a section of its side, blade ripping through thick, mottled leathery skin like it’s wet paper, blue blood leaking into the ocean. It lunges, jaw opening, and you/he are treated to the sight of dozens of rows of teeth. Those teeth make contact with your/his leg and he grunts in pain, the feedback relayed into his suit just as surely as he was bit and you can’t feel it, it’s not your side. It’s strictly his side and his pain and you shift your weight to your leg, taking the pressure off of him. You/he moves your/his left arm, the other wheeling back as counter balance and it would be so much easier if this thing wasn’t flat on it’s belly, keeping you from standing upright, but now you’re here and it would be dangerous to shift at all, much less realign yourself/himself upright. Guns? Guns. The question of Roxy is abandoned for the moment, you/he rolling your shoulders as hip-mounted canons fire in tandem, sluicing through the water to Schemering’s jaw, hitting the corners of its mouth and tearing off the slower half of the gaping maw of death. It screams, again, and then it stands, powerful but short legs rearing it up to meet you.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. This animal wasn’t supposed to be able to stand but it’s standing and you/he are rising to meet it, barely dodging an attack to the cockpit from one swinging, clubbed arm. You/he thrust, again, and one of your swords manages to make contact, spearing it through the shoulder, and you/he have to brace yourself downward, keeping it pinned at arm’s length. Keep it away from your robot, keep it away, and Dave lifts his arm, still shuddering in pain from the hit to his leg. It screeches, rearing towards you, spitting and pulling up it’s arm to come crashing down on your/his head.
Dave turns on his comm link to the hangar bay. “Hey, Dirk, watch this.” And he/you have the steel embedded in it’s lower belly, yanking your/his arm up, up, up as it tears through layers of muscle and viscera and organs, a clean line up to the top of it’s throat until the blade emerges where it’s lower jaw used to be. It crumbles, twitching weakly, and you/he hold it aloft, keeping the rapidly draining corpse above the water, but just barely. You/he breathe hard and heavy, the Kaiju dying with little ceremony in front of you.
The tension snaps, both you and he laughing, nearly collapsing your robot. Your first kill, and it was over in minutes. Not a single problem in sight. You/he rear back, intending to dump the dead husk into the unforgiving depths of the ocean.
“Wait no do not drop it!” Kanaya’s voice flares on the com link and you/he stop, waiting. “Turn the corpse.”
“Turn the corpse?”
“Yes.” She sounds resolute, almost giddy. Smoothly, you/he turn your arm, sending the body swinging softly from the momentum
“Right there- that- what is that?” She’s glancing at a growth on the side of the thing’s guts, a large, florescent green blob that seems to encapsulate it’s organs. It spreads to the muscle tissue, tendrils embedded in it’s flesh.
""Oooh holy shit kiddos, looks like you got us an infected one! Damn, Kankan, wouldn't you like to get your hands on that in the lab?" Roxy is almost absurdly cheery, a hint of awe in her voice.
“Sir, permission to request a sample of the-”
“You want them to bring back a chunk of Kaiju? Them? The ones who just saved your squishy, meat-sack of a body from total annihilation by giant sea monster?” Karkat groans, the line going muffled for a moment, his hand shoved over the microphone.
“It would be-” Roxy’s voice shines through for just a moment before being lost in the muttering, underwater and distant. The voice of your commander gets louder, then softer, and both Kanaya and Roxy can be heard... pleading? That’s definitely pleading, their voices high and desperate.
“So whaddya think?” Dave drawls, turning his head to face you. “I don’t know about you but my leg hurts like shit, it’s straight off the hook like dozens of whining children used the muscle as a jump rope and then someone stuffed it back in there, it’s straight up unnatural that I’m still standing and I don’t want to hold this fucking carcass for longer than I damn well have to.” You nod, and he jerks his head towards the viewport. Your mouth curls into a small smile, lifting your/his arm, holding it higher.
You/he dig into its belly with your/his blades, carving out thick sections of muscle and gut, intestines spilling down and out of it’s ravaged stomach as you/he work. The corpse swings violently, twisting from the place where it is pinned on your/his other sword, chunks of meat splashing into the salt water below. Both hands take handfuls of the beast, intestines looped through your fingers and muscle dripping blood down below, all glowing with that same green ooze you saw before. Closer up, it looks almost velveteen, thousands of tiny projects, each with a glowing tip. The rest of the corpse is dropped, floating on the surface for now, and helicopters fly in to gather whatever remains are still useful. You/he turn, begin to walk back to base, and it you barely make it a few steps before Karkat is back on the line.
“You two have permission to take- well look at that you shitmaggot, crustbrained morons already helped yourself to heaping mounds of the shittiest parts of the literal monster from another god-fucking-damn dimension.”
The pair of you smirk in tandem as you/he walk to the hangar bay, large hunks of viscera still dripping from your/his hands as Amber Prophet crouches, nearing the doors.
“Anyone who values their life will vacate the dock’s vicinity immediately.” You speak and Dave laughs, the machine leaning lower... lower... and you/he are practically crawling back inside the cavernous bay where your machines are kept. You/he briefly catch a glimpse of Karkat, up in the observation deck and appearing to have a rage-induced aneurysm, his face bright red and his mouth twisted into a shout as he watches you/him drop the pile of gelatinous, infected parts on the floor before scooting sideways to your/his dock. You/he stand fully, presenting your hands forward. The building unfolds around you, pulling up a long catwalk for you and Dave to emerge from, the drift snapping the pair of you apart, back into your own minds. The recoil makes both of you stumble, suddenly and completely alone to your thoughts, separate from the other. It’s almost lonely, the first few seconds of crushing mental silence as you are gently unclipped from your positions in the machine.
For a moment, the air is thick with giddy energy.
And then you sigh, and Dave shouts, running out of the capsule, you trailing behind him. He’s taking the stairs two at a time by the time you manage to stumble out of the door, your twin punching the air and screaming.
“Did you fucking see that that shit was directly off the hook like it was captain of a band of rowdy boys wait no that doesn’t work shit where is there some aj Rose do you know where we can find aj cause I am dying of thirst over here, it is the Sahara desert in my mouth-” and Dirk is silently unfolding from the shadows, tossing him his damn beverage. In a flash, his faceplate is gone, his face twisted into an expression somewhere between relief, elation, and bloodlust. He drinks, yellow liquid running in rivulets into his suit. Have fun with that, cleanup crew.
“Nice kill, by the way.” Dirk gives you a little half-nod, and you return it in kind.
“Thank you. Did you expect anything less?” You begin to struggle out of your suit, gloves and helmet pulled off and handed to the tall blonde. He accepts them with the faintest hint of a sigh, and before you can unclasp the shirt a noise distracts you.The bay doors slide open below you, a resounding clang of metal screeching and letting a parade of scientists through the doors, scurrying to the heap on the floor. Kanaya glances up and sees you on the catwalk, then glances to the meat, then to you, then back to the meat, and then takes off running towards the stairs.
You catch her halfway down, pulling off your helmet in time to meet her in a hungry kiss. She’s crying, or had been, her cheeks wet and your forehead slicked with sweat, the two of your wrapping around each other for dear life. You bring your hands up to her face, running along her cheeks, wiping away the residual trails of salty tears and holding her there, with you.
“Were you honestly that concerned for my safety?”
“Of course I was I was watching the entire fight Rose when it stood up you could have died.” You kiss her again, calmer this time, and shush her lightly.
“Ye of little faith. I am far better than any category two Kaiju.” You give her a quick smile and she pulls back from you, grabbing one of your hands and nuzzling into your palm. “Your concern is appreciated. And duly noted.”
“Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there is a mound of collapsed organs that demand my careful attention.” You mock whine, following her down the stairs at a calmer pace, towards the tons of slop. The science team buzzes around it, flies to a particularly disgusting carcass, and you pick out Roxy, giving her a look. She shrugs, winking at you, and you roll your eyes. She knows you know about her and Dave, then. Your girlfriend is snapping on gloves, walking towards the pile, and you stay back, watching her eagerly order around her team, staring at the glowing mess of green whatever that is. They chatter, excited, and point out different, apparently fascinating features of the gore. You cross your arms over your chest, barely registering Karkat sprinting up towards you.
“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING BRINGING THAT BACK IN HERE?” He is trembling with pure rage and you put your hands down.
“I apologize, sir.” Your tone is sincere, looking right at him.
“DAMN STRAIGHT YOU’RE SORRY. YOU TRY SOME SHIT LIKE THAT AGAIN AND YOU’RE GROUNDED, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?” He glares at you, one eye twitching, his body angled away from you like he’s about to charge, tackle you to the ground.
“Loud and clear, sir.” The tiny ball of impotent anger stares you up and down, huffing, and opens his mouth to speak again before looking over your shoulder and glaring. You glance behind you and of course it’s Dave, sauntering towards you like he’s the absolute best at everything forever and ever, amen, and you swallow a giggle. “Dave, I wouldn’t-”
“That was the best damn kill anyone has ever done in one of those damn piles of scrap metal. We are the shit, Rose. It’s us.” He offers a fist and you reluctantly bump, Karkat looking disgusted and then storming away, off into the distance.
“It was fairly impressive. I’m sure your girlfriend will reward you with ample access to her reproductive organs tonight.” You flash him a smirk and he makes a face.
“Don’t be gross.” He shrugs, walking away, towards the double doors into the depths of the facility. “You coming to dinner? I don’t know about the state of your stomach but mine is about as empty as Karkat’s ability to react calmly to anything.”
“I will join you. Tonight, we feast like kings.” You catch up to him, keeping pace with his quick shuffle.
“We feast like Jaegers.”
“You know, that’s German for-”
“I fucking know Rose.” He punches you in the shoulder and you stick your tongue out of him, walking together away from the crowd.