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Birdsongs

Chapter 7

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Summary: The Life Pilgrimage is the biggest music festival of the century, set to take place all across the continent. Small-time rock band, GIST, and the up-and-coming alternative band, Empire, are both lucky to be among the hundreds set to make appearances, but there's just one problem. Neither can afford the travel expenses on their own. For better or worse, they're stuck with each other for the next five weeks as they try to make their dreams come true.

And, perhaps, among the chaos and music, two unsuspecting souls find one another...

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Joel/Lizzie (romantic), Jimmy & Scott (platonic)

Warnings: Alcohol, drugs, verbal fights, theft, divorce talk

Jimmy was driver for the second day in a row.

Not that he minded. Actually, he’d discovered so far he quite liked driving, especially the trailer. It felt satisfying, the movements the vehicles made when he turned the wheel or pressed on the brakes. He caught a lot more of the scenery when he had to concentrate, also. Time just passed by faster, more peaceful. One of the few times of this trip he could stop thinking.

It was a bit funny really, because he’d waffled on acquiring his license until college, so he hadn’t gotten to drive much as a teen. Then he’d gotten together with Scott. It wasn’t something they talked about, but even when they drove Jimmy’s car the keys always ended up in Scott’s hands. After moving back in with Lizzie he’d sold his car to cushion himself. Joel was the sort of guy who refused to let anyone touch his baby, so more often than not he was driven around or carpooled. Really, the fact that Jimmy was even allowed to drive the trailer seemed wild to him, but he was glad he was.

Especially now, with everyone so quiet.

The trailer bounced on the uneven country road. There was a whistle-like squeak and a thunk. Joel groaned. Between the lights being off and the shade of the forest outside Jimmy didn’t bother trying to check on him. He took a deep breath of the morning air as it rushed past the open window, letting his hand hang against the outside of the door. There was a hum on his tongue, but he kept his mouth shut to avoid fratricide.

Another bounce, another whistle, another groan.

Shuffling footsteps slowly approached, and this time Jimmy did check the mirror. It was Tango, eyes still shut and using the walls to navigate his way up until he flopped down into the passenger seat. Jimmy smiled, “Mornin’, sunshine.”

Tango let out a grunt, head reclined and face pulled tight around his nose as he tried to adjust to the bright window. He flicked his red sunglasses out of his pocket before even daring to try opening his eyes. “What sort of mutant are you to be so perky this early?” He muttered, eyes squinted. They scanned about until they landed on the half-folded map across the dash, and snatched it up.

“One who had seven AM classes and never readjusted.” He shrugged.

“That’s such a lie.” Wheezed Lizzie from somewhere in the back. Jimmy could picture her wagging finger. “You’ve always gotten up at unholy hours and I know you know it.”

“Hey! You would have never made it to band practice all of grade eleven and twelve if it weren’t for me!”

“Twas you whom sealed my fate, oh retched inhuman beast.”

“A thank you would be fine, you know!”

Thump, whistle, groan.

Tango snickered. “Alright, so where’s the hospital?”

“Should be a few miles up the road in another town.” He reached over, tapping a red H located on the map. “Another ten minutes probably. There’s a Ricky’s across the street from it so we can meet there for breakfast and sort all our stuff back into the right vehicles.”

The mention of food elicited a happy chorus from the zombie horde. Jimmy smiled and reached over the console for his water bottle before pushing it into Tango’s face. “I refilled all the ones I could find before disconnecting the water.”

Tango blinked, eyes dilating at the speed of molasses as his brain clicked back into reality. “Look at you, thinkin’ of everything. What’d we do without you?” He grinned and took the bottle. Jimmy felt his cheeks warm, back straightening up as he turned his attention onto the road.

Thump, whistle, groan.

His hold on the wheel tightened. “Well, all the responsible people are at the hospital, so someone has to do it.”

“I’m not sure going to the ER ‘cause of a bar brawl screams responsible.”

The bottle clunked back into the console, Tango scooting forward in his seat to lean his head back. Not on Jimmy’s watch. “Says the man without a seatbelt on.” He said, then cringed. It sounded so much more obnoxious when he said it aloud. If it bothered Tango he didn’t show it, fumbling for the belt with one hand and eyes closed.

“Ah well, stuff like this is gonna happen.” Tango said. “Better to get it out of our systems early, right? It’s all smooth sailing now.”

“Are you trying to dare the devil or something?” Joel interjected from his seat, giving voice to Jimmy’s thoughts.

But Tango waved him off, “What? That’s how you’re supposed to do it. Go wild the first little bit so everything after feels like a walk in the park! That’s how we’ve always done things, shakes off the nerves.”

Jimmy wasn’t so sure that’s how it worked, but he certainly hoped it was. As much fun as last night had been, it was probably for the best it was behind them.

A sign flashed by, almost too fast, telling Jimmy it was finally their turn off the freeway. Trees gave way to a town that was more of a giant truck stop, uncomfortably sparse with everything paved over, and enormous signs advertising fast food joints and gas prices heads above the tallest building. Actual homes were scattered further out in the hills or awkwardly dotted among the half-empty parking lots, their picket fences and old shingles all that was left of when the town must have been much quainter.

Their bandmates were already waiting for them outside the hospital, and five minutes later they were piling into Ricky’s for brunch. Judging from its proximity to the hospital and the fact that Jimmy could recognize several faces at the other tables, it probably wasn’t a surprised the waitress didn’t question why they all smelled worse than they looked. Scott managed to escape with only a split lip and bruise under his eye, his stitches being for a long cut up his forearm. Fwhip was not as lucky. Gem was already busy making fun of the man who looked like he’d been one with the bar floor mid-brawl. She was one to talk, given the black eye she sported. Jimmy was pretty sure he saw her nearly bite someone’s ear off, though, so he abstained from interrupting her.

With ten people their orders came in rounds. First came Pearl’s omelette with the works alongside Scott’s bennies and Skizz’s ridiculously huge grand breakfast that seemed to be three of everything. It was less ridiculous when Jimmy realized he was sharing with Impulse. Then came Gem’s clubhouse, Fwhip’s chicken tenders, and Lizzie’s fish and chips. After that was Joel’s bacon cheddar burger, and finally-

“Here you are, buttermilk pancakes.” The waitress announce cheerfully as she slipped one plate in front of Jimmy and another in front of Tango, placing a single plate with butter, strawberries, and maple syrup between them. Or, rather, directly in front of Joel, who was sat in the middle of them and giving Jimmy the most unimpressed look. It was his fault for insisting on sitting across from Lizzie instead of beside her.

Tango snatched up the butter, seemingly unsatisfied with the single square already atop it. In the process he all but pushed the strawberries onto Jimmy’s plate. More than fine by Jimmy. “So, Miss Manager, what’s the verdict on getting to the venue today?” He asked, giving Jimmy a thankful grin when he was passed the syrup that made Joel pretend to shove his knife down his throat to gag. Jimmy knocked his leg.

Pearl hummed until she could swallow. “Should still be able to make it if we just keep going, maybe ten or eleven?”

Just shy of twelve hours with breaks and dinner. “Y’okay to drive that long on your own?” Piped up Impulse, the only other person without a headache or head wound.

Jimmy nodded, “Think so.” He frowned, looking the man up and down. “Um, would you prefer to switch?” It may have been Impulse’s car, but it was still cramped compared to the trailer. Impulse waved him off, though.

“We need more buns and salad before we go.” Chimed Gem.

Skizz balked. “What? What happened to the tub of macaroni salad?”

“Someone left it out.”

“Hey, don’t look at me. I hate that stuff!”

“Sounds exactly like something someone who left it out would say.”

“Why does it matter? You didn’t have to throw it out, one night wouldn’t hurt it.”

“Um, ew? It absolutely would!”

“Yeah, I gotta agree, it’s pretty nasty...”

Joel smacked the syrup right out of Tango’s hand as he passed it over the shorter man’s head. It clattered to the table, rolling off into Jimmy’s lap. “Joel!” He shrieked, pushing up out of his chair. The case hooked over the back of his chair clattered loudly to the ground, wringing winces from those around him. Both his shirt and jeans were coated in sugar. Everyone paused in their arguments to watch Jimmy squirm in his own skin. The whole restaurant was, actually. Jimmy’s face turned beet red, grabbing a napkin to try and at least wipe down his arms, but the thin paper just curled and tore and created a worse mess. Joel just laughed.

“Here, dampen it.” At the very least Pearl tried to help, dabbing another napkin into an untouched glass of water, but it didn’t help much.

He sighed in resignation, and began to pick up his poor guitar. It was a delicate process not to get it coated as well. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“We should find somewhere to do laundry, too.” He heard Scott say behind him. “Some of you have been wearing the same clothes for a few days now and you can smell it.”

Several individuals protest, all people Jimmy knew for certain qualified for that statement. He hurried along before he could get caught in the crossfire.

The dryers were taking their damn time.

Tango chalked it up to the things looking about thirty years old and beaten to crap by who-knows-who.

The washers rumbled under him, eyes glued to the ever spinning clothes. Goosebumps ran up his arms from the air conditioning, a constant reminder he was stuck in his undershirts and shorts. His own fault for throwing all his clothes into simultaneous loads. There was the softest tune under the hum of machines emanating from a portable radio in the staff booth echoed by his bass. He’d taken a page out of Jimmy’s book and brought it in with him. Of course, he wasn’t about to plug the thing in, lest the ancient temple’s Edwardian era wiring explodificate and leave them with nothing but wet clothes and sadness. That didn’t mean he couldn’t strum along to the Steve Miller Band while longingly watching the concrete outside bake.

“How does he do that?”

Tango let out a screech like a shot seagull, almost falling off the washer. When had Jimmy and Gem gotten here? How long had he spaced out? The two weren’t even paying Tango any attention while Jimmy slipped his case off his shoulder and popped it open. Gem dropped a grocery bag and hopped up on the washer beside him, enclosing the tallest between her and Tango, while he organized his fingers along the strings. “What?” Tango finally asked, grabbing the two’s attention.

“That little- like, the cat call.” He muttered, mimicking the whistle. Hands absently adjusted to what he thought might be the proper notes.

Gem reached out and adjusted his ring finger. “I’m pretty sure it’s that, then you just sorta...” She pulled away, air-guitaring the motion for him to copy. He did so, but without being plugged in it was hard to tell if he’d gotten it for certain.

Tango’s eyes followed the movement of his left hand. Theoretical tones played along in his brain. Too stiff. He scooted around until he was facing them. “Here.” He called for their attention. When Jimmy’s curios gaze shifted from Tango to his bass Tango showed his own attempt at the segment. One he’d done long ago but not since. Both guitarists had their eyes glued to his hands, making him second guess every single choice he’d ever made in life that put him here, thinking he could teach other people how to play their own instruments while in his skivvies in public.

They foolishly mimicked him anyways, pleased with whatever popped up in their own mind’s eye. Tango went back to strumming along with the actual bass. Gem happily jumped in as well. “I’m a joker, I’m a smoker, I’m a midnight toker, I get my lovin’ on the run,” she sang, too pretty. Jimmy quickly picked up after them on the guitar after a stumble in the first notes. Something Tango was beginning to suspect he was incapable of not doing. For someone who spent his time on stage just setting the beat, Tango thought Jimmy handled the solo better than expected. The lazy guitar was well out of his comfort zone, though, his movements still stiff.

Both men half-heartedly joined Gem’s singing as the song came to an end, her hands slapping the lid of the machines as some type of drum. Tango’s nose began to itch. The song faded out and the channel host piped up. At the same moment the machine Tango sat on ended its cycle, buzzing at him. All of it was drowned out by the loudest sneeze Tango had ever suffered, the force of which was enough to knock him right off his precarious perch. Enough to scare his companions.

“I think Skizz’s grandma heard that!” Gem laughed.

But Jimmy frowned, “Do you need a sweater?”

“S’in the dryer still.” He sniffled, trying to keep his eyes from watering.

That didn’t deter the guitarist, who went for their laundry bag, then stumbled outside towards the trailer when he didn’t find what he was looking for. Tango wondered if he even noticed he still had his guitar around his neck, case abandoned. Another machine buzzed, this time a dryer.

“He’s definitely going to bump off the doorway.” Gem whispered. On cue, Both ends of Jimmy’s poor guitar slammed into either side of the trailer, almost throwing Jimmy to the ground. He stood there, confused, before he hugged his guitar to his shoulder and went in sideways. Tango raised an amused eyebrow towards Gem, who was trying not to laugh too loud. “Oh, silly Jimmy.”

“Can’t say I wouldn’t do the same.” Tango tried to defend even as he also began to giggle. He absently grabbed for the laundry bag and yanked open the dryer. The warmth soaked into his skin.

Gem rolled her eyes and sent him a pointed, unimpressed look. “That’s ‘cause you’re also a silly goose.”

“Guilty as charged.” He couldn’t exactly defend himself on that one. So, he changed the subject. “You two play well together.”

There was a hum Tango thought might have been agreement. “We picked up guitar around the same time, so we learned together from my mum.”

He’d heard it before. How Gem had gone from only wanting to sing as a kid to feeling embarrassed it was all she could do in her teens. Nothing wrong with expanding your horizons, he had told her. As often as Tango experimented with new instruments he always wandered back to his bass.

“You were part of Empire, then?” He asked.

Gem shrugged, “Not really? I mean, we played together and Lizzie and Scott were writing some songs, but the band didn’t really exist yet. They talked about it a lot but I don’t know, guess I knew from the start I wouldn’t end up playing with them.” She grinned, “I have way more fun with you guys, anyways!”

Maybe it was just his imagination guilt tripping him, but it felt like there was something almost determined and a bit desperate in her last statement. He looked away. “It’s been fun playing with you too, Glitter Girl.”

The door creaked open, and Jimmy tripped through it. One hand held his guitar flush to his chest, while the other was wrangling a familiar blanket that had been rapidly unfolding itself. “I couldn’t- Scott wouldn’t let me mess with the clothes he already folded, but...”

“Thanks, partner.” Tango smiled, letting the man throw it over Tango’s shoulders like a cape. He didn’t bother to mention that he now had access to several pieces of his own clothes. It couldn’t hurt to wait for the second load. What was he going to do, suddenly be even more embarrassed than he already was? Besides, the blanket had trapped its fair share of warmth from the dryer, and Tango was very quickly sinking deeper into it.

Jimmy’s smile was shy, cheeks just slightly rosy, before he turned towards his guitar case. Leaned out of the way, Tango got a clear view of Gem once more, who had her clasped hands to her cheek and was making kissy faces at Tango. Like the responsible adult he was he stuck his tongue out at her. She giggled. Well, at least he had company now.

It was ten to eleven when they rolled into the next venue. They were lucky to do so, as check in would close for the day after eleven. The very grumpy and tired staffer was particularly adamant on reminding them of that fact through the entire process. They made it, though, and they parked in their place. A gravel lot used for parking, with no room for much else between vehicles. Worse yet, there was separate designated spaces for cars and trailers, so the car wound up a quarter of a mile away. It all sucked, to be frank, but it also didn’t matter. Everyone was too tired and too excited to care. Everyone except Scott, at least, who was already preparing a speech that would make whatever poor worker he would confront tomorrow morning about these inconveniences wish they were never born.

For the rest of them, though, it was bed time.

By this point in their journey, Jimmy had become used to waking up wrapped around Tango. It was cold at night and the man was practically a furnace, sue him. The sun had yet to rise, but there was a subtle thumping from the bathroom before Scott walked out, sans makeup or patience. His exhausted glare landed on Jimmy and warped into a raised eyebrow. Jimmy’s face turned pink, rolling over and burying it into Tango’s hair. No confrontation came of it, only a snort. Still, he waited until the door rattled close. Someone else in the trailer groaned, but no one got up.

After a long moment of debate, Jimmy decided to begrudgingly get up. Someone should make breakfast, and he was on a usefulness streak lately. When he sat up, though, Tango’s face scrunched and he was pulled in tighter. Jimmy muffled a snort, “I’m not your teddybear, you know.” he murmured to the sleeping man. A pillow seemed to suffice as a replacement for Tango. It did not do so for Jimmy himself, who was now surrounded by freezing morning air and clinging to his equally cold guitar. Right, sweater first, then teeth.

Ten minutes later Jimmy made it out of the trailer without waking anyone else. Scott was, predictably, nowhere to be seen. Whoever their neighbour was to be had yet to arrive, so Jimmy got to work pulling out the folding table.

The smell of coffee woke someone up. Jimmy was halfway through setting up chairs when something inside slammed against the wall. That, or someone went face first into the bathroom door. Pearl’s face poked out the door, hair still twirled up in a braid and a sheepish smile on her face. “How’s it going out here?” She half-whispered.

“Was about to mix up scrambled eggs.” He explained, motioning towards the table. Milk, cheese, and the whole carton of eggs patiently waited next to an unopened tray of breakfast sausages and bag of hash browns. “We got some miniwheats if you want something now, though.”

“I can wait.” She flopped down into one of the folding chairs, next to the one Jimmy’s guitar was leaned in. He threw her an orange juice at the very least. “So, where’d Scott run off to?”

Jimmy tilted his head, frowning. Not that he was an expert, but that was most certainly not Pearl’s usual tone. She was focused on getting the straw into her juice box when he looked to her, though. Was he still half asleep? “He’s-”

“Right here.”

Now that tone Jimmy was an expert in. Tired, cranky, and done with everything, but, like, while still covered in glitter and a spotlight. There was no way to tell if he was actually enraged or just wanted to put on a show. Either way, Jimmy counted down with perfect timing to Scott’s hand slamming against the table and letting out the world’s longest sigh. “The organizers at this venue are absolutely incompetent.” He whined, head lulling dramatically as though he’d been shot. A show it was.

“Oh really? How so?” Pearl indulged.

“Well, by not even being awake yet, for one.”

“It’s six AM, mate. Give ‘em at least until eight, there’s like five people here at this point.”

Scott pouted, glancing off into the distance as if he was really considering it until he huffed. “I’m awake now, though, and I want to give them a piece of my mind.”

“A piece, or the whole pie.” Jimmy teased, pointing the whisk at him before turning towards the eggs.

There was a gasp, “Jimmy! Of course not.” There was an odd quiet moment that followed. One that had Jimmy worried until he heard the hash brown bag shake. His head shot up in time to watch Scott place the frozen bag back into the cooler.

“Hey!”

“They’ll thaw.” Was his only explanation before he went to sit down.

Jimmy’s nose scrunched up in annoyance. “They’re just hash browns, it’s not a big deal.”

“I don’t want to have to buy a whole new bag like the salad.”

Another protest almost left his lips, but they clamped shut as he watched Scott run his hands over his face. Bags under his eyes and bruises all over his arms still. You said it yourself, it’s just hash browns, not a big deal. He went back to preparing the egg mixture and setting the table, waiting for more folks to awaken. If Scott needed to stick his nose in things to get over his mood it wasn’t his business.

Pearl had much stronger words for him from what Jimmy could make out from her tone, though too quiet to catch much of what it was. Given he heard something about punching Jimmy guessed it was about the bar still. He snorted, good luck with that. Scott had always been a messy drunk, like one of those toy cars. The tighter he wound during the day the worse it was when he let go. Something people had to learn on their own, he supposed.

Some time later Impulse and skizz tumbled out of the trailer, perkier than any of them, and Jimmy was finally allowed to pull the hash browns out of the cooler.

Jimmy was sitting with his chin up on his guitar when Tango stumbled out, last of the whole bunch and clinging to the pillow Jimmy had left him with like a lost child. He caught sight of Jimmy and beamed a toothy grin his way even as he shivered like a leaf in the cold morning air. Whatever was left of Jimmy’s earlier sour mood flew away. “Anything left for me?” He asked.

Skizz answered, putting sombre hands on the sleepy man’s shoulders. “You know what they say, Top. Early bird gets the worm. I’m afraid you’ll have to starve.”

“I made you a plate already.” Jimmy announced, pulling the pot lid off the plate sat behind him and holding it out. “You’ll have to make the toast, though, if you want any.”

A smug little noise left Tango along with a matching look towards Skizz, “Thank you, and that I do.” He then turned to the toaster and spun the dial all the way up to charcoal levels. That, Jimmy mused, was a practice he could never get behind. But to each their own, he supposed.

Then something whistled.

There was no thump.

And others paused.

“Okay, what is that?” Joel hissed as he approached the tires. “There a leak?”

“Never heard a leak sound like that.” Impulse chimed in with concern and joined him. Jimmy pulled his case closer.

Another whistle. Another no thump.

That one had Pearl, Scott, and Skizz all joining in the search for the defect. Lizzie worried the hem of her shirt. “Oh gosh we only just got to the second venue. I hope nothing’s broken.”

“You okay?” Tango asked, and it took Jimmy a moment to realize it was directed at him. He shrugged back and buried his face in his case.

“It’s from in here!” Skizz called out. The storage lock clicked open. “Kinda sounds like- WOAH, HEY!”

The whistle turned into a frantic flurry of chirps and rattles. Someone nearby gasped.

“What in the world-”

“Is that a bloody bird?”

“Oh my god!”

“Stop! Don’t open it!”

“Who would...”

“Put it down, put it down!”

Metal clanged against the gravel lot. Jimmy finally peeled himself apart enough to peek out at the scene. Most of the two bands were surrounding a painted cage, where a little yellow bird was flitting about in a panic. Instantly three sets of eyes turned onto him instead. Lizzie, Joel, and Scott.

“Jimmy.” Scott said with great strain.

Jimmy shrunk away, face twisted. “What?”

“I couldn’t help notice you don’t seem all that surprised.”

“Wait a minute, I’ve seen this before.” Skizz interrupted them both, kneeling down next to the cage. “There was something just like this in a house next to the park.”

Lizzie’s hands went to her hips. “James Solidarity, did you steal a bird? Don’t you lie to me!”

“No!” He lied.

Joel’s hands went to his hair, a humourless laugh escaping. “Dude, what the heck, you didn’t even drink! Why did you steal a bird?”

“I don’t know!” He curled his whole body around his guitar. “I was just- everything was really exciting and- look, I’m not the one who got stabbed with a broken bottle!”

“Uh, this ain’t about me right now, dude.” Fwhip muttered, though he nudged out of the circle to hide behind his bandmates.

While his own bandmates continued shouting GIST stood to their own side, caught between shock and amusement. At least Impulse and Gem seemed shocked. Tango was doubled over, cackling like a madman, while Skizz tried to hide his giggles and failed miserably. “Oh this is too good.” He said. Pearl had her own hand over her mouth, impossible to tell what his emotions were except from the wrinkles in the corner of her eyes. None seemed angry. It made Jimmy feel much better, if he could only block out the yelling from his peers.

He launched forward, spurred on by a new wave of confidence, “Look, I know it was stupid-”

“Stupid barely begins to cover it.” Scott drawled, rolling his eyes. “What are we supposed to do, now? We can’t just bring it back, we’re on a schedule. And what if someone saw you? Did you think this through at all?” His foot was going against the gravel, letting Jimmy know how close he was to the end of the fiddler’s nerves. For once it only put more coals on the fire. It was Scott’s fault in the first place for his own stress, he had no right to put it on Jimmy like he was the only one who did something stupid in the last few days.

No, it was entirely unfair. “Everyone’s made a fool of themselves, why are you singling me out?”

Scott gaped. Wrong answer. “Because there is currently a fucking bird in our trailer right now! That you stole and that I’m going to have to clean up!” He snapped, throwing his hands at the cage and then at Jimmy. “Why are you always like this!”

Everyone quieted. GIST’s giggles died while Empire’s various reactions all settled into concern. The indignation had fizzled out from Jimmy’s heart as well, leaving him stubbornly silent as his face heated. Scott’s chest heaved, glaring Jimmy down and oh, if looks could kill he’d be nothing but minced meat ground deep into the mud. It’s about what he felt like in that moment.

Fwhip was the first to dare break the silence, placing a hand on Scott’s shoulder that was promptly thrown off. “Hey, it’s fine. I’ll just take the car and bring the bird back.”

“No, you won’t.” Scott hissed. He tore a lighter out of his pocket. “You need to be here to sell our CDs and manage contacts while we’re performing, and you can’t do that if you’re busy a day’s drive away searching for the owner on your own, because Skizz and Jimmy are not going back with you.” As he rambled his grip shook and the cigarette he fumbled with snapped in half. It was thrown to the ground, “Fuck’s sakes...”

“Hey, buddy, calm down.” Tango interjected. He was silenced with a single side eye, but Pearl took his place.

“Look, this is entirely fixable. If Fwhip can’t go then I will, and if not we’ll find another solution. It’s not the end of the world.”

If Scott heard her he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead he stomped off towards a neon green trailer down the way, leaving the group caught in the awkward atmosphere. When some of the eyes turned to Jimmy he took up examining the gravel under his own feet.

“Well, that... was a lot.” Impulse chuckled.

Tango snorted. “A lot of bullshit.”

“Tango!”

“What? It’s true!”

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s come over him.” So started Fwhip’s apologizing, rambling on explanations to avoid their bands’ collective embarrassment. Jimmy could still feel his blood simultaneously boiling and frozen in his veins and did not bother to contribute.

A delicate hand landed on his arm, Lizzie’s eyes wide and glossy. “Are you okay, Jim?”

He shook off the touch and went to grab the cage, and bolted for the door. The moment it shuttered behind him muffled conversation picked up outside, audibly tense. Instead, he put the bird down on the counter, crawled into the safety of bed, and pulled his case into his lap. The leather was cold against his forehead, cooling his quick breaths before they buffeted back against his throat.

This was inevitable. They all knew it, it wasn’t like five whole adults were completely oblivious to the winding key that had been tightening since the start of this trip. Since the divorce, really. Or maybe before. Probably before. It still hurt.

Free from the dark the bird began to chatter. What seemed so soothing days ago grated against the last shreds of Jimmy’s composure. “Shut up.” He tried to snap but it came out more like begging. Of course, he canary had no idea. The chirps continued on. He thought he might be able to feel them scraping against his brain. It was probably thirsty and hungry, the kinder part of him reminded. He didn’t want to be kind right now, though. It was all he could do not to find something to throw at the cage.

The door shook. Jimmy didn’t look up, but he recognized the sound of heavy steel-toe boots by now. There was the smallest sound of a breath catching, but no words followed. Instead the bird cage rattled, agitating both the canary and Jimmy. “Here, find some food for it or something.” The bassist whispered to someone before the canary’s cries became distant. Jimmy knew from the way the trailer tipped that Tango had not left with it, but nor had he entered further than needed to close the door. He was probably waiting for some sign from Jimmy, whether to go away or not. Not a question Jimmy was sure he had an answer to quite yet.

“You want breakfast?” Tango asked instead.

Jimmy wanted to say no, but his stomach protest. He shrugged. The trailer shook and a box thunked against the counter. At first he assumed Tango was pouring cereal until he heard the faucet and something scraping. That was apparently enough to get Jimmy to peek. Butter hit the frying pan, and he watched half-baffled, half-fascinated, as Tango poured batter into it soon after.

Cooking took only a few minutes. Really, with the instant mix it was amazing how quickly it could go. Inevitably, the fire alarm went off, startling both of them. Tango grumbled and hissed while waving a towel around. It didn’t take long, but just long enough for Jimmy to loosen the tight ball he’d pulled himself into. Giant boots still on, Tango sat down on the bed next to Jimmy and handed him the pancakes past his guitar.

They sat in silence through the first half, Jimmy slowly shovelling bites that were a bit too big into his mouth while Tango looked at everything but him. Eventually, though, the guitarist remembered his manners. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Tango assured, even though it certainly was.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” He said instead.

It got a shrug and a shift to a more comfortable position on the bed, accepting the silent invitation. “Every bands’ been there. Can’t tell you how many times me and Skizz have yelled at each other.”

“But not like that.” Guessed Jimmy, which from the look on Tango’s face he was right. He sighed and set his plate aside. “He’s never yelled at me before.”

“Really?” There was a skeptical eyebrow raised.

“Yes.” Jimmy shut down immediately, though his full reply took another moment to gather his thoughts. “Silent treatment, passive aggressive comments, but we’ve never yelling. Not seriously. Never had a fight.”

“Nothing at all?”

He paused. In the grand scheme of things, Tango was still a stranger. All of GIST except Gem were, really. Having someone new to talk to was great, and Jimmy wasn’t clever enough to deny his growing fondness for Tango, but he was still mostly a stranger. One who didn’t need dragging into their band’s silly interpersonal drama. Maybe, though, that Pandora ’s Box was already ripped wide open, given the incident that just occurred. If they were going to be stuck with it for the next month they at least deserved to know a bit more.

Or maybe Jimmy was just looking for an excuse to let it all out on some poor guy who was a bit too nice to him. His tongue made the choice for him, beginning to spill out the story before he thought anymore about it. “You know there wasn’t a fight even at the end?”

Tango perked up, attention fully turning on him now with a sombre expression.

“I just- there never was. I remember thinking now and then about what getting a divorce might take. Scott’s the one who organized all the marriage stuff. There’s probably something poetic in there or something.” He let out a humourless laugh. “But, one day I just sort of... did it. Nothing happened. Normal day. I just called up and asked after work, and then I had the paperwork in my hands.”

He could picture the scene quite clearly, not from that specific day but from how many times he walked through that side door. The teal paint that was beginning to chip, the colourful fish themed wind chime, the tall trashcan he always caught his jacket on no matter how many times he passed it. “Scott was sitting at the table writing a song or something. I put them down beside him and asked if he could sign them. Think he already knew, not like I do much paperwork stuff. He didn’t say anything, though. Just read it like I was handing him a flyer or anything else. I don’t know if he really was fine with all it said, it was pretty heavy in his favour since I was the one with family nearby and the house and car were his to start. But he signed it. Four minutes of reading and he just signs it and hands it back.”

“After that was like the most normal conversation in the world, too. Asked when I wanted to move out, when he should call Joel and Lizzie to come over, if I had boxes yet.” And Jimmy had replied much the same back. Of course, he knew what was going on in his own head at the time. A whole lot of nothing and everything all at once that made the rest of the day pass in a blur until he was in the spare room at Lizzie’s. It took a day before he finally had his first breakdown over it, and of course it had to be at the dinner table in front of both his sister and brother-in-law. “We didn’t see each other for two weeks, and then we were back in his studio, practising for a gig that was coming up. It was like none of it ever happened. Talked about it one more time, wrote a song about it as you do, just to get it out of our system. Peachy after that.”

“That’s a lot to just sweep under the rug.” Tango finally interjected, brow pressed into a stressed line. Saying it out loud, Jimmy understood. The whole thing was ridiculous.

He leaned back, letting his guitar fall off beside him. “But we never yelled at each other.”

A particular loose thread in the blanket had captured Tango’s attention at some point, long enough for his finger to have gotten under the weave and pulled it further. He’d turned his full awareness onto it now, unlooping his finger and trying to smooth it out despite how long gone it was. Jimmy began to think maybe Tango wasn’t the person he should be talking to about this, that it should be Lizzie, or maybe some random person in a bar. Someone who wasn’t straddling the line, unquestionably on Jimmy’s side of things.

He had the sudden urge to assure that Scott was a great guy, it was both their fault things fell apart, that he was normally kind and funny. Anything that might leave Tango with a better impression than yelling and binning a seven year relationship and three year marriage without a fuss. It didn’t make it out of his head though, past the fog of annoyance that stubbornly clung to him. Deep down he knew he wanted Tango to join him in being spiteful and angry, some sort of external assurance it was okay. Either side being validated would make him just feel like crap.

Yeah, he definitely shouldn’t have chosen Tango to talk to. He was going to blame the pancakes, who wouldn’t blab after that?

It took him a moment to register Tango was speaking again, after an eternity of silence. “You wrote a song about it?”

Jimmy shrugged, patted his case. “Quick thing in like twenty minutes. Fixed it up here and there, but it’s still pretty awful. Bunch of self-indulgent metaphors and stuff.” Scott had joked, once, that it was an example of why he and Lizzie were the lyricists and Jimmy just played guitar.

“Do you play it?”

“Just with each other.” In fact, he could count on his hands the number of times they’d played it. “Whenever things get a bit tense. Don’t think either of us brought our copy along.”

“Does it help?”

At that Jimmy had to pause. Did it? Sometimes. It helped them get back into the groove of working together in the band, reminded Jimmy they weren’t just husbands, but friends and bandmates. It probably wasn’t what they needed specifically, but it did something. So, he replied, “Yeah.”

“That’s good.” Tango said genuinely. “Maybe you guys should do that then? I don’t know, sorry, I’m not very good at this sorta thing.”

He laughed. “No, you aren’t. I thought you were going somewhere with that.”

“Listen, I’m trying!” Tango threw his hands up. “I mean if I were you I woulda knocked the guys’ teeth out, got the daylights knocked outta me back, and never showed my face again. I might still do that anyways, who knows.”

“Aw, don’t do that, I’d miss you.” Jimmy bumped his shoulder into the others, trying hard not to keep giggling.

A smirk stretched across Tango’s face, eyebrows jumping up to where Jimmy worried about the piercings in them pulling at the skin. “Oh is that the part wrong with that? Maybe you aren’t as forgiving a guy as you seem.”

“Nope, I’m an angel.”

“I’d believe it.” Tango got up. “Point is, I talk a lot and don’t say much. You two seem to have a lot to say, though, that you don’t like talking about. Can’t be to good for your noggins. Or your music.”

Jimmy sighed, and accepted the hand held out towards him that pulled him up out of bed. “No, probably not. I wouldn’t know where to start, though.”

“That one is definitely outta my pay grade. You’ll have to upgrade to Skizz or something. I’m just bozo over here.”

As he said it he reached up and squeezed his own nose, making a strange noise that took Jimmy far too long to realize was supposed to be honking. He barked, slapping a hand over his mouth. “Oh my gosh, what was that?”

“Hey! Don’t laugh at my joke!”

Jimmy burst, doubling over.

The door opened, interrupting their laughter. Joel poked his head in, looking wary only for a moment before he got a good look at Jimmy and his shoulders visibly dropped. “You guys okay in here?” He asked anyways.

“Think so?” Tango replied, gaze darting back to Jimmy, who nodded.

“That’s good. Couple of us were going to go get a look at the stages while Pearl talked to the organizers. You feeling up to coming along, Jim?”

He suddenly became painfully aware of how cramped and stuffy the trailer was, now that everything seemed lighter. “Yeah, okay.”

They were filing out when, “Oh, hey, Jimmy?”

Jimmy turned, watching as Tango’s hand hooked around the strap of Jimmy’s guitar case and lifted it up off the bed, holding it out towards him in question. A hand flew to Jimmy’s shoulder, and he blinked. “Thanks.” He muttered, taking the guitar and throwing it back into its usual place. It never felt so light.

Tango grinned, and slapped him on the back. “Alright, let’s go!”

#solidaritek #team rancher #jimmy solidarity #tangotek #scott smajor #geminitay #mcyt #trafficshipping #traffic series #fanfic #fanfiction #modern au #hurt/comfort #sharing a slice of cake

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yacinthemorning · 27 days

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Cut the Line

OR: Tango comes home to find Jimmy holding a golden apple...but not everything is as it seems.

[A/N: I told myself I would ever write full Rancher angst...]

[This work can also be read on Archive of our Own]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tango’s stomach dropped, a dread building in his chest that he hadn’t been expecting when he’d come home with iron and food for his soulmate. His eyes were locked on the shining golden apple sitting in Jimmy’s outstretched hand.

“...where’d you find that?” he breathed, tension straining the soulbond.

“Pearl,” Jimmy told him. His voice was calm, even, unfazed - as though it was just another normal day and he wasn’t holding the potential end of their bond in the palm of his hand. “She was saving it for herself, but when I asked for it, apparently she thought I needed it more.”

Oh. Tango slowly closed the front door behind him with a quiet click. He cleared his throat, his eyes still lingering on the golden apple. His tail coiled around one of his legs and he forced himself to turn away, crouching in front of their chests so he could put away the iron he’d mined. He could pretend to be normal, maybe, for a little while longer. Just for a few seconds. Iron went in, tucked away in the corner, then what little gold he’d managed to find…gold he’d been intending to use for a courting gift. (Might not get to use at all, now. His fingers lingered on the unrefined ore, sooty fingerprints clinging to the half-shiny surface.)

“Why?” he asked finally, standing and letting the lid fall softly shut. He turned around and sat on its edge, fiddling with a chunk of undusted redstone he hadn’t put away. “Why’d you ask for it?”

Jimmy blinked, looking confused.

“For…you?” he said slowly, his head tipping to the side. “So you don’t have to be stuck with me and my curse anymore.”

Tango’s blood ran cold, an impressive feat for a blazeborn. His eyes went wide and he stared at Jimmy, waiting for him to laugh, or crack a smile, say he was joking. But he didn’t. He looked so innocently serious about it, as though he actually expected Tango to just be okay with what he was suggesting.

“I’m not - I don’t–” Tango choked out, shaking his head slowly, and he pushed himself to his feet since Jimmy wasn’t moving. He dragged a hand over his face and tried to compose himself. “Jimmy, I’m not stuck with you. I’m with you, willingly. Soulmates, teammates, partners - ranchers. I’ve got your back.” Jimmy still looked lost, confused, as if he didn’t quite understand, and Tango closed some of the gap between them. “Buddy, I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you could,” Jimmy blurted out, holding the apple higher for Tango to take. “You could, if you wanted, and–”

“But I don’t want,” Tango cut him off. Jimmy was still holding the apple between them so Tango took it gingerly from him, barely giving it a look before tossing it toward the bed. Jimmy let out a startled chirp and went to follow it, but Tango caught his arm in one gentle hand. He drew Jimmy’s wide eyes back to him. “I want you, Jimmy. I like who the game chose for me, and if I had my choice I’d pick you again in a heartbeat.”

Jimmy shook his head slowly, his lips tugging into a frown and his brow scrunching up in a quiet distress that Tango could feel in the bond.

“You shouldn’t,” he said, sounding unsteady for the first time since Tango had arrived home. “Tango, you shouldn’t, I’m - I’m bad luck. I’m cursed. It’s not worth staying for if–”

“Jimmy.” Tango shook his head, at a loss for what to say to convince Jimmy that he was so very wrong. “Jim, you’re so worth it. You’re worth–” He was worth everything. Tango stepped closer, stepping forward into the light filtering in through the window and meeting his soulmate’s eyes beseechingly. “Jimmy, tell me you want me gone, and I’ll go. If you can tell me honestly that you don’t want me for a soulmate I’ll - I’ll talk to Grian, okay?” Jimmy’s eyes had turned shining and his jaw had gone tense, his wings puffed behind him. “But I don’t think–”

Jimmy snorted.

Tango blinked and trailed off, watching as Jimmy’s confused and conflicted expression gave way to barely restrained amusement.

“...what?” Tango asked, and Jimmy snickered.

“Sorry, sorry, you have–” He reached up, his thumb brushing over the end of Tango’s nose, and when he turned his hand to let the light hit it, there was a red shining dust clinging to Jimmy’s skin. Redstone. “I didn’t notice until you stepped into the light, but it’s–”

“CUT!”

There was a splattering of laughter and groans from the gathered cast and crew on set, and Tango glanced toward the front door when Cleo shouldered her way in.

“You and Mumbo, I swear–” she grumbled, fishing a compact mirror from her back pocket and holding it out for Tango to take. “How you even manage to get redstone on you in a scene without redstone as a focus will never cease to amaze me.”

Tango smiled sheepishly and glanced at his reflection, chuckling weakly when he spotted smudges of red dust along his right cheek and his nose.

“It blended in with your freckles for a while,” Jimmy commented, taking the cloth from Cleo before she could do anything, leaning in close to get a good look. “Here, let me–”

“Thanks rancher,” Tango winked, and Jimmy went a soft pink as he carefully dabbed at his scene partner’s face. (He did a very good job of pretending he wasn’t affected by Tango’s comment, but the flutter of his wings betrayed him. Just a little.)

A few more people spilled in through the open ranch door, resetting props and fetching the fake golden apple from where it had tumbled across the floor. Grian was among them, a tousled script in hand that Tango knew was covered in red and blue scribbled notes and comments.

“Why don’t you two take twenty?” he suggested in a low voice once he was close enough. He tugged off his glasses and tucked them into his shirt. “That was a really good take, by the way…until Tim broke character.”

“Hey!”

“Yeah? Really good?” Tango repeated, hoping Grian was being honest. It had felt like a good read, and he and Jimmy had seemed to play off each other really well with emotions and timing and everything. But he knew it always looked different from the outside.

Grian grinned lopsidedly.

“Really really good,” he insisted. “Considering we’ve been running this one for almost an hour, I’m impressed neither of you have fallen into muscle memory yet. It still feels real and spontaneous, and you’re getting comfortable enough with the lines that I’m starting to really feel it as an audience member.” He patted Tango on the shoulder and rocked back on his heels, heading back for the door. “You’re doing great! Take a break, you deserve it. We’ll take it from your entrance when you get back.”

“Don’t mess up your hair before we get back or I will kill you,” Cleo drawled, and Tango snickered when Jimmy actually went a little pale at the threat.

“I’m…just gonna go check on Norman,” he mumbled, slipping past Cleo and vanishing off the set.

A passing crew member took the chunk of redstone from Tango as he passed and Tango wiped his hands on the cloth Jimmy had left with him, not wanting to end up with more dust in places it wasn’t meant to be. Cleo took it from him the moment he was done.

“You know he’s terrified of you, right?” Tango teased as he trailed after Cleo, both of them leaving the ranch behind so the crew could finish their reset. He snatched a water from the snack table as they passed. “You could be a little nicer to him.”

“I’ll be nicer to Jimmy when he stops wiping his hands on his costume jeans,” she muttered. “Honestly, you’d think he’d remember they’re not his. You all go for lunch, and he ends up with crumbs and little stains that I have to get out before the next shoot.”

“He’s a bit forgetful,” Tango shrugged, though there was an affectionate tone to his words that he couldn’t hide if he tried. “But he always apologizes. It ain’t like he’s doing it on purpose.”

Cleo huffed and tossed the redstone-tinged cloth into a bin near her makeup station.

“Go find your boytoy,” Cleo snipped at him, making Tango choke on the water he was sipping.

“Wh– ngah, hah, um–” He let out a light, nervous laugh. “My what?”

“Your soulmate,” Cleo sing-songed, dropping gracefully into the comfortable chair she’d all but demanded be brought in for her corner of the set. “Go on. We both know he’s waiting at his trailer for you.”

Tango felt his face warm, and he was sure there were tiny sparking flames dancing in his hair beneath Cleo’s knowing gaze.

“How…?”

“Oh my giddy aunt, you’re obvious,” she drawled. “Have you seen you two? Pearl an’ I have a bet going to see how long it’ll take Grian to notice, because - well - it’s Jimmy, and Grian has a hard time picturing Jimmy as anything but his Adorable Baby Brother. Took ‘im two months to realize Scott kept coming around because he and Jimmy were dating.” She grabbed a magazine off the makeup table and flipped through it idly. “‘Course, almost everyone else knows by now. It’s hard to miss.”

What.

“Go kiss your damn boyfriend already, he’ll probably cry if you don’t show up,” Cleo teased. She prodded Tango away with her foot. “Go on. Go get ‘im, tiger.”

If Tango happened to walk just a little too fast to get away from Cleo’s smirking stare, that was his business and nobody else’s. (And maybe Joel’s, since Tango almost ran the poor guy over in his hurry to get to Jimmy’s trailer. But Joel wouldn’t ask. Probably.)

Tango didn’t bother knocking when he arrived at Jimmy’s trailer. They visited each other often enough that there weren’t many boundaries anymore, and it wasn’t as if Jimmy wasn’t already expecting him. So Tango let himself into the small and cozy space, smiling softly when he spotted his partner near the far window, gently misting the few plants sitting on the small table there. They didn’t have a ton of room because of the limited space a trailer provided, but Jimmy always managed to make his feel homely anyway.

Tango crept up behind him on soft feet, enjoying the way Jimmy’s feathers fluffed in pleased surprise when Tango’s arms wound their way around his waist from behind. He chuckled lightly and pressed a kiss to Jimmy’s cheek.

“Hey sweetheart,” he sing-songed. Jimmy melted against his chest with a soft twitter.

“Tango,” he huffed, though he sounded more amused than anything. “You scared me!”

“Who, little ol’ me?” Tango squeezed him once before letting him go, giving Jimmy space to turn around and face him properly. There was a sparkle of mirth in his grin and his tail danced lazily behind him in a teasing sort of way.

Jimmy rolled his eyes adoringly. He set the plant mister aside and let Tango reel him back in, folding into Tango’s hold like he belonged there. He was kissing Tango before the netherborn had a chance to make another quip, his eyes falling shut and a pleased little hum muffling itself against Jimmy’s smiling lips.

“Took you long enough,” Jimmy murmured softly between kisses, his hands trailing over Tango’s costume vest aimlessly. “Thought you weren’t gonna come.”

“Cleo,” Tango told him. “Got sidetracked.” He guided Jimmy away from the window so they wouldn’t bump into the plants, not minding a bit when his legs collided with the couch. He sat down when Jimmy nudged at his shoulders, unsurprised when he immediately found himself with a lapful of cuddly soulmate. They’d ended up here dozens of times before, and by now it was comfortable and familiar, these small precious moments of closeness stolen between scenes or long after filming had finished for the night. He and Jimmy just fit together so naturally…he couldn’t fathom a life or universe where they hadn’t found each other.

Jimmy picked up where they left off as seamlessly as if they’d never stopped. It was all slow, lazy kisses and warm affection, Jimmy’s hands barely stopping themselves from tangling in Tango’s hair (they still had a shoot to finish, afterall), and Tango’s thumbs tracing gentle circles against Jimmy’s hips where his grip had loosely fallen.

“How long do we have?” Tango asked breathlessly, and he felt Jimmy’s arm shift against his shoulder to check.

“...twelve minutes.”

“I can work with that.”

Jimmy let out a soft giggle and pressed his forehead to Tango’s, their noses barely brushing.

“We’ve done more with less,” he teased, and Tango grinned.

“Damn right we have.”

It was still a damn miracle Etho hadn’t found them in that closet.

Jimmy kissed him again, his mouth migrating away from Tango’s, pressing his lips along Tango’s jawline in a slow and gentle trail, mouthing lazily at the spot below his ear and nuzzling his face into the crook of his partner’s neck. He settled there for a moment, seeming comfortable and content, and Tango was smiling adoringly when he pressed a lopsided kiss against Jimmy’s hair.

“Comfy?” he teased quietly, and Jimmy let out a warbled little chirp of affirmation. His wings went lax at his back, draping across the couch on either side of Tango, and a low rumble arose in Tango’s chest at the coziness of it all. “Not gonna lie, twelve minutes of cuddle-actions sounds awesome right now.”

“Just wanna be close to you,” Jimmy murmured, snuggling in just that little bit closer, and–

“What the hell are you doing?!”

Tango jolted, and so did Jimmy, his wings afluffed and his head jerking up to stare at the door.

“Grian!” Jimmy squeaked. “Hi! We - er–”

“What?!” Grian sounded flabbergasted and he looked it too. If his jaw was any lower it would’ve hit the floor, his eyes nearly bugging out of his skull. “You - he–”

“Do you need something?” Tango asked casually, much to Jimmy’s amusement if the choked-back laugh he stifled in Tango’s shoulder was anything to go by. “We still have eleven minutes before we need to be on set.”

Grian gaped at him, his mouth opening and shutting like a fish.

“No,” he said finally, sounding a little hysterical. “Nope. It can - you know what, it can wait. It can - yeah. Ten minutes. On set in - yes. Okay. Right.” He floundered for the doorknob, missing once or twice before he finally dragged his gobsmacked stare away from the couple on the couch. He yanked it open and paused, his wings an agitated mess of red and yellow and blue.

“…how long–”

“Two months,” Jimmy told him sheepishly. He was peeking out at his brother past golden feathers, his wings having curved forward slightly in a half-hearted effort to hide. “We wanted to enjoy it without the attention for a while, ‘cause it was new an’ all. Kept it quiet, you know?”

“Fat lot o’ good that did, lad,” Joel said bluntly, sticking his head through the open doorway and earning startled reactions from all involved. “Just about everyone knows. ‘Cept you, Grian.”

Grian squawked and Tango felt his face warm, his hair sparking alongside Jimmy’s resulting spluttering.

“E-Everyone?” he stammered, and Joel shrugged.

“Most everyone.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t snog in closets on set, idiot.”

Jimmy went pink and Tango sank into the couch. Oh. Oh, geez. Maybe Etho wasn’t as oblivious as Tango had assumed.

He cleared his throat.

“…mind giving us those last five minutes?” he asked, his voice a little high-pitched. At Joel’s smirk-lined snickering, he let out an inhuman strangled wheeze. “NO, not - we were just cuddling! C’mon, man–”

“Mhm. Suuuure,” Joel drawled. He hooked Grian’s elbow and dragged him out, letting the door fall shut. From outside the trailer, Tango heard his last quippy remark: “Use protection, lads!”

Jimmy’s embarrassed twittering was muffled in Tango’s shoulder, his wings almost entirely cocooning them now. Tango ran a soothing hand through his partner’s hair, catching slightly on the light gel that kept it looking so adorable during filming.

“Do you want me to fix your feathers, sweetheart?” he asked, earning a grumble from the avian in his lap.

“…no,” he said finally, sounding a bit defeated. “They’re meant to be a little messy for the scene anyway.”

“Mm.” Tango nodded, trailing his claws against Jimmy’s scalp. Jimmy melted under his ministrations, snuggling into Tango’s chest like he had been before they had been so rudely interrupted. “How about tonight, when we’re done filming?”

Jimmy pressed a lazy kiss to the side of Tango’s neck, and Tango could only assume that was a nonverbal yes. Then Jimmy sighed. He dragged himself upright and glanced at his watch, sending a weary smile in Tango’s direction.

“Almost showtime,” he told him. “Ready to go stop me from breaking up with you again?”

“I’d do it a million times if it means I get to keep you,” Tango grinned, tugging Jimmy down into one last kiss before letting his partner go. Jimmy pretended to be unfazed but Tango could see the way his wings barely fluttered and his cheeks warmed, the nonchalant mask near-transparent to someone who knew him as well as Tango did. He was far more affected by how affectionate Tango could be than he let most people know.

A million times, Tango had told him. And it was true. A million and more, if it was ever needed, he’d fight for Jimmy again and again. In any world.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

[A/N - ...and I still haven't! Written full Rancher angst, that is. I might be physically incapable. Oops! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ALSO HAPPY BELATED APRIL FOOLS! Sorry for the heart attack at the beginning there, I don't know WHAT came over me! 🤪 Craaaazy! This was ALWAYS meant to be an Actors AU! Obviously! Totally! I definitely didn't start writing proper angst and then make a left turn to keep myself happy!!!

(I actually didn't do that either lol. The original plan was to write an entire angsty Rancher break up fic with the WORST grammar and spelling and OOC-ness you've ever seen in your life, but I couldn't force myself to write badly. It wasn't happening, folks. So you get fluff and sillies instead lol. Hope you had fun!)]

#bookshelf #sharing a cupcake

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yacinthemorning · 2 months

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Tfw you get like 5 new fic ideas all in one week and they're all multi-chapter monstrosities! >.< let me finish the ones I've already started, brain!!!

#I gave myself a 3-active fic limit for this reason lol #sharing a cup of coffee

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yacinthemorning · 2 months

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Birdsongs

Chapter 6

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And, perhaps, among the chaos and music, two unsuspecting souls find one another...

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Joel/Lizzie (romantic), Jimmy & Scott (platonic)

Warnings: Alcohol, drugs, peer pressure, mild homophobia, bar fight, life crisis, anxiety, dancing

It was just after seven that they all walked down to The Mineshaft Pub, the favoured locale for dancing according to a woman in town. The decor was western, with the walls covered in historical pictures of the old miners that used to frequent it. Not the place to find anything fancier than a rum and coke.

It was surprisingly packed for a week night, though half the patrons were vaguely familiar. The second they entered the bar there was a shout in their direction, and Scott’s face lit up. A large woman pushed through the crowd, a lanky man on her tail, in neon everything like they expected a rave rather than Tim McGraw. “Scott, dear! You made it!”

“Cleo! Joe! I thought we were ahead of you.” He laughed, happily accepting a hug which quickly continued on to Pearl. Scott vaguely turned to the rest of them. “This is my band. Lizzie, Joel, Jimmy, this is Cleo and Joe from HHH.”

“And those are my guys,” Pearl threw her thumb over her shoulder to the rest, “Gem, Impulse, Skizz, and Tango.”

“A Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Joe bowed like he was in a medieval court, which contrasted greatly with his thick southern accent. Gem giggled. “I didn’t happen to catch your bands playing a the last venue, but I hope fate is kinder to us at the next.”

“I think I heard a bit of you guys!” Intruded Skizz, pushing past Scott in his excitement. “You guys have crazy range, real interesting mix of folk and disco you got going! Especially with your poetry.”

It sounded like a horrendous mash-up to Jimmy, not even able to picture how it came together in his mind. Until he heard it himself, he’d just have to trust the event organizers’ tastes. The three groups exchanged a few more pleasantries, Scott and Pearl slowly drifting to Cleo’s side. Then, both were being beckoned away with promise of free food and dancing. “Watch your drinking, Jim. You know how you get.” Scott called before they disappeared into the crowd.

Jimmy huffed. Well, that was two less people to pay for, at least. Fwhip shrugged, and waved down a waitress as they found a pair of tables, “We’ll see them later. For now, lets get some wings and beer.”

“I think I’ll just have a coke.” Jimmy murmured while he slipped his guitar onto the back of his chair. He read through the tiny menu, only for it to be snatched away from him. “Hey!”

“Nuh-uh. C’mon, Jim, you’re a big boy now. We ain’t smokin’, it’s just a drink.” His manager insisted, ordering full pitchers of whatever beer was on tap for the whole table immediately along with the wings platter. “Joel can be our good little sober boy today.”

The man’s head shot up off the table immediately, “Uh, excuse me? I need at least two mugs of pisswater before I’m touching that dance floor, and Lizzie isn’t gonna let me not dance.”

“It’s fine, Fwhip, really.” Jimmy tried to insist. Some of GIST were looking at their table with concern. Tango’s brow knit behind his bright red sunglasses. He could feel his ears get hot, shrinking in on himself. “I’d rather do it then risk no one.”

Fwhip wasn’t going to take no for an answer, though. Not tonight. “You’re only saying that cause you’re still embarrassed about how you acted at Sausage Fest after downing those seven mojitos.” He teased, and god were those memories Jimmy would rather forget.

A mug slammed down in front of him, and the biggest pitcher Jimmy had ever seen saddled up beside it, Fwhip’s shit-eating grin distorted through the ruddy liquid. Jimmy glared right back, but eventually he gave in. If only to stop a scene. “Just one glass.��

“Hell yeah!” Fwhip cheered, stealing the pitcher away to fill all their glasses before holding his own up in cheer. “Grown ups table only today, men- and lady,” He winked at Lizzie, who stuck her tongue out. “Here’s to that amazing performance, and all the amazing performances to come!” Their glasses clinked, separating for Joel and Fwhip to almost instantly chug half their glasses. Lizzie took a much more modest sip. Jimmy swirled the glass for a moment, bringing it to his lips when Fwhip and Joel put their glasses down. He’s not sure he got more than a taste of the foam, but he pulled the same sour face the rest of his band did.

“I didn’t mean literal pisswater, jeez.” Joel coughed, but took another swig anyways. It certainly smelled bad enough to be true. There was probably nothing fruity on the menu to mask the alcohol in a bar like this.

Skizz held up his glass, shouting over almost the whole bar, “That’s the taste of freedom, my friend!”

“From what? Regulation?” Tango snickered.

“From modernity! Civility! Authority!”

Gem rolled her eyes. “Sooo, yes.”

“Hey! This is a sacred place of debauchery and hedonism! Feast upon the grapes of whatever and dance till the sun rises upon us! Let us make our great father Dionysus proud!”

Both tables clapped, GIST shaking their head in amusement. Wings soon arrived, though, and they all dug in. Jimmy nursed his drink at a snail’s pace, hoping Fwhip would simply think he was hungrier than he was thirsty. It got a bit more difficult when Lizzie dragged Joel to the dance floor when a song she like came on, dinner be damned.

There was a few minutes when a man, another band’s manager apparently, passed by, and Fwhip spun around to chatter with the man. Someone tapped on his shoulder at that moment. Jimmy spun around to see Tango holding out his mug, near empty except the foam slowly sliding to pool at the bottom. It took him a moment before he realized what was happening, and grabbed his own mug. The transfer was far from smooth, slopping onto the floor a bit. When Jimmy’s mug was mostly empty Tango pulled it back with a mischievous grin and a wink before bringing the mug up to his own lips. Jimmy returned it with the same smile and turned back to his table. Behind him, he heard Tango wretch. He tried not to laugh.

It was a little over an hour into the night. Most tables were cleared of real food, replaced with glasses of various substances, and the air had become thick despite the no smoking signs. Tango was having a lovely time shouting with his friends when one song ended and a mic came on. Gem shrieked with glee, “Oh my god, guys! Come one, come on!” She dragged Impulse out of his chair, abandoning their table for the dance floor while one of the bar tenders tried to get the place pumped up for a line dance.

They nearly crashed into Scott and Pearl, who were already rosy-cheeked and giggling nonstop alongside Cleo. The three were linked hand-in-hand, pushing to the front of the group at Pearl’s insistence. It’d been a while since Tango had seen her let go and have fun. Not that she wasn’t always a joy, but... Well. Tango was still convinced waking up at five am to work for a band that had never once taken the gig seriously was crazy people actions.

He knew in the grand scheme of things it was for her career. GIST was her first foray into management and they weren’t going to be around much longer. Pearl was destined to move on to bigger and brighter bands, and he had all the confidence in the world she would with how brilliant and hard working she was. He just wished she took the chance to let loose while she still could. And the fact Scott and this Cleo person were able to get her to was enough to put them in Tango’s good books.

Joel and Lizzie were at the far end where they were previously dancing alone, and Fwhip dragged Jimmy into line right behind GIST despite his protests of leaving his guitar alone. The bar tender was up on a small stage, and began demonstrating the moves. Half of them hadn’t realized they were starting already, causing gem and Skizz to smack into the other two. Eventually after many bumps and giggles the whole crowd was on the same page doing the cupid shuffle. Skizz was the first to wrap his arms around Tango and Gem’s shoulders, until all four were linked, at least until they were asked to turn. It switched up to the cha cha slide, at which point Tango lost all coordination, much to his band’s amusement and their neighbour’s bemusement.

By the end they were all cheering and out of breath, Impulse being the first to retreat back to their table, Fwhip not far behind. Skizz swept Gem back over to the dance floor where Lizzie was happily dragging around Joel. Cleo, Pearl, and Scott tried to navigate into the crowd but nearly fell into a cackling heap with how drunk they’d gotten, and chose to bow out for the time being. Tango was in the middle of contemplating whether to do the same when a bright eyed face invaded his vision.

“You’re not throwing in the towel already are you?” He said with amusement.

It was almost wrong, to see Jimmy sans guitar on his back. His face was flush, not drunk on alcohol but some sort of adrenaline. His hair had fallen out of how he’d had it styled, sticking slightly to his forehead and up where a hand had been run through it. The sweetest smile stretched across his face, a hint of mischief in his dark eyes. There was a stain on his cream button up, presumably from the hot wings, which Tango desperately wanted to point out just to say something instead of staring like a brainless goldfish. Before he could have the chance to say anything he was being pulled over to the centre of the dance floor.

“You know how to dance without instructions, I hope.” Jimmy laughed as they came to a halt.

Tango crashed right into him. Taking a moment for his brain to restart he put on the cockiest grin he could muster and confidently informed the men, “Pssh, I’ll have you know I’m an expert.”

“Oh yeah?” They’d began to sway with the crowd, nothing specific.

“In fact I’ve take a whole half a dance class before.” He did an awkward exaggerated jig for emphasis, which got a laugh.

“Oh, please tell me it was-”

“The tango? How’d you know?”

Jimmy cackle-cheered so hard he had to stop dancing for a moment to recover. When he calmed he reached out for Tango’s hands and they turned with the rest of the crowd, finally adding a few little cowboy steps to their swaying.

In truth, the sum total of Tango’s former dance experience mostly involved swaying cross-legged in the mud high out of his mind, headbanging in in a pit, and the macarena at a wedding. That hardly mattered now, especially when Jimmy just as uncoordinated. Whatever dance they were doing involved at lease one person’s foot on the others with each step and a lot of giggling. Tango was beginning to wonder if Jimmy had slipped away to grab his own drink at some point or inhaled a bit too much of the smoke, but his eyes were too focused for that. No, he really was just absolutely delighted to be moving around in the crowd, singing suspiciously well alongside Shania Twain. It was absolutely...

Well, Tango tried not to think too hard about what it was. Especially not when his gaze momentarily slipped away to avoid going blind and instead landed on Lizzie, who was giving him a knowing look. He couldn’t tell what emotion it was on her face, only able to presume she was still mad at him. A suggestion was on the tip of his tongue as the last stomping beat of Any Man of Mine played. Out of guilt or nerves. But he felt Jimmy back away with another airy sort of sound and he was dragged back in. He beamed, “Wanna go sit and grab a drink?”

They wound up at the bar rather than with their friends, where Jimmy could order a coke in peace while Tango could grab a nice whisky instead of more Molson. Jimmy was still giddy, his heel bouncing on the stool as he smiled down into his drink. He glanced over, though, to Tango’s glass. “Can I try?”

Tango slid it over, “S’bout as good as reasonably priced whisky gets.”

Jimmy rolled it a bit, took a sniff, then a sip. His nose wrinkled a bit before he passed it back. “Yeah think I’ll stick with mine.”

“Not for everyone.” Tango concedes.

“I just don’t like the taste much, or the feeling.” He brushes his chest, chewing on his lip and side eyeing Tango. “Just not...”

Ah. He shrugged, trying to act as casual as possible. “You don’t have to explain yourself, partner.”

“No, I guess I don’t. Not to you.” Jimmy smiled, then took a sip of his coke.

“So, you like to dance?” Tango said, approximately as smooth as a cactus made of sandpaper covered in barnacles.

Jimmy by some miracle didn’t notice, and lit up once more as he went on a tale of childhood fairs and forced square dancing lessons and learning that dancing could actually be fun after years of spiteful refusal to ever perform again. It devolved into another story, and another. The bar tender was happy to slip yet another glass in front of Tango after each one.

Their chatter was only interrupted by Joel, who practically screeched across the bar from the stage, calling for his ‘babe’ which was apparently not Lizzie. Jimmy laughed and screeched back, back to full energy, and darted away back to his table to grab his guitar. They quickly took over the bar’s attention as they both began wailing away with the song, Jimmy strumming scratchy notes on his guitar. Some shouted, some cheered. Tango watched with great amusement, entirely missing when the seat next to him became reoccupied.

“Having fun?”

Tango’s head spun around. Lizzie was staring into Jimmy’s empty glass. He cleared his throat and swivelled back around. “Think so. You?”

“Of course.”

An awkward silence befell them, a not very silent one given the screaming and music and thudding and clinking. It all sounded like a distant whisper right now.

Lizzie huffed, and looked up, “Look, Tango. I’m not sorry about earlier.”

“Oookay.” He quirked an eyebrow. He hadn’t thought she was, but it seemed rude to come and say to his face.

“I’m not.” She insisted looking frustrated. “But I guess I can’t exactly tell you to not speak to my brother when he’s the one speaking to you. So, I’ve decided to call truce.”

“Thanks? I think.”

The silence was back. Lizzie chose to ignore it this time, flagging down the bar tender to get her own drink. Tango continued to sip his own.

He cleared his throat. “I liked your set.” Wow, way to go. Might as well call myself a climate-denyer with all this ice I’m not breaking.

That of all things got her undivided and startled attention. “Really?”

“I mean, yeah. You guys got some serious talent. I don’t think I saw anyone with as much range.”

“Well, I’m glad.” She said, stuck between wanting to be mad and soaking in the praise. “I’ve been working for this almost my whole life, you know. Since I was eight.”

Tango whistled, genuinely impressed. “Ain’t that the sorta dedication and ambition we all wished we had. Definitely shows. You’ll have to show me how you did that one bit in... What was it called? The one that was all-” He squinted in frustration, drawing shapes in the air to hopelessly illustrate his point.

Lizzie blinked, then clapped happily, “Oh! Destiny?” She beamed, and that was the first time Tango had been sure she and Jimmy were siblings. “Yes, well, it only really works with my keyboard specifically...” She descended into a rant, explaining what she had done with modes and foot pedals, completely forgetting to actually tell Tango what model she used in the first place. He could ask later. For now he nodded along, making mental notes. Now and then he asked questions, the conversation on the brink but never quite fully petering out to chase away the awkward silence. Tango wasn’t even sure it would still be there if it ended, but he much preferred happy Lizzie elaborating on how she played the keyboard over grumpy Lizzie ready to punch him in the throat.

Jimmy’s voice carried over the crowd, who roared to life as he started singing along with Dolly Parton. Tango took the briefest moment to watch, smiling to himself.

“Suppose...” Lizzie began, the words dying momentarily before she took in a new breath. “Suppose I was wrong.”

“About?” Tango tilted his head in confusion.

“Someone Jimmy met.” Her gaze was permanently fixed on her drink, obscuring whatever complicated emotions were passing over her face. “Suppose I was distracted with my own relationships and dreams. Suppose I was bias cause I knew them, and too young and stupid to notice it just wasn’t right for him until I had to forever hold my peace.” Fingers tightened around her glass. Tango worried it might shatter. “Suppose afterwards I had to help him unpack everything I helped him pack up before. Comforted him when he cried then go comfort the person who made him cry when they cried too, and couldn’t tell which was wrong, if either was. Suppose even after it was over it still wasn’t, and I couldn’t stop thinking it was for my sake it wasn’t.”

Her eyes were glossy when she timidly looked back up, threatening her perfectly done eyeliner. “Is there something wrong with trying to protect him from something like that happening again?”

And Tango couldn’t say no. He knew what it was like to be on both sides half a dozen times over. Maybe not the exact scenario she was alluding to, but ones similar enough. Hesitantly he reached out, and when she only shrugged he place his hands gently on her shoulder, giving her a comforting rub. “I think the only person who can answer that for you, is Jimmy.”

“And what am I supposed to do if he doesn’t want help?”

“I dunno, be there for him in other ways? You’re both adults, you’ll figure it out.” He snorted, his own bittersweet memories playing out in the back of his mind. Mostly of himself. “Some people just need to make their own mistakes to learn, even if you can tell them exactly what will happen if they do. It’s a lot better than feeling like you aren’t allowed to make mistakes at all, I can tell you that.”

“He’d make so many.” Her laugh was humourless. “And don’t think I don’t know what you stand to gain from this.”

Did he? Tango glanced over his shoulder to where Jimmy was, laughing and leaning over Joel as they belted along with the song. The guitarist paused, their eyes meeting, and an enormous grin stretched across his face as he waved to Tango. Tango waved back and turned away. He supposed he did. Was he just being biased? He hoped not. It was hard to think clearly through the buzz. “Well, you could always just beat the crap outta me. He can’t do much about that, can he?”

That got a real laugh, so he turned back to her. Her eyes were still wet, but there was determination there now. “Don’t think I won’t!”

“I ain’t gonna defend myself!” He threw up his hands in concession. “Seriously, though. Jimmy never has nothin’ but good things to say about you. I think he really admires you, y’know? Just my two cents. You should just talk to him yourself, can’t imagine he’ll be rude about it.”

“He wouldn’t.” She agreed, shaking her head. “It’s just hard to have some conversations with younger siblings. Hard to see them as grown up when it feels like they were shoving crayons up their nose just yesterday.”

That was where Tango’s expertise ended, as an only child, so he shrugged. “When I was a kid we just ate them.”

“Oh, that was Joel’s thing. I was the smart one, you see. The only one who knew to draw with them.” She turned up her nose, dramatically sweeping her bubblegum pink locks back.

“... Sooo, on the walls?”

“It was a big canvas!”

Their conversation was cut short by a crash and commotion in the crowd. It didn’t take much else than spotting the mop of teal poking a few inches above the rest of the crowd to send both racing over.

There was a shit-faced cowboy, oddly familiar but Tango wasn’t sure from where, in a soaked flannel, flanked by two similarly dressed friends. In front of him stood Scott stuck somewhere between ‘ready to fall over and puke’ and somehow still high and mighty sass. There was an upside down cup in his hand, barely held there by three fingers. Tango didn’t need to see the pool of ice on the floor to put the pieces together. Especially not with Pearl huddled behind him in Cleo’s arms as she too glared daggers into the strangers.

The rest of their group quickly showed up, Jimmy and Joel shoving their way through the opposite side of the forming circle while the rest appeared beside Tango and Lizzie. Gem’s eyes narrowed as she snarled, “It’s that creep!” It took all of them to hold her back from marching into the conflict.

A fist wrapped around the front of Scott’s shirt and dragged him down to eye level with the cowboy, “The fuck’s your problem?” He snapped. Behind him his buddies jeered.

It took Scott’s alcohol addled mind a visible moment to register what just happened. His nose wrinkled, turning his face away. “Not my fault you can’t take a hint. Or a shower.”

There was a chorus of laughs, mostly from his own bandmates and Gem. All except Lizzie, who was giving Jimmy and Joel a nervous frown. The two weren’t paying attention, looking far too amused by Scott’s antics. Joel whispered something into Jimmy’s ear and Tango could only guess it was another one of their bets.

The cowboy spluttered, entire face red at this point, and shoved Scott back. His glass crashed to the ground. “Ain’t none of your business sniffing me, fairy boy!”

Scott’s eyebrows went up. Behind him, Pearl tried to whisper something to him, but it went ignored. Then he laughed, throwing his hip dramatically and leaning in. “Flattery won’t get you on this dick, princess.”

Then his fist connected with the stranger’s jaw.

“Jesus Christ, Scott!” Pearl shrieked, her and Cleo dragging him back as the cowboy went down.

Completely chaos broke loose. Gem ran free with a battle cry and launched herself onto the back of one of the cowboys just before he swung for Scott, her brother not far behind. Others broke through the crowd, friends or just rowdy patrons. It took Scott only a moment to get back into the fight, Jimmy and Joel cheering the three on. Joe jumped up on the bar with the mic, attempting to implore the crowd to calm down, but someone snatched his ankle and he quickly went down. Skizz shouted, though it was so incoherent Tango wasn’t sure if it was for peace or war. A plate smashed against a post. Both Tango and Lizzie shrieked as they ducked behind Impulse.

“Oh- those-” Lizzie blabbered while the three backed out of the main conflict. Her eyes suddenly went wide. “Jimmy, Joel! No!”

Tango turned just in time to watch the blond slam his guitar case into a guy who’d latched onto Gem’s pigtails. It was swiftly retaliated with a kick to his gut. He dominoed into a small crowd, from which Joel slipped passed and decked the offending cowboy in Jimmy’s stead.

People began pouring out of the bar, some fleeing and others fighting. “You two grab your boys before they get their teeth knocked in.” Impulse directed. “I’ll find Pearl and we’ll grab the rest when it’s safe.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. Tango cleared a path behind the main brawl, Lizzie close on his tail. By the time they reached Jimmy and Joel they sported matching dark bruises on their cheeks, and there was blood dripping from Jimmy’s nose. That’d been enough to get them to bow out, but not to back off as they egged on their bandmates. Lizzie wasn’t having any off it, grabbing the strap of Jimmy’s guitar and the scruff of Joel’s shirt. Tango squeaked as Jimmy was practically tossed into his arms. “Let’s go!” She shouted.

All four stumbled out into the cool night air. They didn’t stop moving, not until they were halfway down the street and wheezing. “Oh my gosh!” Jimmy gasped for his life while Joel doubled over beside him. There was still adrenaline pumping wildly through Tango’s whole body, giving him the shakes.

Lizzie took just a moment to lean against a stop sign before her face twisted with rage and marched over to the two, shoving her finger into each’s chest. “What’d the matter with you two?” She screeched. “You could have gotten killed or arrested or- or- Gyahh!”

“Never been to jail.” Jimmy mused, which was the wrong answer. Despite Lizzie berating, the two devolved into giggles and bolted on ahead towards the campsite.

Lizzie was absolutely furious, read to chase after them if not for Tango’s hand on her shoulder. “Let ‘em run it off, Jimmy’ll make sure they don’t get far.” He assured. Jimmy may be high on the excitement of it all, but he was still sober. Just as he thought so the man in question nearly face-planted into the gravel road, saved only by his guitar case hitting it first. Joel paused to laugh at him before dragging him back to his feet and running once more.

“you see what I deal with?” She said, shrill and throwing her hands out towards her husband and brother, before they flopped to her sides. Tango couldn’t hold back a small giggle. “Well at least they weren’t stupid enough to throw the first punch.”

They jumped at the sudden tone of Tango’s blackberry going off. It took the man a moment fiddling in his jeans’ pockets to find the thing, then nearly dropped it. A small reminder of his own numerous drinks that night. “Hello?” He answered. Lizzie leaned in.

“Tango! Are you guys okay?” Pearl’s frantic voice shouted over the sounds of a crowd. “We can’t see you, Impulse said-”

“We’re fine, Pearlie-pop, don’t worry.” Tango hastily assured, double checking that the other two hadn’t passed out on the road ahead or something. “Got out of there, heading back to the campsite right now.”

“Oh, thank god. Listen, everyone here’s mostly okay, but I think Scott, Joe, and Fwhip need a couple stitches. So Impulse is gonna bring Gem and Skizz back and steal the van from you to take us to the hospital.”

He nodded, smiling at Lizzie who visibly deflated with relief. “Roger dodger, boss-lady. We’ll get everyone tucked into bed, don’t you worry.”

The walk back was quiet, only a few bats and an owl filling the crisp night air. Tango had to pull out the flashlight on his keychain as they turned down the dirt path that took them directly to their end of the campsite. Despite their earlier stress they couldn’t help giggle as they found Joel passed out against the running kitchen sink, a sticky note stuck to his sleeping face telling them Jimmy went to see if the store was still open. Tango wished he stayed long enough for someone else to check out his nose, but he was ready to crash.

“Do you mind-?” Lizzie began, practically collapsing onto her bed after she dragged Joel over.

Tango smiled, “You go to sleep, I’ll wait for everyone.”

She nodded, that being all she needed to roll over and get comfy. There was a brief moment, in which Tango nearly left before she called out, “Tango?”

“Hm?” He leaned back inside.

There was a strained smile on her face, “I am sorry about earlier.”

He let out an airy noise, and waved her off. “Don’t be, I was an ass. Wish I had a big sister like you. He’s lucky.”

“I don’t think anyone would accuse Jimmy of being lucky. But thank you. It means a lot.”

“You just worry about getting some sleep for Hangover Road Trip Electric Boogaloo tomorrow.”

There was a groan of realization, which finally got her to nod and roll over.

Tango closed the door as quietly as possible, and sat down on the steps to wait. He hadn’t realized how out of it he was, not until there was some sort of strange sound that knocked him back into the world of the waking. When had he even nodded off in the first place? There was the sound once more, though. Tango stood up, eyebrow and flashlight raised. “Hello?”

There was a rustle from the other side of the trailer, and a screech. Jimmy’s head popped out from between the bushes they were pushed up against. He had leaves stuck in his hair, and the buse on his cheek had become yellow and purple. Another was forming on his chin along with a half dozen on his arms. But the blood from his nose was wiped away or dried and it didn’t seem to be broken. “Um, hi.”

“Jim? What are you doing?”

“Uh, nothing!” He squeaked, and stumbled out. The top of his case smacked against the back of his head, getting a wince from Tango. “Just got- got lost in the dark. The store was closed.”

“Closes at dinner time.” Tango pointed out.

Jimmy’s face went red, looking away. “Yeah... Sorry.” He eyed the trailer warily. “Is she mad?”

“Don’t think so.” Both moved to the picnic table. For once Tango thought he must look more tired than Jimmy. Something had torn open one of their chip bags while they were gone, the crumbs strewn about. Jimmy paused to wipe out towards the bushes, then plopped down with his arms slung over his guitar case.

“Do you wanna set up the tent?”

“Mmm, too much work now.” Tango would much prefer the air mattress to the table, but he was drunk and it was almost midnight.

There was a moment where Jimmy leaned back, puttering a three note beat against his case. “She yell at you? She said she was gonna go yell at you.”

A noise escaped Tango, too much of a reaction to deny it.

“Sorry for whatever she said. She likes playing big sister, all brave and smart. Forgets she fell from the same tree.”

“Nah, I ran my stupid mouth, I probably deserved it.” Tango shook his head, also leaning back.

There was a shift, and Tango felt the guitar bump his hand. “You know I was hanging out with Skizz today.”

“Yeah?”

“Made me think.” He hummed, not continuing until Tango nudged him back. “I know why we’re here. To make Lizzie and Scott famous. But... I don’t know why you guys are here.”

Tango blinked. He turned to look at the other man, who’s face darkened as he realized what he said. “Not like- I mean- Not that you don’t deserve it or anything-”

“No, I get what you mean.” He snorted, a bit lost in memories. Old ones from when they first met in college, new ones of Zed leaving and the girls joining. Promises they made to Pearl as they worked up professional contracts for the first time in their so-called career and sombre conversations between just him, Impulse and Skizz.

“You can’t say this to Gem.” Is all he asked, tone a bit desperate. Jimmy made a small noise, an agreement. Tango sighed. “Truth is, this is probably our last gig.”

Jimmy didn’t seem surprised.

“Dunno what we’re gonna do after this. Maybe we’ll make one last album, maybe we’ll leave how it is. Depends on how we feel I guess. Been living our whole lives doing this first and everything second. And not that I ain’t thankful for every minute of it, but, y’know. We ain’t rockstars. Got bills to pay and jobs to start taking seriously. Impy and Skizz do, at least. And if I can’t play with them I ain’t sure I wanna.”

He shifted his position, pulling his legs up to chest to rest his chin on them. “Honestly, we were thinking about it a few years back, after Zed left for his career. Then we met Gem, though, and- well, you met her. Shines like the sun. Something about her. She’s gonna be a star, we all knew it.” A smile sneaked onto his face, remembering the first time they heard her sing. “Never had big dreams like you guys, but we loved what we did and she loved playing with us. It was different, but it was like the good old days where it mattered. But life’s been catching up. I guess we just wanted to do one last big show together, something to remember. Y’know?”

It seemed like Jimmy did. At least, that’s what Tango hoped his sleepy smile meant.

Tango relaxed himself running a hand down his face to try and keep himself awake until their bandmates got back. “Told Pearl already, back when we signed her on. Don’t expect this too last too long. But we’re still trying to find a way to break it to Gem. Think she suspects it, but it’s still hard.”

“What about you?” Jimmy asked. Had he always been sitting that close, or had one of them scooched over in the breeze?

“Hm?”

“You said, Impulse and Skizz have plans. But what about you?”

There he was, a fish drowning in the sea. The question he’d not even realized he’d been avoiding. Imp and Skizz had full time jobs and family and homes, Gem and Pearl had their whole careers ahead of them, and he had- what? “That’s the question, ain’t it.” He murmured, suddenly feeling quite lost as he stared up at the night sky through the trees.

It wasn’t as though he’d taken their band any more serious than the rest of them, but somewhere along the way they’d all managed to build their own lives between the margins. Probably while he was passed out after playing roller coast tycoon all night or doing one of his other dozen going-nowhere hobbies.

A hesitant hand slipped onto his shoulder, massaging comfortingly. It brought Tango back down from wherever he was floating off to a lot easier than he’d ever like to admit. Jimmy didn’t bother to say anything. Not that he didn’t seem to want to. Nothing ever quite made it out until his mouth snapped back shut into a sympathetic smile. He didn’t have to. For once Tango thought he could understand. He really hoped it wouldn’t be the only time. It felt good.

Leaves ruffled and there was a loud, familiar whining. Both men stood up in time to watch Impulse drag Gem and Skizz under each arm into camp. “Almost there, guys.” He announced, shoulders falling as he spotted Tango and Jimmy.

They put the new pair to bed first against their whining and waved Impulse off. The little sleep demon in Tango’s mind screamed to finally get into bed. He heard Jimmy’s laugh when they both collapsed, creating a bounce back that shook the whole trailer and the pullout off the ground. “You’re makin’ breakfast, by the way.” Tango grumbled, already curling up against his cuddle buddy.

“Not fair!”

“Shh.”

Just as he drifted Tango heard a strange little whistle. Please birds, let me get at least a few hours of sleep, was his last thought as he drifted off.

#jimmy solidarity #tangotek #team rancher #rancher duo #solidaritek #trafficshipping #traffic series #hermitpires #mcyt #fanfiction #fanfic #modern au #hurt/comfort

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yacinthemorning · 2 months

Text

Birdsongs

Chapter 5

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And, perhaps, among the chaos and music, two unsuspecting souls find one another...

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Joel/Lizzie (romantic), Jimmy & Scott (platonic)

Warnings: Harassment, threats of violence, hangovers, shovel talk

“Do you think if the trailer caught fire it would explode like in the movies?”

Every person previously nursing their hangovers turned their eyes on Skizz. Tango reached out while he was still lost in thought and snatched away the blunt about to fall from his fingers. “Okay, that’s that.”

“Hey! Give it back!”

“Nope. It’s all fun and games ‘til the train of thought turns to arson.” He said, putting it out and pushing a bag of bugles towards his old friend. “We know how that ends.”

“You guys really don’t hold back, do you?” Lizzie murmured with concern.

Tango shrugged the same moment they hit a pothole, throwing him into the air. He glanced over his shoulder towards the front seats. Sure enough, Jimmy was looking back, mouthing an apology before Fwhip turned his attention back to the road. That day’s drivers were decided purely on who was sober enough to pass a breathalyser if they were pulled over, or in other words, Jimmy and Pearl.

The night before had gotten wild, from what little Tango could remember, and now the day after it was like they were all running on empty. Even after brushing his teeth thrice there was an awful taste left in Tango’s mouth. Joel could barely lift his head off the wall. Scott and Gem had never even gotten out of bed, and for once Impulse couldn’t find the energy to tell them off for not being buckled in. It may have had something to do with, while wasting time fiddling with his own, nearly puking across the table, had he not been next to the window. Someone had attempted to put a movie on, but the noise nearly caused Lizzie to cry.

All in all, it was not a fun day so far. Still, no one seemed to mind. Tango smiled as he rested his chin across his arms. Both their bands had hit it out of the park in their first performance. The others’ music wasn’t half bad either, especially with Jimmy there. Despite all his worries they got on like a house on fire. It gave him hope he could actually get through this trip without exploding. One member of Empire down, four more to go. Or maybe he should stop while ahead?

Pain pulsed through his skull, groan matched by Lizzie. Okay, so maybe he could wait until tomorrow.

“We’re pulling off the freeway in a minute.” Fhwip announced. “Pearl wants to stop in town for the day since we’re way ahead of schedule.”

Lizzie lulled her head to the side in order to give her manager the stink eye. “Really? While we’re like this?”

“You’re free to stay in the trailer, I’m just relaying the plan! We’re gonna check in at the campsite and then head out.”

The clock on the wall declared it quarter past two. Skizz scraped a bugle claw across the table, then ate it absently. “Could hit up a pub for dinner.” He suggested.

“More drinking?” Complained Jimmy from the front seat.

“We don’t have to drink! Might be fun though. Have a couple burgers then get our groove on to whatever honkytonk music they got out here.”

Tango barked, “God, don’t subject these poor kids to your geriatric wiggling!”

There was shuffling in the bedroom, and Gem pulled open the door looking like a very excited zombie. “W’goin’ dancin’?” She asked so hopefully. Scott appeared behind her, scrubbing his dyed hair out of his face before shuffling her forward so he could lock himself in the bathroom.

“Oh, we haven’t been dancing in forever, Joel!” Lizzie joined in on the excitement, reaching her hand out to flap it in front of her husband to get his attention. It did little, only getting a hung-over grunt. She huffed, then stretched out across the table to get a look at the drivers. “Full steam ahead, Jim, my toes are a-tappin!”

“It’s not even dinner time yet, at least wait!” He said back, voiced pitched up in panic.

“They’re a-tappin, Jimmy! Hurry!”

“You’re unbelievable!”

Tango replaced his bugle claws just to jab Skizz. “Then I guess that’s that.”

They’d only just put the blocks under the wheels of the trailer when a commotion had already began. Jimmy looked up from where he was pulling chairs out from the car at the sound of his sister’s ‘pay attention to me’ whine. Both she and Gem had surrounded Impulse like a pack of hyenas, circling him to keep him from getting far with the bag he was carrying. Not a situation Jimmy was dumb enough to get involved with.

Tango had also noticed the scene and, in his ignorance, dared approach. “Hey, what’s all the hubbub about?”

They pounced on him, eliciting a funny little screech. “Tango! Come with us!” Gem demanded more than asked. It was too late for him. He was already being dragged off. Jimmy quietly saluted the lost soldier and went back to work.

“Wh- What! What’s going on?”

“We’re gonna go shopping for outfits for tonight.”

“But you already have a bunch of clothes!”

“Some of us change more than once a week, Tango.”

Jimmy yanked the tent out of the car just in time before Tango was shoved into the now-open backseat and locked in. The pathetic expression he pressed against the window reminded Jimmy of a cat being taken to the vet. Impulse slipped into the driver’s seat with more dignity and resignation. Then they were off.

Skizz dropped the cooler down between himself and Jimmy. “Well, better them than us.”

“We probably aren’t seeing them before dinner.” Jimmy said. Not once in his life had Lizzie ever been decisive enough not to try on everything in a shop.

“Oi, Skizz,” called Pearl from the side of the trailer. “We’re almost out of propane, and we could use a couple more drinks and toilet paper I’m thinking. Mind walkin’ down the road and grabbing some?”

Skizz shrugged, then slapped Jimmy’s shoulder hard enough to send him a few feet forward. “You heard her. Let’s go, buddy!”

“Me? She asked you!” But Jimmy was already being dragged off.

“I need someone sober to make sure I don’t drop kick the propane into my own face.”

It didn’t sound like a job Jimmy was either looking forward to nor qualified for. Regardless, they found themselves walking down the road together towards the campsite store. It was a warm afternoon, thankfully, with birds going wild in the trees above. The canopy hid them well from view, but their songs gave them away. Several chikadees called to one another while a jay and crow fought to make the graveliest caws. Between them a sparrow screeched like it was trying to replace the cicadas that were still hidden underground that year. He could see the little thing shaking on a branch protruding right out over the road, hanging on for dear life. In the far distance there was the clucks of someone’s chickens, but most oddly-

“Earth to Jimmy! Yoo-hoo!”

Jimmy blinked, focus narrowing until he could barely hear the songbirds over Skizz’s hard stare. They were at the store, standing awkwardly at the bottom of the ramp onto its porch.

“Y’okay?” Skizz asked, pushing past him towards the door. “And I thought I was hungover.”

A blush dusted Jimmy’s cheeks. “Sorry.” He wasn’t hung over at all, but given how out of it Skizz was before he even got back to the trailer he wasn’t surprised Skizz didn’t know that. “It just sounds nice around here.”

Skizz threw his hands up. “It sounds like a bore! It needs more pizzazz, a little more boogie on the roads, bit o’ radio leakage.” He paused at the door as a breeze passed. Several wind chimes, clearly homemade, rattled away as if out of spite. A peculiar bird song lulled underneath them, difficult to tell apart. He huffed in amusement. “But I guess it’s got its charm.”

“You’d know better than me, probably.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The bell of the store rang, catching the campsite owner’s attention. They nodded to the old woman and moved past. There was only two aisles of goods in the store, selling only basic emergency supplies and a few candy bars. Skizz went straight for the gas and ice. Jimmy hummed thoughtfully as he grabbed a four pack of toilet paper. “You guys have been playing for years right? And I’m probably the worst here, you’d know better than me about sound.”

“Jimmy!”

Both Jimmy and the poor owner jumped at Skizz’s shout. He glared daggers, and shoved a bag of ice into Jimmy’s hands. “The first thing any musician needs to know is skill is bullshit! It’s opinions all the way down!”

Jimmy wasn’t quite sure what to say, especially not with the owner staring into the back of his skull. “Skizz-”

“No, no, no! You listen here, mister!” Skizz continued to speak far too loud. “I heard you on that disc. It’s complete malarkey. Guys like you and me, we might not be big shining stars like Lizzie or Gem, but we’re still important! You gotta have confidence in yourself, kid! You got a sound all your own!”

His face was surely beet red by then. What decisions led him here, stuck getting preached to like a Saturday morning cartoon while he awkwardly held overpriced toilet paper? “I guess.” He murmured, just trying to get the scene Skizz was making to end.

“Don’t guess! You know what?” Skizz crossed his arms and smirked. “I’ve decided you’re stuck with me until you say the magic words.”

Jimmy gaped. “Magic words?”

“Yeah, magic words!”

“... Which is?”

“I’m an amazing musician!”

“I’m an amazing musician.” He deadpanned.

“No, not like that! You gotta mean it! I swear, you’re almost as bad as Tango.”

“I really don’t think-”

“Um, excuse me.” The two turned to the owned, who looked so incredibly uncomfortable. “Would you mind paying for that?”

They’d strayed dangerously close to the door during their back and forth. Jimmy shrank into his shoulders as he brought it over to the counter. Skizz quickly grabbed a camping-sized canister of gas and threw it on the counter as well before reaching for his wallet.

“That’ll be 21.65.”

Skizz’s nose wrinkled. “Shit.” He turned to Jimmy an awkward grimace. “You wouldn’t happen to have a ten I can borrow, would you?”

Everything was most certainly overpriced, but not by that much. Jimmy only shrugged, pulling out his card. “I’ll just get it.”

“You don’t have to-”

“We’re all pitching in, it’s fine.”

Though he went quiet his eyebrows never relaxed. Not until they were outside did he pipe up again, “Dude I’m so sorry, I spent way too much at the venue.”

“It’s fine, Skizz.” He tried to assure, though there was a sour note left at the explanation. They hadn’t hung out much, but anyone within half a mile could smell exactly what it was he spent his cash on. “Don’t you have a card, though?”

There was an awkward groan. “Yeah, but I can’t touch it ‘til next week.”

“Bills?” It made some sense, though the timing seemed all off.

“Yeah, my mom’s nurse. She’s nice but she really bleeds y’dry on a bad month.” He rambled more than explained, going on about this and that miscellaneous expense.

Jimmy felt a bit bad now, though it raised a particular question in the back of his mind. Why are you out here on a music tour, then? Luckily, he was able to keep it off his tongue. He hardly had room to talk. Not that there was any room to, with Skizz’s ramble going off the rails into a story about his college days with Impulse.

There was that odd twitter once more, just as they descended the steps. Jimmy almost missed it. The song was irregular, soft and sweet but not natural. Jimmy twisted around.

There, just over a fence separating the campsite from someone’s backyard. One of the windows was wide open, its old curtains dragged out by the breeze, collecting dust every time it buffeted against the mouldy panelling. It gave way when the wind stilled for a moment, revealing a white painted bird cage. Within, hopping from one wood bar to the other, was a tiny finch, feathers the colour of butter. A canary. Though, Jimmy had never seen one, but that’s what he had to assume. Trained, so it seemed, with the lovely tunes it altered between. As if it knew it had gained an audience it halted in its hops, and picked up volume. Jimmy smiled. Maybe just for a bit they could…

“- And I said ‘Well, I can’t beat off four people at once!’”

Jimmy’s foot tangled against his ankle and with a sharp squawk he went down. Only the toilet paper cushioned his fall, avoiding breaking his nose against the dirt road, though a face full of plastic was unpleasant in its own right.

“Oh my god, are you okay, dude?” Skizz asked, yanking him back onto his feet with a single hand.

Jimmy nodded his head through the pain, “No- yes- I’m sorry. You did what?”

There was a nervous laugh, “Dude!”

The ridiculousness finally sunk in with dizziness. “You can’t just say something like that in public!”

“We aren’t in public!”

Jimmy threw out his hands towards the open lot. Skizz waved him off, a fit of giggles filling the air.

“There ain’t no one around!”

“But there could be!”

But Skizz shook his head, pulling him in to eye level and patting his shoulder. “See, is that your problem? You got stage fright, kid? I bet it is. Not to brag but I’m pretty good at reading people.”

Stage fright? Well certainly, who doesn’t? Well, Scott and Lizzie. And probably Joel. But the crowd wasn’t anything to worry about once he got going. “I came to help you buy toilet paper, not get a therapy session.” He whined, trying to shake off the guitarist.

“Well to bad! You’re stuck with the Skizzleman ‘til you believe in yourself!”

Maybe this trip actually was going to be as bad as he thought.

Tango waded through the aisles of some tiny store, one eye on the changing rooms. The selection was understandably small, mostly graphic t-shirts with the town name on it, maybe a mining helmet or a terrible post card picture of the old abandoned mines-turned-museum that was apparently the only thing the place was known for. A whole corner for generic patriotic merch, a small section for crafts by artists from the local reservation, and an entire wall of hats with vaguely funny fishing and nature jokes made up the rest of the store. Not exactly prime location for night-on-the-town clothes. But Gem had spotted a Bon Jovi shirt that was admittedly pretty cool and now Tango was stuck playing with dream catchers while the girls tried on Large Women’s T-shirt #12 that Gem would take a pair of scissors to as soon as they got back to the trailer.

“How does it look?” Lizzie squealed, throwing the curtains to the side. “Too boring?” It was a jean jacket, pre-worn to a faded sky blue that went well with her pink hair. Not exact her style, from what Tango had so far seen, but fit well with the atmosphere of the highway town.

Gem popped her head out, and made a similarly excited noise to her friend. “It looks so good!”

Giggling at the compliment, Lizzie did a spin, her long skirt flaring out and catching on the racks of the cramped store. “It’s so cheap, too! I think I need it.”

“Oh, I could make a cute little patch for it right here!” Hands grabbed at the hem, running fingers over the coat’s large pockets. Lizzie beamed.

“A Genuine Gemini Patch, oh please do!”

Their conversation turned to whispers that were drowned out by their own laughter. Tango snorted, smiling fondly at the scene as he leaned against a wall of flyers. “How’s it over here?” Impulse paused beside the blond man. “Still going, huh?”

“Yeah, Lizzie’s been meticulous.” He drawled, flicking the brim of the baseball cap the girls forced on Impulse. The local highschool’s football team apparently had a little yellow and black demon as its mascot. They both settled against the wall, watching Gem race from the clothes to the accessories, Lizzie right on her tail. “Nice seeing her get to hang out with people her own age rather than a couple of old farts like us.”

Impulse watched for a moment, humming in agreement. “It doesn’t seem like that big a difference ‘till you see them like this or get a ‘what’s that,’ huh?”

“Yeah.” Tango knew in the grand scheme of things they weren’t that old, barely breaking middle-aged at most, maybe a few early grey hairs to show for it. But it was hard not to feel it when he was in the corner reminiscing about once running around town with his buddies instead of joining them.

... What a stupid thought. They were right there, and Gem was his bandmate. Why couldn’t he?

He’d just pushed himself off the wall, about to call out to the girls, when he realized they weren’t alone.

Some guy, maybe mid-twenties and a strong build with a cowboy hat of all things on. A local, Tango guessed. He practically loomed over the two tiny women, saying something that had Lizzie backing away and Gem balling her fists. That was never good.

Tango sauntered up, pulling on the goofiest grin he had as he stepped into the circle. He could feel Impulse’s presence behind him, catching the man’s attention far more than Tango probably did. “Ready to roll, ladies?” He asked.

Gem was about to say something when the local spoke up first, “Who’s this, sweetheart? Your dad?”

“None of your business.” She snapped. Oh, she was very not happy. Which meant time for Operation: Skadoodle Before Someone’s Nose Gets Broken. Again.

Tango put his hands up in peace. “Sorry but we got some prior commitments we’re gonna be late for.”

Lizzie didn’t need another word, slipping behind Tango towards the register to swiftly pay. It took another second and Impulse breaking their line of sight to convince Gem to stop glaring at the man and head over as well. As they rushed their way out of the shop the local shouted after them, “Maybe another time after you put your dad to bed, sweet cheeks!”

If Tango hadn’t been blocking the doorway he was sure Gem would have done a running tackle at the man. She continued to protest even as they filed into the car. “I can take care of myself, you know!”

“We know, Gem.” Impulse sighed. “That’s what we’re afraid of.”

Tango tried to pat her shoulder but she jerked away, folding her arms and huffing. “You really wanna spend the night in some backwater jail over a guy like that? C’mon, we got better things to do than let some creep ruin our day.” He said.

“Oh, yes, I’d rather spend our money on some mai tais then bail.” Lizzie chimed in, nodding sagely.

Gem still seemed to want to protest, but the fight soon left her. “True. Fine, but one more shop. I still want some nice earrings, all I got are my stage stuff.”

“Aye aye, we can do that much.” Impulse agreed, switching into reverse while Gem turned up the radio.

At once Tango and Lizzie collapsed back into their seats in relief. Bad move on his part, as his neck hit the headrest awkwardly and send him shooting back forward. Lizzie let out a small giggle. “Don’t break anything.”

“Thanks.” He said, then hiccuped. “Uh, for actual real. That sounded sarcastic but I mean for real.”

The pink haired woman waved him off, instead turning her attention to her new jacket she’d worn out in their haste. “Oh, I’m used to dealing with stuff like that. Between Gem, Joel, and Jimmy, I’m basically an expert.” She stuck up her chin.

“Wait- Jimmy?” He laughed. From everything he’d seen in the past week, Jimmy was about as intimating as a mouse. Not to knock the guy, but Tango had trouble even imagining him angry.

Lizzie eyed him with a strange look, like she knew something he didn’t. Well, she was Jimmy’s sister, so there was probably a lot she knew that he didn’t. “Oh yes, just you wait. Especially if Joel’s around, those two get each other so worked up over the silliest things you can imagine. It’s all hot air of course. No one ever taught my foolish little brother not to start things he can’t finish. But I suppose that’s what Joel and I are there for.”

Tango hummed, leaning his forehead against the back of the seat in contemplation. It probably wasn’t so different to how Impulse could get. Still hard to imagine, but that last part certainly fit. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. The thought was almost...

“Cute?”

A very manly squeal escape Tango. He nearly jumped out of his skin. Lizzie was leaning in towards him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Huh?” He squeaked.

“You know, Mr. Tek- If that’s really you name!” Her face contorted into a sneer as she looked him up and down. Hold on, what had he ever done to make her think that wasn’t his name? “I’ve notice you spending quite a bit of time with my dear brother so far.”

“Y-yeah?” Had he? It was probably true, between the driving and bunking together and spending the day with him at the festival. Getting to know five whole new people at once was hard, and serendipity had separated both of them from their respective flocks.

“A-ha! So you don’t deny it?”

“Um, no?”

Lizzie hummed and hawed, rubbing her chin as she looked at him like a puzzle to solve. “Interesting. And exactly what are your intentions with him?”

His brain short circuited. Intentions? “Whoa, whoa, whoa, I think you got the wrong idea-”

“A likely story.” Her eyebrows shot up. “But you can’t fool me!”

When did he get stuck in an interrogation? Over Jimmy at that. He turned in hopes that Gem or Impulse would save him, but both were drowned out by the radio and their own argument. He was alone, left in the lion’s den for his corpse to be discovered only once they got wherever they were going. No one but himself could save him, and he knew he was terrible at that. “Listen, Lizzie-”

“Do you find him annoying?”

This girl needed to stop pulling the rug out from under him, or maybe he needed to give his brain a spa day to get all the gunk and rust off it. “Huh?” He repeated instead of anything of substance. It was fair, in his opinion. “No?”

“Don’t try to lie to me. It’s alright if you do, plenty of people including myself would agree! But I will not have someone giving him the run around pretending to be nice just to mess with him-”

“No! No, no, I ain’t doing anything like that! What sorta question is that?” He snapped. “He’s a nice guy, we get along fine I think? Who’d do that?”

Lizzie’s expression almost immediately softened. “Oh, I suppose you seem nice enough, but I’m still keeping my eye on you. My brother’s kind of an idiot sometimes. Especially when it comes to other people. If we weren’t around he’d get hurt and tricked so often. When he started talking sweet about you I guess I got a bit worked up thinking it might be that.”

Jimmy talked about him? Tango shook his head. That wasn’t important or strange. If course he did, they spent most of the past week together. Jimmy talked sweet about me, his brain cheered anyway, even when he wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. Whatever it was he liked the sound of it. Something else caught his thoughts as well, however. “So, do you usually do this interogatication thing, then? With new people?” He dared to ask.

She shrugged, “Well, Like I said, my dear brother would be lost without us looking out for him, so don’t take it personally.”

“Then...” Part of his brain tried to stop him there, telling him it certainly wasn’t any of his business. But her words had finally helped click together something that had been bothering him for a few days now about the younger band, and he couldn’t help himself. “... What do you do if you’re wrong?”

“Pardon?” Her eyes snapped to him, and it was almost enough to keep him quiet, if not for being more frightened of not answering.

“What if you’re wrong about someone?” He repeats, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Like you didn’t get the full picture of someone, or you were biased. No offence, but this is the longest conversation we’ve had and I don’t really feel like we’ve gotten to know each other. Why trust this conversation more than Jimmy? Why can’t he judge for himself?”

She gaped at him, some type of hurt in her eyes, and he knew instantly he’d said too much. From the look Impulse gave him through the mirror he’d also heard at least part of what Tango had said. That was him, king of shoving his foot directly into his mouth. He sank down into his seat as Lizzie’s expression soured, then flicked away.

“I change my mind, you’re the worst, actually. Never speak to Jimmy again.”

“Tangooo, don’t be mean to my friends!” Gem whined from the front seat.

He sighed. “My bad...”

#tangotek #jimmy solidarity #team rancher #solidaritek #rancher duo #trafficshipping #traffic series #hermitpires #mcyt #fanfiction #fanfic #modern au #hurt/comfort #sharing a slice of cake

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yacinthemorning · 2 months

Text

Tailored to Your Liking

Chapter 8

[First] [prev]

Summary: Tumble Town attracts all sorts of misfits looking for a fresh start on the frontier, but everyone still needs clothes. Be it extra limbs or high temperatures, Jimmy caters to every hybrid's needs.

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Grian/Mumbo/Scar (romantic), Joel/Lizzie (romantic)

Warnings: Implied traumatic events, awkward flirting

The air was thick with smog, arid landscape rushing past at incredible speeds, and the tracks roared below. Tango hung on for dear life as he leaned over the edge to see in front of the train. A whistle went off. He nearly jumped up to his death. The engineer gave him a wide grin, eyes shining through his thick glasses while the snakes that had braided themselves atop his head glared at him.

“You ought to be more careful, sweetface.” He teased. “She doesn’t like little creatures hanging off her sides. We have a brush for that!”

Tango rolled his eyes. “Who’s the one that basically built her, Keralis? It’s fine. I just need to…”

“Get a good view?”

Everything went dark, engulfed in a tunnel among the uneven terrain. It whipped by in seconds and Tango was nearly thrown by the flood of light as it opened onto the sight brightly striped mesa walls and golden shrubs. At the heart of it sat a town, not nearly as little as it was when Tango last saw it. Even still, the water tower still stood heads and tails above everything else, even the no-longer-so-new train station rapidly coming into view.

Tango took a deep breath, willing his heart to stop pounding so heavily. Keralis eyed him with a knowing look. “Almost home?” He asked with wide smile.

The train began to slow beneath them, every mechanism Tango had carefully drawn out dancing as it should. Tango closed his eyes, taking another deep breath. “I hope so...”

There was a small crowd at the station, some passengers waiting to get on, some companions looking for family and friends. XB coordinated the transfer seamlessly, only a small twitch in his fins indicating his impatience to return to the cover of the train. Tango couldn’t blame him. Tumble Town may be run by a fellow merfolk but it wasn’t exactly ideal with its dusty breeze and beating sun. Tango grabbed his bags and slipped off the engine, circumventing the crowd. Only a few faces among them were familiar, even fewer glancing at him with recognition. There was only one person among them Tango sought out, though.

“Tango!”

His head twisted, tail on end, before he broke out into a huge grin. He dropped his bags and open his arms wide just in time as blond curls and curly horns engulfed his vision. Zedaph managed to lift him full body off the platform. “You’re here!” He shrieked excitedly. “You’re really back!”

“I’m here!” He agreed, hugging his old friend.

Once he was back on solid ground Zed stepped away looked him over. “Look at you, you’ve barely changed these past three years! Same hair, same clothes, same ugly mug-”

“Hey!” He laughed.

Zed ignored his protests, instead patting his belly, “Somehow even skinnier than before, too! Were you always this skin and bones? I’ll have to tell Impulse and Skizz to add some lard to the stew, fatten you back up!”

He huffed, pushing his friend away. “I’m not a cow going for slaughter.”

“You might as well be.”

And that was likely more true than Tango hoped. So, he changed the subject, “How’ve you been? How’s the town?”

It wasn’t the subtlest, clear from the look Zed gave him, but the ramling played along anyways. They picked up Tango’s bags and began to walk. “Fine, fine. It’s so much busier than it ever used to be with the rail passing through. Fwhip is pleased, Doc is not. I’m partial to agreeing with Doc on the matter, they scare away all the critters!”

“You sure it’s them scaring them?” Tango joked, which got him a shove.

“I am, thank you very much!”

Though the town had grown in size it still felt the same. Perhaps that was because, in the grand scheme of town construction, two years wasn’t especially long. It was sill little old Tumble Town. Barely any two story buildings except main street where all the business were, and Lizzie’s manor at the end of it. More hybrids ran around than Tango had ever seen even in the big cities, and along with them a bit of an eclectic construction style to accommodate them. The roads were still dirt and the only light posts were around the mayoral office.

It had changed, but it still made his heart warm.

They reached Impulse’s bar soon enough, and the regulars were a much more familiar crowd to Tango. Skizz lifted his mug to him with a huge grin, “Hey buddy, welcome back!” Which caught the attention of the rest of the patrons, who followed suit. Among them was Scar, who raised his cane instead.

“Tango, my big city man!”

“Hardly.” Tango sat down between the two, with Impulse already in front of him with a plate of food and comforting smile. “I’m glad to be out of there for a while. City folk are the most unfriendly people I’ve ever met no matter where I go.”

“Well, it’s hard to compete when you’ve experienced Tumble Town!” Said Scar, which got a round of mild cheers from the bar goers around them. “Happiest place on earth, don’t you know?”

Tango grinned, “You got me there.” Then he began to dig into his food.

Mild chatter echoed around him, asking about his work or telling him about some ridiculous thing that happened. It was almost perfect. A familiar bar, good friends and food and drink, laughter and teasing abound. It was warm and comforting and every good thing one could want. It was truly…

Well, it was almost.

“So,” Impulse started, caution in his voice that immediate sobered the whole group. “When are you gonna…?”

“That’s the question, ain’t it?” Tango groaned, leaning back to look at the ceiling rather than face his friends’ wary looks. His claws wrapped around his necklace, the ends of the feathers slightly frayed from playing with it too much. It’d frequently been his only comfort on the most stressful and soul crushing days of work.

“You just gotta go, buddy.” A large hand patted him on the back.

He knew that, of course, but it didn’t make it any less intimidating. He glanced back over his friends, “Y’mind if I leave my bags here? Just in case.”

“You always got a place here.” Impulse assured, then made a shooing motion. “Now get going before it gets dark.”

Tango didn’t need to be told twice. If he stopped to wait for it he’d simply never go. He saluted goodbye to his friends and made his way down Main Street. It was quieter now, leaving an all too familiar building well within view the whole walk. A few hanging plants had been placed and there was a new sign in the window, but like everything else it had remained mostly the same.

He took a deep breath and went in.

The bell on the door jingled the same jingle it had the first time Tango was there. Fabrics were strewn about the workshop, a sign of mid-project Tango had come to learn. One long piece of cotton was left hanging from the sewing machine, a new model he’d seen often in the city. The one Tango had made was pushed against the wall behind it between button drawers. A little brass bird sat atop it.

Soft yellow feathers shook slightly in acknowledgement of the bell, shielding the man hunched over a pattern from view. “Yes, give me just a minute!”

“Guess one more couldn’t hurt.”

Jimmy stiffened, feathers raised on end. There was a moment, then his head shot up, wide eyes locking on Tango, who shrunk down between his his shoulders with an awkward smile. Like everything else Jimmy was left of familiar, his hair longer, a new scar on his jaw, a slight bit of stubble left unclear whether it was intentional or just between shaves, and an unbuttoned blue vest Tango had never seen before. But it was still the same warm brown eyes and sharp nose, same well-preened buttery yellow feathers and copious freckles.

If he could sweat he imagined he would be as he waited for any further reaction from the shocked avian.

His brow knit, nose scrunching up as he spun around fully. “Are you kidding me?” He snapped, making Tango jump and his tail curl around his leg. The avian marched up to him, “You can’t even send a letter to tell me you’re coming? Let me just look like this for when you arrive?” His wings jerked with his hands in emphasis to his appearance.

Tango wasn’t given time to reply, yanked forward into a bone-crushing hug. The sparks in his hair immediately settled along with the feathers in Jimmy’s wings. Jimmy’s nose burrowed into the crook of Tango’s neck. He smiled, relaxing completely into the hug and weaving his own arms just under Jimmy’s wings. “Look like what? Handsome? Perfect?” He teased.

“Oh, shush!” The avian’s voice warbled, tightening his hold. Tango thought he might let go then, but he remained, and Tango let him. What simultaneously felt like an eternity and only a second passed in comfortable silence. Only the smallest chirps interrupted. His eyes fell closed, and the slightest rumble emanated from his chest.

Finally, Jimmy very reluctantly pulled back. His breath was shaky as he refused to completely detach from the blazeborn. Red eyes scanned his face before they darted down to the gold chain around his neck. He pulled a face that made Tango worried he’d start crying again then and there. They cast downwards instead. “How… How long will you be here?”

Tango’s tail drooped slightly, smile stretched. “If things go well? At least a year.”

“What?” Jimmy’s gaze shot back up, eyes wide and shocked. And hopeful.

“They wanna connect the rail up with the west coast.” He started to explain, nodding his head in what he hoped was the right direction. “Aaand it just so happens that some plans made by a very smart and handsome fella put Tumble Town in a pretty central location for some infrastructurizing. More or less.”

“Oh, Tango!” His voice turned into a twitter as his hands cupped the man’s face.

“And what sort of engineer would I be if I didn’t come look after my own project?”

He barely got the words out before he was lifted off the ground and spun around to the tune of a very happy avian. “You ridiculous mad man!” Jimmy laughed. “You impress a couple rail-men and you think you can just do whatever you want?”

“I’m making it happen, ain’t I?” He pointed out, snickering along as well at his own audacity. Things Tango from a few years ago would never dare try. That was before he’d been given the opportunity of a lifetime thanks to his friends, and wouldn’t dare to let himself squander it. He hadn’t spent the last three years working overtime to worm his way into the heart of the Luxo Company for nothing, even if those years felt twice as long as the decade of work before it. For more reasons than just work.

“Oh, do they treat you well, then?” Jimmy asked, worry dampening his excitement.

Tango laughed, “Not in the slightest! But I can handle it.” He quickly added when he saw Jimmy’s wings droop.

“You shouldn’t have to.” Jimmy huffed. “Where’s their main office? And my pen. I have a letter to write.”

“Nooo, you do not.” Tango shushed him, putting his hand over the taller’s mouth when he tried to protest, receiving an indignant look. “C’mon. I don’t wanna think about work anymore today. I got a very pretty man in my arms that I wanna look at a little longer.”

It took a pleading look and a few combs through his hair, but Jimmy conceded. They migrated over to Jimmy’s desk, where they’d spent so many days before. Tango’s gaze couldn’t help wandering back towards his sewing machine. Jimmy shifted, dragging it closer. “Something inside broke I think. Katherine was kind enough to buy me a replacement in the meantime, but it’s not as nice. I was hoping you would…”

“I’ll take a look.” He immediately agreed, tilting it back to look at the needle. “I was wondering also, if you could fix my robes? I snagged the sleeve a while ago and-”

“Of course.” Jimmy chirped, expression relaxing. “Always.”

There was another pause, shorter this time as Tango reached for Jimmy’s hand. “I’m home.” He said, still shaky with nerves that refused to go away. Not until Jimmy gave him the warmest smile Tango’s even seen and pulled their hands close to his chest.

“Welcome home.”

#team rancher #solidaritek #trafficshipping #hermitpires #fanfiction #fanfic #tangotek #jimmy solidarity #alternate universe #fantasy western #mcyt #fluff #sharing a slice of cake

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yacinthemorning · 2 months

Text

Just Gold: CH2

Soooo, I forgot to cross-post here that I've written a chapter 2 for the team ranchers au fic I wrote up back in October. Tango's a dragon. Jimmy's a bird. Good fun.

Read it on AO3: Just Gold

Chapter 1 on Tumblr

__________________________________________________

Jimmy was a Phoenix.

That's not to say he was very good at being a phoenix, but that was what he was. Phoenixes were supposed to be all about death and rebirth and eternal life. It’s hard to be good at the ‘eternal life’ portion of the job, though, when he keeps dying all the time.

Not like most phoenixes, though. There was almost never a cycle of burning to ash at a ripe old age and emerging as a newly hatched chick from the ashes. Even when he literally burned to death. He never got that far. It was more like he just woke back up having never aged or unaged a day. That wasn’t normal for his kind, but he supposed that after so many repeated deaths so close together over such an extended period of time, he must have somehow stunted his growth. Ungrowth? Aging, maybe? Whatever it was supposed to be, it was messed up for him.

It had its ups and downs. Dying wasn’t necessarily pleasant, but at least he still came back. He always came back… eventually. And unlike other phoenixes, he didn’t have to deal with the crippling discomfort of old age, or the helplessness of reverting back to a chick. But he also could never grow back the brilliant plumage that people associated with his kind. The bright yellow feathers he was left with made him look no different than a larger than average canary.

To be honest, he was a little self-conscious about it.

It was partially his fault, as much as he hated to admit it. He was pretty accident-prone. Bird brains, ya know? It was hard living in a world with glass windows. You’d think after all these years he would have learned a thing or two about self-preservation.

But here’s the thing about immortality, when you know that nothing can actually do any permanent damage, you start to lose sight of the inherent threat. And when you don’t notice a threat, it’s easy to underestimate the world around you. And to overestimate yourself.

Case in point, Jimmy’s newest friend was a dragon.

Dragons are meant to be big scary beasts with razor-sharp claws and fangs. They were meant to be merciless, and prideful, and very very dangerous.

It never really occurred to Jimmy that Tango could be all of those things… Well, at least not until he watched Tango burn over a dozen people to ash. So yeah, now he supposes Tango could be all those things.

But what he first saw when the golden dragon came crashing through his nest at the base of the mountain, after the initial annoyance began to fade, was someone suffering from the kind of bad luck he was all too familiar with. Someone who wouldn’t come back from the fraying edges of death like he would have.

Fortunately, Jimmy was still a phoenix.

He had a long memory that reached back eons across his many previous lives. And in one such life, there had been an old ranch not too far from here. One large enough that the dragon could hide indoors. One that was out of sight of the nearby village. One that Jimmy knew had been left vacant.

Someone with a healthy dose of self-preservation probably would have kept their distance until the dragon awoke, so as not to startle it into attacking. Or maybe they would have pointed the poor beast in the direction of shelter and been on their way. If they were feeling really reckless, they might have tested to see if the dragon would have let them help it get up, or bandage some of its many wounds.

Not Jimmy. If Tango had burned him or clawed him off or rolled over and crushed him, he would have just come back anyway. And cleaning wounds or helping the dragon leverage itself up wasn’t in the phoenix’s wheelhouse at the moment. Tango was so big compared to the phoenix that Jimmy could fit in the palm of his hand comfortably. And what would he stem the blood flow with? His feathers? He didn’t have nearly enough to go around.

Of course, Tango didn’t do any of those things when he woke up. He had done nothing to hurt Jimmy, except maybe the Phoenix’s pride when the dragon tried to shoo him away like a common pigeon.

And while he didn’t have to go with Tango, Jimmy wanted to go back to the ranch with the dragon. The old building housed a lot of fond memories. That was one reason. The other was Tango himself.

The truth was, Jimmy had been setting up his nest at the base of that mountain because he knew that people were nearby. Maybe not necessarily a giant gold and red dragon, but the humans of the village weren’t too far away. Phoenixes worked best in a flock. Especially Jimmy. He could handle being on his own, sure, but he thrived amidst others. And what a ‘flock’ looked like to Jimmy had changed over the lifetimes. Sometimes that meant coexisting with humans. Sometimes it meant flying with large groups of your more typical, non-magical birds. Sometimes a flock was only him and one other, and sometimes it was a large group of friends and family. He had been looking for his next flock. Had been planning on finding a nice family to settle down with for a while and play the part of a typical pet canary.

And then came Tango.

Really, dragons and phoenixes were pretty similar if you think about it. Depending on how you define immortality, both species were technically immortal. Dragons could live forever as long as they weren’t killed. And sure, Jimmy died all the time, but death wasn’t permanent for him. A phoenix couldn’t breathe fire, but they still had the same fire in their belly that dragons did. They both could fly. They both could burn. They both could bleed gold…

According to that train of thought, dragons were practically big scaly phoenixes in their own right.

And as the saying goes, birds of a feather flock together.

______________________________________________________________

“Tango Tango Tango TANGO TANGO TANGO!!!”

The lump of stone is heavy in Jimmy’s claws. He’s not used to feeling so imbalanced while flying. Not for this long. He kept having to remind himself that it would be worth the effort once he saw the look on his buddy’s face.

That doesn’t make the uneven strain on his wings better, though. It’s so bad, he nearly missed the window entirely. The backside of his wing brushed against the wooden frame. A stray splinter caught at his coverts. There’s a painful twinge as a few feathers are pulled loose and he over-corrects, sending him spiraling to the floor inside.

The little bird lands in a messy heap on the floorboards, losing his grip on the pretty rock. It went rattling across the floor in front of his beak.

He tested his toes, gingerly flexing each one to make sure he hadn’t broken anything in the crash. Nothing appeared out of place outside of a few wisps of broken yellow feathers. That would probably leave a bruise or two, but nothing more severe. Jimmy wasn’t about to die this time around. Even the rock looked completely intact after its little tumble.

He had landed in the old ranch house kitchen. It looked warm and inviting in the late evening haze, despite the unused furniture strewn across the floor. The smell of smoke still clung to the walls and floor. Enough time had passed that the uncomfortable burn of brimstone had begun to fade. The ruined walls had been stripped away and patched up with new oak and spruce timber. The smell of the hewn wood boards mixed with the lingering scent of ash. It almost reminded him of sitting alongside a nice warm bonfire under the stars on a cool summer night.

“Tango?”

The dragon wasn’t answering, but something was creaking nearby. Floorboards groaned. Hinges squeaked. Jimmy had a good idea of where his friend could be, but he wasn’t about to go flying around indoors while carrying that stone around. So he hopped to his feet and took flight. The kitchen floor was as good a place as any to leave it for now.

“Can you hear me, buddy? I brought you something?”

With the slightest shift of his wingtips, he banked around an open archway into the living room. Sure enough, there was Tango. The dragon had his back to him. His claws scraped at the inside of a makeshift hopper he had managed to fashion out of an old shovel head and a little fire-breath metalworking. Looked like something had gotten stuck in the sorting system again.

“I can’t believe this. This is ridiculous,” Tango was saying as Jimmy landed on his favorite perch; one of the ridges of the dragon’s right horn. It was just so nice and warm; glossy and easy to nestle against. It shifted as Tango tried to look up at him, his head tilting to compensate for the slight weight change. “Oh! Hey Jimmy.”

“Hey, I’m back. How’s the progress coming along?”

A wisp of smoke wafted out of Tango’s nostrils. He turned back to the funnel in his claws. “Well, it was going pretty fantastic for a while there until this thing decided to jamificate the whole operation.” Jimmy tightened his grip on the horn as the dragon beneath him let out a sigh. The delicate swirls of smoke turned into a turbulent stream as he breathed in then out. “These quick fixes just aren’t cutting it.”

“Quick fixes?” Jimmy chuckled. “Tango, you know you can take all the time in the world, right? Automatic sorting will be nice and all, but we don’t absolutely need it right now. We barely got the house patched up. The barn’s not even rebuilt yet.”

If anything, the sheer amount of work that he had managed over the last few days had been impressive. With the barn gone, the two had taken shelter in the farmhouse. In that time, Tango had thrown himself into making the place as easy to live in as possible. The ruined portions of the wall had been stripped away and replaced. A door had been renovated so that there was an entrance large enough for the dragon to pass through. Bedrooms had been ransacked and rearranged so that they had a place to sleep at night. For Tango, that meant a padded stretch of floor space for him to curl up in. For Jimmy, a simple shelf with a nest he had put together all on his own.

And then there were the projects! The redstone projects were in every room. The sorting system, a trash dispenser, a line of automatic cooking furnaces. Whatever materials he and Tango had gathered into a tiny hoard while the dragon had been grounded were gone, put to use in whatever idea his friend had thrown himself into.

But they hadn’t touched the barn.

Jimmy could tell that the memory of the attack was still a bit of a sore spot for Tango. Sometimes, the barn served as a reminder. Even after all the bodies had been cleared away.

The stream of smoke coming from Tango’s nostrils petered out. He could hear the dragon's claws clicking against the shovel head as it turned in his claws. Gold wings still trussed up in their splints stretched ever so slightly, nearly knocked over a dusty grandfather clock they had shoved into the corner of the living room. The contact was enough to make Tango wince beneath him.

“You’re right,” Tango relented. He placed the funnel down on the hardwood floor at his feet. It rolled unevenly away to bump against one of the chests. “There’s not enough room for us here.”

The feathers along Jimmy’s shoulders puffed up. “Us? Excuse me. I find this place rather cozy. I think what you meant to say is that there’s not enough room for the two of us.” He almost tented his wings to make himself bigger. A show of fluffed feathers and bravado as if he could square up against the massive creature beneath him, but his friend wouldn’t be able to see that. Not as long as he was perched on the horn. “I’m a big man. The big man!”

There was a jolt below as Tango shook his head. The sudden movement knocked Jimmy’s feet out from under him. With a shrill cry, he went tumbling down the glittering gold slope of Tango’s head until he skittered to a halt hanging halfway from his nose. Yellow wings stretched and pressed against scales as his feet dangled uselessly over open air. “TANGO! HELP!”

“You know you can fly, right?” the dragon huffed, a smile evident in his voice. Still, he reached up and scooped Jimmy up in his claws.

“Y-yeah. Of course I do,” he sputtered, adjusting his jostled feathers back into place. It took a bit of time, considering how ruffled they were from the tumble. The wave of embarrassment washing over him did not help.

“Sure thing, buddy.” The corners of Tango’s mouth pulled up for a moment, before his head swung back and forth to take in his surroundings. “You’ve got a point, though. This place isn’t big enough for us. I should just settle down until my wings finish healing. It’s not like I have to wait much longer.” As if to illustrate his point, he shuffled his wings against his back. He didn’t recoil from the movement. His eyes didn’t crinkle at the corners from strain. He seemed fine.

The only apparent problem was that there wasn’t enough room to risk spreading them out. Just that little motion knocked a faded family portrait off the wall with a thumb claw.

It had been more than Tango had been able to manage without wincing in pain a couple of weeks ago. The membrane between the wing fingers had healed over a while ago. Dull scars pitted the skin, stubborn reminders of how badly the dragon had been hurt. The bones were less obvious, but beneath the scales and muscle, they were well on their way through the healing process. Tango had been good about keeping them still and letting them mend. And when he had been tempted to put pressure on them early and take a risk, Jimmy had made sure he was there and ready to give him a solid peck upside the head to chase those thoughts away.

“You… you want to leave?” The question hung in the empty air. There was a moment of silence. Not even the grandfather clock ticked with the passing seconds. They had never bothered to wind it.

Eventually, Tango shrugged. “It’s an option. Beats accidentally busting this joint up. Feels like I’m trying to put a square peg through a round hole, and I’m the peg.” He held his claw up to his head for Jimmy to hop back up onto his horn. The small bird gratefully settled down against his perch while Tango reached down to scoop the picture off the hardwood floor. He watched the two smiling faces centered in the frame as Tango hung it back up on the wall. One a woman. One a man. Both familiar to the phoenix.

When the dragon’s claws pulled away, the frame was crooked. “This place is made for humans.” There was a sad note in his voice. Something distant. Something angry. A shiver ran down Jimmy’s spine as he thought of men on fire. People rendered down screaming smudges of light on a dark night.

He didn’t like where that train of Tango’s thought seemed to be going. “Or human-sized people,” Jimmy blurted in a rush, trying to bring the conversation around to something more his speed. Something that didn’t involve Tango leaving. Or humans. “Or me-sized birds.”

“Or that,” the dragon agreed with a snort.

“You know, we could get back to finishing up the barn. It was a lot of fun. You know, before it burnt down… And there was a lot more room for the both of us.”

Tango’s head swayed thoughtfully. Jimmy rocked along with him, shifting with the movement instinctually. “Yeah, we could do that,” Tango hummed. They turned towards the door. “That’s another option.”

“I say we just focus on getting the roof back up and then worry about the walls after.”

“That’s not going to protect us from much.”

“I’m not concerned.”

“Well of course you’re not, mister ‘I can’t die.’”

“Hey, I don’t appreciate that coming from you, mister ‘immortal.’ You very well know I can die.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“EXCUSE ME?!”

By now, Tango had lumbered back into the kitchen. It was the only way he could go to get to the only door big enough for him to fit through. There was the stone in the middle of the floor, right where Jimmy had left it. “Here I am, all excited, bringing you a gift, even,” he twittered, alighting from his perch. This time, the little bird landed on the floor with much more grace and intention next to the glittering red gift. “And you’re bad-mouthing me. I will not stand for such slander.”

Jimmy watched with satisfaction as Tango’s eyes glittered. He had just noticed the large chunk of redstone. “Wait-a-minute…” The dragon had to hunker down, practically resting his head on the floor so that they were eye level. “Where did that come from?”

“I found it.” Pride warmed Jimmy over from head to tail tip. Chest feathers puffed out as he pushed the rock forward with one foot. “Had to go pretty far out for it to. We’ve picked the nearby valley and mountain clean, but I know how much you’ve been wishing for more. You practically used up everything we were using for your temporary hoard, so I brought you back the biggest piece I could find.”

There had been more past the villages, but Jimmy hadn’t been physically equipped to tackle an entire ore vein, even if it was on the surface. Mining was out of the question, and what was readily available was usually no bigger than fine grains of dust. What was he supposed to do with dust? Sweep it up with his wings? But this! This he could bring back on his own.

“And it’s for me?!?”

He gave the rock another tap with his clawed toes. It rocked, then rattled and rolled to its side. “Well, I sure ain’t gonna use it.”

“Oh my gosh. I don’t even know what to say.” With careful claws, Tango plucked the stone off the floor. He held it gingerly, like he was afraid he was going to break it. Knowing Tango’s strength, it was entirely possible he could have crushed it to dust if he wanted to. “Thank you, Jimmy.”

It felt good. It felt good to see Tango smile like that. “Don’t worry about it. Just use it towards something cool, ya hear?”

He nodded. “I don’t even know what I’d do with it. Or if I’d even do anything with. I think I’m just gonna hold onto it for now.” Then, to Jimmy’s horror, he tucked it into one of the folds of his bandages.

“No!”

Tango whipped his head around, eyes wide, pupils shrunk down to hairline slits, thrown utterly off guard by Jimmy’s outburst.“What- What? What?? WHAT?!?”

“No. No. NO,” he repeats unhelpfully. “You’re not putting it there,” he chirped. “That’s just asking to aggravate your injury. I’m not letting you go and do that.”

The phoenix hopped towards the dragon, who scrambled away with wide eyes. Considering their size difference, it would have been a comical sight to see the little bird scaring the dragon. But Jimmy wasn’t laughing. He was too concerned for that.

“But I-”

“No buts!”

“Fine!” Tango still looked a bit baffled as he pried the rock back out from a layer of gauze.

It had only gone beneath the first layer of clean linen. There were plenty of layers that would have separated the rock from skin and scale. There were also plenty of spare bandages to replace it if necessary. As far as the phoenix was concerned, it still wasn’t worth the risk.

“I’ll just stash it in my nest or something instead,” the dragon huffed. “Just gotta find a spot where I won’t roll over and crush it first.”

“You don’t have to do that. Why don’t we find you something to help you carry it? A safe place to put it until you decide.”

The sharp scales making up the ridge of his eye raised in a way that Jimmy thought looked uncomfortable, what with all those sharp edges. Tango made no sign that it was uncomfortable in any way, though. “You’ve got something in mind?”

“I’ve got an idea.” Jimmy bounced forward, craning his neck so he could see past his friend through the kitchen door. There was a trapdoor in the hallway ceiling. Cobwebs dusted the corners and the wood looked warped and faded from years of disuse, but it was still there. “If memory serves me correctly, I bet ya there’s something in the attic we can use.”

“The attic?” Tango turned, following Jimmy’s gaze to the hatch in the ceiling. “Oh no way. I’m never going to fit through that.”

“That’s why you’ve got a big strong man like me to help.” With a sweep of his wings, Jimmy took off. “Mind lifting the door for me a smidge, though?”

He was too busy circling the hall to get a good look at Tango’s expression, but he could still hear his friend’s voice. “Will you even be able to see up there?”

“Sure I will.”

A golden tail snaked its way to the ceiling, pushing the trapdoor open a few centimeters. That was all Jimmy needed. With a twitch of his tail and a twitter, he pulled his wings in tight and swooped through the opening. Almost immediately, he crashed headfirst into the long thin wires of an old bird cage.

Bam!

“What was that?! Is everything alright?”

“Fine! It’s fine Tango!” It was fine. There were a few more bruises added to the number he already had from crashing into the kitchen, but his wings weren’t broken and he hadn’t hit his head. Another potential death avoided. Another win in his book.

The birdcage was ruined, though. It had toppled to its side after the impact and rolled into a forgotten rat trap. He looked it over as he settled feathers back into their places. There were massive dents in the wires now. One gap was big enough for someone his size to easily pass through.

The sight sent a twinge through his chest. What a shame.

“Could you hold the door for me, Tango? I need a minute to look around.”

“Yeah. I got it.”

“Thank you!”

Well, there was no reason to dwell on an old cage. It hadn’t been used in years anyway. Instead, Jimmy turned his attention to the rest of the attic. Trunks and boxes and chests, oh my. The space was piled high with more junk than he recalled. The abandoned items were dusty from years of neglect. It made what should have been a brightly colored, overstuffed room feel dull and hollow.

Again, there was no reason to dwell on that now. The old inhabitants were long gone. It was him and Tango now. So Jimmy flew, passing over a dress form with a long wedding gown and a crate painted with a hot air balloon. He instead began his search with the piles of boxes on the other side of the room.

_____________________________________________________________

Night had fallen.

Jimmy felt nice and snug in his nest. It was perched in the Y-bend of the support beams holding up the newly built barn roof. If you could call it that. Slats of timber had been screwed together and raised onto the supports at an angle. There weren’t any shingles or insulation to keep the water out if it were to start raining. There definitely weren’t any walls. Tango was right, it wouldn’t protect them from much. It wasn’t much, but it was still a lot for a day’s work.

At least it was a nice night outside. Almost like they were sleeping under the stars. The twinkling lights were just visible through the spaces where walls would eventually go up. And it was spacious. Jimmy didn’t have to try very hard to coax his friend into sleeping there for the night. He had a feeling that the dragon hadn’t been excited about spending another night cooped up in one of those too-small bedrooms. In a show of solidarity, he had even helped the dragon carry his nest out. That is, if ‘helped’ meant ‘asked Tango to do it.’ What could he say? Tango could carry the whole thing in his claws. If Jimmy had tried doing it himself, he would have had to carry it twig by twig.

Still, the dragon hadn’t seemed to mind. He was in good spirits, curled up beneath Jimmy in the bedding they had pulled from the linen closet. The leather coin pouch Jimmy had found in the attic was tied around one of his wrists, the redstone rock nestled inside.

“Okay, my turn,” he was saying. With one claw, he traced a line from one star to another, to another, and another as if connecting the dots.

Jimmy followed the motion, trying to find a pattern in the movements. “Looks like a triangle with a line down the middle. Is that supposed to be one of your hoppers?”

Tango shook his head. “I was going more for a cross shape. I’m also ninety-nine percent certain that it’s a real constellation I’m pointing at. Come on. Try again.” He traced the line of stars once more. Jimmy’s head twitched, following its path intently. Left, right, center, a small swipe up, and then a long trail down. A real constellation, huh? He’d never been very good with those. He wasn’t some lowly pigeon that had to worry about keeping track of directions.

Wait a minute…

“Is it a bird?”

“Ding ding ding! We have a winner!” With a grin, Tango knocked his tail into the base of the Y-beam. The shockwave made Jimmy’s nest shiver around him. “Pretty sure it’s supposed to be a hawk or something, but I don’t remember the name of it.”

“Well, don’t look at me,” he said, pushing the twigs back into place. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about that sort of thing.”

“Really?”

Jimmy peered over the edge of his nest. There was Tango, staring up at him with red eyes brimming with curiosity. His friend tilted his pointy head as if seeing him from a new perspective would help him understand. “Well, yeah,” he mumbled. “I’ve never really needed it.”

“Then how’d you navigate?”

He didn’t. Jimmy shrugged his wings, a motion that probably wasn’t visible to the dragon below. Not over the ledge of his nest. “Usually my other flock mates handled that.”

“Flock?”

“I’m a bird, Tango. That shouldn’t be so weird.”

“I don’t know! You’re the first Phoenix I've met. For all I know, you’re all meant to be hermits.” With that, Tango pushed himself up to a seat in his makeshift bed. Bandaged wings trailed at his sides as he craned his neck back to get a better look at Jimmy. “Besides, you’ve never talked about a flock before. Where are they now?” Scales scraped the bare dirt as the dragon worried at it with his claws. “I’m not keeping you from them, am I?”

“Of course not,” Jimmy exclaimed. He almost laughed at the thought. “Far from it.”

Those big red eyes narrowed at him. “I don’t understand.”

Jimmy wanted nothing more than to sink further into his nest out of sight. Of course Tango wouldn’t get it. It's not like Jimmy had ever talked about it. It was his own fault of course, but had his reasons. The main one being that it had simply never come up in conversations. Another one was that he had gotten his hopes up about Tango sticking around, and with it came the fear that if he voiced his feelings about flocks, it would only make things awkward and ensure Tango would leave. Now he wasn’t sure what to do with the sudden rush of self-consciousness. “Sorry. I guess this is kind of confusing. What I mean is, I don’t really have a flock right now. Not anymore.”

“Oh…”

A shadow passed over Tango’s eyes and Jimmy realized that his wording probably hadn’t been the best. “It’s not like anything bad happened to them,” he quickly added, trying to set the record right before his friend got the wrong idea. “It’s just, every so often, time passes and you’ve gotta move on. Kinda comes with the territory of being tangentially immortal when everyone else around you isn’t, you know?”

Tango blinked. “So it’s not a flock of phoenixes, like you?”

“Nah.” Jimmy waved his question off with a flick of his wingtip. “I haven’t flown with my kind for a very long time. I guess flock might be the wrong word for what I’m trying to say. I’ve lived with flocks made up of birds, sure, but I’ve also stayed with people. Humans. All sorts. Could probably call it family, or friends, but ‘flock’ feels right. Like it works the best for what I mean.”

He expected Tango to start shooting off more questions, or to laugh at him. Maybe even squint at him with those brightly colored eyes as if that could help the dragon figure him out. To his surprise, his friend instead looked back at the farmhouse through one of the many gaps in the barn’s foundation. His wings slumped to the ground as he let himself fall back into his bedding. “Humans, huh?” While it was technically a question, there was no hint of curiosity in his voice. If anything, it sounded strained.

The two sat in silence. Tango stared out at the other building, tail-tip twitching, and Jimmy picked himself over to the edge of his nest, not sure what to do or say. Now he’d gone and done it. This was exactly the type of reaction he had been trying to avoid. At least since the barn burned down. The little bird wasn’t sure what else to do, so he decided to fill the silence himself.

“They’re not all like that, buddy. I swear. And the ones I hung out with…” Jimmy found his own gaze drifting towards the barn house as well. It had changed so much but was still so similar. “They’re long gone. I promise you. And even if they weren’t, I can also promise you that they weren’t the type to go around harassing folks like us.” He blinked and saw green eyes and a cheeky smile in the empty space behind his eyelids. “Well, not like those fools who showed up here,” he corrected himself. “Harmless. Good people living a good life and I was there helping them out. Rooting ‘em on-”

“Hey, Jimmy.”

Jimmy blinked. He shrank down against his nest a little lower. “Yeah?”

Tango didn’t look at him. Just kept his eyes locked on the farmhouse, his head propped up on a lump of fabric. “Is that how you knew about this place? When you first found me? Is this your human friends’ home?”

The little bird sighed. “Yeah.”

“What were they like?”

Oh. “Um, really nice actually,” Jimmy twittered. “There were two of them. You know that portrait in the living room, right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“That was them. The man, the- uh- the one with the green streak in his hair, he liked to annoy me. Kept reminding me I was small and rubbed it in my face, but he also threatened to punch a guy in the face for almost breaking my wing. He had a big head, but he was a really good friend…

“And the woman with the pink hair, that was his wife. She was the one who found me. I had just gotten tossed around in a nasty storm. Wasn’t pretty. I was probably just as hurt back then as you were when I found you. She picked me up and took me back here. Took care of my bandages and gave me plenty of seeds to eat while I was on the mend. We got along really well. It was just how I’d imagine having a sibling is like.”

“And they knew what you were?”

Jimmy couldn’t help the little chuckle that escaped his beak. “Yeah. Yeah. They thought I was a normal bird at first, just like you. Didn’t take them long to realize that wasn’t the case after I started talking.” Another thing they had in common with Tango. “They were good flockmates once they figured it out, though.”

“I see…”

Was that an invitation to talk more? Or a dismissal? Jimmy couldn’t tell. He wasn’t sure what to say. He could talk about old memories of this house. Of the ranch. Of the people inside. Would it help? Would it only make things worse? Tango didn’t say anything else, either. He just kept looking at that farmhouse, away from Jimmy.

More silence. More of that infuriating quiet that made it feel like time had stopped around them. There wasn’t even a breeze. No whisper of grass or whistle of wind. Empty. Jimmy hated it. And after what felt like hours but couldn’t have been more than a minute, he decided he had enough of it.

The little bird jumped off of the beam to glide down to Tango. At the last second, he pulled in his wings and dropped, clawed toes catching on Tango’s horn.

“Tango I-”

Jimmy cut himself off. The dragon’s eyes were glistening. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes. Wet streams left streaks from his eyes down to his chin. As soon as he noticed Jimmy looking, he tucked his face beneath his claws.

“Tango, are you alright?”

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m so sorry Jimmy.” Bright little droplets began to fall from between his claws.

“For what?” The phoenix leaned down closer, patting one wing against his friend’s head. He wasn’t sure if Tango could feel the brush of feathers through the scales, but he hoped that the pressure and motion could comfort him. “What on Earth do you have to be sorry for?”

“I messed up. I lost my temper. I ruined everything.”

“What are you on about? Of course you didn’t.”

“But I did. It’s because of me the ranch burnt down. Here you are telling me that this was your home, that you lived here and had family here and they were humans, and I- And I went messed it all.”

Jimmy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Tango, you’re being silly. They were trying to kill you,” he said, exasperated. “And they were the ones who started the fires.”

“Exactly! They wouldn’t have been here if it wasn’t for me. They wouldn’t have shot you or ruined your home if it wasn’t for me. I led those people here, and then I killed them. Humans, just like your friends.”

This was ridiculous. Jimmy hopped off the horn. Tango moved his claws away automatically, making room for the little bird to avoid accidentally bumping or crushing him. With the space cleared, Jimmy perched instead on the end of the dragon’s nose so that he could look his friend in those big, teary eyes. “It’s fine, really. And it’s not your fault by a long shot. The ranch, the house, it’s been vacant for years. I haven’t been there for years. Neither have my old flockmates. They’re gone. This hasn’t been home to me for years. Not until I came back here with you. And it’s not because I lived here before. It’s because I’m here with you and these past few weeks have been a blast. And yeah, I’m sad it burned, but I’d rather those guys burn the place down than get you.”

Tango sniffed. The rush of air and smoke nearly knocked Jimmy from his perch. It certainly left his feathers in a mess. But he stood strong as his friend wiped at an eye. “Really?” he asked.

“Really.”

“But- but what about the humans?”

“What about them? Far as I’m concerned, they got what was coming to ‘em.”

Tango’s eyes widened. “But… but I thought… The way you’ve been avoiding talking about the fire, and we don’t ever mention the humans… I thought I really scared you.”

Well…

“I mean, I won’t lie, you’re temper took me by surprise. But you thought I was dead. And like I said, they were out to get you. I don’t hold it against you if that’s what you're thinking. I’m not scared of you.”

Tango seemed to melt beneath him. Massive wings that were once wound against his sides untensed and pooled across the ground. A massive sigh escaped his nose. It was less violent this time, though, sending the oddly comforting smell of bonfire smoke wafting over Jimmy. The guilty glisten in his eyes turned into a reassured glitter. “Oh thank goodness. I thought we were avoiding talking about all this time because I scared you. You would keep mentioning it and then dropping it right away. I felt so guilty all this time, you don’t understand.”

“What? No,” Jimmy huffed, settling his feathers back into place. “Is that really why you’ve been shutting down every time I bring up the fire or humans?”

“Uh… yeah…” he said sheepishly, trying to look away. It was a difficult task, considering Jimmy was right on his nose.

“I thought it was because you didn’t want to think about it. Every time I mentioned it you got that look in your eye and I thought you were still angry at them or something. And then you were talking about leaving today-”

Tango cut him off. “I thought you’d want me out for ruining your place and losing my temper!”

“Of course NOT!” That was the farthest thing from what he wanted. “If anything, I’d hope you might stick around for a while after your wings were healed. It was finally starting to feel like-” Jimmy snapped his beak shut, realizing what he was just about to say. Was it too soon?

“What? What what what?!” Tango asked. He pushed his head forward, trying to lean in, but Jimmy was perched on his nose. The little bird just moved with him. He blinked, realizing his mistake before reaching out with his claws to scoop Jimmy up. “What were you going to say?”

He debated. He warred within himself, thinking so hard there was probably smoke coming out the sides of his head in a similar fashion to the smoke coming from Tango’s nose. If there was ever a time to say it, now was that time.

“It was starting to feel like we were flockmates.”

#bookshelf #sharing a slice of cake

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yacinthemorning · 2 months

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“Being a ghost is stupid,” Jimmy says petulantly. “You just poked straight through my chest, which I would ordinarily be upset about. But I’ve been dead for four years, so I’m not mad at you about it. I mean, I’m mad, but not at you specifically.”

Or: Tango's ranch is haunted. It's not nearly as big of a problem as he expected it to be. A 27k ghost AU.

#favourites shelf #bookshelf #sharing a cupcake #I am still crying

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yacinthemorning · 2 months

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Chapter 1 episode 4

←Previous episode

Next episode→ soon

Index

---

Time for some new characters perhaps?

CW: description of pain

Read below↓

Or AO3

Etho is relieved to finally have a moment of peace from that incessant beeping. It’s been driving him insane from the moment he woke up, surrounded by heaps of twisted and mangled space debris. Impact crates sat all around him, filled in and covered with the – barely recognisable – remains of old battleships. With some smug satisfaction, he’d spotted what was left of countless Vindicator insignias. They were marked on their dented hulls and scattered supply crates, their paint scraped away over time. The beeping had been increasing steadily, as Etho traipsed across the sand-swept wreckage, reverberating around his head in a way that made him worried that he’d suddenly developed a strange form of tinnitus… not that he hadn’t already been developing it for years thanks to his constant exposure to loud machinery. But now – as he approaches the rusting wreckage of a massive spaceship that rests, standing like a beacon, nestled atop a mound of its mangled brethren, its form surprisingly intact save for the side of its hull, the once sturdy metal gored open – the silence is deafening. After having grown accustomed to the constant beeps, the absence of noise is almost overwhelming.

Etho hoists himself up and over the mangled opening in the ship, grateful that his gloves prove to be enough protection against the likely scalding metal. He breathes a sigh of relief as his heavy boots thud onto the dusty metal flooring inside the wreckage. The cooler air hitting him immediately. The insulated walls and dim metal halls of the ship create a welcome reprieve after the blazing heat of the desert outside. Etho is not dressed for this sun, since the dark fabric and fluffy interior of his jacket are more suitable for the chill of space. Maybe if he’d known that he’d find himself waking up in a strange desert, he’d have actually dressed for the occasion. He pulls his hood down, shaking the sand from his clothes, finally protected from the wind as it peppers the landscape outside with sand.

Etho stretches, his long limbs cracking. With a sigh, he looks around the room he climbed into. It looks like some kind of barrack. Uncomfortable uniform beds line the walls and old, musty bedding lays strewn about the room. He grimaces. Those blankets look scratchy as hell. Despite his initial disgust, Etho would probably be tempted to pick one of the beds and not get up for days if they weren’t also covered in sand that had blown in through the fissures in the ship's wall caused by its crash landing, years ago. He assumes it was years ago, at least, considering the rust and the sand that has made itself home in every possible corner.

He walks out into the corridor, brightened by long strips of broken lights stretching down the hall in either direction. Tangled and fraying wiring hangs down from the ceiling, the panelling that was meant to hide them likely thrown and forgotten somewhere during the ship's rough descent. A ship like this should have plenty of rooms that could prove far more useful than a dusty dorm room. If he’s lucky it may even have a stocked storage room. The ship's crew certainly wouldn’t have run out of rations before their unexpected demise.

Etho turns right, padding down the hallway, periodically peering through the occasional unlocked door as he passes by, each one leading into increasingly dark and dingy rooms.The corridor leads him deeper into the belly of the ship, further away from the blazing sun’s reach. The interiors sit dusty, undisturbed and utterly useless. Not a single one appears to contain anything of use to Etho unless he wants to try and sleep on some of the sandiest beds he’s ever seen. He just woke up not even an hour ago, sleeping right now might be a bit overkill… and not all that useful. He needs supplies, food, anything. A weapon of some sort would be nice too, he doesn’t trust this dump to be as empty and dead as it looks on the surface. A planet with breathable air like this would surely have some inhabitants, no matter how harsh the living conditions. Hell, a blaze would probably thrive in this heat. Their dense fur and high body temperature would protect them from the worst the desert has to offer.

The thumps of heavy boots against the grated metal echo down the corridor. Etho’s careful steps do little to lessen the noise as the rusted hull groans in response to his presence. His tail drags behind him, through the sand and dust that litters the hall, pale white scales and grey-tinged fur drawing lines on the ground as he roams the winding halls.

He comes up to a split in the path… or well, it’s not much of a split. The corridor that should veer off to the right comes to a quick end, its flooring having collapsed in on itself, broken pipes and tangled wires hanging down from the ceiling. The floor is caved in on itself, twisted metal sloping down into the pitch-black pit that is the lower floors. Etho cringes at the creaking sound of metal that echos out of the hole. He doesn’t want to think about the strain the weight of the crashed vessel is causing on its fractured hull. The last thing he wants is to be trapped in this hunk of junk if its supports give way.

Deciding he’d rather not risk catching himself on the jagged metal… or falling void-knows how far down the dark pit. Etho, instead, turns left and ventures down the more intact corridor. At least there’s far less sand this way. Although Etho suspects the damage has already been done, he’ll be finding those persistent grains for months. Years, even. The lights above flicker sporadically – or at least the few that managed to survive the years in one piece – combating the increasing darkness with their cold, dim fluorescence.

Etho pauses, reaching up to flick one of the long bulbs as it fades out, causing it to sputter back to life for just a moment before dying out once again. Etho realises with a start that the ship must still have a functioning power source somewhere, Etho realises. It might not have much life left in it if these half-dead lights are anything to go off, but it’s better than nothing. This ship might still have some useful parts lying around. Etho could try fashioning… something from the scraps. Something that could help him get off this dead planet, or at least send some kind of distress signal, with the hopes that someone, anyone is close enough to hear it.

He’ll take anything that might prove useful while he figures out where he is. It’s better than his current lack of possessions. He’d had nothing on him when he woke up, which, concerningly, was not how he’d been before. Etho never left home without at least a knife or two, preferably a gun too. He’s not stupid. The last thing he wants is to be cornered by some Vindicator grunt without any means of defending himself. He’d never hear the end of it.

But, for now, it’ll probably just be nice to have shelter with some shoddy lights. While sleeping under the stars doesn’t sound too unpleasant, sleeping on trash in a sandstorm definitely does.

Etho picks up his pace. He can at least assess the damage to the ship's redstone if he can find the engine room. Until he knows what supplies he’s working with he can’t properly plan his next move. The thought makes him shudder. Being stranded in the middle of nowhere, with no clue where he is, no memory of how he got here, and no plan sounds like, quite possibly, the worst combination. Hell, graveyard planets aren’t typically in inhabited solar systems…if he’s really that far from civilisation, he’s fucked. The sooner he can figure out a plan of action the better.

Rounding a corner, the corridor quickly comes to an end. Standing in front of him is exactly what he had been hoping for. Another doorway the door itself, thankfully, resting mostly open. Albeit disconnected from the track that would usually enable its closure. Beyond its frame, flickering lights illuminate a room lined with control panels and overturned chairs. Lights pulse faintly behind dusty buttons and screens and wires stretch across the floor, twisting over and tangling with one another. He’s found the cockpit.

Etho grins behind his mask, the slight crinkle of his eyes the only sliver of emotion displayed for the lonely wreck. He cracks his knuckles before making his way over to the closest control panel.

He pauses for a moment, eyes narrowed in thought and hands hovering over the rusted controls. He never actually checked if he’s truly alone in this place. Glancing around the room again shows no more signs of life than his first inspection. He hadn’t noticed footprints at any point in his journey so far. Void knows there’s enough sand everywhere for them to show up. He’s well and truly alone.

Giving in to curiosity, he cracks open the console, prying off the loose screen, exposing the guts of the ship inside. Looking through the rusty parts, he investigates the state they’re in, hoping that any of the individual parts can prove useful. Who knows, maybe he can get the engine up and running and get out of here… it doesn’t look like it though. Holding up a particularly rusted part, Etho scowls, tossing it onto the metal flooring behind him with a loud clang. He continues to rummage through the mechanisms of the ship, anything unusable – which proves to be most of it – getting tossed, carelessly to the side with a loud clunk.

“...Oh, what the heck?”

Etho jolts at the voice behind him. Dropping the rusted redstone comparator he had been holding, in surprise. Spinning on his heels, Etho’s eyes land on a figure standing in the doorway, their face scrunched up in a frustrated scowl. They look like some sort of glare-blaze hybrid, judging by the green feathers scattering the right side of their face and the brown markings that tint their brow and the tips of their ears. The tips of their fingers are coated in that same brown, the point where the markings merge back into their paler skin tone hidden behind a pair of padded fingerless gloves. Etho notes, however, the figure's distinct lack of a tail, his own flicking to the side subconsciously. They’re dressed in a cuffed t-shirt and baggy, padded trousers. A singular grey knee pad is strapped to their right leg, though how much that would help them if they fell onto their other knee Etho is not sure. Their deep, dark eyes lock onto Etho. Huge, pure-black pupils boaring into him.

“Uhhh-” Etho stares, dumbstruck at his unexpected visitor. He'd been so sure that he was alone here. The metal dunes outside had betrayed no signs of life. All the ships look like they’d crashed into the planet, their hulls cracked and bent from the impact. It’s unlikely that any of their passengers survived.

“Who the hell are you?” The glare furrows his brow further, pointing an accusatory finger towards Etho. “What are you doing to my ship?”

“...Your ship?”

The stranger scoffs, seemingly offended at the insinuation that this mangled spaceship isn’t clearly his. “Yes, my ship! I found it first!”

Etho rolls his eyes at the childish nature of the argument, there’s no way of knowing who had actually seen it first. It's not exactly hard to spot. The massive ship stands like a beacon atop the mounds of twisted metal, it could probably be seen for miles across the ship graveyard.

“I saw it the second I woke up here,” Etho counters, throwing out a bit more information than he’d usually feel comfortable with, testing the glare's response. They don’t react.

Their brows remain just as furrowed, eyes just as piercing. A couple of seconds pass before their mouth contorts into an annoyed snarl. A small scar cuts across their lip, a gap in their teeth replacing the fang that should rest just behind it… Huh.

Etho runs a hand down his mask. He hadn’t realised that the stranger isn’t wearing one, nor a helmet. The air here must be safe to breathe. He decides against removing it for now, though. Maybe they just hadn’t dropped dead yet.

“Yeah, me too! You’re not special!” The other replies, crossing his arms. Etho frowns, the two sides of his split jaw grinding together slightly, behind his mask, in thought. So they had woken up here too, he concludes. They’re probably just as in the dark as he is, lashing out due to the fear of being lost on some graveyard planet with no idea how they got here… Or maybe they’re just like this.

“...I’m the one in the cockpit though.”

“You’re tearing the cockpit apart!” The stranger complains, striding over to a broken comparator, one of the many engine components Etho had scattered across the cockpit floor. They pick it up and twirl it in their hand, glowering at the state of it. Rust rubbing off the metal, staining their fingertips a ruddy orange.

Their dark eyes turn back to Etho, scrutinising him with their gaze. A mischievous glint crosses their face. They give the engine piece one last spin in their hand, before tossing it right at Etho. Hitting him square in the shoulder, the rusted metal cracking as it clatters back onto the ground by Etho's feet. “Ow- Thanks…” he murmurs

“It’s not gonna fly anyway,” he adds, brushing away a spot of rust from where the metal had bounced off his padded jacket.

“I can make it work!”

“Can you?” Etho raises a brow, he’s sceptical anyone would be able to fix a ship in this much disrepair, especially not this guy. They look like they’re more likely to blow up a ship than they are to fix one. The only thing this wreck is good for is shelter and spare parts.

“YES!” the stranger argues, their face contorted into an offended scoff. “GET OUT! FIND YOUR OWN SHIP!”

Etho stands up from where he knelt, hunched over the control panel. He wipes his hands on his trousers, leaving a smear of oil and rust behind on the green fabric. "…Fine, ‘s nothin’ useful here anyway. It’s a rusty mess.”

That only seems to rile the glare up further. Their green feathers bristle, standing on end, and a slight puff of smoke spills from their mouth as they huff angrily.

“IT’S NOT A RUSTY MESS! IT’S MY SHIP!”

Etho, paying their outburst no mind, strides over to where the glare still stands, blocking the doorway with their broad frame. Etho tilts his head, as he looks them up and down, sizing up the shorter, angrier man. They just glare back up at him in response. He snorts.

“Mhm, sure,” Etho finally responds, a sarcastic drawl to his voice. He pushes past them, knocking the stranger out of the way with his shoulder. They stumble to the side, letting out an offended squawk as Etho heads back down the dark corridor of the ship. He smirks at their reaction. Void that guy is full of themself.

If they want this ship so bad they can have it, it's not worth fighting over.

Maybe if he’s quick, Etho can find another, mostly, intact ship to seek shelter in before the sun sets. Preferably one where he won’t have to share with some obnoxious blaze-glare hybrid.

The gash in the ship wall he had climbed through proves easy to find again, thanks to the way it tears through room after room. He picks a door and makes his way through what looks like the remains of a small botany nursery. The plants that had once grown here would’ve helped to generate for the ship's crew back when it was still being maintained, but now it sits in disrepair. Its foliage withered and dry from neglect, the glass of their terrariums shattered and scattered across the ground. The only sign of life this room has to offer now comes in the form of a tiny, sandy rat, no bigger than Etho’s palm, sitting in a dusty plant pot. Though, it seems mostly unbothered by the enderian's sudden appearance, the shrivelled stick of a plant that it's digging its teeth into is clearly more important. Beady eyes follow as he picks his way through the overturned interior, careful to avoid the sharp shards of glass, even if it’s unlikely it would be able to puncture his boot's thick soles.

He doesn’t even need to climb over the jagged metal this time, the whole exterior wall is ripped out from top to bottom. The gnarled, torn edges of the floor and remaining walls the only evidence such a wall ever existed in the first place. Instead, he lowers himself and jumps down, landing with a clatter on the scrap metal ground outside.

The sun still beats down on the metal mounds surrounding him, the old wrecks sizzling from the heat. The topography shifts and ripples behind the torrid air. Etho blinks and holds his hand up to shelter his eyes as the metallic landscape reflects the bright light at him from every direction. He had not missed this, the ship had been stuffy, but it was at least sheltered from the worst of the heat. Etho had better find another shelter soon, he decides. Especially as the sun has now dipped far lower in the sky than it was before. He’d rather not be wandering the wasteland at night, at least not until he can assess how safe this planet really is.

Etho readjusts his mask – breathing in dust cloud after dust cloud probably won’t be great for his lungs – before beginning his descent down the mound. His pace is slow and careful as the scrap below his feet shifts and dislodges from its capricious position. Each step sends small waves of metal debris scattering down the hill ahead of him. It’s not the quietest of descents, but Etho can’t bring it in himself to care. Not when he’s already met and fallen out with, who is likely, the only person for miles.

He takes a deep breath before continuing.

The whistle of wind rushing through the trash peaks almost disguises a building ringing in his ears, the constant note mostly fading out into the background when he pays it no heed. Shaking his head, Etho groans. He almost misses the beeping.

He really should look into what had caused that… as soon as he finds himself somewhere safe to settle for the night. It’s far too risky to stay out in the open with the sun rapidly sinking in the sky. Not while he doesn’t know what kinds of wildlife might call this place home, and going back to the security of that ship is clearly a no-go.

The hairs on the back of his on the back of his neck stand up as a staticky sensation dances across his skin. Etho furrows his brow. That’s just another reason to find shelter. The last thing he wants is to get caught out in a thunderstorm. But, as he glances at the vast, cloudless sky, it holds no sign of a coming storm

Etho reaches the bottom of the metal mound, luckily only almost losing his footing once or twice. The moment his boot meets the sandy ground the ringing solidifies into something real, something vicious and sharp. He stumbles. It feels like hands are reaching into the deepest parts of his soul and wrapping their hands around his heart.

With another step electricity surges through his body. Etho buckles over, every nerve set alight in white-hot pain. A hook is driven through his heart. Etho bites his tongue. The hands pull.

His vision turns white.

Then red.

Etho keels over. His mind struggles for coherency as he clutches his chest.

He rips his mask off, struggling for breath as a haze settles over the world. Thick and suffocating. Shrouding the landscape around him until all he can see is his own shaking hands and the shipwreck, looming above him, mockingly.

A desperate resolve washes over him.

He needs to get back. It hurts to breathe and he needs to get back.

The ship is safe. It’s walls and shelter and shade and it’s safe. And there is absolutely room for two. Despite that glare’s adamant claims.

They don't need all that space.

Etho found it too.

They can share.

It’s massive.

He can easily stay there without even running into them once.

And it hurts.

And he can't think.

And the world is spinning.

And he's clambering back over the gnarled ship wall. His clothes snagging on the jagged edge. The thud of his knees, connecting hard with the floor, echoing through his bones.

Relief washes over him. The strain on his heart easing slowly as he staggers back into the welcoming shade. With a huff, he slumps down in the ship's corridor as colours aside from the ruddy hue bleed back into the world.

Etho’s not sure how long he sits there, on the hard floor of the ship corridor, gathering his breath. The cool metal of the ship wall presses against his back, grounding him as his head slowly stops spinning.

But he’s not alone as he gathers his thoughts. Movement catches his eye as, across the hall, that small rat scurries into view, its dried-up twig abandoned. Beady eyes meet his own, unblinking as Etho stills, not wanting to scare the critter away. It’s nice to have some company that won’t attack him for daring to breathe the same air… hopefully.

Its pale, sandy fur stands out in stark contrast against the dark, grey colouration of the ship. He’s caught similar vermin hiding in the dark corners of his own ship before, but they had looked different. Their ears had been shorter and stubbier, their fur dull and grey to match their surroundings. Etho’s not exactly an expert on alien fauna, but if this planet is as uninhabited as it looks then the small rodent might actually be undiscovered. He watches as it slowly relaxes and begins to clean its long whiskers with its paws. It’s kind of cute. Maybe if he captures it and makes it off this forsaken planet he’ll be able to name the species. He’ll probably name it something scary. Like taxes.

Not that aiding scientific exploration should be his priority right now. He’s more likely to cook up and eat the rodent if he actually catches it. Food will probably be scarce in this desert junkyard, and Etho is awfully fond of not starving to death… besides, he’s probably eaten worse.

“You coulda leant a hand y’know.” Great, now he’s talking to a weird rat.

He drops his head back against the wall, inhaling sharply as the impact sends a jolt of pain reverberating around his, already aching, skull. Closing his eyes, he digs the palms of his hands into them. Today is going great so far. At least the beeping still hasn’t come back, hopefully, it’s gone for good now. Etho doesn’t want to imagine trying to think with both the beeping and fuzzy disorientation from whatever the hell that was, overwhelming his brain.

The only sound is the wind outside as it whistles through the cracks marring the ship's hull. It blows roughly through the rooms that are unlucky enough to share that exterior wall, creating a dull, rhythmic thrum, slowly getting louder as it echoes through the halls and – oh, that’s footsteps, Etho realises. Great.

The glare rounds the corner, dark eyes immediately landing on Etho. A scowl crosses their face. They’re clearly just as pleased to see Etho as he is to see them. Taxes scampers off, diving through a grate in the wall, at the sight of the other figure. Etho’s never wished he could follow a rodent quite as much as he does now.

“I thought you were leaving.” They plant their hands on their hips, eyes narrowing as they scowl down at Etho.

“Mm, I tried. Didn’t go so well.” Etho frowns, tearing his eyes away from the hole the rodent had vanished into.

He takes in the glare’s appearance. They look scruffier than before. Their hair is unkempt – well, more unkempt – it falls over their face in messy strands, green and brown mixing together in a muddy tangle. The green feathers scattered across their face are puffed up and dishevelled and their breathing is heavy. What had they been doing after Etho left?

“Huh? What do you mean you ‘tried’?” They ask, making quotation marks with their fingers to emphasise their point. An incredulous tone laces their voice. “Just walk away and find your own ship. It’s not hard!”

Just to complete their point, the glare strides forward in a mock impersonation of Etho’s own pace, coming to a stop in front of the enderian. They scowl down at him, not even trying to hide their distaste. If anything they’re exaggerating it. They place their hands on their hips in, what looks to be, an authoritative manner.

Etho rolls his eyes. It’s nice to know he’s stuck in this place with someone mature. “You try if you think it’s so easy.”

A childish part of Etho, that he’s not so proud of, hopes that the same thing will happen to the glare if they leave the ship. But then again, if that… sensation was indeed a product of trying to leave the wreck, instead of just a freak incident, that might mean he’s stuck with this guy. A thought that fills Etho with dread… It would be worth it to get back at them for taunting him, though.

“To… walk out the door?” They narrow their eyes, trying to figure out just what Etho’s playing at. Ethos face betrays no ulterior motives, though. Even with his mask discarded on the ground, his expressions exposed.

Etho nods. “Mhm. Bet you can’t do it.”

“Bet I can!”

That was easy… they’re way too eager to be right.

Etho pauses to think. If the beeping stopped when he reached this ship then this is clearly where it had been leading him. Etho wouldn’t be surprised if someone had put a chip of some sort in him before abandoning him in this wasteland… it wouldn’t actually be the first time. That could explain the beeping. It might even be the reason for what he just felt too. If that is the case, the glare is probably here for the same reason. Etho’s willing to bet they’ll feel the exact same thing. He’s also willing to bet that they wouldn’t believe him if he tried to tell them.

“How about this? You get the ship to yourself if you can get, mmm, 10 yards from it- the bottom of the mound. If you can’t,” He looks the glare directly in the eye, the inky voids returning an increasingly confused stare. ”It’s mine to scavenge for parts.”

They narrow their eyes, trying to parse Ethos logic. That’s not exactly a hard ask. “You’ll… leave me and this ship alone if I… walk… down a hill.”

“Mhm,” he nods.

The glare pauses. The last thing they want is their ‘beautiful’ ship torn to pieces for parts. What’s the point in finding shelter if you don’t pick the grandest option there is, damn it. This wager is objectively the stupidest thing they’ve ever heard, there’s no feasible way to actually lose it. They smirk.

“Your loss. Easiest bet I’ve ever made! Watch and learn!”

The glare turns on his heels, marching out of the hall with purpose. The sound of their footsteps echoing, loudly down the halls of the ship.

Etho relaxes slightly as the glare disappears from view. He leans back against the wall, mind still buzzing. The cool metal grounding him in place.

He waits. Anticipation slowly building.

The faint sound of metal sliding and clattering from the glare’s heavy steps meets his ears. Etho chuckles. They’re clearly not the stealthy type.

Etho’s amusement quickly dies down as a familiar tightness settles in his chest. He grimaces and steadies himself as he braces for round two as the ringing takes hold and the world falls to red.

He really hopes this isn’t going to be a recurring condition.

A distant yelp echos through the ship – shrill and startled – as the glare concedes their bet.

Etho breathes in a sharp breath as his heart tugs on its bindings. Vindication bleeding into his mind, through the gaps of his thoughts and pain.

He should leave the ship. Meet the glare on their ascent back up the shrapnel hill.

They might need help.

No.

They’ll come to him.

Etho waits. His mind slowly returning to its usual state.

He hears them before he sees them, their angry grumbles and stomps telling Etho all he needs to know about how they’re feeling.

They storm back into the corridor. Stumbling slightly as they steady themselves with a hand on the wall.

Wild eyes lock onto Etho. A fire burns deep inside, shining brightly through their pupils like a feral animal reflecting light in the night.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?”

Their face contorts in a furious expression, as even more smoke billows out of their mouth than earlier. Etho wonders how much he can get them to do that.

“Told you.” A smug expression crosses Etho’s face.

“TOLD M- WHA- HUH- WHAT THE HECK?” The glare splutters, more smoke spills out of their mouth with each rapid breath.

“Just walk away, it's not hard,” Etho taunts, doing a poor imitation of the other, smirking as their face scrunches up in annoyance.

“...I’m gonna kill you,” they spit, marching up to Etho, their fists balled stiffly at their sides,

“You can tr- ohHH ACK HEY!”

#bookshelf #favourites shelf #sharing a slice of cake

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yacinthemorning · 2 months

Text

Against All Odds by Canarydarity

Chapters: 1/4

Fandom: 3rd Life | Last Life SMP series, Hermitcraft SMP, Empires SMP

Rating: Teen and Up | Warnings: No archive warnings apply

Relationships: Jimmy Solidarity/Tango Tek, Jimmy Solidarity & Grian

Additional tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Baseball, Major League Baseball, References to Major League Baseball, based off a true story, I know thats a weird tag to have here just. trust me okay, will be explained in the notes, it’s also gay. if that counts for anything, they play pro baseball AND theyre gay, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Internal Conflict, Grian and Jimmy | Solidarity are Siblings, Jimmy | Solidarity-centric, Jimmy | Solidarity Needs a Hug, New York Yankees, New York City, Nostalgia, Rumors, Press and Tabloids, Peer Pressure, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, but it WILL have a happy ending :)), Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary:

In May of 1961, Jimmy's in his second season as right fielder for the New York Yankees and his fourth in Major League Baseball overall. Not a particularly impressive player with a rather normal batting average, he's managed to skate by without too much notice.

That is until a rumor runs in the press that Jimmy's trying for the record of most home runs during a single season, previously held by baseball legend and former Yankee Babe Ruth. It doesn't matter that Jimmy has no intentions of chasing any records, the press is saying he does, and now the public thinks so too.

Jimmy winds up in a race against the clock: he has to hit at least 61 home runs by the time the season ends in September. Of course, on top of that is the homesickness, losing himself and the kid who fell in love with the game somewhere along the way, and an unexpected romance with the team's resident analyst.

#favourites shelf #bookshelf #sharing a slice of cake #to is soooooooooo #i love all of it so much

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yacinthemorning · 2 months

Text

Tailored to Your Liking

Chapter 7

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Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Grian/Mumbo/Scar (romantic), Joel/Lizzie (romantic)

Warnings: Implied traumatic events, awkward flirting, verbal fight, anxiety attack

Jimmy tapped at his desk, staring down at the skeins before him. A weepweave was laid out across the table behind him, waiting to be drawn into shapes. He’d worked out the patterns weeks ago. And adjusted for the weight Tango had gained since. If he could just get himself to work it could be done in no time.

But there in lied the problem.

He pulled from his breast pocket the little brass bird. A canary, like the ones they’d used in the mines Tango worked much of his life in since coming to this continent. The ornament was truly lovely, something Jimmy would cherish, but he knew the poor thing carried much more weight than that. It carried a culture Jimmy wasn’t especially familiar with. The weight of its material and its palm sized stature. Tango had given it to him, but he’d avoided looking at it since.

It hurt, just a bit. Irrationally. If it was a symbol of his intentions then what did it say to be so ashamed of it? Jimmy knew better than that, of course, but it didn’t help emotions. Especially not when Tango had begun to treat Jimmy much the same.

A glance informed him it was nearly five o’clock. Ten hours since he last saw Tango. Where was he? What job had he found that took up so much of his time? They better be paying him more than a few copper if they’re going to-

Jimmy took a deep breath. He pushed out of his seat, grabbed his hat, and abandoned his shop for the day. There was no point in driving himself mad indoors if he wasn’t going to be productive for it. There was something else he ought to do anyways.

He made it to the end of Main Street, where a large, white building lay quiet. Few people approached the town hall most days, not unless there was a holiday. Besides Lizzie’s family, in fact, only its two employees could be found in its vicinity. Their presence was part of the reason it remained so silent.

Taking unsure hops, it seems he was ever so lucky enough to catch them both reclining at the front desk. Two sets of glowing, cyan eyes immediately snapped to Jimmy the moment his talons brushed the wood floor. Cub was the first to offer a welcoming smile, though Jimmy always found it rather unnerving. Not so much due to the skulk that draped him, but the knowledge that Scar thought quite highly of him. A “retired” doctor beloved by a snake oil salesman was no one Jimmy had a desire to trust.

Luckily Pixl was the one to motion for Jimmy, greeting him with a silent nod. “Welcome, Mister Solidarity. How may we be of service?” He voice was soft, not even an echo forming in the grand hall.

“I was actually interested in accessing the library, though I don’t imagine I’ll find what I’m searching for.” Jimmy admitted.

Curiosity raised Pixl’s eyebrow. He nodded to Cub, their teal antlers vibrating. Nothing Jimmy could understand, but he was sure others felt similarly to how the avians in town flared and flattened their feathers. “Of course, follow me. Perhaps I can help in your search.” Pixl suggested as they made their way down the hall, leaving Cub behind. “If it’s a matter of history, I could be of great service.”

The pickings were slim. What wasn’t bookkeeping or dictionaries were the few documents and books brought in with arriving citizens. The worldliness of the collection could be attributed to the variety of folks that wandered their way into Tumble Town more than interest in the topics. It made the collection particularly eclectic despite its size, everything from children’s books to family trees and obscure novels in languages Jimmy had never seen before.

An album of miscellaneous photographs found its way in front of him. Some were from events, others collected upon deaths, many donated by Mumbo. Jimmy was nearly through the entire album before he spotted it. The photos were in horrid condition, even a bit burnt at the edges. Each portrayed one of two women, one elderly and the other a bit older than Jimmy’s age, both alike to one another. Their hair flowed like fire and their sharp ears were adorned with jewellery. Though the young woman wore a skirt similar in style to what Jimmy often made, the elderly woman dressed entirely differently. Thin layers of cloth draped her body, with some sort of shaping going on underneath. The shoulders sat loose under the clutches of gold ornaments, with a particularly intricate necklace. A favour. Jimmy absentmindedly rested his hand over his pocket.

There were a few others, including a photo of the younger in a similar garb, though the decor seemed to be of a different material and less intricate. It seemed to be some sort of celebration. There were short notes on the backs but they were all written in Pigling. Even in the black and white photos the gowns were gorgeous. He continued to flip through the dozen photos, trying to figure out their make. The waist pulled in but there was no seams visible anywhere on the outer layer. Not at the visible angles. Their trousers, too, were tailored into anklets. There was no embroidery or decorative stitchwork in the cloth itself, and no patterns. Were the layers different colours? Knowing the material they were likely made of they were most certainly vibrant...

So entranced was Jimmy that he didn’t notice Pixl approaching until a loud thud made him jump up out of his seat. A stack of three books had been placed on the table. Pixl shrugged in apology. “These are all we have that mention in any capacity the Nether or Netherborn, I’m afraid.”

“Thank you.” Jimmy muttered in a daze. As he flipped open the first few pages, it occurred that he had never told the sculkling what he was looking for. He whipped his head up to give some type of indignant remark he had yet to think of, but Pixl was already gone. In a huff, he gathered up the books. It was getting late, and whether Tango came home or not, Jimmy needed to make dinner for at least himself.

To his surprise when he reached home, Tango’s shoes and jacket were there at the entrance. More surprisingly, there was a smell wafting out from the kitchen. Jimmy poked his head past the door. Seeing Tango at the stove momentarily brought out a moment of panic, but there were thankfully no metallic smells, only the scent of spices and chicken.

A curious tweet slipped out of the avian. Tango jumped so high Jimmy worried he might hit his head on the ceiling. He spun around, spilling whatever had been in the ladle in his hand across the floor. And his foot. He jumped a second time, curses spilling out of his mouth, until his knee hit the back of a chair and they both went down. In a panicked flurry Jimmy went to the poor man’s aid, himself almost slipping on the spilled substance in the process.

“My goodness, are you alright?” Jimmy squeaked.

Tango was still dazed, though his face had contorted in guilt or pain, likely both. “Just peachy. Ah!” His neck cracked as he rolled it. It seemed unsatisfying, but he left it to return tending the large pot on the stove. “At least I didn’t knock anything important over.”

“What are you doing?”

Instantly Tango shrunk in on himself, held himself like a scolded dog. Was Jimmy’s tone so accusatory? He couldn’t deny being more than a bit frustrated with the man’s indecisiveness. “Well, I’m making dinner.”

“Yes, I can see that. But why?” Though Tango often helped in the kitchen he’d never taken the initiative to cook himself. It was never clear whether it was out of the delusion that what he chose to make would be poorly received, the nonsense idea he had no right to use the ingredients Jimmy bought, or the only reasonable explanation that he simply didn’t enjoy cooking.

Tango didn’t look up from the pot. “You weren’t here when I got back, so I thought I should.”

Jimmy hadn’t been there because Tango hadn’t either. There was nothing stewing because Jimmy had been too distracted thinking of the party. Tango always picked up more chores when he was feeling useless. There were many things Jimmy could say, but, perhaps for the best, they were all stuck on one another in his throat. “What are you making?” He asked instead, approaching the pot.

“You like curry? It’s sort of like curried chicken. Except not. They call it Nether peppered chicken here I think, but there’s no Nether peppers in it. It’s...”

“Tasty?” Jimmy offered an out, which Tango graciously took with a nod. “I’m guessing a Nether dish?”

The tuft of Tango’s tail swept against jimmy’s leg in absentminded agitation. “Sorta. It’s actually something I learned from a workmate after I first arrived here. It’s...” He tilted his head back, brows knit. “Like, it’s hard to get certain spices and vegetables here, so people make due, and it sorta turned into its own thing. I guess I did, too. I had this friend for a while, Brody, he couldn’t handle the spiciness, so I started making it differently, less spicy more bitter.” He paused to pour a mixture of ground spices and greens into the pot. “It’s why I like making it, probably.”

Because you can’t say you made it wrong, Jimmy managed to not say aloud. Was it reasonable to be envious of a man’s relationship to his dinner? Most likely not, but that was the only way Jimmy could describe the melancholic lump in his chest as he watched Tango stir the pot without tension in his shoulders.

“It looks delicious.” He murmured. Tango hummed in reply. While he continued to stir Jimmy placed the cutlery and plates and sat down. Something dropped into the pot with a pop. “... You know, you can make it as spicy as you please.” Jimmy’s voice pitched up, “I don’t mind, it doesn’t bother avians.”

“The peppers in the market aren’t very spicy, it’s better this way with what w-you have.”

“Oh, okay.” Jimmy adjusted his wings around the back of his chair. Feather wrapped over his arms. The ladle scraped against the side of the pot. “How was work?”

Tango paused for a moment, tail twitching with anxious energy. “Fine. Just helped Etho and Pause with some barn repairs at Beef’s ranch. Was done by noon so I helped Impulse with bottling his beer. Then Chef let me help load the coal wagons going to the station for a couple gold.”

“That’s nice of him...”

“It is. Way more than I ever got paid as one of Fwhip’s guys for the same job. Funny that.”

“Funny that.” Jimmy repeated mindlessly, talon tracing the pattern of the table cloth. Why did it always have to go back to money lately? He knew why. “Have you made anything recently?” He asked, hoping there was some odd little redstone scheme boiling in Tango’s mind ready to spill out into hours long explanations Jimmy could barely wrap his head around.

But there was none. “Not really. Been busy.” Tango shrugged.

“The shop’s closed tomorrow, we could go down to Joe’s and see what he’s selling?”

“I don’t wanna waste money-”

Both jumped as the silverware crashed down against plates. It took Jimmy a heartbeat to realize it was his own fist against the table that had caused it. He mumbled out an apology, not daring to return the blazeborn’s gaze.

“Jim-”

“It’s nothing. I’m sorry.”

Tango had abandoned dinner, now leaning against the chair beside Jimmy. “Jimmy.”

Why did talking have to be so difficult all of a sudden? “You don’t have to take so many jobs in one day.” He managed to choke out.

“Well... I had the energy, I guess.”

“You didn’t want to come back.”

Tango’s tail wrapped around his leg, frown twisting with guilt as he was now the one who couldn’t look at the other.

Jimmy felt his stomach sink. “I’m not... I understand, but I don’t get it.”

“Why I work?”

“Why you won’t let yourself be good enough.” Jimmy reached out, hesitating when Tango leaned away. “And I don’t know what you need to help you.”

“Then I got bad news for what it’s like being stuck with me.”

“Tango...” He was right. Jimmy couldn’t do anything to help Tango if Tango wasn’t willing to be helped. Perhaps he couldn’t help even if he wanted to. This wasn’t something Jimmy could bull-headedly push through like usual.

Tango approached the table, plating their food. As he placed the ladle back down, Jimmy reached out for his hands. He stared at the avian. Surprise, confusion, then concern. “You know you’re a wonderful man, right?” Jimmy asked. It was returned with a dumbfounded shake of Tango’s head. Jimmy almost laughed. Almost. He clutched Tango’s hand closer. “You’re the most intelligent person I’ve ever met, with your strange machines and inventions. And you’re too kind. You’re always helping other folks, I swear there isn’t a single person in this town that hasn’t something sweet to say about you-”

“What are you doing?” Tango asked, tugging weakly against Jimmy’s hold.

Jimmy gave him a sad smile. “You need to know, even if you don’t listen to me right now.”

Quiet fell over them, Tango not replying. Trapped somewhere between peace and tension, they ate dinner in silence.

Weepweave splayed out across Jimmy’s work station, its natural matte crimson colour darkened ever so slightly. It would suit Tango, easy to see long before Jimmy carved it into clothing. There were a few other materials, hoglin leather and twist, but the dark crimson weepweave was what he had the most to work with.

Tango hesitated at first, but his hand ran with fascination over the material. “This is nice.” He said with genuine surprise.

Jimmy shrugged, “Well, when it take this long to import we can’t have it falling apart on you after a few weeks. Otherwise you’ll be right back where you started!” He adjusted the fabric, giving one more once over. “There’s more than enough for three outfits. Four if we pushed our luck but I think it’s best to save some for future repairs.”

A gesture was enough for Tango to fetch the chalk while Jimmy turned the fabric over. Slowly the shapes of an outfit began to appear across the various pieces. Tango remained to help where he could while Jimmy worked.

It continued on through the morning, until the afternoon sun beat down through the windows. Jimmy could feel himself beginning to overheat. In a brief lull, he began to remove his vest, piling the tools that had begun to accumulate in its pocket down beside the cloth. By the time he’d placed the vest aside Tango had also frozen up, staring at the ground. Among the piled treasures was the metal bird.

Jimmy bit his tongue, picking it back up carefully while he sat down in his stool. Silence stretched out. “You know,” Jimmy tentatively broke it. “Avians are also known for their favours.”

“Oh?” Tango murmured back.

“Yes, a feather.”

This captured his attention. “A feather?”

Jimmy nodded, thumb rubbing over the canary’s wings. “Our own. Usually from along the spine, those aren’t quite as large.” He looked up to his companion, who was staring with knit brows at Jimmy’s yellow wings, befuddlement clear. “False will tell you there’s ceremonies and words to go with it but Grian simply handed them over one day to Scar and Mumbo. I suppose it’s one of those flock to flock things. Still, feathers are special to an avian. There’s many traditions involving our feathers, but I suppose you could call it the biggest one.”

“But…” Tango stumbled, seemingly unsure of his next words.

“It’s important it’s your own feather, that it’s a lovely one any damage to can be seen. I think it’s quite lovely, trusting a part of yourself to someone, and being trusted the same.”

“… I suppose.”

He was once more turned away. Jimmy worried his bottom lip. Had he come across as condescending? It was not his intention.

A great sigh escaped the blazeborn as he reclined onto the bench. “Not everyone has feathers to give, though.”

Jimmy’s heart sank. “No, I suppose they don’t. But the purpose is-”

“Gold’s quite common in the Nether, you know.” He continued, as if Jimmy hadn’t spoken. “In very small bits, but it’s everywhere. It’s more of a time investment. If you spend the time, you’ll have enough, eventually.” His gaze downcast. “But time is money, as they say.”

The little metal bird thunked against the table, muffled by the weepweave between them. Tango’s chest heaved as he tried to keep himself calm, and Jimmy wanted nothing more than to get up and go to his side to comfort him.

When Tango’s breath had evened out again he continued. “There was a moment, back with Brody, when we went out to the market together. We’d had nothing but stale bread and stolen eggs for a whole week. But we finally had thirty-four copper between us. That was the first time I was able to purchase everything on my own without messing up my words. At least, not bad enough that I was looked at funny or told to repeat myself. I thought, ‘This is it. I worked hard, I can speak the language, I can finally get a real job here.’ I was a real stupid kid.” His face twisted as his fists clenched the hem of his shirt, tail waving wildly beside him. “Guess I’m still stupid, cause I kept telling myself that until there was nowhere else to go. Doesn’t matter what words I say, or what continent I’m on, I’m still just some netherborn in rags. I can’t find a way to be more than that.”

Tango threw his hands out wide. “This is literally the peak of my life. I can’t-”

The blazeborn choked. Jimmy jumped out of his chair to Tango’s side in an instant, tucking the bird back into his breast pocket to free his hands to hold his companion. “Oh, Tango.” He tried desperately to soothe.

“I could see it, y’know. Last time you opened that vault, it looked like less.” Smoke billowed out like breath on a cold day, small sparks living for a fraction of a second within them. “And you’re here, working with the nicest material I’ve ever owned, and I shouldn’t own it. You shouldn’t have bought it. You shouldn’t be working on this instead of Katherine’s tea dress, or Mumbo’s coat. And I-” His hand shot out with desperation, ripping the bird out of Jimmy’s pocket and shoving it in both their faces. “-I shouldn’t be making prototypes for something I’m. Never. Going to get to make! I let myself get stupid ideas again, and dragged you down with me.”

Blazeborn couldn’t cry. Perhaps that was why they produced smoke, so that those around them could cry for them. Jimmy certainly was, clutching tightly to Tango for dear life as he tried to put together anything he could say. Minutes past, however long Tango needed to pull himself back together.

“Sorry.” He sniffled, to which Jimmy shook his head. Because he understood. Everyone in Tumble Town did. Not for taking the same road, but for winding up in the same place. Somewhere where problems didn’t go away, but they didn’t seem as big.

Jimmy glanced back over at the fabrics, all the shapes perfectly traced out for another well-fitted suit. He buried his cheek into Tango’s warmed hair, cooing comfortingly. Whatever bit of help Tango was willing to take, he’d make the most of it.

“How does it feel?”

Tango stepped back, turning in the mirror as he examined the vest. The last piece of his first outfit. He did a spin, tail training after him hotter than usual. No cloth caught aflame. He smiled bashfully over to Jimmy. “Feels good. Feels fancy. I’m scared people might start mistaking me for Scar’s assistant.”

Jimmy muffled his laugh against his sleeve, though the bell drowned it out for him in the end. “Why, what would scare you about that! It’d be a great compliment to be my assistant!” The man of the hour declared, clacking his cane against the floor for emphasis. A strange little noise escaped Tango in response.

“Good afternoon, Scar.” Jimmy greeted, unable to hide his amusement. “We were just finishing up, doesn’t Tango look handsome?”

Scar hummed and pulled his top hat down to his chest. “Why I’d say he is absolutely dashing! You’ll have every little canary in town swooning.”

Both men turned pink. Jimmy took advantage of his closer proximity to their menace to smack him across the shoulder. “Hush!”

“I’m terribly sorry, Timothy, but I’m afraid I cannot!” Scar announced dramatically, producing papers from within his coat. There was a paused in his theatrics, during which he sent Jimmy a wink that straightened the avian’s spine. “I, in fact, came to speak to you Tango. There’s a job I need your assistance with.”

Tango’s tail twitched, “Oh yeah? What’s the job?”

“A bit of work we’re doing with the Luxo Company. Fwhip informs me you were quite the handyman in the mines, and there are some drafts for the new rail line and station that need an extra hand in drawing up.”

“Uh, sure, but,” Tango glanced awkwardly between Jimmy and Scar. “I mean I’ll be glad to help but I would have thought you’d ask Mumbo.”

Scar waved dismissively. “Oh, Mumbo is off on one of his cycling trips right now, he won’t be back for a few months at least! And this needs to be done now. It’ll be a couple weeks’ work once the materials are delivered.”

Anxiousness vibrated through Tango’s tail, “No offense Scar, but it is you. What’s the catch?”

“No catch! Just some honest work that needs doing, and not a lot of qualified individuals in this one-horse town. Good pay, too.”

Tango finally threw his hands up in surrender. “I mean if you’re okay with it. I’m not exactly qualificated myself, I learned this stuff hands on, on the job.”

“That just means you have experience!”

“Alright, Scar. You got a deal.”

“Great, great!” The papers were placed down on Jimmy’s desk. “I’ll come by and grab you in a few days if Jimmy’ll be willing to let go.”

Jimmy scoffed. “Excuse you.”

“Excusing myself!” He agreed, rushing out the door. “Have a good day, fellas!”

“That man, honestly.” Huffed Jimmy, shaking his feathers flat. Tango didn’t reply, scanning the papers with his nose scrunched up. He peered over the shorter man’s shoulder. “Do you need help?”

Tango jumped. “Huh? Oh, no, it’s just. My name’s on here?”

“Pardon?”

“My name’s in the contract.” He repeated, holding up the page. Indeed, among the many printed letters instead of something neutral it specified ‘Mr. Tek’.

It took everything Jimmy had not to audibly groan. “I suppose he had faith in you.”

“Yeah…” Muttered Tango distractedly. He shrugged and put down the papers.

Tango spent much of the next two weeks off somewhere with Scar for most of the afternoon. Scar couldn’t work very long but they did the best they could with what time they had. Before and afterwards Tango would take other jobs, no matter how much Jimmy told him he didn’t have to. Catalogues were easy to find and he’d calculated what he owed Jimmy on his own. Some questionably true assurances convinced him to lower it at least a bit, to about half of what Jimmy might normally price his work at. Still, he was determined to pay.

At least Scar’s job took a good bit of the burden off. It was paid for by the Luxo Company who’d trusted Scar’s scouting. They didn’t need to be informed the details of the individual he scouted, so long as the plans were good. And Jimmy had all the trust in the world that Tango would make good plans.

More importantly, when he returned home in the evening he didn’t look like walking misery. Dead on his feet, sure, falling asleep in his dinner, but not defeated like he had the previous few weeks, which a horrified Jimmy had only realized after how familiar he’d become with it.

He was nearly done paying for the second set of clothes when they were done. The silhouette was looser, perhaps not as fashionable, but Jimmy could tell Tango was more comfortable. It was more like what he enjoyed wearing.

Tango had his hands shoved into the pockets, swaying back and forth in the mirror with a wide grin. “My gods, he’s done it again.” He declared, tilting his head to look at Jimmy.

“Stop it.” murmured the avian, swatting at the man with his wing. A raspy giggle was his response.

“Have you ever made this many clothes for one person in such a short time?”

Jimmy smiled, reaching out to adjust Tango’s skewed collar. “Can’t say I have… Tango?”

“Hm?”

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask about your last outfit.”

This got a curious glance. Flexing his wings nervously, Jimmy ushered them over to his desk. Ensuring Tango was paying attention first he pulled out a pattern, one he’d only finished piecing together the night before. He rolled it out. Tango’s eyes went wide. “This…”

“I wanted- is it too much?” He worried. “Or, wrong, maybe. I had to make some choices. I can use another pattern if you’d prefer. I’d understand.”

Tango’s hand was pressed the pattern. He looked back up to Jimmy, eyes round and disbelieving, before they softened. “No, this is good.” He said, almost too quiet for Jimmy to hear. “Jim… This is good.”

Warmth fluttered in Jimmy’s chest as relief washed over him. “I’m glad.”

But Tango sighed. “Jimmy, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Jimmy knew. It was something he was waiting to happen for the last few days. So, he sat down at his desk, took a deep breath, and said, “Okay. What is it?”

“Scar’s job will be done this week. I’ll get my last pay the day after.”

“Yes.”

Tango looked away. “It’ll be more than enough with my other jobs to finish paying for this before it’s done.”

“And you’ve been saving some for yourself?” Jimmy asked, though he already knew. Some part of him wanted Tango to say it just so he was sure.

Tango did just that. “Yeah, just a bit. Enough.”

Enough. “For what?”

A bristled tuft wrapped around Jimmy’s leg. Jimmy reached out to lay his hand over Tango’s, nudging him to continue. “Scar says they’re looking to build some new infrastructure for the railway. New engines, new machines to build those engines. That sorta thing. They got a lot of new jobs opening up ‘cause of it. He thinks with my work for them so far I got a shot above the rest. At the very least they can put in a good word for me somewhere else. But-”

“But none of that work is here.” Jimmy concluded, willing his heart not to give. He tried to smile.

Tango winced back, “Yeah.”

He took a deep breath. “I understand.” His voice cracked anyways.

Arms wrapped around his shoulders, and as he choked back the first sob, he couldn’t help think about how ridiculous this all was. It’d not even been four months since they first met, not five before they would part ways. He’d patently refused Tango at several points just to avoid being like his thoughtless brother, yet here he was anyways. There was a blooming of relief through his chest that contradicted everything else, from the thought that this could possibly be it for Tango. Jimmy couldn’t help him, but someone else could, and more importantly would.

He’d only received news he already knew was coming, yet it all seemed too much.

“Sorry.” He hiccuped, wiping his wrist over his eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m happy for you, I promise.”

Tango’s arms tightened around his shoulders, a soft hum vibrating through Jimmy as his head rested into Tango’s throat. Somewhere he’d heard that cats purred when they were hurt as well as happy, to do with comfort instead of contentment, and he wondered in that moment if blazeborn were the same. “I know.” Tango said, his own voice breaking. “I know.”

The last outfit took Jimmy the longest, long enough for confirmations to happen and Tango to finish preparations to leave. It wasn’t that Jimmy was putting it off, if anything he’d worked so diligently. Others in town were accommodating, happy to accept that their orders would be put off for a while. The pattern and even some techniques were completely new to Jimmy, things he’d never tried. He was no grand artist making the next biggest trend or a high end dressmaker creating something everyone would talk about for weeks to come. He was a simple tailor for a small town in the middle of the frontier, who specialized in accommodating those that did not fit the mould. Maybe, by that description, there was something he could have been doing that he completely overlooked.

A very particular feeling overwhelmed the avian as Tango stepped out of the changing curtain. Like seeing the world’s most beautiful painting jump to life, filled with colours and textures and shadows that seemed too rich for reality. In a sense that was exactly what happened. Loose crimsons and warm grays draped down the man’s form, shaped as Jimmy had only seen in photos until now, no need for modifications for any part of the man.

It looked good on Tango. It looked really good. It was perfect for him, more than just the right colours could ever be. He’d never worn clothes so comfortably before or seemed so assured that he was wearing something unquestionably his. There were alterations, from where Jimmy could not figure out the way to recreate certain things, or where decorations had to be compromised for material’s sake, or where Tango had given input for his own preferences and insights. In front of Jimmy was a netherborn, and the most beautiful man Jimmy had the pleasure to meet.

“How’s it look?” Tango asked, though Jimmy didn’t think he needed to say anything from the smug grin on his face.

Jimmy was still too stunned to come up with something clever. “You’re perfect.” He said a bit breathlessly.

That seemed to knock the man out of his element a bit, smirk shrinking to something a bit shy that matched his reddening cheeks. His tail curled around his ankle before twisting back out. “Then, maybe I should wear it out today.”

“I thought you’d already planned your outfit for today?” Jimmy laughed while Tango bounced up to his side.

“I’ll wear it tomorrow.” He snickered, running a hand over the weepweave. “Can’t not show off my little birdy’s gorgeous work, now, can I?”

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Tango, all your clothes are my work.”

“True. Maybe I should wear them all every day.”

“You’re going to have to do a lot more laundry if you try.”

“True, true.” He sighed, but continued to smile.

Jimmy smiled right back. “Oh,” He suddenly realized, looking around his workshop. “There was, um, there’s one more thing.”

Tango watched him curiously as he ran over to one of his drawers, one he knew Tango never used himself. There it was. Nervous energy ran through his wings. He approached Tango slowly, hands behind his back. “If you would, I was hoping I could trust you with this.” Gathering his nerves, he held out his hands, delicately folded fingers unwrapping from around a bright yellow feather, as perfectly preened as he could manage. Wrapped around the base was nothing as nice as the bird Tango had made, a simple gold chain attached to a series of metal beads which held the feather in place. Tango stared down in wonder, carefully accepting the feather into his own hands while anxiety prickled down Jimmy’s wings.

Clawed finger rose up to Jimmy’s cheek. He leaned into it as they ran themselves through the feathers around his ear. For a moment Jimmy closed his eyes and basked in the warmth radiating from the man. “You’ll come visit now and then, won’t you?” He asked. Pleaded.

When he opened his eyes Tango eyes were warmer than he’d ever seen. “I’ll come back.” He promised instead, far more than Jimmy cared hope for in the days leading up to his departure. Tango’s hand fell away, instead resting over Jimmy’s breast pocket, the metal bird tucked within pressing into his palm and Jimmy’s heart. “Could you… Would you hold onto that? Until I do? Until I come back with a proper one?”

“This is the proper one.” He chuckled, placing his own hand over Tango’s. “But, if you insist, then of course.”

“Then I’ll take good care of your feather, and the clothes you made me.” Tango said, a determined spark flying from his tail. Jimmy grinned.

“Please do.”

#team rancher #solidaritek #rancher duo #trafficshipping #hermitshipping #tangotek #jimmy solidarity #goodtimeswithscar #traffic series #mcyt #fanfiction #fanfic #western fantasy #alternate universe #hurt/comfort #sharing a slice of cake

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yacinthemorning · 3 months

Text

Gundam Birdie

Our Flock

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Summary: Jimmy and Tango arrive on Animalia and plan to enjoy what the station has to offer. They aren't the only ones, however.

Ships: Jimmy & Tango (Undefined), Bdubs/Impulse (Romantic), Cleo & Scott (platonic), Past Jimmy/Scott (romantic)

Warnings: War, violence, military, guns, fantasy politics, fantasy racism, trauma, space, divorce talk, stalking, betrayal

No other incidents arose on the long trip to Animalia.

It was… Quite disappointing, if Tango was honest. Not that he wanted them to get attacked, or their lives to be at stake. But for all the preparations and manpower put into the mission for the potential threat, it all amounted to a waste of time. There were chats with friends, notes written for ideas, and too many games of cards played.

Doc seemed pleased at least, praising them as they approached the port. For scaring off the pirates, and their routing, as well as the crew’s ability to keep out of his business. If only he knew how many times Tango was tempted to break into the containers he brought along out of sheer boredom. Zed always stopped him. Tango wasn’t sure it was because he was an old friend of the cyborg, or because he already knew what was inside. Somebody among the mechanics had to. And he was off alongside Grian and Scar finalizing everything with Doc just out of earshot of everyone.

All he could do was watch and try not to yawn as the last of the containers were offloaded into the port. It was a bigger place than Tango was expecting for a middle-of-nowhere station out in the belt. Colourful, too, with much more personality in the small gardens and fountains that dotted even the port. It was almost like a town, if one could forget the artificial lights beating down from the ceiling and the lack of insects around the flowers.

“It’s a lot less busy compared to Sanctuary, isn’t it?” Jimmy said. Tango glanced over his shoulder at his pilot, who was glancing up at a screen. Some cat mascot danced around happily before revealing it was an ad for a butcher. All lab grown, of course, with how difficult it was to raise real animals in these stations.

Tango shrugged. “But not as green.”

“There’s bigger gardens further into the actual station.” His eyes darted around the workers, before a nervous smile settled on his face. “We’re going to be here for at least a few hours still. Do you want to go explore?”

“Oh, thank god. Let’s skadoodle, I can’t stick around this boring port for another minute!” Tango grabbed Jimmy’s hand and began dragging them towards the entrance. The entrance turned into a big wall of crates blocking their path before they could get too far. “Hey!” He screeched.

“Hey yourself!” Bdubs’ voice cracked back, head popping out from behind the crates. A dock worker was transferring the pallet from the Oasis’ crane to its own under his supervision. Only after it was taken away, clearing the path, did he continue. “Some of us gotta work you know.”

Jimmy stepped in before Tango could snap back, curious eyes on the tablet in their cook’s hand. “Are you going to resupply in town?”

“Yeah, shouldn’t take too long. Stations like this can have it done in a couple hours as long as they have the product in stock, but it’s a lot of filing and math and running back and forth.” He deflated into a sigh as he reached into his pocket. Out came a pocket watch. An old-fashioned thing made of silver. He cringed. “And timing, jeez, I’m gonna be late.”

“We can come help. Tango’s good at math and I’m good at running around.” Jimmy offered against Tango’s protesting cry.

But Bdubs waved them off, slipping the watch back into his pocket. “Nah, I’m used to it, and it’s not in the same part of town. You guys go have fun. You ain’t done much work-”

“Hey!”

“-But bein’ on alert constantly and not getting your beauty sleep does a number on a fella. Relax while you can.”

Jimmy shrugged, “If you’re sure.”

“I ain’t never been not sure o’ something in my life! Now you kids get goin’, I got- I got calls to make!” Bdubs smack Tango on the back, making the mechanic jump up and yelp. “Just don’t go flaunting your ugly mugs around too much, this is still a feddie station, remember! They get real bored stuck out here.”

Tango blew a raspberry at the little cranky cook before sprinting off. Laughter followed him before Jimmy jogged to take the lead. There was an unexpected confidence in his step, taking them right through to a tram and purchasing their ride from a small green haro piloting a conductor robot which, to Tango, looked much like an upright frog. Several other folks were already sat, among them being one woman dressed in an EF military uniform that briefly put Tango on edge. She never looked up, however, seemingly off-duty and engrossed in her book.

Soon the tram drove them into the main station, and Jimmy was proven right. Though not as green as Sanctuary, traditional earth-style buildings were surrounded by well maintained trees and flower beds. There were no cars, instead tramways running down every path.

When they reached a certain point Jimmy pulled him up out of his seat and rang a bell, which caused the tram to slow enough for them to hop off. A little further ahead was an open market, nothing like the rundown farmers markets Tango had been to. “There’s always a small stall selling gelato here, and the shops have all sorts of second hand things you might like.” Jimmy rambled, still pulling them along.

“You been here before?” Tango asked.

“A few times. My sister would drag us here for a week at a time just to shop and relax. It was the next best thing to Earth for us in the outer system, before the ban.”

“Ah.” He quieted a bit, looking around at the market. Most of the goods were from Earth or Mars, or at least the materials were. Most things were, with only the raw ores really coming from anywhere else. Even his old home of Mercury was little more than a glorified mine that had to buy back Earth products made from the minerals they supplied just to survive. “It must’ve been tough.” He murmured.

“Hm?” Jimmy asked, distracted by a stall selling crocheted clothing and stuffed animals. The one in his hands looked like a strange little blue eyeless monster from a children’s show Tango’d seen once or twice. In crochet form it was almost cute.

Tango hummed, “living in the outer colonies. Being so isolated and having to be self-sufficient on planets that were never made to hold life. Not even food from Earth or Mars. I’m surprised they can feed themselves.”

Jimmy paused, and Tango watched as his shoulders sagged, a strained look on his face like even he wasn’t sure what he was feeling. “It was. We have greenhouses, but even they take tons of energy to run. Animals are easier by themselves, but they need food too, so most protein’s synthetic if not seafood, and there’s a lot of materials that’re near-impossible to get.” He laughed, squishing the plushy in his hand. “Honestly, I’d only seen one tree in Scott’s garden before I came to Earth. I knew people built with wood there, but it was so strange to see in person. It’s definitely different, and a lot more work. It’s not a big place either, Scott and his councils did a lot more direct work than President Xisuma.”

“Was that why you left?” Tango asked before he could stop himself.

Jimmy didn’t answer right away. He placed the toy back on the table, taking care to put it back in its proper place. Then, he smiled, “How bout that gelato?”

Scott laid back, resting his head against the old spruce tree and closing his eyes. The delicate scent of the needles wafted down on the breeze created by industrial fans high above, softer than the stabbing winds outside.

“So, what is it you want from me, exactly?”

He cracked open an eye, Cleo’s pixelated image staring back warily. It would be a while before it went away, he knew. Still, their deal was too far gone to back out now. “First we’ll bring you here to Pluto in order to properly train and test you on our equipment. Then, as soon as possibly, you’ll be sent out to help our team currently waiting for confirmation to move forward. Exact plans are still under development and classified. Until then, we are relying on a mercenary ship to track down and confront our quarry for us.” It was a dry explanation, and he knew it wasn’t what was asked.

Cleo’s eyebrow rose. “And your people are just going to accept me?”

“They will if you marry me.” He dismissed.

“Excuse me?”

“My spouses gain citizenship and top-level clearance, as well as access to my wealth. Their acceptance is irrelevant at that point.”

“I signed up to be a pilot, not someone’s spouse.”

Scott leaned forward, smiling. “Our current gundam pilot is also one of my spouses, as is the admiral, and many others. It’s a convenience that means nothing emotionally more than you want it to. You aren’t exactly my type anyways, no offence to you. But I think it would benefit both of us to extend to you the freedoms it provides. Which reminds me, I need to fill out some paperwork.” He brought it up so both ends of the call could see. “And we never truly did get a chance to introduce ourselves to each other.”

“What could I possibly provide you that’s so valuable that you would go to these lengths?” Cleo ignored him, eyes narrowing.

He sighed, closing his eyes to collect his thoughts before he spoke. “Do you think I was lying to you before?”

“I’m not exactly a great activist or a politician. I’m just a pilot. At the end of the day I take orders and hope to live to fight another day.”

“We both have to make decisions that change the lives of everyone around us, Cleo, with every action we take. Both of us have the power to save and end lives. That power is no less heavy on either of our shoulders.” He said solemnly. “I’ve worked with many different people who have made their own choices and goals. If I may be frank, more than a few have disappointed me, with both their choices and their reactions. People who could not accept the consequences and ran away. People who remain ignorant of their power. People who fall in line and revoke all responsibility. People who have grown attached to control and forgot what its purpose was in the first place.

“I know more about you than you’re probably comfortable with, I’ll admit. And when I see you, I see someone aware of the significance of firing a gun. Someone who is aware what it means whether you choose to shoot or not, who feels the weight of the weapon in your hands. I can do many things, Cleo, but I can’t do everything myself. You’re who I want holding that weapon in my stead. I can trust you.”

Cleo seemed taken aback for a long moment, before cautiously replying, “You don’t know me, Smajor.”

“No, I don’t. Not really.” He admitted. For all his research, perhaps more than none of what he thought was wishful thinking and projection. “But I need someone. And I’m willing to take the gamble that that someone is you.” Scott softened his smile, raising his hand to the paperwork. “So, why don’t we use this to start fresh like we deserve? Please, feel free to just call me Scott, he/him. And you?”

A long pause trailed after, Cleo’s eyes darting between the documents and Scott. “Cleo.” Finally came the response, and Scott’s smile widened. “… They/them.”

They’d found the gelato stand quickly and sat down at a clean table with an umbrella tipping sluggishly in the breeze above, one of Arianna’s softer songs playing over the speakers. Tango probably should have just apologized and changed the subject, but his curiosity got the better of him. For a few minutes they ate in silence, until Jimmy was ready.

“Canary isn’t the first gundam I’ve been in… sort of.” He admitted, stuttering voice barely audible. Despite the anticipation Tango was immediately thrown off.

“What?”

Jimmy shifted uncomfortably in his seat, shoving another spoonful in his mouth to calm himself. “Back on Pluto we had a gundam. Gundam Owl.”

“The one that attacked us.”

“Yeah.” Jimmy sighed. “It’s the reason Pluto has a leg to stand on for its independence. It’s the only known Gundam in operation, and only the top pilots are ever given a chance to pilot it. I was briefly considered to test if it would take to me when its previous pilot died in combat. Since I was one of Scott’s spouses it would be convenient for him. But I was never really good enough to qualify. Better pilots than me had been rejected, so they didn’t consider there would be much of a chance for me. Then they found Pearl. They immediately took to each other before I’d ever gotten to see it in person, and that was that.”

Tango’s brows knit together. “So then, how did you pilot a gundam?”

“A gundam is powerful, but wars aren’t decided off a single soldier.” His face twisted, and Tango felt his stomach drop before the words came out of his mouth. “They wanted to… they tried very hard to build a second gundam. And I volunteered to be the system test pilot for Scott.”

“Jimmy… Do they-”

“I guess I wasn’t good enough even for a replica, though!” He interrupted, rubbing the back of his neck. “And we found out exactly what a gundam does if you try to force it into accepting any old pilot. They made an entire secondary system to hook the pilot up to it directly in order to try and bypass its limitations. It didn’t like that very much. I woke up in the hospital and couldn’t move for a week after.” A nervous chuckle escaped before his face fell once more. “No matter what we did or how many times we tried, I always blacked out from the feedback and failed.”

His hand shook against the table. Tango reached out across the table, placing a hand he hoped was comforting over Jimmy’s. Jimmy immediately laced them together in a grip that was tighter than Tango thinks he intended. Memories of pain threatened to spill over from his eyes.

“One day my access was revoked. I tried going to Scott, thinking there was another bug – I always seem to attract them.” His breath came out shaky. “He already knew, though. He was the one who pulled me off the project. They were going to find someone else. I think that was the first time I ever got angry at Scott. He was always the smart one, I usually just accepted what he chose was the best option. But I’d been working so hard to help, and we’d made so much progress despite everything. It was the only thing I did, I wasn’t good enough of a pilot to go to Europa. I knew I wouldn’t be the final pilot, but it was what I could do. I got angry. But of course, Scott wouldn’t be convinced by a tantrum.”

“You failed. You tried, Jimmy, but you can’t do anything. I can’t keep testing a failure.” He repeated, any attempt to mock Scott’s words foiled by his own voice breaking. “After that Scott never gave me any work, he didn’t trust me to do anything. All I could do was volunteer for the jobs no one else wanted to do and were too dangerous for Owl to be risked. The ones they didn’t have much of a choice but to give me. Scott tried to stop them from giving me even those jobs. But I guess they figured if there was going to be a suicide mission, then might as well throw the most expendable pilot at it.” Jimmy swallowed what might have been a sob, trying desperately to compose himself before people started paying too much attention.

Tango, though, felt like his blood was on fire. Emperor be damned, he wanted to punch Scott in the face with his own hands at that moment. In all the time they’d known each other, Jimmy’d never given anything less than his all. Who could be so cruel? He wished he could tell Jimmy to forget him and everything he ever said, that some politician’s words meant nothing...

Then a thought clicked. Something cold ran through Tango, snuffing out the fire, filling his stomach with a heavy weight he couldn’t quite decipher. After gathering his words, he finally asked, “Your marriage with Scott… It wasn’t political, was it?”

Jimmy didn’t look at him, staring off into space. A weak smile made it onto his face as he barely shook his head. “No. It wasn’t.” He said aloud anyways.

And Tango… wasn’t sure how he felt.

The anger was still there, perhaps even more so, but so was something else. Mournful, maybe, for Jimmy. The puzzle pieces were falling into place, and Tango wasn’t enjoying the picture they formed. He gave Jimmy’s hand another squeeze, rubbing his thumb along the man’s knuckles.

“As far as I know the project was put on permanent hiatus until they had a notable breakthrough.” Jimmy leaned back in his chair and stared up at the artificial sky. “To answer your question. Grian said they have more gundams, but as far as making new ones, they failed. The tech to create and analyze the systems they run off is lost. I’m sure they’ll eventually figure it out, if it was made before, but that project was a dead end. It replicated some of the higher systems relatively well in theory, but it couldn’t process the systems’ output, and the only work around just put the strain of processing on the pilot.”

Tango nodded. “Gundams are rock solid, designed to destroy itself if you dig too deep. I nearly blew Canary up just trying to update it to be compatible with the model of laser rifle Grian gave me to work with. It’s like navigating a minefield with a blindfold to do anything, never mind accessing the inner workings.”

“That’s pretty standard countermeasures for the military on Pluto, so the enemy can’t capture tech. I guess it kinda bit us in the butt in this case though, since how to access it is lost.” Jimmy slowly pulled himself back together, finishing off his gelato. He made a sound as he took the final bite. “It still tastes as good as I remember, I wonder if Lizzie’s gotten the chance to come back and try some.”

“You talk to her?” The mechanic fiddled with his spoon, trying to relax himself. Whatever subject might get his pilot’s mind off those awful memories. A few times during their many conversations at the ranch and cafeteria Lizzie had come up, usually about the strange shenanigans they’d gotten up to in childhood, or complaints about her becoming a pilot before him despite being just as bad on their tests.

Jimmy waffled a bit, though his eyes had started to brighten up. “Not recently. With the whole hiding on earth thing, I thought it might be a bad idea to contact someone on Pluto. But I should probably at least let her know I’m okay. Maybe Grian can get me a secure connection-”

“Well, look at these couple of lovebirds!”

Both tensed at the joke, laced with mockery instead of the familiar affection of their Resistance companions. Jimmy instinctively kept his head down, dropping his gaze into his empty cup, while Tango turned to the strange voices.

His heart nearly stopped at the sight of three familiar beige soldier’s uniforms, decorated with the flag of the EF. It was clearly for show, or more likely to haggle discounts out of the local shops as Tango remembered some of the more obnoxious soldiers doing in town. They certainly carried themselves in the same way, like they were the cock of the roost. One leaned in with a wide grin, and Tango was hit with the painful stench of hard liquor despite what looked like a regular cup of soda in his hand.

“Day drinking in uniform. Classy.” He grumbled under his breath, to which Jimmy pressed his thumb into his hand he was still holding.

“Wha’ was that?” The soldier whined, getting far too close. Tango snarled, to which he got a laugh in return. “Oh, hey, look at those eyes, he really is a merc! Whatcha doin’ all the way out here, Goldilocks?”

There was a name he hadn’t heard since his father’s time. Were they really that outdated out in the belt? “What do you want?” He snapped, restraining himself from saying anything more for Jimmy’s sake. Around them other citizens began to back away, one sighing and shaking her head. None of them cared enough to deal with the troublemakers or come to his and Jimmy’s rescue.

The soldier was pulled back by his friend as the other spoke up. “Hey, hey, don’t you know to respect a man in uniform? We were just lookin’ for a table to sit down, and you look like you were just leaving.”

“Well we weren’t and there’s a table over there.” He nodded toward a group of free tables right next to them.

That was evidently not what they were here for, though. The drunkard’s nostrils flared, wobbling as he slammed his hand on the table. When Tango didn’t react he grabbed the collar of his jacket, yanking him up out of his seat. It was almost impossible to breathe from the man’s stench. “Nah, we’re gonna sit right here.” He growled.

Tango would have likely snapped, or spat in his face, or punched him – any number of bad ideas, really – but he didn’t get the chance. Jimmy was beside him before he could, and the drunkard went stumbling back into one of his companions. How bad an idea that had been registered on Jimmy immediately, flinching away when the EF soldiers turned their attention to him instead. “Um…”

“Why you little…” The drunkard snarled, lurching forward. Slow and lumbering in his alcoholic haze, it was easy for them to simply sidestep him, allowing him to stumble right into the table and knock himself over. His companions laughed while he nearly fell on his butt trying to stand back up. Red-faced from both alcohol and humiliation he started shouting. “You think that’s funny, huh? Y’wanna fight, huh?”

“Not- not really!” Jimmy replied even as Tango raised his fists. In all his years in the EF military he’d put up with more than his fair share of these types. If he learned one thing it was that they didn’t learn their lesson until they got a bit of dignity and teeth knocked out of them. First by who they’re bothering, then their commander.

But Jimmy let out a squeak and disappeared from his side. Tango turned to find another soldier in Jimmy’s face, which he poorly hid behind an arm. The other soldier had his hazy eyes narrowed, “Hey, have I seen you somewhere?” He grumbled. Jimmy’s eyes went wide before he ducked further.

Well… Shit.

“Tango!”

Like a shining white knight - in a black t-shirt and dad-shorts - on a noble steed - a rusty old vespa - Impulse drove right up to the group. The three feddie soldiers jumped out of the way while Jimmy immediately huddled behind Tango and screen of dust kicked up by Impulse sliding to a stop. The man gave them a wide smile before turning a shocked look on the soldiers. “Oh my, I’m so sorry. Is there a problem, sirs?”

“Watch where you’re driving!” The drunkard recovered first, screaming right into Impulse’s face. The engineer was unmoved, only returning an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, sir. This old hunk of junk is falling apart. Gosh, I didn’t hurt you, did I? Should I call the ambulance? Did I break anything? Let me pay for it.”

Impulse went on, and Tango recognized the bit from one too many close encounters at the bar and academy. He rambled apology after apology until the soldiers looked utterly uncomfortable, the third, who had been mostly quiet, starting to assure him nothing was wrong. Tango would laugh if he wasn’t still both enraged and panicked.

Finally, the drunkard’s ego seemed to have been stroked enough and he began lumbering away, yelling at his companions to follow. The third chased on his heels right away, but the last one paused. Jimmy tried to hide further behind Tango. S feat at their height difference but helped by Impulse stepping in the way to ask if there was something the soldier needed. Wary eye still turned on them, the soldier muttered a reply then walked off as well.

Impulse let out a huge sigh. “Honestly, I leave you alone for five minutes and you get in a fight! It really is just like the good old days.” His tone was tired, but his eyes crinkled with amusement.

“Hey, we were minding our own business, they picked a fight with us!”

“Thank you, Impulse.”

He snorted and started walking. “Well, since I can’t leave you two alone, you’re coming with me.”

Tango groaned, but Jimmy seemed happy to follow the man, so he followed as well. Impulse had hopped off the vespa, rolling it on through the streets as he hummed a happy tune. It was barely more than a hunk of junk, older than dirt and covered in it as proof. Though, someone had clearly done some basic maintenance to keep it going. Not enough, but good enough. “Where exactly are we going?” Tango asked after their third turn, only for Impulse to stop in front of the answer. A tiny little garage with a brightly coloured sign all sorts of junk laying about that Tango wouldn’t mind getting his own hands on. An old man sat at a counter, completely out cold and snoring like an elephant.

Impulse turned, and grinned. “Mind giving me a hand?”

Though Jimmy knew a bit about mechanic work on mobile suits, he could safely say he knew jack about vehicles. The best he could do was stand off to the side and pass Tango and Impulse whatever they needed. Not that a tiny scooter had room for three whole grown men to work on it at once. With just the two pairs of hands it was coming together with ridiculous speed. They already replaced everything broken and did a check of the engine. All that was really left was cosmetics.

Tango pushed himself up off the ground, and Jimmy was immediately at his side, taking the wrench he held away to replace it with a paper cup of water from an old-fashioned cooler in the back corner. “Thanks.” He said, blinking slowly like a cat before turning his attention back to the scooter. “So, what exactly sparked this buy?”

It was quite odd. Old vehicles were not uncommon on Pluto, but as far as Jimmy had seen in the past year, Earth and other places seemed perfectly happy to toss last years’ model in the bin when the latest one released. Hopefully it had not cost all that much money, for the state it was in.

“It’s a gift for Bdubs.” He proudly explained. He brushed his hand over the seat, distracted by a fond memory. “Our four years anniversary is tonight. All our plans got kinda derailed by this mission, so I wanted to get him something special.”

Maybe Jimmy’s heart turned a bit into a mushy puddle at that, and he had to will himself not to coo. “That’s very sweet.” He said instead, even as Tango began to make fake puking sounds. Jimmy smacked his mechanic lightly on the back, turning the childish display into a giggle.

Impulse rolled his eyes. “Laugh it up, buddy, I know you’re a big sap deep down.”

“Not me!” Squeaked Tango, though he kept laughing. “That stuff’s so old fashioned and lame. Right, Jimmy?”

Jimmy blinked, staring at Tango like a fish for a long, long, awkward moment. Tango’s smirk faltered. Looking away as his cheeks heated up, Jimmy scratched at his jaw and quietly mumbled, “Um, actually I kinda…”

“Naw!” Distress laced Tango’s voice. “C’mon, really? You’re gonna leave me to be the weirdo?”

“Sorry. On Pluto there’s certain types of gifts associated with each anniversary. Me ‘n’ Scott would always…”

Impulse cackled and reached out to ruffle his friend’s hair. “Don’t be such a party pooper, you emotionally stunted goblin.”

“I ain’t stunted nothin’, emotionally or otherwise!”

Jimmy tried not to laugh at his mechanic, distracting them both by running a soothing hand against Tango’s back. Impulse shook his head and went back to tightening a bolt. “A scooter’s an interesting gift, though.” Commented the pilot.

“I guess so.” Impulse hummed fondly. “I’m hoping he’ll like it. Back on earth Bdubs owned horses and would ride around all the time. I think it’s the one thing he really misses. It’s not a horse, but it’s closer than the family car.”

The last bit of mechanical work on the scooter was done. Only polish and touch ups remained. That, Jimmy could help with.

Tango cocked an eyebrow. “So, you met before you left?”

“He’s the one Skizz sent me to until they could smuggle us off planet.” Impulse carefully folded up a rag before pressing it to the scooter. A dopey smile had settled on his face and didn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon. “He was more of a middle man connection for The Resistance until then, but the operation went sideways and Skizz made a scene- next thing we know the both of us are recruited.”

“Sounds a bit familiar.” Tango grumbled.

“Subtlety is not in Grian’s skill-set, unfortunately.” He paused to sigh. “But I’m glad he came along.”

That, Jimmy could agree with, as he watched the man lovingly work on the strange gift. He leaned back to look at Tango with a fond smile, but Tango was busy packing tools away. When he did meet Jimmy’s gaze he only returned it with confusion. “What?”

Jimmy rolled his eyes sharing an exasperated look with Impulse, who only shook his head in sympathy. Not getting a response despite the confused noises he made, Tango returned to his task as oblivious as he always was. It was fine, Jimmy assured himself.

Paint fumes began to fill the room. Impulse hummed his way over to the garage to open it further. His whole body froze, however, before he pulled it back down. “Uh, guys?”

“What’s up?” Tango mumbled, still focused on the scooter’s engine.

“Those soldiers are right around the corner.”

Jimmy’s brown knit. “What?”

“The ones from the market, they’re out there.”

A wrench clattered to the floor. Tango growled curses under his breath as he marched over to get a peak. Jimmy didn’t dare approach. “I think they recognized me.” He whimpered.

“They probably have posts warning about us. Or you, at least. I think we need to skadoodle.”

Jimmy sucked in his breath. This was it. They only made it through half a mission before he was caught. They’d be dragged back to earth or some other outpost for a rigged trial and sentenced to death or worse. It couldn’t end, not this soon. Blood pounded in his ears as all the possibilities ran through Jimmy’s mind. Tango was hardly doing much better, though he looked ready to walk out and try to fistfight the soldiers.

Impulse pushed away from the garage door and towards the back corner. “Here, there’s a fire exit this way. You guys get outa here and back to the ship while I distract them.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. Both met at the door, opening and closing it as quietly as they could just as Impulse knocked over a tool box near the opposite corner where a few wrenches slipped out under the garage door. They waited only for confirmation all three had collected around Impulse, the man talking them up, before they made a break for it across the alley into the street.

Two steps from their escape Jimmy realized he was going too fast. His knee slammed into a stack of crates and the topmost one toppled to the ground, glass bottles shattering.

Someone behind them shouted. Tango cringed and latched onto Jimmy’s wrist. Running as fast as they could, it still wasn’t enough to get away before the soldiers reappeared behind them. Civilians stepped out of their way, not wanting a confrontation with angry soldiers. A courtesy the pair did not receive while the crowd in front of them began to thicken closer to the market. With his longer legs Jimmy soon past Tango, dragging his companion along and into the first alleyway he spotted.

No sooner had they turned into it did a large door open up in front of them. Jimmy squeaked as he slid to a stop, face slamming into the metal door. He had no time to recover. The moment he made contact it began yanking shut on him. Tango screeched behind him and both tumbled back into darkness. Hands slammed over their mouths.

Jimmy blinked back tears, a headache forming from both sides of his head. Of course he would get a concussion while out shopping. Tango flailed about beside him, trying to get the hand away from him. He only froze up once more when the soldiers’ trampling echoed just outside the now closed door. There was a rattle on the handle, but it didn’t budge. A moment later their footsteps continued on, one shouting at the other two, until their voices echoed far into the distance.

The person above them sighed and released their hands. Tango immediately jumped up, half-dragging Jimmy with him, and pushed them both into a corner. Their rescuer only put up his hands in surrender, his too-calm voice whispering, “Hey, you’re good, you’re good.”

It was too dark to get a good look at him, but silvery white hair glowed even from the small rays through the alley ventilation window and the light of a single bionic red eye. A few extra seconds of adjustment and Jimmy could make out a standard bulk-buy face-mask, despite it certainly not being cold season.

“Doesn’t seem like we are.” Tango said, voice cracking. He was never good at keeping his voice down.

The stranger dropped his hands into a shrug. “Well, you’re better? I saved your butts with my ninja reflexes, you should be thanking me.”

Jimmy gaped. “You hit me in the face with a door!”

“A small price to pay for getting away from feddies, I’d say.”

It wasn’t much, but it made Jimmy relax. Tango was not so quick to do so until Jimmy placed a placating hand on his shoulder. The stranger's hand disappeared into the pockets of his silhouette. “Thank you, I guess.” Jimmy said.

“You’re very welcome. Perhaps next time you should watch your backs a bit better.” He dismissed, already heading towards the door. He poked his head out. “Coast is clear. You should probably get back to your ship before they turn back around.” With that he disappeared out the door with a wave. “Ciao. It was nice to meet you.”

Jimmy stumbled up onto his feet after him, but by the time he reached the door there was no sign of the man anywhere. “He’s gone.” He murmured to himself, exchanging a baffled look with Tango.

“Some weird vigilante wannabe?” Was the only explanation Tango could offer. “He’s right, though, if they’re looking for you then we need to get outa here.”

“Yeah…” Jimmy looked over the alley one more time. Not even a hair left. A hand slipped into his, giving it a comforting squeeze, before the two bolted back towards the docks. He’d have to enjoy Animalia another time, if he ever could again.

Joel wasn’t doing much, just minding his own business, stress pacing the bridge as he waited for any one of his thirteen messages to be responded to, when the bridge doors creaked open behind him. He immediately set a glare upon the man who stuck himself in the shadows, as if there was anyone to impress on this ship. “You took your bloody time, didn’t you? Would you mind telling me where our pathetic and fearful captain ran off to this time?” Though he didn’t much care for the answer, going back to hoping for a returned message. Still nothing. Was gelato really that engrossing?

The captain shrugged his comment off. The easing smile radiated like a sickening aura off him despite the mask. “I’ll have you know I was doing work, Joel! Collecting information, gathering supplies, scouting out our quarry’s pilots, all that fun stuff. Where’s the missus, by the way, I thought you had plans?”

Joel’s head snapped to him, gaping in disbelief. “You- Are you daft? You contacted the target’s pilots?”

“One of them, at least. Had to help him and his buddy out of a pinch. He was a pretty nice fellow.”

“A nice- You didn’t kill him?”

A hand was waved in his face, forcing him away from the captain’s chair he’d been pacing around. The captain got comfortable, kicking his legs up onto the console and putting his hands up behind his head. “Are Beef and Pause back? I was really feeling poutine for dinner and I need someone on my side for when you guys complain.”

Oh no, he wasn’t having any of his shenanigans today. Fingers dug into the front of the captain’s shirt, yanking him only an inch from Joel’s glare. “Etho, you listen carefully.” He growled. “Did you let the enemy pilot just go when you were in the perfect position to deal with him before he gets in a mobile suit?”

The captain didn’t flinch, slowly blinking back at him. “Well, I did exactly that.”

“Why?”

“Because I couldn’t possibly cut your fun date night short Joel. I have a heart. I can trust you two to take care of it, right?”

At that Joel paused, examining Etho’s expression for any sign of mockery or lie. There was none. A wicked grin pulled at Joel’s cheeks. He leaned in. “Of course we will. To smithereens.”

The captain’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Then we should get ready for work, eh? Send Lizzie a message that the shopping trip’s over. Time to meet the family.”

“You idiots, are you trying to make the entire military look like incompetent maniacs!” Echoed out into the hallways, the officer’s squealing replies drowned out by more arguing. Onlookers side-eyed the doors, judgment and pity mixed. They swiftly resumed their work as she approached. With a sigh she puffed up her chest, squeezed the hilt of her sword, and stepped through the automatic doors.

Three officers coward while their superior continued to yell, their faces draining of what little colour was left as they saw her. The commander paused, looking up with wide eyes before stepping in line with his officers. “A-Admiral Symmetry!”

False gave him a stiff nod, “Commander Jack.” All three of the officers looked drenched, one’s eyes glossy and body swaying, his stench notable even from the several feet between them. “Would you like to tell me what’s going on, and make it quick as I am already in the middle of an investigation.”

“Yes, Ma’am! These three officers decided it would be appropriate to get drunk in the plaza while in uniform, then assault two citizens.”

The drunkest one shouted, “We didn’t-“

“Enough!” False snapped before nodding for the commander to continue.

“We have the entire interaction on camera as well as several complaints. They fought two men in the plaza and then proceeded to stalk them through town.”

Nothing unexpected. Was this really what her days had become on this backwater station? Just listening to bored soldiers get into drunken brawls? She tightened her face before her exhaustion could show. “And? What do you have to say for yourselves?”

The drunkard was about to speak up when his companion stepped forward, posture straight and a surprisingly serious expression. “They were not citizens ma’am. Though I admit fully we engaged with them without the knowledge, we pursued the two men under the suspicion of one of them being a wanted man.”

She shifted on her feet, body turned fully towards him. “Go on.”

“Yes ma’am. I believe one of the men may have been officer Jimmy Solidarity, a soldier on trial for treason who escaped custody and is suspected of desertion.”

“Solidarity.” False repeated, waving for one of the technicians. The screen filled with the face of a blond, freckled man, who seemed to indeed have a striking resemblance to one of the unknown men in the video feed pulled up beside it, though difficult to tell for sure from the angle. Her eyes scanned the various notifications left all over his profile. “I see. Thank you for the information.”

“Yes ma’am!”

“However, you still acted a fool in our name. You’re dismissed, Commander Jack will hand out your punishment once I’m done speaking to him.”

The drunkard nearly protested, but his companions stopped him in time, shouting their departure and scampering out of the room. Jack stepped forward in their place, head low. “I’m sorry that you had to deal with this, Admiral. I’ll be sure to make them regret wasting your time.”

“First rumours of Plutonian mercenaries, and now this. One of these days I’d like to feel as bored as our officers seem to be.” She joked, though her voice strained. “Though they’re right, he does strike a resemblance to Solidarity even in the feed…”

“What would you like us to do, ma’am?”

False tilted her head, looking over the image one more time, before shaking her head. “Get Solidarity’s former commander on call and see if he can give us any more information. In the meantime, set up a barricade at the ports to see if we can’t kill two birds with one stone with both Solidarity and these mercenaries. No ship leaves this station in the next forty-eight hours without being inspected. Report anything suspicious.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Jimmy and Tango practically fell over each other back into the ship, apologizing as they pushed past one of the engineers. They collapsed in the hall just outside the loading bay, breaths ragged and nerves on fire.

“That was probably not smart.” Tango said between gasps. Jimmy chuckled and shook his head.

“What on earth are you kids doing?”

Bdubs stood in the doorway, eyeing them suspiciously. His hand fiddled with his pocket watch, turning it over and over again.

Tango leaned forward, jokingly trying to smack it out of his hand, to which he yanked it back, hands clasped protectively around it. “Uh, running from our past mistakes, the usual. What about you? Late for something?”

“I’m never late, thank you very much!” Bdubs turned up his nose. He helped the pair back onto their feet, tucking the pocket watch back away where he had that afternoon. “Just put away the last of the supplies. We should be leaving within the hour, once everyone gets back. Speaking of, have you seen Impulse?”

Just as it was said an alert came over their communicators, calling for all absent to return. Jimmy smiled. “I’m sure he’s on his way.” He said, exchanging a knowing look with Tango, who rolled his eyes.

“He better be! It’s our anniversary, you know.” Bdubs hands went to his hips, sporting a proud grin. “I’m preparing an extra special meal for him. It’s just our luck to be working on such a special day, but that ain’t stoppin’ me!”

It was so very Impulse, to Tango. Rain or shine, even on holidays, the man never let himself stop working back in the day. It seemed it was still the case, but he was glad Impulse had someone like Bdubs now who could at least get him to sit down for dinner.

They all headed towards the kitchen, Tango lagging behind while Jimmy and Bdubs chatted. Jimmy jumped back as Bdubs made a ridiculous gesture, but a bubbling laugh accompanied his movement, as well as a teasing comment. They passed Stress, who chimed in on whatever they were talking about, which Jimmy happily added to, and caused Bdubs to start shouting at the both of them.

Warmth spread through Tango’s chest. This was how Jimmy deserved to be. All those brief glimpses of a sweet, excitable young man he’d seen while working on the Birdie. The ease with which he slipped into conversation despite always being alone. It all made sense now.

I think they recognized me.

Those words had filled Tango’s stomach with lead, made him feel sick with anxiety even now. If Tango had to arm every member of The Resistance with a mobile suit to do it, he would make sure Jimmy never went back.

Jimmy turned to him, beaming. “You’d want some too, right?”

“Huh?” Tango faltered, Bdubs shouting overtop any reply he could give,

“I told you, y’ain’t having any! This dinner’s for me and Impy and nobody else!”

“Just a smidgen?”

“You ain’t even getting a lick of the sauce off the dirty dishes!”

Tango made a gagging motion. “Ew. Your cooking isn’t that good.”

“My cooking is world class!”

“Which world? Venus?”

Jimmy barked and slapped a hand over his mouth while Bdubs grew red-faced. One of the automatic announcements played over the speakers above, which made Bdubs’ brow knit together. He reached for his watch once more. “Speaking of worlds, where in the world is Impulse, I told him when he should be back.”

“He was caught up with something when we last saw him. Shouldn’t be too long.” Tango insisted, while Jimmy leaned into the bleached blond.

“I’ve been meaning to ask. What is that? Did you buy it this morning?”

“No I did not, it was a gift from Impulse years ago! Y’never seen a watch?” Bdubs gasped, holding it out to show the pilot. Tango, too, tilted his head at the blank look Jimmy gave the watch. “Wait, do you not know how to read analogue?”

“Um… Should I?” Jimmy shuffled, shrinking in on himself as his cheeks turned pink.

Bdubs let out a noise halfway between a laugh and whine. “I can’t believe you kids these days! Do you at least know how to read a book?”

“Of course I do! It’s not my fault you’re a senior citizen.”

“Hey, now.” Tango deflated, to which Jimmy shrunk even more and whispered an apology.

Bdubs paid neither the comment nor Tango any mind, holding up his pocket watch proudly. “Well, you’ll be the fool in an emergency when we run out of power. I bring this baby on every mission, just in case.”

A raised eyebrow passed between mechanic and pilot before Tango pointed out, “Isn’t it kinda useless in space? I mean time shifts way off between planets and I doubt it can adjust in time to be worth a damn. Plus, if the power goes out in space, I think we have bigger problems than knowing the time.”

Bdubs sputtered. “Wh- well-! It tells me mine and Impulse’s time and that’s all I need.”

“Aw.” Jimmy teased, ruffling Bdubs’ hair. An argument began, but was swiftly brought to an end by a second announcement.

“Attention, crewmates.” Iskall’s voice echoed through the halls. “EF forces have placed a blockade and screening for all ships leaving port. As such, departure will be delayed. If an officer approaches you for screening, please stay calm and cooperate.”

It was like all the air in the room was sucked out into the vacuum of space. Jimmy went rigid, eyes wide and panicked. Instinctively Tango grabbed his hand to try and comfort him. All three raced to the closest window. Out in the port, while they chattered, soldiers had filed into the docks. Scar and Grian were surrounded by four of them at the boarding gate, exchanging tablets and words. At least one of the soldiers had their gun in hand already. This was bad.

Jimmy’s breath quickened. “Oh no, is this because…”

“Just stay calm.” Bdubs assured, placing his hand on Jimmy’s elbow. “This happens all the time in these small stations, there was probably just a random report about suspected pirates. They’ll probably just look at a few lists of crew-mates and supplies and move on without a thorough inspection so long as we don’t give them a reason to look deeper.”

“If they see me, though-!” Jimmy’s voice was barely a whimper.

Even without the full story Bdubs seemed to understand the implications. He pushed away from the window and pulled the two along until they were at the doorway of the cafeteria. There was already meals baking in the oven for dinner, filling the room with an herbal aroma that only slightly calmed Tango’s nerves. Aprons, hair nets, masks, and gloves were thrown their way. “Put these on and go make yourself look busy in the freezer.” He insisted, pulling on his own apron.

They didn’t need to be told twice. Fully geared up they shuffled into the back. The cold air pierced Tango’s skin, huddling close to Jimmy. Jimmy also shivered, but he suspected it wasn’t to do with the freezer. Unsure quite what to do they rummaged through buckets of food, trying to make it appear as though they were organizing. There was plenty to do thanks to the new boxes of supplies, even if Jimmy nearly dropped a crate of potatoes in his worrying.

The loud clank of heavy military boots and straps echoed down the hall and, much to Tango’s dread, stopped just at the entrance of the cafeteria. Bdubs was at the counter, chopping something or other up, and greeted them. The soldier’s voices were dull, exhausted from monotony and carelessness. A halfhearted conversation was struck up. One of the soldiers leaned over the counter, peaking into the freezer. Tango was glad he already had a box in hand to move, otherwise he thinks he might not have been able to act natural as he brought it out to Bdubs.

Eventually, though, the soldier bid adieu and moved on without approaching either. Bdubs signalled the okay. It was Grian’s voice that called to them, however, “They’re long gone, boys.”

Jimmy and Tango cautiously returned to the room, pulling their hairnet and mask off. Grian gave them an amused smirk, looking up and down their kitchen getup. “What are you doing?”

“We were worried they were looking for Jimmy.” Tango explained, trying not to snap at their boss.

“Why on earth would you think that?”

“They saw us, chased us through the market.” Jimmy jumped in, still worrying his hands. “Oh, I thought I messed up for sure.”

Grian only rolled his eyes. “Well even if they did, it’s nothing of our business. After all, there’s no one by that name on our crew.”

“What?”

“You heard me. No Jimmys on this ship.” His grin widened as he indicated towards their communicators. “I got you new citizenships, remember?”

Tango sputtered, quickly pulling up his own ID. Jimmy blinked at their IDs, tension oozing out of his shoulders as they stared at photos that were not quite them, but not off enough to raise suspicion if they had to show them. A slight tweak to the eye shape here, a few less freckles across the cheeks, unflattering lighting making the jawline more squared, hair colour shifted just slightly to be less dirt blond and more tan much like- well. Much like Grian’s own.

“There’s only my precious little baby brother and his dear husband on this ship, and who is going to question the captain’s family?” Grian’s nose turned up with pride at his ridiculous master plan.

Alongside their portraits there was no sign of Jimmy Solidarity of Pluto or Tango Tek of Mercury. There were only two native-born citizens of Sanctuary, Timothy and Taupe Moon.

Jimmy’s brow knit together, “You- Timmy? Really?”

Tango shook his head and patted his pilot on the back. “Don’t waste your breath. We could sit here and question every single choice he makes if we wanted.”

“I think my plan was actually quite clever, if you ask me!” Said Grian. “But anyways, everything is hunky dory. As far as the feddies are concerned, we’re doing a routine escort, my paperwork is air tight. We just gotta get everyone on board and out of here before they start coming back around and change their mind.”

Impulse watched the sealing mechanisms close tight, hissing as they adjusted their pressure in order to keep the entire ship safe from disaster. Workers scrambled about to get the ship ready to go. The entire ship lilted back and forth as it was released from the docks. It was a feeling Impulse had become used to over the past years, almost a comfort, knowing they’d soon be home.

“There you are!” Bdubs crashed into his side. “I thought they’d gone and left you behind!”

Impulse smiled, leaning down to give his husband a peck on the cheek. “And leave you alone? Never.”

It was returned, if joined by an affectionate eye roll. “What was taking you so long, anyways?”

“Was just putting the finishing touches on a special something.” Impulse hummed, unlocking the crate next to him and stepping aside.

Bdubs blinked at him, then the crate. Worn hands pushed it slowly open. He gasped, “Oh, Impulse.” The old scooter’s new paintjob looked stunning even in the subpar lighting.

“It’s not a horse, I’m sorry. But I hope you like it.”

“Like it? I love it!” He whispered, hand running along the handlebars and brake, then tilting the mirror towards himself.

Impulse leaned over, wrapping an arm around the enthralled man, waiting until he turned to him with curious eyes, “Happy anniversary, dear.”

Bdubs looked up at him with those wide, watery eyes already at the brink of tears, then looked back down at the scooter. “Impulse, I…” His voice cracked.

“I know it’s not a fancy vacation like we planned, but-”

“No, no that’s not-” A pause, then he sighed and shook his head. Hands found their way to either side of Impulse’s face. Bdubs smiled lovingly, yet there was something in his gaze. “I love you. So much. No matter what.”

Impulse, smiled back, cupping Bdubs’ hands with his own. “I love you too.”

“You big doofus, of course this is fine, more than fine! I have the best husband in the world!” He punctuated his words with a kiss.

Gravity fell away under them, pulling them back down to reality. The Oasis officially entered space. Bdubs backed away, pulling Impulse along by his hands. “C’mon, you’re not the only one with a surprise. Let’s go eat dinner before it floats away.”

Impulse nodded eagerly, and off they went.

Jimmy leaned over the upper rails with a wide smile as Impulse and Bdubs disappeared into the hallway down below. There was a gagging sort of noise behind him. Before he even looked at Tango he was rolling his eyes. He turned just in time to see Skizz’s hand make contact with the back of Tango’s head, eliciting a shriek and glare. “Play nice, you two.”

“Tell that to slappy here!” Tango complained. Skizz only giggled in response.

“Oh, I’m so happy for my old buddy. Dipple Dop always was the charmer.”

“He’s not going on a first date.”

“Well, a good anniversary date should feel like one, doncha think? All romantic and sweet.”

Jimmy laughed, resting his head against the railing. “Is that what they should feel like?”

“Something like that.” Skizz shrugged. A mischievous grin spread across his face. His hand slammed down on Jimmy’s far shoulder, yanking him inward, matched by Tango on Skizz’s otherwise until he was in both of their personal space. “Guess you’d know better than me about holy matrimony, eh? Mister and Mister Moon?”

“Oh.” Jimmy hummed, “I guess so.”

“Would our anniversary be the day we met or the day Grian finished forging the papers?” Tango joked.

“Definitely the day we met, I have no idea what we were doing the day we were married.”

“I guess I’ll have to start calling you honey in public, since I can’t call you Jimmy.”

“That’s so lame, think of something more creative than that!”

Skizz deflated between them, pushing away. “Ah, you guys are no fun, you’re always weird.”

Jimmy gasped, while Tango beside him stuck out his tongue. They were both wiped away by Skizz grabbing the tops of their heads, one in each hand, and ruffling them. Laughter burst from the three while they retreated back into the ship. A dangerous stray thought passed through the back of Jimmy’s mind. That, despite the runaround with the EF soldiers and stress of work, it’d been a nice day, a good day even.

And even as only a stray thought, it was far too tempting for fate to ignore.

There was no warning, no announcement. The entire ship simply lurched and shook right under their feet, knocking the three men into one another. Alarms began to blare, a message declaring a compartment of the ship to be punctured and closing off. Shields went up far too late, another barrage or jerks pushing the ship off course.

“What’s going on?” Skizz asked, first to recover. He helped Jimmy to his feet, who in turn grabbed Tango before he could float away while he was focused on the goose egg rapidly forming on the back of his head.

Scar’s voice filled the hall. “Attention, an enemy ship has attacked port-side. All crew-mates in the area of the attack retreat to the interior of the ship. All pilots report to the bay for potential launch.”

“Potential?” Tango grumbled, cradling his head. “What’s it take to launch a mobile suit?”

“Less snark, more moving!” Declared Skizz, pushing up a hall.

Jimmy escorted Tango after him, the three racing up to the launch bay. Crew scrambled around them, some hurt and others trying to reach their stations they’d not quite made their way to. Out one of the windows, Animalia was still well within view. “Why would someone attack so close to a port!” He asked.

“Doc ain’t even on board anymore.” Tango agreed. He pushed off Jimmy to find his place on the control panels while Canary and Nimbus were built in front of them.

Skizz threw a pilot suit at Jimmy, already half dressed in his own. “They must know we can’t just go back.”

Another series of hits rocked the Oasis, sending more alarms off. “The enemy has launched mobile suits. A boarding pod has made contact with port-side.” Stress announced. On all screens a blueprint illustrating the closed off sections of the ship appeared. “All crewmates retreat. I repeat, all crewmates retreat from port.”

“A boarding pod? Are they pirates, then?” Jimmy wondered aloud. He turned to Tango, automatically seeking out his opinion on the matter, but paused. Tango had gone stiff as board, hackles raised and hands hovering above keys. “Tango?” He asked, wary.

Tango startled, and immediately turned to Skizz. His face had drained of colour. “Isn’t that right next to the cafeteria?”

All three went silent. Their attackers refused them a moment’s reprieve, however, and another hit rumbled through the Oasis. Skizz shook it off first. “We gotta focus, otherwise we’re all toast! Impy’s a tough guy, he’ll survive.”

The mechanic looked ready to protest, but collapsed with a groan, clutching his head. “Tango!” Jimmy raced forward to catch him once more until he could hang on to the safety railing himself. “You need to worry about yourself first.”

“We’ve been in tighter situations. Impulse’ll be okay.” Skizz assured. “Get us out there and get your ass to a med bay, we’ll take care of the rest.”

That didn’t seem to bring the comfort Skizz intended, but there wasn’t much else to be done. “Canary’s ready.” He announced through gritted teeth. Jimmy gave his shoulder a final squeeze and floated up to the cockpit. He waited until Tango was ready to launch and go, another pair of crew-mates at his side to drag him if they had to. He took a deep breath.

“XXS-G-A13 Canary ready for launch.”

The Canary burst into space, Nimbus uncomfortably close behind. Jimmy had yet to get his bearings before the first beam streaked past him.

Already waiting was an enormous mobile suit, at least thirty metres tall, and more heavily armoured than any mobile suit Jimmy had ever seen. The majority was a painfully visible pastel pink, accented by greens and purples. It gripped a pronged spear in one hand a shield in the other, giving it even more protection.

A tank, one approaching at a rapid pace, intending to bulldoze right through them.

Over its shoulder, though, a second mobile suit darted about. It was small, no bigger than the size of the Birdie, even more brightly coloured than its companion in greens, purples, and golds, and a mean red eye whirling about. Though heavily modified, Jimmy recognized a Talos mobile suit when he saw one. Pluto’s answer to the Birdie, if it hadn’t been developed first and better.

It carried a mid-range laser rifle, firing a barrage between Canary and Nimbus, forcing them to manoeuvre quick. Not until it was too late did Jimmy realize they were being separated. “Skizz-” He tried to call out, but it was too late. The two enemy suits had placed themselves between them, and they’d settled their attention on Nimbus. Jimmy raised his rifle, firing to try and make them back off. The Talos dodged like a lightning bolt clean out of the way, leaving the blast to hit its companion’s shoulder.

It dissipated easily, leaving nearly no sign of the powerful shot across its pristine armour. And in the meantime the Talos had whipped all the way around Nimbus to her other side.

Skizz was trapped, and Jimmy was completely blocked out.

Scar watched as the bay signalled the release of Canary and Nimbus, holding his breath until they appeared on camera outside the ship. Ahead of them, far too close for his comfort, was a ship smaller than their own, painted a dark brown and shaped much like a ship of the sea, with a nasty point at the very front Scar hoped wouldn’t get any closer. Two mobile suits were swiftly making their way toward the Oasis just until the cover of fire.

The bridge doors opened behind him, a small hand landing on the back of his chair. Grian’s expression was grim. “Are they launched?”

“Where’s Katherine?” Scar asked instead.

“Unknown, sir.” replied Stress.

Caught up in the damaged chunk of the ship, quite possibly. “Alright, Canary and Nimbus are on their own, then.” He leaned back to smile at his leader. “Two-vs-two, should be interesting, eh?”

Grian only glared. “I don’t want interesting, I want it taken care of.”

There wasn’t much they could do but watch as Nimbus and Canary were almost immediately overwhelmed. The two enemy suits danced around each other with smooth expertise the likes of which Scar could never recall seeing before. The Talos was like a bug, unflinchingly buzzing about its companion and corralling Nimbus into their trap.

Grian swore under his breath and marched out of the bridge. Stress and Iskall looked up at Scar for order. He waved his hand, “Tell them to prepare both Macaw and Stellaris in case Katherine is found. We need all hands on deck.”

“Yes sir!”

The screen before them lit up, a red alert informing of an incoming transmission with an engaged enemy. Scar tentatively allowed it to go through. They were met with a masked face. The enemy captain sat as nonchalant in his chair as Scar, though given their situation Scar suspected it was more genuine than the airs Scar took care to put on.

“Greeting, Oasis.” The captain announced cheerfully. “This is Captain Etho Slab of the Relation.”

“Well, hello there, Captain Slab. This would be Captain Scar.” He replied, matching the man’s energy. “To what do we owe the displeasure of the barrel of your gun to our head?”

“I think you know very well to what you owe such a pleasure. I’ve called to give you a chance to end this peacefully. Surrender your ship and crew to us now and no further harm will come to you.”

“Is that so? Well, Mister Slab, I’m sorry but-”

“I don’t think you understand, Scar.” Etho cut him off. “We’ve had our eye on you for a long while now. Your resistance has caused my employer a great deal of headaches over the past years, and we no longer intend to let it slide. Your ship, your suits, your crew, we know everything about you. You could say, in a way, we’ve gotten a bit attached. So I’m giving you one choice.” He leaned forward into the camera, mismatched eyes narrowed. “Surrender yourselves and the Oasis to us peacefully, or be destroyed, inside and out.”

Impulse groaned as his mind came back to him. There was a pulsing in the side of his skull and his leg screamed at him. Even through his eyelids he could see the blare of red lights, and emergency messages echoed through the hall. The walls were torn, bits of debris floating about. He’d drifted into the tightly locked emergency door just before the cafeteria.

As he got his bearings there was a grunt beside him. His heart leapt into his throat. “Bdubs?” He called too loudly, spinning around fast enough to send a wave of nausea through him.

Bdubs had already righted himself, clinging to the railing while he rubbed his neck. “God damn it what was that?”

“I think we’ve been attacked.” Impulse explained, reaching out for Bdubs’ hand.

The chef blinked, eyes widening in realization as he looked around. “Oh, no. This...”

“No time to be upset, we have to get out of here before something gives and we get sucked out into space.” He grabbed his husband’s hand and bolted down the hall towards another path.

“N-no, no no no no...” Muttered Bdubs behind him, pulling at his hair. “No, Impy- this- you don’t...”

“What? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He paused, taking a closer look. They were both worse for wear to be sure, cuts and bruises decorating their bodies. Bdubs looked ready to fall over, or cry, or both, but he just shook his head.

Before Impulse could ask anything further there was a scream. He left Bdubs at a railing and peaked his way around the corner ahead.

It was Katherine, shouting bloody murder at three men in space suits Impulse had never seen before. Two had shoved her to the ground, a knife left to float away from her, while the third aimed a gun at the back of her head. “Shut up, or we’ll kill you here and now!” They warned, a boot colliding with the back of Katherine’s head. She only screamed at them more, nearly shaking off one captor until the other twisted her arm.

“It’s Katherine. We have to help her.” Impulse announced, glancing about in search of any sort of weapon or distraction they could use. Bdubs’ pistol , it dawned on him. “Bdubs, your-”

Something cold pressed to the back of Impulse’s neck. A metallic click echoed deafeningly through the hall. Impulse sucked in his breath, lead dropping into the pit of his stomach.

“Don’t. Move.”

Despite the words, Impulse was too shocked by the coldness within them not to. His head tilted to the side, his mind numb and hoping he’d only misheard.

But he hadn’t. Big brown eyes he’d become so familiar with being filled with love and adoration were almost unrecognizable now, squinted and glaring, mouth in a thinned line. “B-”

“I said don’t move!” Bdubs screamed, voice cracking, pressing the barrel of his pistol harder against the side of Impulse’s head, finger on the trigger. In the distance, the commotion creeped closer, but the world beyond faded away into a numb void.

#jimmy solidarity #tangotek #impulsesv #bdoubleo100 #team rancher #rancher duo #clock duo #homewreckers #trafficshipping #traffic series #mcyt #hermitpires #hermitshipping #fanfic #fanfiction #alternate universe #scifi au #crossover #sharing a slice of cake

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yacinthemorning · 3 months

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Gundam Birdie

Blind Eyes

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Summary: Jimmy and Tango depart for their first mission with The Resistance and get a taste of what to expect, while Cleo deals with the mess they left behind.

Ships: Jimmy & Tango (Undefined), Cleo & Joe (Platonic), Bdubs/Impulse (Romantic), Past Jimmy/Scott (romantic), Scott/Owen (romantic)

Warnings: War, death, violence, military, guns, fantasy politics, fantasy racism, trauma, space

“How has work been?”

Cleo spaced back into reality, blinking away at the lifeless sight outside the diner window. No one ever wandered in this roadside village, rushing to get back home whenever they did go outside. It made for utterly boring scenery, if not for the craters that were a reminder of why. She turned her tired glare to Joe, who patiently waited for her reply as he sipped his coffee.

“It’s the same as ever, Joe.” She sneered, grabbing her own cup. “Morons scurrying about like chickens with their heads cut off.”

Joe nodded, as if what she had said were anything profound. “That’s certainly better than it all blowing up in your face like last time.”

Cleo snorted. “Don’t try to distract me, Joe. You really shouldn’t be here. After that damn trojan ship landed they’ve been on high alert, cracking down. Anyone with any questionable loyalties is suspect these days, including protesters. They’ll say you’re an enemy agent.”

“But I have to be here.” He stated, placing down his mug to take up his fork and knife just as a waitress passed, placing down his burger.

With disgust plain on her face she watched him cut into it and pop the section off into his mouth like a steak. She shook her head. “No, you don’t.”

“You’re still here, Cleo.”

“I’m here by choice. I’ve made my decision.”

“As have I. I will not leave my good friend alone with the dogs of war.”

“You really are something else, Joe.” She hummed, tilting her head. “Just pick a side like a normal person and stick to it, like the rest of us. Stop with these antiquated hippy bull crap protests.”

“I have no obligation to capitulate to erroneously laid lines in the sand, curated by the warmongers and politicians who do not value-”

Cleo moaned in agony as she let her head fall to the table. “I get it, Joe.”

Joe continued to eat his burger, glancing out the window as he did so. One woman was just getting out of her car when she spun around and got back in, driving off as a patrol of military trucks rolled through the street. A fork clattered against the table. “You know, there used to be dozens of states on this planet. Now they can’t stand the thought of even two.”

“It’s three hours to curfew, Joe. You need to leave.” She interrupted before another of his speeches could start. “Or else they’ll start asking questions, and I know you can’t keep your mouth shut long enough to save your own life.”

But her old friend just leaned further back in his seat. “You don’t usually indulge me when I visit these days, is all. I’m trying to figure out what’s on your mind.”

“You know even if there was something that I couldn’t talk about it.”

“Well, that’s why I’m doin’ the talking, right?”

She huffed, but a small smile formed on her lips.

“And I’m guessing the reason you can’t talk about it isn’t ‘cause it’s classified.” He ran a hand through his beard. “But it doesn’t seem you’ve reconsidered your duty.”

“I haven’t. I’m a soldier and that’s that.” Her head fell into her hand, glancing down at her communicator. It was off, but she could still see the code that had been there like it was burned into the screen. “Joe, you wouldn’t happen to know of any activity… Out there ?”

Joe’s owlish eyes blinked slowly behind his obnoxious green glasses. A hum escaped him. “Not that I’ve heard. Far too dangerous since, you know…”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Cleo sighed, resting her head back.

“Cleo?”

A dismissive wave, “It’s nothing.”

“… Every time I see you, you’re a little less alive, you know? Like a zombie.”

She jerked forward, giving the odd man a look of incredulity. There was no joke or malice though, only a long gaze that stretched past her despite looking right into her eyes. He sighed, getting up as he pulled out his wallet. “The EF ain’t worth your life. No state is.”

“I’m not here for the state.” She muttered even as he walked off. “I’m here for survival. Unlike you and Blue, I’m not a naïve fool. I know what to say and do.”

Joe gave a hearty laugh as he handed over his card to the waitress at the bar. “Maybe so, Cleo. You are the smartest person I know. I just hope one day you do a little less survivin’ and a bit more livin’.”

“Get out of here, Joe. Before curfew.”

The bell above the door jingled with his departure.

Cleo stared down at her communicator, brows knitting tighter and tighter. With a growl she slammed her hands down on the table and pushed out the door. The jeep door slammed shut as she crawled in.

“Fine, I’ll fall for it.” She hissed. With two and a half hours left before the regional curfew Cleo sped off down a dusty, empty road where not even the grass seemed to dare grow anymore.

Along the road sat a lone, broken sign, still marked with ash. ’30 miles to Hermiton.’

Fingers snapped in front of Jimmy’s face, and he blinked back into focus. “Hm?” He turned to his companion, rubbing his eyes.

Tango gave him a smirk. “Fallin’ a sleep there, buddy? I ain’t that boring, am I?”

“No, no.” He tried to wave him off, but his words turn into a yawn. Around them other staff were floating up from their seats, getting ready to pull down baggage from the compartments above their heads. Jimmy stretched his arms high up above his head before grabbing his seatbelt. “Just stayed up a bit late.”

“Re-reading the files again?”

“I don’t want to mess up my very first mission.” He smiled. The bus doors opened. When most had cleared up he finally began to pull on his and Tango’s bags, tossing the duffel towards his mechanic.

Tango caught it, but the weight sent him drifting back enough to get a whine out of him. “It’s basically an escort job, I don’t even know why they’re bringing us along.”

“A gundam’s a pretty scary bodyguard. I can imagine it’ll make them think twice before starting anything. Good idea, for a questionable potential investor.” Jimmy caught Tango’s wrist, the other pulling his own duffel bag over his shoulder, and guided them out after the rest. It took Tango several moments just reorient himself enough to grab the railing they now followed along.

Ahead was the Oasis, its body a sandy yellow except for the sea green bands along its rounded sides, and the small tower-like protrusion at its front. Along the side next to its name was the oddest little decal of a cartoon cat of all things. Though not the largest ship Jimmy had even been on, it was certainly impressive for a small militia. Off in the distance he could see palettes being freighted in,and smiled as he recognized Canary’s container. Two others waited patiently beside it as well, both notably larger than Canary.

Tango whistled. “I haven’t been on a real ship since I was a toddler. I always thought it just looked big ‘cause I was so small.”

“I suppose that’s still true.” Jimmy chirped, which got him an elbow to the side.

“You’ve really gotten a mouth on you lately, you know!”

He just laughed. “Come on. Let’s sign in before they yell at us.”

Inside the ship was tight, halls wide enough for maybe three people to go shoulder-to-shoulder at most. There were a few elevators, but more commonly there were simple hatches between the floors. Its appearance was nicer than expected, but still far more function over form.

Rooms were also small, with a half dozen bunks in each, and unfortunately separated by operation. Jimmy tried not to show his disappointment when he realized his and Tango’s bunks were several floors apart, instead waving the mechanic off to go find his post. They had different jobs to fulfil, and he wasn’t a child. They couldn’t be stuck at the hips like they had been for the past week.

“I’ll catch up with you after we get rolling, okay?” Tango still assured with a grin. God, Jimmy needed to work on his acting.

“Yeah. See you.”

Jimmy watched Tango leave for far longer than he ought to before moving onto the meeting room he was expected in. When the door slid open the first sight he was greeted with was a hulking man covered in scars. It took Jimmy a solid second to recover and realize the man was actually shorter than him, and that was all the time he needed to wrap an arm over Jimmy’s shoulders.

“So you’re the new fella, eh?” He boasted. “Name’s Skizz, you?”

“Jimmy.” He almost whispered.

“Jimmy. Well, it’s nice ta meet’cha, Jimmy! Welcome to the meatgrinder.”

Jimmy’s jaw slacked, face going pale. “What?”

“He’s just teasing you.” Announced Grian from right behind the pair. Like on the shuttle they’d taken to Sanctuary, he’d pulled his red sweater over top his space suit, and he appeared decidedly unimpressed with them. Behind him floated a woman with long black hair and pink coat, giggling at their antics.

The speakers crackled around them, Scar’s voice announcing their departure. “We’ll be turning gravity on in three, two, one…” Just like that weight returned to Jimmy, as well as Skizz whom he quite quickly learned was much heavier despite his shorter stature. Both were dragged to the floor with simultaneous yelps, punctuated by Grian choosing to land right in front of them.

His eyebrows turned up in disappointment, but he said nothing, moving towards a screen across from them, leaving the woman to help them up. “I’m Katherine.” She introduced as she did so, giving Jimmy a beaming smile he couldn’t help return.

Grian cleared his throat. “Our route to the pickup will be short, so I need you three ready. This mission might not seem like much, but it’s quite important to our finances. No money, no operations.”

Unsure how else to go about it, Jimmy tentatively raised his hand. Grian quirked an eyebrow but nodded. “Why, um, exactly, does our investor need an escort from Mars to Animalia Station?”

“He’s made some enemies on Mars that want the cargo he’s coming with.” Grian said simply. “All we need to do is make sure he gets there safely, and he’s promised to work with us.” Jimmy backed down with a nod. “There’s no guarantee we’ll run into anyone, but I need at least one of you ready to launch the second I give the order. For that reason Canary, Stellaris, and Nimbus are already being prepared and I don’t want you more than thirty seconds from the launch bay.”

Katherine leaned towards their boss, “And will you be joining us this time?”

“Not unless you guys drop the ball.” He waved the scarred man off.

Jimmy tilted his head in curiosity. The report did say they were bringing three mobile suits, but he hadn’t expected it to be Grian’s own. “You aren’t helming the ship?” He asked while Grian marked down their route on the board.

“That’s Scar’s job.” He clicked his tongue. “What, did you think just because I’m the leader that I’d just sit back and watch?”

“I mean he does do a lot of that.” Skizz whispered into Jimmy’s ear.

A marker cap slammed into the side of his head, startling both pilots. Across the room Grian stuck his tongue out. “Slipped my grasp.”

“Sure.”

“Anyways, most of our five day travel will be through open space, so much of it’s of little concern. I’ve marked here the most likely places for an ambush, if one were to occur, and the approximate time we’ll be approaching them.” He tapped the board. “You’ll be sleeping in shifts so one of you is available at all times, but try to be on alert around these locations.”

“Roger, Dodger.” Skizz saluted. Flustered, Jimmy mimicked the movement, but dropped his hand immediately when Grian gave him an odd look.

“Right, well, it’ll only be six hours before we reach the Mars station we’re picking him up from, so relax and get situated while you can.” And with that the shorter man left. Jimmy almost called out for him, but he was already gone. He exhaled his frustration and turned to his communicator for help. Tango would be in the launch bay with Canary, right? Where was it? I don’t even know where I am…

An arm wrapped tight around his neck, yanking him back with a shriek. “Watcha looking for, buddy?” Skizz asked too-cheerfully.

Jimmy blinked, giving what he hoped was a friendly smile. “Um- I was gonna check-”

“Check out the ship? Don’t worry about it, consider Mister Skizz your personal tour guide!”

Before he could protest Jimmy was dragged away by his fellow pilot. Katherine waved goodbye as they went, heading in the opposite direction. Trying not to whine, he just hoped he would find Tango sooner than later.

In fact, as Jimmy was the universe’s most despised actor, Skizz chose a path that would take them to the launch bay almost last. For some reason Skizz decided the best place to start was the kitchen, where both were immediately pinged in the head by Bdubs’ spatulas for daring to be early.

The second location was the thankfully much more peaceful bridge, marked by a large door. Inside was a great window, polygonal in shape rather than the rounded windows of Plutonian ships. The upper portion housed only Scar at that moment, splayed out over his captain’s chair, feet up on the console that separated him from the lower bridge where several staff ran about.

As soon as the scarred man spotted the pilots his grin widened. “Skizz, Timmy! Welcome to The Oasis’ bridge. Come to get an autograph?”

“It’s Jimmy.” Jimmy corrected absentmindedly while he took in the various people and displays. Some of it was similar to what was on board a mobile suit, of course, but much of it was beyond him. In the very centre of it all was a lady with a bob and pink flower clip, sat in front of what appeared to be a navigation and sonar board, while a man with a green eye lens worked away at actually piloting the ship beside her.

When Scar whistled they both looked up, exasperated but jovial expressions. “Iskall, Stress, meet our new bird boy!”

“Hello.” Jimmy tried not to stutter. They briefly waved at him before returning to their job of keeping the Oasis from not crashing into Sanctuary satellites. “Is Grian not here?” He turned his question to Scar, who waved him off.

“Oh, that rapscallion’s probably already hauled up in some broom closet, either making plans for ridiculous scenarios, or pretending to. Don’t pay him much mind, he shows up when he needs to.”

“Maybe a few minutes later.” Stress commented over her shoulder.

Scar leaned in towards the pilots, waving a tablet in front of them. “By the way, have you checked out our VIP? I was just reading the mission document, apparently he’s a big deal!”

Jimmy balked. “You’re just reading it?” On closer inspection the document wasn’t halfway through the first page, displaying a man in a white coat with typical Martian green skin on the right side but cybernetics covering his entire left. It was hard to tell, no matter how many times Jimmy looked it over, whether it was an exoskeleton or if the man really was half-cyborg. Either way, he was terrifying with his deep frown, glowering eye, and ridiculous height evident even in the picture.

Scar brought the tablet back to his lap, returning his attention to whatever line he’d been reading. “Heard Zed used to work with him! Part of his research is what helped build the Expedient Transportation Assembler thingy we use.”

“What?” The blond asked, looking to Skizz who grinned.

“You wanna just go see it? Down in the launch bay.”

Jimmy was already heading towards the door when he nodded. Scar called a goodbye after them as they headed down.

Unlike the rest of the ship there was no artificial gravity in the bay, allowing the engineers and workers to float freely around the various platforms. Canary was situated in the centre, left mostly alone for the time being. Beside it was another mobile suit frame, much bulkier than Canary’s, but shorter, and mostly black. The Nimbus. Robotic arms swirled around it like a swarm, rapidly moving armour and additions from their containers to the frame.

“Is that it?” Jimmy asked in awe. “The, uh…”

“Expedient Transporter and Assembler.” Zed explained proudly, floating down beside the pilots onto their landing. “It’s a hyper compact mobile suit repair station that directly connects to a launcher. Lets the engineers put that baby back together and immediately send it on its way in less than a minute! It makes individual part repairs and replacements so much easier, and cuts down loads on the space requirements to maintain a mobile suit.”

Jimmy nodded, recalling the bulky stations he’d seen previously. On earth he’d only ever stationed planetside from a stationary base, all suits assembled before transport to drop zones. Pluto had been a different story, though, even when on space stations. Much of the major bulk and cost of ships were the complex systems meant for mobile suit care, much of the engineers’ time used up by checking and testing the suits piece by piece. It was too risky to pull the whole thing apart while on active duty.

“So, with this we can be out there almost immediately right out of maintenance.” Jimmy concluded.

Skizz nodded. “Yep, it’s a huge advantage, especially when the enemy has numbers over us.”

“Unfortunately, that probably won’t last much longer.” Whined Zed. “They also have the budget advantage, y’see. We’ve already had to manufacture a few on someone else’s dime to make a living. Grian promised not to sell the schematics, but in a few years they’ll be all over the system anyways. Best hope is to get as much out of it while we still can.”

He seemed to have put himself in a bad mood, leaning back to let out a sigh before throwing himself off towards Nimbus. “Not like it matters. No matter where I work on it, It’s all just fuel on the fire.”

Jimmy worried his sleeve, wondering if he should go after the little engineer, until Skizz patted his shoulder. “He’ll be alright. Just a bit sensitive about his inventions. He used to work on space station design. Originally came up with it for construction.”

“War funds invention, I guess.” Jimmy lamented, turning his eyes down towards the workers below. No sign of Tango. He sighed. “So, where else should I see?”

“Tango? You there, buddy?”

Tango blinked, turning away from the engine alert panel he was being shown. “Hm?”

“You spaced out.” Impulse said, amused. “What, am I that boring?”

He rolled his eyes and jabbed his old friend in the side.

“Hey!”

“Just a bit worried about Jimmy. Hopefully he’s not getting bullied too much… Don’t give me that look!”

Impulse’s expression softened into his trademark smile. Before he could say something embarrassing or mushy or whatever sentimental nonsense Tango could see forming in his head, Tango jabbed him again. This time the large man only laughed and knocked his shoulder right back, nearly sending Tango over the walkway rail. “I’m glad someone got you out of that hole in the ground, at least. I know it wasn’t exactly willing, but it’s great to have you here.” He admitted.

“Yeah, that Grian guy’s certainly pushy. How do you stand him?”

A laugh. “He grows on you. Like a fungus, kinda.”

Tango smiled. “So how on earth did you end up on the moon as a ship engineer for the Resistance, anyways?” He threw his hands out towards the enormous engines around them. “I thought you just transferred to the interior.”

“oh, well…” Impulse rubbed the back of his neck. “I did, for a bit. Skizz actually contacted me not long after. He’s an old friend, but… Well we suddenly lost contact years ago. I thought he’d died, honestly. I yelled at him for twenty minutes straight!” He laughed as he returned to working, twisting a large valve as a signal went off on the panel. “Running off to join some mysterious militia without telling me! Who does he think he is? But I’m glad he was okay.”

Tango leaned on the railing watching his old friend work. There wasn’t much for him to do after Canary was assembled and prepped unless they needed help for something else. Space travel involved a lot of sitting and waiting, it seemed. “So, you joined ‘cause Skizz was here? Bit of a big decision to make ‘cause of a friend.”

“Yeah? You aren’t here just ‘cause Jimmy is?” Impulse jabbed back with a raised eyebrow and knowing smile. The shorter pouted, face warm.

“That’s different, our situation was a bit complicated and precarious, you know! If we didn’t come here we’d probably be dead.”

The amusement drained from Impulse’s face as he went quiet. Another alert came through. He walked away, further down to a separate valve. “I probably would be, too.” He whispered.

“Impy?” Tango followed after him.

“Certainly not as dramatic as you guys’, that’s for sure. But I’m not really cut out for the military. I’m sure, if I stayed on Earth I would be dead right now.” He sighed. “At least here on Sanctuary it feels like we’re actually accomplishing something, and I can go home to Bdubs without worrying that a single flyover will end everything.”

“We’re still in danger.”

“Yeah, well.” He paused to focus on a formerly loose bolt that refused to tighten any further until the large man put his whole back into it, and it screeched into place. It wasn’t budging, not for a long while. Impulse stepped away to wipe his towel across his forehead. “It’s been two decade of this. All you can do is take the opportunities you’re given with the talents you have. It’s about as safe as it gets.”

Tango leaned in, giving his old friend a hug that was eagerly returned. “Well, I’m glad you’re doing better.”

“You too.”

“I wouldn’t call getting kidnapped a step up.”

“I dunno.” Impulse pulled away just to give him a cheeky grin. “You get to work on an active gundam and the pilot likes you? That sounds like a step up from Mister Write-Up to me.”

“Hey!”

“Are you distracting him from his very important job, Tiny?” A scratchy, loud shout broke through the conversation. Both men looked up to see Bdubs halfway down the ladder, glaring at Tango while his other hand rested on his hip.

Impulse quickly reached up to help his husband down. “Bdubs, what are you doing here? Don’t you have lunch to prepare?”

An arm wrapped tight around Impulse’s neck, forcing the larger man to halt his plan of placing Bdubs down on the ground. It seemed all according to plan as he leaned over to leave a peck on Impulse’s cheek. Tango made a gagging sound, but besides a short glare the pair ignored him. “Oh I just thought I’d drop off a snack for my hard workin’ man, but I come down here to find you’re a hardly workin’ man instead!”

“We’ve been working quite hard, Bdubs, I assure you. Just catching up on old times while we do.” Impulse said.

“You sure you aren’t pulling out your phones to watch Arianna videos.”

“I doubt Tango even likes her music.”

“What! Who doesn’t like Arianna?”

The two continued to banter, as married couples did. When Bdubs lifted his arm to hand off a small container, though, his shirt lifted, and Tango caught a glimpse of something metallic. He frowned, squinting at the outline before it registered. “You have a gun?”

Both men looked over at Tango in surprise. “Yeah, I have a gun. Don’t you? What do you think this is, a cruise ship?” Bdubs grumbled, though he tucked his shirt into his belt. Tango raised a brow, turning to Impulse, but his old friend was also looking at him oddly. It wasn’t as though Tango hadn’t been trained to use one as part of the military, but the last time he’d needed to carry it around was months ago. If he wasn’t required, he’d never taken to doing so, and he’d thought Impulse the same.

“Things aren’t as standard, in a militia.” Impulse said, placing Bdubs down on the ground. “And we’re travelling. I’d recommend it, in case you have to evacuate.”

“Mm…” Tango nodded, something draining from him. He quickly turned back to their work, trying to focus on the valves and pipes. Yet even looking away the glint of metal invaded his mind. He couldn’t help whisper, “As safe as it gets, huh?”

Gem reread the report in her hands once again as she approached the end of the hall, hardly paying attention as she punched the button to open Pearl’s door. It slid open, filling the hall with natural light. Owl’s pilot was next to the large windows, pulling herself up against the artificial gravity onto a bar. Gem was pretty sure it was structural and not intended to be used as personal gym equipment as she was using it now. “Pearl? I got a report. We’ll be here another few days.”

With a sigh, Pearl hopped down and grabbed her towel. Mars orbited behind her, its atmosphere busy as ever but far too spread out to be noticeable like traffic was on Pluto and the stations. She wandered over to Gem’s side, leaning over the tablet and frowning. “Still? It’s already been a week. I want to go home.” She said.

“There’s another mission they want to send you on, but they’re still working out transportation. Routes have been a mess since you broke through the KD. And we might be getting a delivery from Earth, apparently.”

“Earth?” Pearl finally grabbed the tablet, taking a closer look. The report was annoyingly short and vague, as were far too many from Scott these days.

Gem nodded. “It’s not confirmed if it’ll make it through yet, so we need to be prepared to pick it up if it does. After that we can finally connect with Heimdall around Saturn.”

Another ship from Mars trudged past their ship, blocking out the view and sunlight. She held out her hand, and Pearl handed the tablet back with a pout. “Fine. But tell them they better decide quick, or I’m taking Owl down to Mars for a joyride.”

“If you want the firing squad that bad I’m not gonna stop you.” Said Gem. Why did every mobile suit pilot have to be so melodramatic?

The car door slammed shut with far more force than Cleo anticipated. Summer sunlight beat down on her shoulders, but it was the rubble around her that generated the most heat. She shuddered at the site of crumbled walls, only the outlines of civilization left in the stains of soot and blood, left untouched by any scavengers. Not even a breeze rolled through to kick up dust. If her steps hadn’t left foot prints, she would have believed time had stood still.

Cleo ignored the constricting in her chest and searched, Among the nothingness it was easy to spot what she could assume was the reason she was here. A large grey van parked itself outside the steps of the old library’s skeleton. Solar panels lined the top, glaring like beacons. Trailing from the back side were several wires that lead her up the steps to a strange set up of tables. At its centre stood an unassuming man. He wore a scruffy beard and rumpled blue dress shirt that could have disappeared into a crowd if he were not the sole other living thing for miles. It was not all that surprising due to such that he immediately noticed Cleo when she approached.

“Greeting, Ma’am.” He said in a kindly voice, placing down the charred remains of a book and pulled off his gloves. “You must be Miss Cleo, I take it?”

She raised her eyebrow. “That I am, but who are you?”

“My name is Pix, but I’m not all that important.” Pix waved dismissively and turned to another table.

“Oh? Is that so?”

“Yes, yes. I’m just a humble archeologist.”

“Well, then you’re a few centuries too early to be in Hermiton.”

“I’d beg to differ. I go wherever civilization has ceased, to preserve its memory and the knowledge it can provide.” He threw out his hands towards the ruins. “But my personal work isn’t of much interest to you. You’re here for the message, I presume.”

A screen was placed in her hands. Cleo frowned, turning it over and tilting it about. “Is this some sort of trap?”

“I wouldn’t presume to know. I was merely given a generous donation to deliver it to you.”

Well, he was all kinds of useless. She turned it on and was presented with a video of a man that she had only seen in photos and tv before. Emperor Scott Smajor of Pluto’s paused face smiled back at her, warm despite the universal cold blue shades of both his person and the room she stood in. Cleo gave one more wary look up at Pix. The man had returned to his own work, not paying her any mind.

She hit play.

“Hello, Miss Cleo.” Smajor’s message started. “I’m glad to see you accepted my message. Forgive me for the lack of formality in its delivery, but I’m sure you can understand the necessity.”

“You took money from the enemy?” Cleo asked Pix.

He chuckled. “I’m a man of science and history, I have no interest in your enemies.”

It was hardly an excuse a court would be willing to hear if he was caught. She turned her attention back to the video. What on earth prompted the emperor of the enemy state to send her a message of all things?

“I’ll make this brief. We’ve been watching you and your work.” Smajor shuffled something in front of him around. Images appeared on screen. Cleo’s lips strained as she realized it was data. Her data. Every combat test and mission she had ever been on, every high score and abject failure. Hermiton itself appeared, only briefly, but it was enough to stab her in the gut. “You’re a very good pilot, Cleo. One your current superiors don’t respect the capabilities of. Pluto could use a pilot like you.”

“Are you kidding me?” She laughed. “Is this a prank? A test?”

Pix paused, glancing over the tablet. “It is a real message from Pluto, I can assure you that much.”

The message continued. “I know this might be difficult to believe, but this is an earnest offer. If you choose to accept it, we can have you escorted safely off-planet to an awaiting ship within a day’s time.”

“This is ridiculous.” Cleo huffed, tapping the pause button. There was no need to listen any further. “You really expect me to believe the emperor of Pluto himself gave you a video message to give to me of all people?”

“Because you are a superb pilot, of course.”

She blinked down at the tablet. The video was still paused, but the man on screen still motioned to tuck a stray hair back behind his ear. It was a second window, in a different room, lower quality and only a mark to denote it was active. Smajor’s kind smile stretched. “Hello, Cleo. Pardon my appearance. I rushed over as soon as I received the message’s signal.”

“Are you kidding me right now?”

“I assure you I am not, which is why I chose to speak to you myself. Ah, don’t worry-” He said just as she looked off towards the road. “-This is a completely secure connection. No one should even be capable of detecting its origin. But more to the point.”

“You want me as a pilot for Pluto.” She deadpanned.

“Yes, very much so.”

“Pluto, the planet I’ve spent my entire career fighting against.”

“In fact you have, though not directly for some time. You’ve been fighting the reclamationists for the past half-decade, am I right?”

Cleo rolled her eyes. “Oh, what? Are you going to give me the same old speech about the federation being incapable of securing its own planet?”

There was a spark in his eye. “I’m sure you’ve heard that too many times from protesters and newsreels.”

“Not as much as you might think.”

“No, probably not. But I won’t bother. I am curious, though, what a talented pilot like you is doing fighting for a dying empire that cannot appreciate your talents.”

Her eyes narrowed. “The same damn reason as everyone else. Survival. Simple as that.”

“And yet you have such a poor record of engagement. With the exception of-”

“Pick your words carefully, Smajor.” Cleo snapped. “I don’t care if you’re and emperor.” The world suddenly felt oppressive, the ruins around her demanding attention.

Smajor raised an eyebrow in some type of amusement, sitting himself a bit straighter as his face softened in sympathy. “It’s a lot, knowing that everyone has the same reason for being here. It’s something… I understand a bit too well, I think. Something a previous pilot of mine never had the empathy to comprehend like you and me.”

Previous pilot? Something clicked, and Cleo could only snort. “You wouldn’t have happened to have left them over here on earth for a while, would you?”

“I wonder. But they aren’t important. I want to work with someone like you, Cleo. The EF only cares about the survival of its own power with no regard to what’s best for its people, and it’s willing to eat them up one by one. No matter if they plaster a hopeful face like President Xisuma in front of it, no matter what good actors try to weasel their way in. It’s a corrupt system that will chew up and spit out anyone who fights it. That, or they’re forced to hide, reduced to…” He tilted his head forward. “… Survival.”

Cleo bit her tongue, willing herself not to throw the tablet at the ground and shatter it underfoot.

“They won’t stop with the reclamationists and Plutonians, we both know that. I have a place for you here, Cleo. One where you can be safe, create a meaningful difference. I’d like to see what you would do, if you were able to do more than just survive.”

She would like to say it wreaked of political speak, that his smile was made of porcelain. But if it was an act, it was a good one. Just what she would expect of a man who imposed himself into the role of emperor at such a young age through sheer popularity. Even still, her nose scrunched up and she turned away.

Smajor sighed. “I understand. The offer will remain open until Pix leaves, regardless. Please take time to consider my offer.”

With that the call ended. Cleo was left in near silence but the sound of scribbling a few feet away. She didn’t wait any longer, placing the screen down on a table and walking back towards her vehicle.

The drive home was slow and quiet, allowing Smajor’s words to seep far too deep into her mind where they did not belong. Wasn’t it bad enough she had Joe calling her up for lunch dates just to spout treason to her? The emperor of Pluto himself also had to make a criminal out of her.

Maybe that was his real plan, to just get her executed. Martians and Terrans had always gotten along swimmingly, but ever since Jimmy’s little stunt she’d caught a side eye or two going her way. Looks she hadn’t received since she was last among those that joined the reclaimationists. She knew, though, that they were the same as her. Their reasons varied, but few were here due to being particularly passionate about the supposed morals the war was founded upon. The truth was they could give an impassioned speech about every human in the solar system being equal to their enemies, then undermine Ren’s orders for being a bleeding-heart Lunarian. She did the same her entire career, playing along to the role of the Martian who had the points to say it how it is, so long as what it is was what her Terran colleagues wanted it to be.

They won’t stop with the reclaimationists and Plutonians.

She growled to herself and sped up, trying to leave the invasive thoughts in the ditch along the road.

A few minutes out from town she snapped out of her own thoughts enough to notice a peculiar set of stalks. Smoke billowed far above the water-tower-build-height skyline of the town near base. Then several trucks came into view. Her own truck rumbled over something on the road, which she only caught sight of in the rear-view. A cardboard sign stuck to a piece of wood. Her gut suddenly twisted as she slowed on approach.

The first person she came upon was a fidgeting soldier placed a few feet ahead of the oddly positioned trucks. Upon approach she realized it was Bigb, and the rest of the soldiers were hidden beyond the vehicle wall.

Cleo slammed her arm down on her opened window, causing Bigb to jump. “What is this?”

“Nothing! Nothing, ma’am.” He sputtered out. He’d always had a decent poke face, but it received no support from his mouth.

“Clearly something’s going on. What are you all doing out here?”

Before Bigb could stutter out an explanation, another soldier she hardly recognized rounded the car. “Cleo! How’s it going?” He cheered, wrapping an arm around Bigb’s shoulder.

“Fine. What is this?” They should know better than to try and distract her.

The soldier gave a lopsided grin. He slouched against Bigb – who’d grown visibly uncomfortable – while his free hand began to twirl something he pulled from his pocket. “Oh, just dealing with some reclamationists disguising themselves as protesters who decided to stay up past curfew, then got… violent, when we asked them to cease and desist. You know how it is.”

Cleo narrowed her eyes on him. She knew far more than she wished she did.

A glint reflected off the object the soldier spun around. Her heart momentarily stopped. Obnoxious green glared back at her on every revolution, until they slowed enough to make the hideous frames clear. It was quickly smothered under boot, the soldier catching her eye. “Is there a problem, Miss Cleo?”

Bitterness welled in the back of her throat at the words. She turned back to the steering wheel. “Don’t clog up the road for too long.” And with that she drove off, not waiting to hear Bigb’s reply after her.

A mile down the road she finally had to stop, slamming down on the breaks. Breaths came out quick. Pull yourself together. “You naïve idiot, I warned you.” She growled. No one replied.

Several moments passed and her heart still had not returned to normal.

They won’t stop…

“God damnit.” Cleo snapped, ignoring the small sob hidden within. “God damnit, I warned you!” She jerked the wheel until the slammed gas pedal spun them around.

Right back to where she came from.

Scott fell back into the sofa of his office, hand running along the treated upholstery. The small round, poppy red Haro robot that just broadcast his message bounced up onto the couch beside him and went standby. Hopefully that went better than it felt like it had. Pix would be forced to return to his university in less than 48 hours, he had until then.

He took to examining the sight of Rivendell outside the large windows. The heated icy river was as busy as ever, citizens going about their day. They were oblivious to the fact that their emperor had just contacted a Terran, or that their favourite hero hadn’t even made it to Saturn’s rings yet on his orders. It was much easier when they weren’t watching.

“Sir?” Haro’s robotic voice echoed. “Owen is waiting for you.”

“Let him back in.” Scott sighed, letting his head lull until he heard the door creak open behinds him. Then, he stood with too much enthusiasm and spun on his heel with wide open arms. “You’re back, darling!”

Owen went rigid at the hug, barely managing a pat on the back in return. But that was the point. Scott’s smile stretched into something more playful. “Hello, sir.” He muttered too formally. Always so professional.

“What does my favourite husband need?”

“It’s the warehouse, sir.” Owen straightened up. “They’re wondering how long your package will need to be prepared for shipping. It’s been quite a while.”

“Tell them they’ll have an answer by tomorrow.” He backed away from his companion, striding over to his desk. “I hate to take up their time and space, but it’s important to be prepared. Come with me, I have a meeting with the councillors.” Only a small beckoning motion accompanied his words as he left through a separate door. Owen stumbled after him, falling behind as Haro floated past him to follow its master, and a few minutes later they were in a vehicle. The driver didn’t speak to either, immediately setting off towards the chamber building as directed.

Owen waited, as all had learned to do, until the care was going to speak up again. “Sir, I’ve also received several messages from Pearl-”

“I don’t want to hear them.” He sighed. “They’re just complaints about her post, aren’t they? You can tell her that if she’s unhappy she is free to revoke her title as Owl’s pilot and disappear into the void. Otherwise she can keep my mobile suit and do as I see with it.”

“Yessir.” Came the reply. Scott knew that wasn’t the message he was typing out now. Whatever he was saying was far more succinct and emotionless. It was difficult enough to curate his words in meetings and events and passes in the halls. That task could fall to someone else even for a short message, and Owen was happy to do it.

“Anything else?” Scott asked much more softly as the chamber building came into view. While certainly the most competent and closest of his connections at this point, Owen would still not be permitted to follow inside. He should find ten minutes in his schedule next week for them to sit down and have tea. It’d been months since they spoke of something that was not business.

Owen nodded. “It’s the project. They think they fixed the issue that happened last time and are requesting another test.”

“Very well. Find a good time.”

A crowd had formed outside the chamber, some to shout their grievances, but most to get a close up look of their emperor. The car had just pulled into a stop when the robot between the two men beeped at Scott. He brought out his tablet and smiled.

“Actually, Owen. Before you go, please send a message to the warehouse.”

“Sir?” Owen perked up.

“Ship the package immediately.”

Despite Grian’s words Jimmy never found a chance to relax. It quickly became apparent why he could not find Tango, that despite the size of the crew there still weren’t quite enough hands to go around. He was dragged into assisting odds and ends as well, when people weren’t cornering him to ask about the Canary. Skizz had laughed, assuring him it would get better once they were en route to Animalia. He somehow doubted it.

Regardless, they arrived at the Mars outpost station before he knew it, and Grian was once again dragging him off.

Doc was even more imposing of a martian than Jimmy even first suspected. He towered a foot over the next tallest presence and wore a glare that could shrivel a raisin in seconds. It was hard to believe he was a man of science.

Jimmy lined up beside Skizz and Katherine along the wall while Grian and Scar greeted their client. Like ants the workers marched past them, carrying large containers with too many caution labels for Jimmy’s comfort.

Zedaph of all people intruded, tumbling out of an elevator and rushing up to their investor with a beaming smile. Instantly the conversation derailed into something louder and more jovial. Doc’s expression even unwound just a bit, into something crossed between annoyance and fondness while the blond nearly half his height rambled on about something impossible to follow.

“And these are our mobile suit pilots who will be escorting you today.” Grian intruded, throwing a hand out towards the pair along the wall. “Jimmy, Katherine, and Skizz.”

Doc approached with a narrowed eye. “Greetings.”

Not sure what else to do, Jimmy nodded politely. Much less formally, Skizz threw his hand up in a wave. “Howdy!”

“I hope you are capable of defending us on your own. Both our future projects depend on this.”

“Of course we can, right Jimbo?” A strong arm was slung over Jimmy’s shoulders, pulling him down to his fellow pilot’s height.

Grian rolled his eyes. “Oh, they won’t be alone. Scar’s crew is more than capable of turning The Oasis into an opponent to be reckoned with, and we have a half dozen mobile weapons to back them up. Even if we do get into trouble, I’m confident we’ll be fine.”

“I helped build both of them myself, Doc.” Piped up Zed.

Doc seemed unconvinced still but nodded. “Just don’t underestimate my enemies, or we’ll both be done for.”

With all the confidence in the world, Grian smiled at their guest. “And don’t underestimate us. We’ll get you exactly where you need to go.”

The first evening aboard The Oasis hit Tango like a truck. After eight straight hours of new people, new places, and good old-fashioned hard work in a new environment, he was ready to crash. He flopped down onto his bed and let out a deep sigh, popping his shoulder in a stretch. The day had almost been more exhausting than their first day on the moon, with all the work. At least I’m not on the very last sleeping shift , he thanked the heavens.

Tango was just starting to doze off when a knock roused him back awake. He sat up, muttering out for the door to open. Jimmy’s face poked in past the frame, waking Tango up fully. “Jim!”

“Hi.” His pilot whispered, glancing to the other bunks in confusion. “Um…”

“Come in, no one else here. Zed and Impulse are on different sleep rotations.”

Immediately he shuffled into the room, though he still stood awkwardly, leaning against the opposite bunk. “Sorry for keeping you up, it’s just-”

“Haven’t seen you all day.” Tango finished and laughed at Jimmy’s too-vigorous nod. It was strange. Ever since they started to work together on Earth they’d hardly gone a day without seeing one another. More so since they joined The Resistance and lived together. Just seeing Jimmy now, a bit ruffled from the day but fine, already having shed their uniform for their sleepwear, settled a piece of Tango’s stress he hadn’t realized he’d been holding since they separated.

They were much more flattering than the pajamas Impulse had bought for him, properly fitted to him by the Resistance. Tango was reminded that Jimmy was not a small guy. It was easy to forget, even in proper clothing, with how he held himself to take up as little space as possible. Even now he fidgeted uncertainly, caught between continuing to stand in the cramped space or leave.

Tango shifted over closer to the wall and patted the newly made space. It took Jimmy another moment before confusion turned to embarrassment, but he took up the spot offered to sit. A fatal mistake. Once in range Tango grabbed him and dragged him down, eliciting a very manly squeak from Jimmy before his head hit the pillow. “If you’re gonna be here you’re gonna sleep.” Tango declared, making himself comfortable without letting go of his stunned pilot.

A few quiet seconds passed before Jimmy finally shuffled down into a more comfortable position. “Sorry.” He muttered, face pink from shame.

“… How was your day?”

“Busy. I forgot how much there is to do on a ship.”

“Same. I mean, I didn’t know, so… you know what I mean!”

Jimmy muffled his laugh, sinking further into the bed, body slightly turned towards Tango now. “And there was a lot of people to meet. It was nice to say hello and not get strange looks.”

“That’s good, no one I gotta give a knuckle sandwich to?”

“Tango!” Jimmy squawked, burying his reddened face in his hands. “I’m not a kid on his first day of school, I can deal with people myself.”

“I know, but it’s fun.” He smirked, before looking up at the top bunk. “Can’t say I met a lot of ‘em, but I got to work with Impulse again. I missed it, didn’t really have anyone to talk to after he left until I met you.”

Jimmy fell quiet once again. Tango’s eyelids were beginning to fall before he spoke up again. “Could I stay here?”

“I don’t know, sounds like trouble.” Even as he spoke Tango had begun to move closer. “Course y’can. Now go to sleep, we gotta be up in five hours.”

Jimmy hummed, already fading.

“Tango!” Shouting stirred both men awake an unknown amount of time later. “Have- There you are! We’ve been trying to find you!”

Impulse was in the doorway, eyes wide with panic. Jimmy was about to ask him what was wrong when suddenly the world lightened, and he began drifting off the bed with Tango. There was barely a moment to be groggy before the situation registered. He pushed away the sheets in time to catch the suit tossed his way.

“W’s goin’ on?” Tango grumbled. The lack of gravity had not induced the same spike of adrenaline.

“An unknown ship has been spotted tailing us.” Impulse explained. “Grian wants all pilots on standby.”

A glance down at his communicator indeed confirmed that they’d only managed three hours of sleep. Jimmy pushed off the back wall, catching himself on the bar of the bunk. “You can go back to sleep.” He told Tango. As he suspected, though, albeit with a stumble, Tango followed behind.

“No way, I’m not letting you take Canary out on her first space mission without me.”

“Whoever is coming along, we need to head down now. We already wasted time just looking for Jimmy.” Impulse didn’t leave room for argument, leading the charge down the hall towards the launch bay.

Skizz and Katherine were already waiting fully suited up, while Grian talked with Scar through his communicator behind them. They arrived just as Jimmy zipped up. “What’s going on? We aren’t even near the first point of concern.” Katherine complained, but was shushed by Grian.

Scar answered for her. “I suspect they’ve been cloaked, following us since the pickup. They’re almost undetectable on our radar, I wouldn’t have caught them if not for an eyeballing after Stress noticed the irregularity. We’re trying to hail them.”

A shout down below caught Katherine’s attention, and the woman floated off towards her Mobile suit. Stellaris was an average looking suit specs-wise, nothing too bulky but still well armoured, modified heavily from what Jimmy could tell had been a Plutonian frame despite the Terran exterior. It was painted a bright pastel pink and white, and outfitted with an enormous axe. They did not launch her and her pilot but set up to do so the moment it was declared necessary. Nimbus and Canary were also waiting in the wing, fully ready before Jimmy arrived.

“They’re not responding, but they’re picking up speed and have dropped their cloak for a shield.” Stress’s voice echoed, though the image remained on Scar’s twisting face.

“Grian, I don’t like the look of this. Once they get within range I’m putting the shields up.”

“I’ll leave it to you to call launch, then. Does anyone recognize the ship?”

Doc leaned over Scar’s shoulder, and Jimmy did not like how the man had gone pale. “An Evoker. They’re pirates who pillage transport ships around Mars. They’ll strip a ship down to its bones and leave the crew adrift.”

“So they aren’t even one of your enemies?” Scar asked.

“Not necessarily, no, but they might have been hired…”

“Either way, that’s all we need to know.” Grian dismissed, then waved at Skizz and Jimmy. “Get ready to launch at Scar’s order.”

“Yessir!” Skizz threw himself over the bar and hurdled right for Nimbus’ cockpit. Jimmy fumbled before following, Tango on his tail.

Canary was bright with her new paint job- mostly yellow with a few notes of red and soft blue around the thrusters and joints. Zed’s assembler-whatever whirled around them to set the last calibrations to Tango’s command. Despite the situation, or maybe because he was still exhausted, Jimmy laughed at the sparkle in his mechanic’s eye when a series of inputs into his tablet almost instantly translated to alterations on Canary. “Enjoying the toy?” He teased.

Tango’s head shot up, cheeks only slightly pink. “It’s really something else. Hopefully it works.”

“I doubt they’d be using it so extensively and selling them off if it didn’t.”

“Hey, half my job is spotting those exact types of scams, so you don’t end up with a bike reflector as a camera lens.” His words were emphasized with a poke to Jimmy’s brow.

Jimmy smiled. “I really do appreciate it.”

The entire ship then rumbled, both men reaching out for each other’s arm instinctively despite the lack of gravity. An alert lit up their communicators with Scar’s voice. “They’ve engaged. Launch the mobile suits!”

“Got it, MSC Stellaris ready for launch.” Katherine answered with too much enthusiasm.

“Launching Stellaris.”

Jimmy popped on his helmet in the same motion Tango tossed it to him, rushing into Canary’s cockpit. Once he was enclosed Tango’s face instead appeared on her screen, ready at the full console. His eyes darted around before landing back on Jimmy. “Breathing good? Calibration complete?”

“Check and Check.” Jimmy nodded. Canary rocked only slightly as they were moved into position right after Nimbus launched. One by one he double checked everything was as it should be, and triple checked his life support systems. “XXS-G-A13 Canary ready for launch.”

“Launching Canary.”

“I promise for real this time, I’ll bring this one back in one piece,” Said Jimmy as they jerked forward down the launch rail. They burst out into space with the sound of Tango’s cackle being disconnected.

Outside was open space, only the racing Evoker visible among the stars. If not for his thrusters, Skizz and Nimbus would have melded into the void. Katherine was already well ahead of them, axe at the ready. An attacking ship would have suits ready to launch, but Zed’s ETA gave them precious seconds even then.

Jimmy pushed forward, readjusting himself after a year of ground warfare to the dimensions of space. He’d spent the better part of his career out here, yet the slight drift from his seat and ease with which he maneuvered felt foreign.

Or maybe it was Canary, as she hurdled through space in the blink of an eye. He nearly crashed into his squadmate, but the thrusters Tango chose did their job and stabilized his before he could drift too much. “Get ready, they’re here.” Stress’s voice announced to all pilots, followed by Scar.

“Stellaris, move inward to cut them off at launch. Canary, work long range. Nimbus, cover them.”

As quick as he could Jimmy reached over Canary’s back and unlatched the beam rifle, readying to aim. A Gorgon II mobile suit launched free of Evoker, and just as quickly had a large axe buried into its limb. An unpleasantly familiar sight, but not one that stopped Jimmy from lining up his shot. Stellaris tossed the Gorgon into open space as a second launched and shot at her. Canary’s alignment system followed it with ease, and before it could reorient itself he smashed his thumb down.

For a third of a second the rifle warmed. Then a beam burst forward, cutting through open space with nothing to resist it, until it collided with the Gorgon’s body right between its head and chest. The feed from such a distance was undetailed, but even it could show how the suit’s metal bubbled, then broke. It exploded, throwing the Gorgon back against the haul of its ship in a broken heap. Jimmy watched it float motionlessly for another moment, trying to determine if the cockpit had been destroyed. It was answered when it parted, and a speck of a person threw themselves back towards the launch door of the ship.

One down. Who knows how many more to go, but it was a good start.

The second and third did not go down so easily, pushing Katherine back towards her squad lest they surround her. “Reposition.” Skizz shouted at Jimmy, a request the blond did not think twice to comply with. Canary bolted far away faster than they could approach. A few stray bullets chased after him, but none managed to hit. Repositioned far from his allies but well within swift rescue of the Oasis, he watched Nimbus go to Stellaris’ aid.

The two pilots worked well enough together, keeping themselves from getting cornered, but unable to turn the situation around on their enemies. Jimmy tried to keep his eye open for an opening, but it just wasn’t happening. The gorgons’ weight did not detriment them like it did planetside, allowing them to send Skizz and Katherine in circles while using them as a shield. Yet they avoided engagement beyond gunfire and focused on dodging.

Something wasn’t right. Jimmy lowered his rifle. “Wait- Nimbus, Stellaris, disengage!” He shouted into the comms as he pushed back further towards the Oasis.

“What?” Skizz shouted in between fire.

“Disengage! Retreat! Just- get out of there!” Camera’s frantically darted across the scene, trying to find what was so out of place. For a brief moment he thought he caught sight of a light of some sort, but it was gone when he glanced back.

Scar asked next. “Canary, what’s wrong.”

Jimmy bit into his lip, knowing how foolish his reply was, “I don’t know, but… There’s something there, I know it.”

He waited, raising his rifle back up and to retreat on his own as he knew what was coming. ‘ There’s nothing there, get back into position .’ He was just being a paranoiac, a coward. ‘ What sort of mobile suit pilot won’t engage in combat?’ A useless one.

So, he waited with bated breath to be yelled at. Tried to psych himself up not to run away. Tango was still on the ship, he reminded himself, the closest thing to combat instinct he had at the moment. Just yell at me already and prove me completely wrong.

But it never came. Instead he got a grunt from Skizz and a “right,” from Katherine. Before Scar had even given out an order the two machines stopped entertaining the enemy and began back towards the Oasis. “All mobile suits retreat, we’re warming up the front facing guns.” Scar informed without a single change in tone. Jimmy stared, dumbfounded as his allies rapidly approached.

They listened? To him?

And there was that light again.

Jimmy gasped, pushing the canary forward. She whirled right past Stellaris and behind Nimbus. He barely had the time or wherewithal to activate a shield over Canary before a beam ripped through space between the enemy Gorgons. The shield scattered the energy in all directions, creating a swirl of smoke as it dissipated.

“What was that?” Skizz screeched, spinning back around with his weapon aimed at… nothing. The Gorgons had given chase, but both their guns were packed with physical ammo. Katherine reoriented the shielding on her suit to block the incoming fire while Nimbus pushed back between Canary and the enemy. Bullets of their calibre were unable to penetrate its armour.

“There’s something there, smaller than a mobile suit. A mobile weapon, maybe, but I can’t see it.” Jimmy quickly explained, searching for that flash. Two, right before a pair of beam weapons struck between the three. Multiple? He searched his screens, his radars, but there was no sign of anything except the brief occasional flash. What was going on?

An idea occurred to Jimmy. A stupid idea, but it couldn’t hurt too bad. Hopefully. He checked his helmet and suit were secure, then pressed open the cockpit.

“ Canary!” Scar shouted. “What are you doing?”

“Getting a look.” Was all he explained as he pushed out of his seat and did just that. Without the aid of cameras space seemed even more vast. A wave of instinctive panic flooded him at the expanse of nothing his body threatened to float out into, but he held tight to the bar on the raised lid. Then, he searched. Another beam burst past, skinning Canary’s shoulder and jerking her back.

There, right at the end of the dissipating beam. Though almost invisible due to distance, he could finally see it. A small vehicle, too small to be even a mobile weapon. There were several, and they stuck close to the Evoker while they swirled around. “There!” He declared. “There’s four of them, remote controlled gunneries.”

“They must have been trying to lure Stellaris into getting close enough to surround her after she was bold enough to approach the launch bay.” Scar worked out aloud, tone unsure.

“I don’t see nothin’.” Said Katherine. “Where are they?”

Jimmy hopped back into Canary, hesitating to close the hatch again. “Something that small, it’d be easy to cloak completely from machines.”

“How did a bunch of pirates afford something like that, though? And more importantly, how do we fight them?”

“Leave that to me.” Grian’s voice then broke through the comms.

“XXS-G A07 Macaw is ready for launch.” Zed chimed in as well, if only for a moment.

Jimmy’s eyes widened. Another gundam? “Wh-”

Scar laughed, “Look who decided to go to work today.”

Jimmy turned just in time to watch the Oasis bay doors open once more. Out from the rail dropped a mobile suit, Canary’s analytics rushing faster than he ever could to tell him every detail before she concluded it was a registered ally. The red suit, twenty-three metres in height yet oddly familiar in form, spread large thrusters painted blue and gold. It caught up with the rest of them almost as swiftly as Canary had. One of the beams shot towards it but the machine dodged just in time without slowing down at all.

Grian appeared on Jimmy’s screen. “You three engage the mobile suits, I’ll deal with the gunners.”

“But how-”

“Roger that, G.” Skizz interrupted. Nimbus confidently launched back towards the Gorgons, Stellaris on its tail. Every hair on Jimmy’s neck stood on end, but he reluctantly followed, one eye on the Macaw.

For a moment, it seemed like Macaw had stopped responding. Then, the large thrusters twisted, back and out and pulling themselves apart, until they stretched wide like wings behind the gundam. Then its panels lit, a violet-tinted white light framing circular panels that rotated and twitched uncomfortably. Eyes. Half a dozen robotic eyes, or that's what they looked like to Jimmy.

Canary screeched, her feed breaking for less than half a second. Then the same emitted from Stellaris and Nimbus ahead of him. Even the Oasis let out a strange sound over the comms. Then, two screeches, a similar noise to the Oasis, and four painful squeals that had Jimmy letting go of his controls to cover his ears, pressing his forehead into his knees. It felt as though it did nothing against the barrage. Low, under it all, he thought he heard the crackle of the comm, but none Canary was connected to lit. “What-?”

“… I see you.” Grian cooed, Macaw pulling out its own pulse beam rifle. They aimed out into the void, where Jimmy had seen the gunners by his naked eye but now saw nothing once again. Yet there was no hesitation in its motion. It locked on to its invisible target, jerking as it followed its unseen movements, and shot.

The pulse disappeared, and like an illusion had been torn away an explosion filled the empty space, gunnery bits becoming visible as they cracked apart for the brief second before they melted entirely under the heat. Macaw fired again, and again, and again. Three more explosions, each a single hit. Only a string of dissipating ruin was left.

Just as quickly as they spread, Macaw’s wings retracted back down. “Remote gunneries are down. Finish off the mobile suits.” Was all Grian said as they retreated back to the Oasis. It was back on board, all traces of its engagement gone and the playing field releveled to where it had been.

Jimmy swallowed the lump in his throat. He took another moment before he could reengage his task. Stellaris and Nimbus were already fully engaged, overwhelming the two Gorgons before they could recover from the loss of support. Stellaris’ axe dug into one’s arm, yanking it forward in the way of the second Gorgon. “Jimmy!” Katherine shouted at him, and he saw it.

Aiming his rifle as fast as he could, locking onto the first Gorgon, and fired. The beam melted through the body of the enemy suit, and burnt straight through into the second’s head and shoulder. It was too much for the first. Reactor hit, it burst. Jimmy tried not to think of the pilot - his first kill in years – as he reoriented himself, ready to fire a second time.

It was unnecessary. As the cloud faded, he could see Nimbus press its gun right up against the Gorgon’s cockpit and fired a continuous burst until they broke out the other side. Both engaged suits darted back, leaving the second Gorgon to float away, unresponsive.

“All engaged units destroyed.” Skizz announced.

Tango watched the Evoker retreat away, firing cover shots as it did. They were worthless, deflected easily by the Oasis’ shields. That wasn’t any of his business, though. He rushed into place as Canary raised back into the bay, first of the three suits to return. The cockpit pushed open just as he arrived, Jimmy falling against the newly opened space with a groan and a toss of his helmet. Tango caught it before it could float to far away.

“You good?” Tango asked. “Need a barf bag?”

“Only if you keep talking about it.” Jimmy muttered, rubbing the side of his head. He paused, then gave Tango a grateful smile. “Thanks, Tango. She worked perfectly.”

Chest puffed out, Tango grinned back. “Of course she did! Couldn’t let you run out there in a machine I didn’t have full confidence in.”

A laugh that was more like a squawk filled the air. Jimmy curled back, resting his head against his seat even while the rest of his float up. “Still, I didn’t expect it to be so strange to return to space. Hopefully that’s the only trouble we’ll run into on this trip. I need to get some sleep.” He hummed, then took Tango’s extended hand. The ETA and other mechanics swarmed Canary while the pair floated up to the catwalk.

Tango expected Jimmy to be buzzing with energy, but it seemed as soon as he stepped out of sight of their suits he began to crash. The hand in his own quickly became arms around his neck that let Tango drag him down the hall. It only ended when Scar announced the return of their gravity – the Evoker ship declared a non-threat – which got a whine out of the apparently exhausted pilot. Luckily, they were already nearly at Tango’s door.

“You guys going back to bed?” Impulse asked, startling both men. The large mechanic was at the other end of the hall, waiting for the elevator. Tango nodded, poking Jimmy’s cheek that wasn’t squished into his shoulder like a big baby. Impulse nodded, laughing as he entered the lift. “If you’re gonna switch up sleeping arrangements, then just warn us next time.” He joked, then left.

Tango felt his cheeks heat, grumbling under his breath as he dragged them back to bed.

“We only have an hour left to sleep.” Jimmy whined. He flopped down on the bed, leaving Tango to push him further over till he could fit in his own bunk. “It’s so rude of them to have attacked right now.”

“Then you better get to sleeping.”

“Agree with me!”

“Nah, that’s not as fun.”

“Mean.”

Comfortable silence fell over the pair. Jimmy rolled over, resting his head against Tango’s hair while his arm slung over the shorter’s shoulder again, evidently too tired to feel embarrassed. Sleep seeped back in with surprising ease, but once again before he could fully pass out, Jimmy piped up.

“Did you watch the feed of Macaw?” He asked.

Tango shifted, looking up at his companion. “Yeah. Can’t believe they had another gundam and didn’t tell us.”

“Knowing Grian, he probably thought it would be a funny little surprise.”

“I guess kudos to those pirates for forcing him to use it.” He joked. It didn’t seem to faze Jimmy, though. There was something in his eyes, an emotion Tango couldn’t quite place in his sleepy haze. “What’s up?”

“It was kinda freaky, wasn’t it? With those radars?

“Definitely. That was pretty amazing, though. I wonder how it broke through their cloaking.”

“Yeah.” The arm across his shoulders tightened slightly. “And those sounds it made. They were awful.”

Tango blinked. “What sounds?”

Jimmy went silent, eyes searching Tango, to which he could only raise a curious eyebrow back. Eventually all he got back was a shrug. “I guess it was our helmets or something. It really hurt.” He promptly dismissed, burying his face back into Tango’s hair. Breaths became shallow, and Jimmy was soon back out like a light. Tango’s mind had begun to race, though. He’d have to check their helmets tomorrow…

#jimmy solidarity #tangotek #team rancher #rancher duo #clock duo #homewreckers #trafficshipping #traffic series #hermitpires #fanfiction #fanfic #alternate universe #scifi au #mcyt #sharing a slice of cake

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yacinthemorning · 3 months

Text

Chapter three! :D

Fandom(s): Hermitcraft SMP, Life Series SMP Pairings: Jimmy/Tango; Scar/Grian

Summary:

Tango wakes up, and he's not dead. That's a good start, in his opinion. Unfortunately for him, the day goes downhill from there.

Hope y'all enjoy! <3

#bookshelf #favourites shelf #sharing a slice of cake

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yacinthemorning · 3 months

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Gundam Birdie

New Home, New Me

[first] [next]

Summary: Jimmy and Tango are arrested for concealing the Canary with an unknown fate ahead of them. Life can't get much worse, but Jimmy takes solace in having found what he was looking for, if only for a while. Then they meet a strange man in a red sweater…

Ships: Jimmy & Tango (Undefined), Bdubs/Impulse (Romantic), Past Jimmy/Scott (romantic), Pearl & Scott (frenemies)

Warnings: War, violence, military, guns, fantasy politics, fantasy racism, trauma, kidnapping, space, divorce talk

“Hey!” Tango hissed at the soldiers who shoved him into the waiting room. Jimmy held out his cuffed hands to catch him before he collided with the table. “Watch the merchandise!”

“Shut up and don’t move.” Was all they said before leaving.

Jimmy let out a noise, bolting to his feet. “Wait!”

The last one paused, door already half-closed. Bigb, was it? What was a pilot doing here, though? “What is it?” He said, more nervous than harsh.

“Could you- do you know what happened at the spaceport? Is anyone alive?” He probably shouldn’t ask. He knew he wouldn’t like the answer just from what he stayed to witness. But if anyone at all survived…

Bigb glanced away, a look of hesitation. “Six mobile weapons and their pilots are dead, as is one mobile suit pilot.” Jimmy’s heart sank. “The rest are still in medical care with several civilians. Cleo’s the worst in critical.”

“Cleo’s alive?” He squeezed his own hand in comfort.

“Barely… But it is Cleo. She’s come back from worse.” He didn’t wait to finish his own sentence before he was already heading out the door, closing it behind him. He switched places with another guard who slipped in behind him and took up post beside the door. It clicked, locking behind him.

Jimmy slumped down onto the bench with a deep sigh. Cleo was alive, people were alive.

“You okay?” Tango suddenly asked.

Jimmy looked to him, but only saw a blur. When had he started to cry? Hands came up to wipe them away. He nodded back. “Yeah… I mean, no, but… Yeah…”

As best he could in cuffs Tango reached out to quietly pat Jimmy’s shoulder.

By the time Ren entered Jimmy managed to collect himself, just in time for Ren to dress them down.

“Honestly, I expected this sort of thing from you, Tango…” The mechanic looked away awkwardly, scratching the back of his ear. “… But you, Jimmy?” Ren, as dramatic as ever, spoke as though Jimmy had stabbed his only child. And honestly, looking at the disappointed director – sunglasses removed and bags under his eyes – he felt like he had.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered a weak response.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it, you know that. I can’t even do anything for you, I’m in almost as much hot water as you right now for somehow missing the fact that one of our mechanics was collecting military equipment on his private property.”

“That’s perfectly legal! It’s all decommissioned!” Tango snapped, stomping his foot hard.

Ren let out a sigh that Jimmy swore sounded like a dog’s growl before an attack. “Not when you’re using it to build your own machines. And you know for a fact that mobile suits and especially a gundam of all things fall under very different laws than your average military surplus!”

“Okayyy…” Tango raised his hands in surrender. “So maybe I messed up a little-”

“Tango!”

“A lot! I messed up a lot!” His voice pitched, and he had to take a moment to calm himself back down. “But that’s on me and only me! Jimmy had nothing to do with my private collection and I coerced him into piloting the thing. If anything, he should be a witness against my crimes, not getting court martialled too. At least get him out of here, he hasn’t done anything! C’mon Ren, you know, you know it was all me!”

Jimmy gaped to protest, but clamped it shut. He exchanged a sad glance with Ren, who just shook his head.

“Even if he hadn’t been complicit in your hiding of the gundam, we all know that’s not how his situation works.”

Tango’s head whipped back and forth between the other two men, desperate for… something. Anything? But Jimmy slumped back, nodding in resignation. They all knew, the moment he was arrested, how this ended. He was the enemy, after all.

A choked sound left Tango’s throat, fist balled in frustration. “No! Is that really it? I just gotta sit here and let him get dragged down with me? You ain’t even gonna try to help him?”

“I’ve been trying since he stepped foot on this base, Tango.” Ren snarled darkly. He shook his head, covering his tired eyes with the palm of his hand. “I’ve been trying since you stepped on this base. There’s only so much I can do. I’m a director, not a king. And frankly, the both of you overstepped your luck a long time ago.”

Silence fell again. It was only interrupted by an alert on Ren’s watch, which took his attention away. His expression laxed into confusion for a brief moment before he put his sunglasses back on and headed for the door. “I’ll see you again in a few to discuss what will happen next, there’s business I need to tend to.” His voice softened. “Please, just keep your heads down and try to cooperate? Who knows, maybe we can pull off a miracle…”

Tango stared at the closed door so long Jimmy began to worry. He reached out, but as soon as his fingers brushed the other’s arm Tango jumped. Guilt and grief filled his eyes. He stuttered, “Jimmy… I’m so sorry. I didn’t think I- I guess I just got so used to just having it there that I… God what a mess, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Jimmy shook his head. His mouth stretched into a sad smile “I mean, it’s not like I wasn’t on my way to something like this already. And maybe it was a bit silly to think I could just run away to the other side and be accepted-”

“Jimmy.”

“But all that doesn’t much matter to me, I think.” He leaned his head back. “I think… Yeah, I think I got what I wanted, even if it was short-lived.”

Tango remained stood in front of him, expression downcast, still stewing in guilt it would seem. His eyebrows were pulled together in confusion. “How could this be okay? What was it you wanted?”

“You know, I didn’t really know when I first showed up. I’ll be honest, I didn’t have much of a plan, I kinda just decided on a whim when I looked at earth for the first time.”

He still remembered when he left the launch bay in his mobile suit far closer to earth than he would have ever expected. It looked like a kaleidoscope, was his first thought. Bright blues and greens and golds. Even from space, at least compared to the dreary steely greys he thought planets simply were.

“It clicked back then, how terrified I was to go home. I couldn’t think of something worse, even a stupid suicide mission seemed better. I think I tricked myself until then into thinking I was just willing to die for them, but it was more like an escape. I’m so good at running away I didn’t even realize I was doing it.” He laughed at himself, which got a raised eyebrow from his companion. “I don’t think it really clicked, though, until the last couple weeks. Taking in the sights, talking with you, being at the ranch, actually wanting to fix up the Birdie…”

Tango’s face twisted with guilt once again, and Jimmy decided it’d be best to just skip to the end. “It occurred to me that if I hated something so much, maybe it wasn’t home. You’re supposed to want to go home, right? My home could be anything I wanted. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have realized.”

He sounded like such a sap, didn’t he? And he was rambling. He looked away as his face heated. “So, um, I guess thank you. I don’t regret what we did. It was the first time in a long time I didn’t want to run away. That it felt like I had a home I wanted to return to.”

“Isn’t Earth the same as Pluto, though?” Tango asked. “After everything they’ve done and what they’re going to do, do you really consider a planet like this your home?”

He tried not to laugh, instead letting out an amused sigh. “Gosh, do I really come off like some nationalist type? I didn’t mean Earth.”

Tango frowned “Wh-”

“Pardon me, gentlemen.” Both jolted. Jimmy’s face heated up as he locked eyes with the door guard. He’d completely forgotten they weren’t alone. I guess that’s their job…

The guard held up his communicator. “It’s been requested that I escort you to a new location for processing.”

“Processing, or pulverizing?” Tango sneered.

“Processing. You’ll be transported off-base soon.”

The door was held open. Jimmy and Tango both looked to each other. It’s not like they had much of a choice. Jimmy got up with a huff, “You know, of all the things I’m going to miss, Earth’s insistence on unnecessarily utilizing every blooming acre it has will not be one of them.”

Tango chuckled as they passed through the door. “Not a fan of travel?”

“What’s wrong with everything being in one place? It’s so much more convenient.”

“Fair, fair.”

They were led out silently, guided by their guard through the halls of the base offices. It was a maze of closed doors Jimmy rarely got to see the insides of, full of information and conversations too important for the likes of him.

A strange nagging sensation prickled at the back of Jimmy’s mind, though. The halls were oddly quiet today, the few guards they passed giving them a glare under their hats before leaving entirely. Was it odd? He’d never been court martialled on Earth before, he didn’t know the procedures. He glanced to Tango for reassurance, but instead found the mechanic staring after the latest guard to leave. “Tango?”

“We didn’t get a bunch of new recruits and nobody told me, did we?” He asked instead, concern twisting his face.

Well that wasn’t reassuring at all.

“Did you think you would be escorted by your own friends?” Their guard joked, tilting his head to the side to look up at them with a punchable smirk. He was shorter than even Tango, only maybe reaching Jimmy’s shoulders, and his uniform was quite baggy and unfitted on his frame.

So, they were surrounded by people whose only knowledge of them was that they were criminals. Somehow even less reassuring. Not that it would be much different if it was people they knew, given his reputation.

Tango raised an eyebrow. “Then who are you?”

“More important than you, so why not keep your heads down and mouths shut as you were warned.”

“You-!”

Jimmy bumped his shoulder against Tango’s in warning. His words turned into a growl. Their escort seemed pleased, turning back around with a small hum of satisfaction. They just needed to cooperate and push through this.

The uneasy feeling had only grown, though. Jimmy felt on high alert, twitching at every little sound. Soon they left the offices behind and made a beeline for a pair of trucks already manned and ready to roll. They were about ten meters from the office, however, when a metal door violently swung open.

“What’s going on here?” Martyn’s voice rang out. Jimmy swivelled his head around to look right at the indignant blond, whose eyes widened as they locked. “Jimmy? Tango? Where do-”

His words were cut short by the butt of a rifle slamming into his stomach. Jimmy gasped as two of the guards grabbed him and dragged him back inside, one hand over his mouth and the other restraining his wrists. Another hand latched onto the back of Jimmy’s head and forced it forward, their pace picking up until both he and Tango were unceremoniously thrown into the back of the truck.

Tango tried to shout at them but another already waiting within the bed slapped a hand over his mouth. Their escort hopped into the back with a shushing gesture. “Cooperate or everyone here dies.”

Jimmy didn’t know if he had it in him to say anything, too shocked – and maybe too out of it from his head slamming against the metal bed – to speak. They were propped up on the seat while the trucks rolled out, still cuffed. Tango glared at their escort but stayed quiet when the hand was removed from his face.

The mousy man smiled, finger still to his lips. “Everything will be explained in a bit.”

The truck came to a stop. Jimmy could hear one of the regular gate guards muttering their way through a procedure they had become complicit in. Someone poked their head into the back, but only sneered at Jimmy and Tango. “Finally heading off to the slammer, huh?” They jeered, then disappeared back to their post. Jimmy stared disbelieving at the spot where he had been, even as the gate creaked open and the truck started up once more. Was it really that easy?

He thought the guard would speak up, now that the base was almost a speck in the distance, but he stayed silent, humming to himself across from them. A few radio calls came in, but the drive for the next several minutes was quiet, until they came to an abrupt stop.

Like a well oiled machine the group went to work in perfect sync. Everyone got up, clothing from somewhere Jimmy never saw were suddenly produced, and the truck was torn apart around them. Their uniforms were cut off until they were down to their undergarments, despite Jimmy’s embarrassed protest. Only then were the cuffs on them taken off and replaced by a handful of clothing.

“Put it on quickly.” Said their guard, now fully dressed in casual black jeans and a red jumper, though Jimmy spotted the padding hidden underneath before he pulled the hem all the way down. The clothes given were similarly casual. He looked to Tango, who was giving him a wary look of his own, but there wasn’t much choice at this point.

They had just finished changing when an old pickup rolled up. Out from its bed they unloaded something rather large, wrapped up in a tarp. Jimmy was about to ask when it was unceremoniously unraveled. His breath hitched. A corpse – three, two approximately the same height as Jimmy and Tango – toppled out into the broken pile of trucks now on the side of the road.

They were whisked away before he could see anymore. Halfway down the road Jimmy heard the sound of gunshots and rumbling explosions before their escort’s radio sputtered to like briefly. “It’s done.”

“Roger that. Delivering the package now.” He chirped back from his place in the front seat. Then the radio was out the window, thrown hard enough to shatter on the pavement, then run over by the trailer they towed.

Tango finally snapped. “Who the hell are you and what is going on?”

He got an exasperated sigh in return. “Ugh, are you blind? Can’t you tell a rescue operation when you see one?”

“Rescue?” Tango shrieked incredulously.

“Obviously.”

“From what? Cause it seems like you’re the ones we need rescuing from!”

The guard- kidnapper? Kidnapper. The kidnapper rolled his eyes. “Well technically we really only need Timmy there, so if you really want we can dump you out here on the road. Halfway through an escape attempt, miles away from the nearest source of food and water.”

Jimmy blinked. “Me? Wait- don’t talk to him like that! And it’s Jimmy!” He prickled. This guy was starting to genuinely get on his nerves.

“At this rate you’re going to chase them away before we even get to the ship.” Their driver muttered with amusement.

The kidnapper waved dismissively. “You two don’t even know what was about to happen to you, do you?”

“We were going to be court-“

“You were going to die.”

… What?

Their kidnapper’s face had become serious. “You were going to die. You were never going to be given a chance to begin with. A treasonous mechanic was in cahoots with a Plutonian spy abusing the generosity of Earth in order to gather top secret military intel from the inside. They helped the Plutonian military unit disguised as refugees penetrate the KD in order to enact the last phase of their plan. Everyone involved is to be dealt with immediately.”

Both sat in silence, too stunned to speak. He threw his arm up towards Tango. “All because you decided to dig up something the EF never intended to be found and you-” His hand swayed over to Jimmy. “- Were stupid enough to pilot it in front of everyone.”

“What are you-”

“You’re a bit of a mobile suit nerd, aren’t you, Tango?” Grian interrupted Jimmy, his attention back on Tango.

“… I guess.”

“Tell me, now that your brain’s a bit clearer. Do you recognize the name Gundam Canary?”

Tango’s brow furrowed, red eyes searching for some sort of trick. When there seemed to be none his head lowered. “No. It’s not one I’ve ever heard.”

“And What about Owl?”

“Not until yesterday.”

The kidnapper nodded, then turned to Jimmy. “But you have, haven’t you?”

Hesitantly he nodded. “It’s the prized possession of the Plutonian military. It’s the only gundam we- they have.”

Their kidnapper clapped as if cheering on a school kid. “Very good! But wrong.”

“What?”

“In fact, from our intelligence, that’s wrong even today. But what if I told you your home planet once was a key manufacturer of such mobile suits? At one point in history they had an entire fleet of eighteen gundams!” He spread his arms. “And now, who knows where they are? Well, there are some people who do, the people who hide them in the first place, and some people who want to, people who would do anything for that firepower in this war. And let me tell you, both aren’t very keen on the fact that you revealed one of them to everyone, or that there’s someone who can pilot it.”

“So, then, who are you?” Tango said, all patience gone.

“I can’t tell you that until you agree to come with us.”

“Agree- You kidnapped us!”

“Rescued you. And it’s your choice. You either agree to come with us or stay here and die.”

There was no choice. Jimmy tore his gaze away from their kidnapper. He had no need to think about their choice, but it was overwhelming, nonetheless. But something else nagged at his heart. Perhaps a bit too quietly he asked. “You said… You mentioned the refugees from Pluto. Are they...?”

“Jimmy?” Tango leaned forward, trying to look at his face and inadvertently blocking out the rest of the world. It was a small comfort, even if unintentional.

The kidnappers' voices rang out around him. “They’re pretty much in the same boat as you. Wrong place, wrong time. Well, perfect time, actually, for those in the EF who were looking for a good anti-Pluto headline. The ones that survived have already been gathered up and arrested as conspirators.”

“I was there, I saw them!” Jimmy clenched his fists. “They were used… Why am I even surprised, that’s just like them to let a ship of runaways escape for their own benefit.”

A hand fell on his shoulder, smaller than Tango’s, which startled him. He looked up again to see the kidnapper reaching out, a look of genuine sympathy. “Everyone’s a pawn in war, we both know that. They put up a big show of ‘innocents’ and ‘civilians’ when it does them good, but those titles are quick to disappear when they become inconvenient for the narrative. They’ll just say it’s for the greater good, like any material or ideas could be worth as much human lives.”

They had squeezed his shoulder. “I can’t say anything more until you agree, though. Please, come with us.”

The hand was shooed away by Tango, who wrapped an arm around Jimmy’s shoulders to give them some sort of privacy. He glared at them over his shoulder, but the expression he turned on Jimmy was softer, questioning. “What do you wanna do, Jim?” He asked quietly, his other hand overtop of the one on Jimmy’s knee. “… We can say no.”

“Can we really, though?” Jimmy sighed.

He smiled. “Absolutely. We can if that’s what you want, don’t let him get in your head. And whichever you choose I’ll be there to help you.”

Jimmy closed his eyes, focused on the warm arm around his shoulder and the sound of tires on gravel roads, tried his best to push away the panic and anxiety stuck in his chest. They knew nothing of where these people were taking them, it could just as easily end badly. They could be lying about everything.

What was it he wanted? He wanted to be off Pluto. That was already fulfilled. If he left, then Pearl would have a hard time finding him again if she intended to keep her threat. What else?

He cracked open an eye. Tango was still in front of him, patiently waiting with the same concerned smile. If Tango was going to go wherever Jimmy did…

Despite Tango’s own words, it still wasn’t much of a choice.

“Let’s go with them.” He breathed out.

Tango’s expression waved for a moment but nodded. “Then we’ll agree.”

“Ugh, finally!” The kidnapper threw up his arms, and the truck suddenly jerked. Both backseat passengers shrieked as the entire vehicle turned off-road into a giant open field. “I’m so tired of circling!”

They drove over a hill, and straight into a cave that was completely hidden. Within was a shuttle, flanked by propulsion powerful enough to launch the relatively small vessel into orbit through the opening above, and a dozen or so people scrambling about. Their truck screeched to a stop only a few meters in front of it.

They all filed out in a hurry, pushing the pair towards the boarding ramp immediately. Faster than Jimmy could quite process they were changed once again and buckled into the shuttle across from their kidnapper. He smiled, too pleased, and held out a hand. “Welcome aboard, finally. I suppose we should start with belated introductions. The name’s Grian.”

And at that moment Jimmy’s brain fried.

Ren sprinted down the hall, his subordinance knowing better than to get in his way as he raced past. It was far from the dignified actions his position demanded, but at the moment he didn’t care much. He nearly ripped open the too-slow medical bay doors and stumbled in, his eyes darting wildly around the room. “Martyn? Martyn!”

A shaky hand was raised from the bed near the window. A nurse was attending to the minor bruises on the blond’s forearm, his face, throat, torso, and hand already bandaged up. An IV was hooked into his wrist. “Over here, sir.” Though his voice was a bit warbly, it was enough to cause the tension in Ren’s muscles to pour away.

He sighed, tried to pull himself back together, and walked the rest of the way with what little poise he could muster. “You’re okay?”

Martyn shrugged, which caused him to wince. “For a certain definition of okay. Gods, I’ve been doing office work a little too long, I think. Those guys really got the jump on me.”

“He has a few bruised ribs, but the worst is superficial, sir.” The nurse gave a slightly more helpful report. “He was the last victim before the infiltrators were taken down. Our other patients aren’t so lucky. We have four in critical condition and one dead.”

“And the enemy?” He asked, this time to the guard, Bigb, at the door.

The young man saluted nervously, speaking a bit too loud. “All four enemy soldiers that remained have been eliminated. Two trucks escaped the premises with at least four others, however.”

“They took them.” Martyn interrupted gravely. “Jimmy and Tango. I saw them before I was jumped. I think they were their goal.”

Ren’s eyes went wide. Jimmy and Tango? Why them? A cold chill ran down his spine. He turned back to Bigb. “Contact with the guards at Site Zero. I want-“

Martyn spoke up once again, “They already called in. Another even bigger attack, assisted from space this time.”

“What in the world-”

“They took it, Ren. The Canary is gone.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Pearl begged before Owl had fully opened up to release her. The mechanics floating outside startled. One began to babble an answer, but it was entirely incoherent. Pearl threw her helmet aside along with the mechanic to look over the damage herself.

“It, uh, it shouldn’t be too bad.” One finally got out. It was worse than Pearl hoped, but begrudgingly she had to agree, it seemed like a mostly clean fix. In need of a few small replacement parts but nothing difficult to acquire quick. She let out a relieved sigh, allowing herself to float back and away into the open hangar as her mind sorted through the fuzz.

It was smaller than she was used to, barely large enough to house Owl. At least it could, though. Just big enough to get them home. She’d already forgotten the ship’s name. Acorn? Elkthorn..?

Her dazed thoughts were interrupted by a blur of orange. Something slammed into her, sending them both flying into the rail of the nearby walkway. “Pearl, you’re finally back!” Gem squealed, squeezing the pilot in a tight hug. Tight enough to make Pearl wince.

“That I am.” She grunted out, patting the ginger’s back as best she could. “Pardon me, but it’s already hard enough to breathe in space?”

“I missed you!” Gem whined, though let go to instead more gently hold her friend’s shoulders. “I was so worried, I thought you would get caught for sure and there’d be no way to come help you!”

Pearl smiled warmly, leaning her head on top of Gem’s and petting down the length of her long, curly hair. “Aw, I’m sorry. But I had Owl with me, I was fine. And I know you’ll always be looking out for me.”

Gem pouted, pushing Pearl off her, but grabbed her hand before she could float too far off. “Come on, you must be starving.” She dragged both of them up to the hallways of the small ship. “I know I am. I had to stay up all night just to organize and mail off all the logs that could be collected…” Work ramble filled the air before things could get too quiet. Pearl gave Owl one last worried glance as they left, trying to listen to Gem’s complaints.

Fwhip was already waiting for them in the cafeteria, three containers in-hand. He took the top-most one and curled his hand back. “Catch!”

“Hey! Fwhip!” Gem cried, just barely catching it when it flew over her head. He cackled as he tossed the second as well, but Pearl was able to grab it with much greater ease than the communications officer. “Don’t mess up our food, you jerk.”

He shrugged, letting out one last snicker. “What? You don’t like a good scramble?”

“God I am so sick of scramble, actually.” She whined, slipping down onto the bench. The container opened to reveal diced potatoes and, sure enough, an omelet. Pearl pouted, stabbing a potato with her fork. Gem sighed. “I guess it’s better than paste.”

Despite his teasing, Fwhip gave them sympathetic nods, scratching the side of his beard. “Won’t it be great to get back to Pluto and have some real food, though…”

“When we get back you can come over to my place and I’ll make some of my special surprise soup!” Pearl chirped, waving her fork.

Both gingers flinched, their faces twisting. Gem held her stomach. “No offense Pearl, but last time I ate your soup me and Fwhip had the same complexion for once.”

“Yeah, next thing you know people will start thinking we’re related or something!” Fwhip slapped his hands over his cheeks. Gem giggled, mimicking his movements.

Pearl laughed as well. “You know we’ll probably have to stop by Mars on our way back for refueling. I could maybe be looking away if you wanted to go see your mum’s family.”

“Thanks Pearl.” Gem said, though her hands dropped down to nervously fiddle with her long curly hair. “But I don’t think they’d want to see us. Mars is allied with Earth, after all.”

Fwhip rolled his eyes. “Like they need an excuse. We don’t need them, we got each other- and Pearl!”

Though Gem nodded she continued to pull at strands. Pearl smiled but kept quiet, instead rubbing her friend’s forearm. She knew how the twins felt. Pearl glanced at her wrist where it showed three times. It was almost dinnertime in Rivendell. She folded her carton back down and pushed out of her seat. “Actually guys, I’ve gotta go report in before Emperor Fancypants gets grumpy.”

“Oh, you two aren’t fighting again, are you?” Fwhip asked, to which Pearl just shrugged.

“I’ll catch up with you later.” She waved, then flew down the hall. Better to get the yelling over and done with now.

She turned off into the first room with a video call, shooing out the one crewmate lingering within. Numbers punched in, the call hadn’t even finished its first ring before the screen lit up a blinding Blue. Scott wore his full royal garb, a golden crown decorating his wavy cyan hair. Back from some meeting, presumably. He already looked annoyed, but more than that, he looked exhausted. A petty smile stretched across Pearl’s face.

“Seems you’re late.” He said with a calm, matter of fact tone, almost cheery. Condescending. Pearl resisted rolling her eyes.

“Reporting in, your highness.” She replied back with the same achingly sweet tone. “The Owl and I have made it back to the ship with only minor damages. Our mission to infiltrate the Karman Defence was initially a success.”

“However?”

“Just after landing there was an unexpected arrival of reinforcements, including two mobile suits that your intelligence source did not warn us about.”

An almost imperceptible twitch in the corner of his polite smile. Hers widened. “And? Are you telling me that the Owl was unable to take care of a pair of regular jobber suits?”

“Oh, don’t act like you haven’t already listened to the logs.” She whined, folding her legs to sit her meal container on as she popped it open. It was already going cold.

“I need your personal report, Pearl-”

Pearl let out a tired groan. “Of course they didn’t. I took care of the first one and the second I chased down, but it had been abandoned.”

“There, now that wasn’t so hard, was it? Continue.”

“While chasing it an – also unexpected – gundam class mobile suit appeared. Unfortunately, while I was dealing with it my allies back at the spaceport were overwhelmed. The EF was not slowed by the presence of refugees, in fact they were rather indiscriminatory. They were unable to fight their way through the reinforcements to make it to the rendezvous point without my assistance.” She waved her fork out towards the empty room. “And then you called for my retreat.”

“Yes. We have an engineer sorting through the data Owl was able to collect on it-“

“Scooott.” Pearl leaned towards the screen, trying hard to hide her smirk behind a hand. It miserably failed, judging from the souring look the emperor of Pluto gave her. “Don’t pretend like that’s what you care about. Not with me.”

Scott stiffened. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Miss Pearlescent.” His smile struggled to remain and his eyes narrowed. A warning.

She wouldn’t be one of the best pilots in the system if she had never taken any risks. “I know you’ve already listened to the communication logs. The enemy pilot…” A giddy cackle managed to escape against her will. “It was Jimmy.”

There was a long silence. The room felt as though they were back on Pluto. If looks could kill, the radio waves carrying Scott’s message to the ship would have evaporated everything in their path. Pearl’s enemies only wished they could inspire the fear that stabbed like shards of ice into her spine at that moment. Wringing such a reaction only made her even more giddy.

The breath that escaped the emperor was ragged and sharp. “And next time you run into that enemy gundam, you’ll do a better job of eliminating it, I would hope.”

“If you would let me, then gladly.” She sneered, returning Scott’s glare. “Just give me the word and I’ll make sure there’s nothing left this time.”

“So… The moon, huh?”

“Well, not quite of course, but yes.”

Jimmy’s head leaned against the window of their shuttle, watching as it slowly docked into one of many landing stations along the length of the enormous, cylindrical colony. It was backdropped by the Moon itself, held in its gravity, just outside the limitations of the Lunar Treaty. Along the colony body - in letters each many times larger than their shuttle but dwarfed by the structure – was the name Santuario De La Luna . They had been brought to Sanctuary.

But then, Jimmy guessed that was where they were heading. It was where The Resistance was known to base.

You would think Grian and his cohorts could come up with a less blunt name.

Jimmy glanced over to their kidnapper, still wearing his enormous red sweater overtop his space suit. Actually, having had to be in a confined space with the man for almost 12 hours, he wasn’t shocked. It certainly gave insight to the many rumours surrounding him and his organization.

Tango was also looking out his window, eyes wide. “I never really realized the Moon was so… big.”

“Not been off Earth a lot?” Jimmy teased, to which Tango shook his head dumbly.

The pod shook, locking into place in its bay. Gravity slowly took hold of the vessel. Grian clapped his hands together from the very front, barely waiting for the doors to open before he was cheerfully pushing them along.

Inside was a strange cylindrical landscape, it took his brain a few good moments to adjust to looking up and seeing a grassy field instead of sky. A car was already waiting for them, door held open by a well-dressed man with an old-fashioned and over-groomed mustache on his otherwise youthful face. Grian chattered with the man while they were shoved into the backseat, leaving them with not much to do but wait to get going.

The silence became suffocating then. Jimmy glanced over to Tango, who had said barely a word since they left Earth. The mechanic was looking out at the colony, but his eyes had glazed over. He twiddled his thumbs in his lap, and Jimmy could tell he was biting his tongue behind his frown.

“Are you okay?” Jimmy asked.

“Mmm…” The little noise was accompanied by what could barely be called a nod.

Jimmy fidgeted in his seat, scanning Tango for any hint of what was on his mind. He’d never seen such an expression on the man before, though. That shouldn’t have been as surprising as it felt. It’d been less than a month since they were introduced, after all. They had barely started to get to know each other, it shouldn’t be all that shocking.

And now they were stuck on the moon.

Was he regretting it all? Regretting sticking with Jimmy? Regretting letting him make their choices?

Jimmy wanted to ask that very question, but Tango piped up first. “Are you really okay with this?”

“Huh?”

“Like, coming here. I…” But he cut himself off with a sigh. “God this just spiralled into a bigger and bigger mess, I’m so sorry for dragging you into this.”

Ah.

Jimmy smiled, a strange relief washing over him. He couldn’t help throwing his head back and laughing. “Gosh, we’re both a couple of dimwits.”

“Wha-!” Tango gasped.

He didn’t give his mechanic time to say much else, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and pulling him into a sideways hug, still unable to stop the relieved giggles from escaping. Perhaps he could have explained himself better. A lot better. He let himself calm down before he tried to speak again. Tango shifted to get comfortable in the new position, snaking an arm around Jimmy’s shoulder as well. Jimmy could feel him relaxing as he had. “Hey.” Jimmy said.

“Hey.” Tango replied, tone jovial but confused.

“Since we’re both already here and mixed up in… whatever this is…”

“And we’re both apparently dimwits.” Tango interjected.

Jimmy nodded. “ And we’re both dimwits… Can we agree we’re in it together?”

Jimmy could feel Tango blinking from where the sides of their heads were pressed together, and his cheek stretched into a smile. “Yeah, yeah that sounds good. I’d be okay with that.”

“Then whatever stupid situation we get ourselves into next is both of our fault.”

“Neither, even! Maybe, sometimes.” Tango laughed, and Jimmy couldn’t help join in. “Yeah. Whatever these cuckoos have planned, we go together.”

“Ah, we’re no cuckoos.” Grian’s voice cut through the conversation. Both jumped. At some point Grian had crawled into the front seat and was resting an elbow on each neck rest, smiling face balanced between. “We’re more like… silly little geese. Oh, sorry, was I interrupting you lovebirds? It’s just that we’re about to get going.”

Jimmy untangled himself from Tango, ignoring the heat rushing to his ears. “You took your time to get in, didn’t you? What happened to all the ‘hurry hurry?’”

“Well obviously we were in enemy territory then. Now we’re at home.”

“Uh-huh.” Tango drawled, crossing his arms. “So, does that mean you’ll finally tell us what’s going on?”

The mustachioed man popped open the driver’s seat. He pointed to the seatbelt over Grian’s shoulder until Grian whined, but sat down properly and buckled in. Only then did he start the car. Grian instead leaned his seat back far too far, right onto Jimmy’s lap. He squawked, bending his legs awkwardly to accommodate the intrusion. The only saving grace for his gangly limbs was that the seat was pulled so far forward. Mustache-man gave him a sympathetic look but did nothing. His seat was the opposite, pushed back far for his disturbingly spider-like legs, giving poor Tango only just enough room.

Hopefully someone else could drive their corpses back from whatever warehouse they were about to shoot them in.

But Grian got what he wanted, to be able to see their faces as he spoke -albeit upside down. “Right, so you know who I am, presumably.”

“The mysterious leader of an equally ambiguous resistance?” Tango grumbled.

Grian made a checkmark motion and tutted. “That’s The Resistance, trademarked. I’ll have you know we pay our taxes. We’re technically classified as a private militia.”

Tango and Jimmy both gave each other a side eye, eyebrows raised.

They were ignored. “But yes, I am the amazing Grian, leader of The Resistance. We’re not ambiguous, we are equivocally against the Terran-Plutonian war. Our goal is to ease it into ending. Oh, and this is Mumbo.” He held a hand out to the mustache-man. “He’s my butler.”

“I’m an engineer.” He corrected.

With a dismissive wave Grian got back on track. “But anyways, do you know who you are?”

“Me?” Jimmy asked. “I would hope so.”

“Then who do you think you are?”

His brow scrunched up, examining the shorter man’s expression for any sense that there was some kind of trick. His pitch-black eyes were completely unreadable, however. “I’m Jimmy, I’m a mobile suit pilot.”

“Ugh, not just any old pilot!” Grian whined again, flipping over to lay on his stomach despite Mumbo’s protests about road safety. “You’re special, you can pilot a gundam.”

“What- How do you know about that?” Jimmy squeaked.

“Oh, Tim, everybody who’s anybody in the whole solar system knows about it by now. You think you can just publicly fight Pluto’s Owl – that somehow snuck through the KD – with a hither-to unknown gundam and have people not find out?”

Okay, well, maybe he had a small point.

“So, what? You kidnapped him so he could pilot a gundam for you? Not very anti-war of you.” Tango said.

“The thing you have to learn, and learn quickly, Tango Tek,” Grian sneered back. “Is that pacifists don’t get very far in this game. Both sides are willing to do whatever it takes to win this silly war that they’ve dragged the rest of the solar system into. Stopping them can take either a few precise words or a few precise shots, depending on the battlefield. They’re a bit dead set on winning no matter the cost. Or do you not know what this war’s about?”

“Does anyone, at this point?”

“It was for independence.”

Both parties turned their attention to Jimmy, who tried to duck. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anywhere to hide. He sighed. “That’s what they say on Pluto. It started as a declaration of independence from Earth, and Earth refused. I never heard anything about it once I got to Earth, though.”

Grian nodded. “Well that’s because on Earth it’s about Pluto inciting the downfall of the EF and illegally arming the reclamationists in the civil war for their own benefit. On Mars it’s about economics, and on Europa it’s all about the Rapture. Everyone has some excuse to keep this war going on.”

“The Rapture?” Tango asked, looking to Jimmy.

A chill ran down Jimmy’s spine. He turned away. “The Earth’s expulsion of the colonies’ nativized people from their governments, in an attempt to head off the growing independence movements. The outer colonies in particular were told they’d accumulated too much autonomy from the EF. It backfired, and Terrans were instead mass expelled from Pluto, Europa, and Io… One way or another.”

“Not everyone would leave.” Grian continued, and Jimmy let him. “On Pluto the Plutonians won unequivocally, sent most Terrans off-world. On the smaller, less-defended colonies it wasn’t so clear cut. Until Pluto stepped in. The results were nothing short of an attempted genocide on both ends. Only Earth pulling forces back to deal with the civil war ended it.”

Tango’s brow furrowed. “They tell it a lot different on Earth.”

“Why wouldn’t they? You only need to think about winning the war on Earth, to know that the Plutonians are traitors.” Grian shrugged. “And on Pluto, all you need to know is the EF are an incompetent government who can’t even hold their own planet together.”

“Sanctuary’s just about the last place that’s remained neutral.” Mumbo pointed out.

“What does this have to do with me?” Jimmy snapped. “I’m not a stellar recruit, if you haven’t heard, and I don’t exactly have the gundam you want anymore. The EF seized it along with Tango’s property.”

There was only a glimpse of Grian’s smile before they plunged into a tunnel. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. We would never forget the most important part.”

Then the tunnel opened up. Around them was a bunker, lit by rows of fluorescent lights and hundreds of workers mulling about. The car came to a halt, all four being escorted down a corridor until they reached a hangar. There, slowly being pieced back together with cranes and robots, was Gundam Canary. Jimmy gaped, a hundred questions flitting through his mind but none of them making it out his throat.

Tango suddenly shouted and bolted from his side. “Birdie!”

Indeed, off to the side – almost as an afterthought – was also the remains of Jimmy’s Birdie. They were hugged by the mechanic. Jimmy turned to Grian, who looked far too smug. “How?” Was all that came out.

“Well it wasn’t easy, I’ll tell you that!” A different voice replied. The look on Grian’s face was wiped away almost instantly when a muscled arm was thrown over each of their shoulders. Their owner leaned down between them, making it too apparent that he was quite simply wearing no shirt at all, bare – scarred – chest proudly exposed to the world.

Heat rose to Jimmy’s cheeks, but Grian just threw the smiling man a swift punch to the gut. “Scar, put a shirt on when you’re at work! Or meeting new people! Or just generally anywhere in the vicinity!”

“Aw, but it’s so hot in these hangars.” Scar whined but undid the tied off shirt around his waist to do as ordered. He leaned heavily onto a shockingly fancy cane while he did so.

“Do I look or sound like I care?” Grian threw out a hand towards their newcomer while he buttoned back up. “I was hoping we could make this introduction a bit more professional, but I suppose this will have to do. Timmy, Tango, this is Scar, the captain of our flagship, The Oasis. Scar, this is our new pilot, and I guess his mechanic that we also stole.”

“Don’t sound too thrilled to have me.” Tango grumbled. Jimmy patted his shoulder.

Scar took up their hands on his own to shake them. “Oh, pleasure to both! And don’t mind Grian, Tango, he’s just teasing. Why, having the man who rebuilt Gundam Canary himself is as, maybe even more important than the pilot! Those silly gundams can be so fickle and sensitive.”

“Wait, you know-”

“Did you think we staged an entire operation to smuggle you out of a military base and off planet without knowing who we were bringing with us?” Grian chastised.

“… Do you want the honest answer?”

Grian gaped, which caused Scar to let out a shocked laugh while Mumbo shook his head. “He’s got you there, G.” The mustachioed man said.

A sly grin stretched across Tango’s face, and Jimmy had to stop himself from joining Scar in his laughter.

“Right, then let me reiterate myself.” Straight backed and beady black eyes narrowed, Grian cleared his throat. “Tango, Timmy. I am Grian, Leader of The Resistance. I am recruiting you two to pilot Gundam Canary, on our behalf, in our effort to subdue the Terran-Plutonian War through any means necessary, in order to save the solar system from being torn apart by this conflict more than it already has. There will be times we may need to speak, and time we must fight. You will be risking your lives and reputations with every operation. But we will end this war. Do you understand?”

The amusement died. There was no question, it was the task they already agreed to in order to be saved. Of all things to recruit him for, Jimmy thought this might be the very worst given he had now managed to earn the ire of both governing bodies. They didn’t have anywhere else to go, at this point. For the foreseeable future, this was their fate.

Grian looked between the two of them. “Then, allow me to give you the proper tour and show where you’ll be living.”

The bunker was huge. If it was even half the size of the bases he’d stayed at on Earth Jimmy would have been impressed, but the complex was practically a fortress in its own right. The lower levels went straight out of the colony onto their own docking bays for the Oasis and several smaller ships. There were hangars after hangars, lined with mobile weapons and suits.

Jimmy followed them to a special hangar set aside just for Canary, though Tango insisted the poor Birdie be stored there as well. It was never meant to come along. One of the engineers that Scar brought to recover Canary simply intended to take advantage of a pile of mostly intact parts. The tour ground to a halt, however, so Tango could argue with this Zed person not to lay a finger on their machines. He was an odd fellow, and Jimmy was pretty sure he mistook their attachment to their Birdie to mean it held some great secret he was now eager to get his hands on. It would have to be sorted out later, according to Grian, who had gotten sick of waiting.

All in all, it was a shockingly professional operation.

“What? Did you expect us to be set up in some abandoned hole in the colony walls?” Grian teased as they entered the mess hall.

Jimmy ducked, ears hot. “Not exactly… Maybe a wayward asteroid?”

“Ha! Good luck purchasing one of those.” A voice chimed from the kitchen. They all looked over, but there was no one at the counter. Tango and Jimmy approached first, curious eyes on a large pot. There was a strained grunt down below. Just as Tango leaned over the edge a bag of flour maybe half the size of Jimmy rose up. With a big ‘oomf!’ it dropped onto the counter. The dishevelled man carrying almost as much flour over his body as was in the bag nearly collapsed to his knees. “Jesus, Grian, there’s gravity here you know!”

“Well hey there, little guy, need some help?” Tango grinned down at the man.

Suddenly the man was in his face, forehead cracking against Tango’s. “What you just say?” He snapped before the pain finally registered and fell back, mimicking the whine Tango was also making.

Jimmy quickly grabbed his companion, pulling him away from the violent flour-goblin-creature. The very centre of Tango’s forehead was turning red, but he seemed okay.

Grian huffed behind them. “It’s called buying in bulk, Bdubs. It’s cost efficient. Also, could you try and not bite the ankles of our new recruits on their very first day?”

“Well tell the members of your lollipop guild to mind their bee’s wax!”

Jimmy glanced over to Bdubs, then Tango, and then Grian. He carefully took a breath, placing a hand over his mouth before letting out a strained cough. Another cough. No, he had to look away.

Someone pinched his side and he yelped. “Watcha snickering at, you ostrich?” Tango hissed.

“Nothing! Nothing.” He wheezed back, trying to wave his companion away. “Nothing at all.”

“Then get outa here!” Bdubs snapped. “Dinner ain’t ready!”

On their way to leave Grian stuck his tongue out – like a child, and least like the leader of a military organization. After dozens more rooms for jobs Jimmy had learned a long time ago not to bother thinking about, they found themselves in an office next to the parking lot. Mumbo awaited them with stacks of papers. Contracts. Even the moon had red tape.

“Normally we’d set you up with apartments,” He explained while they flipped through pages. “But, uh, Sanctuary currently has a bit of a housing shortage. Lots of new heads and not a lot of new places to put them. Luckily for you, though, one of our mechanics volunteered to house you until a place opens up.”

Jimmy blinked in surprise. “Well that’s awfully kind of them, thank you.”

Mumbo shrugged, taking the last of the documents away from them and gesturing towards the door. “Oh, it’s no trouble, he was especially eager to see you, Tango. He should be waiting in the lot for you.

“Me?” Tango said with a curious glance at the door.

As they walked out, sure enough, there was a broad man with short cropped hair and stained coveralls waiting near an old van. When he caught sight of them a beaming smile stretched across his face. Beside Jimmy Tango made an honest-to-god squeal and launched himself at the man with arms wide open. “Impulse!” If his target weren’t so sturdy Jimmy knew the deceptively strong mechanic would have bowled him right over with the force of the hug he gave. “Oh my god, you’re here! You’re here?”

“Nice to see you again too, Tango.” Impulse laughed.

Jimmy hesitated to approach but shuffled over when Tango turned to him again and waved for him to come closer. “Um, s’nice to meet you.”

“You must be the new pilot. Jimmy, right?” He offered a large hand to shake. It was a surprisingly gentle grip. “The name’s Impulse.”

“Impy and I used to work at the same base until about five years ago when he transferred.” Tango decided to explain, giving his old friend a hard pat on the back. “I haven’t heard from you, though. I didn’t know you left for Sanctuary!”

It was only for a split second, but there was something agonizing in his gaze. It was quickly wiped away by the smile lines under his eyes. “A lot happened. We can catch up later, it’s getting pretty late.” And he gestured towards the van.

Jimmy quickly climbed in the back, leaving the front seat for his companion. He wasn’t sure if Tango even noticed the gesture, barely able to stop rambling to Impulse long enough to climb in and get his seatbelt on.

Jimmy leaned back with a smile, listening to Impulse listen to Tango who was quite possibly breaking some speed barrier with how fast the stories and questions tumbled out over their car ride. Occasionally he jerked around awkwardly in his seat so he could tell Jimmy directly about some experiment he convinced Impulse to help him with that nearly got them dishonourably discharged. For the most part, though, Jimmy contented himself with watching the roads with his ear leaned towards the old friends.

“Spare parts, Impulse! He called my baby spare parts!”

“Haha, yeah, Zed can be like that sometimes. Don’t let it get to you too much, I think you’ll get along with him once you get to know each other. You’re really similar.”

“Goblinoid?” Jimmy jokingly offered, grinning at the whiny offended noise that escaped Tango. Impulse laughed more heartily at that, barely getting out his agreement.

They stopped in front of a suburban house- not too large and with minimal yard around it, but at least two stories, lush gardening, and through the gate on the side Jimmy even spotted a pool. Tango whistled as Impulse unlocked the door. “Nice place you got here.”

“Thanks, we actually built it ourselves. Got lucky timing with some rezoning and were able to purchase the whole lot thanks to Grian.”

“’We’?” Tango ask, eyebrow wiggling. Impulse hid his blush by pushing into the home. It was just as nice on the inside, a small foyer leading right into a set of stairs with a comfortable living room to its right and a hall leading to a nice-sized kitchen.

Jimmy closed the door behind him, taking in the home. At some point it must have been cleanly decorated like something one would see in a catalogue. It had since become well-loved and lived in, with the walls covered in photos, memorabilia collecting on the shelves, and acceptable décor pushed to the side to make room for personal items that found the spots convenient.

“Sorry for the mess. I didn’t have a lot of time to prepare for your stay here between when it was approved and the mission.”

Jimmy stopped beside a particularly large photo, stood on a hall cabinet, of what appeared to be a wedding. Impulse looked quite dashing cleaned up, in a tailored suit rather than baggy work coveralls. Any slimming qualities of the black suit were countered by the small frame of the other groom, who was at least 60% smile. He looked much more comfortable in his fancied-up state than Impulse, brown hair styled down to the individual strands, but there was something off about him. It took Jimmy a second to realize it was because he was almost familiar.

He let out a surprised gasp, spinning towards Impulse. Tango had pushed past him further up the stairs, still rambling mostly to himself about some story. Impulse shrugged with amusement, gesturing to keep quiet. He must have heard already about their other not-terrific first impressions. Still a bit shocked, Jimmy silently followed them upstairs.

A door to the immediate left was pushed open to reveal a very small guest room, likely intended more as an office or spare nook. There was little more than the double bed, side table, and small dresser.

“We were only able to clear out this room before you arrived.” Impulse explained. “The other guest room’s still full of stuff, so until we get it cleaned you’ll have to share. There’s spare blankets and pillows in the hall closet. I’d offer one of you the couch, but I think I’d get yelled at.”

“Hey, compared to on-base, this is a castle!” Tango threw his arms out like he was showing off how much room they had.

Impulse nodded. “Well, I’m sure you guys are tired. I need to run to the grocery store but feel free to make yourselves at home. Bathroom’s down the hall, I bought toiletries and PJs for you. There’s premade meals in the fridge for when you’re hungry. Just don’t eat in the living room or in bed.”

“Where are you supposed to eat, then?”

“Thank you.” Jimmy said, ignoring the doofy grin on his companion.

An hour later Jimmy sat down on the bed, stomach full and newly clean. The PJs left completely swallowed him, forcing him to curl back the sleeves. It seemed their hosts had used Impulse as a guestimate. In a way it was flattering. In others…

He tugged at the loose collar, eventually pulling it up over the lower half of his face and ears to cover his pout. “Maybe I should eat more…”

“What? You already eat like a horse!” Tango whined as he pulled his own pajamas over his head. Torso stretched out it was easy to see there was not an ounce of fat on him, and his skin clung desperately to his musculature.

Jimmy snorted. “You only say that because you eat like a lizard. Once a week.”

“Hey, I had dinner, didn’t I?” A huff escaped him. “Food’s just easy to forget when there’s important stuff.”

“It can be, but you worry me sometimes you know.” Jimmy wagged his finger towards his approaching companion. “One day you’ll finish a project and immediately drop dead, the only thing having kept you alive being spite.”

Tango flopped onto the bed with a huge grin, but when his eyes met Jimmy’s the amusement left him. Jimmy tilted his head when Tango went silent. “… Yeah…” He muttered, brow furrowing together. “Yeah, I promise I’ll eat and sleep more.”

Well, that was strangely easy. He hadn’t even asked. “Are you all right?”

“Mmh.” He mumbled while Jimmy shuffled into place on his side of the bed. “Well, I’ve developed some bad habits over the years. Not like it mattered to anyone else but me if I missed a few days of work after some all-nighters or did something stupid like keep an illegal mobile suit in my basement. I guess when you only have to think about yourself in a lot of ways you stop thinking about yourself, funny enough.”

Jimmy turned off the lamp. “I suppose.” Evening light still streamed through the window. It was almost too early to sleep, but every bone in Jimmy’s body was exhausted. They’ve barely had a wink of sleep since he went out on the patrol. Come to think of it, hadn’t Tango had plans for the weekend? Instead he was on the moon with Jimmy…

“Honestly, standing next to Impulse is a bit embarrassing.” Tango whined.

A laugh escaped. “Is that what this is about? Your friend make you feel like a wet rag?”

“You know he’s always been the responsible one, but he used to eat ramen for weeks on end the same as me. Now he looks like he hasn’t missed a homecooked meal in years! I’m getting left behind.”

Was that really it? Jimmy let out another laugh. “You eating and sleeping like a normal person? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Tango patted Jimmy’s shoulder, which was already pressed right against his own in the small bed. “New home, new me, or something like that. If I get sick who knows who they’ll get to do the repairs on Canary? Us bachelors gotta keep each other in check.”

Jimmy sucked in a breath, halting a third chuckle in its tracks. His last words seeped into Jimmy’s brain like they were dropped through molasses. He turned away onto his side, curling half in on himself as he pressed his hand to his mouth.

“… Jimmy?”

“Ah…” The hand he laid on scratched at the back of his neck. “Um, Tango?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“I… I think I might still be married?”

“You.” Bdubs drawled, growled, from the opposite couch. Tango seemed unaffected by the dirty look aimed his way, though he seemed more lost in his own thoughts. Impulse placed a placating hand on his husband’s shoulder, though his eyebrows were worried.

Heat rose to Jimmy’s face as he twiddled his thumbs. “You… all seem a bit surprised.”

“I am!” The bleached blond shouted. “How do you just forget you’re married ?”

Jimmy flinched away, putting up his hands defensively. “I mean, I don’t know if I am! I told you, seeking asylum on earth was a snap decision. I didn’t think about if that meant it was annulled or something!”

“Well is it?”

“I don’t know! That’s why I’m asking you!”

“Okay, let’s calm down.” Impulse gently placed a hand on Bdubs’ chest and pushed him back down into his seat. For his part, Tango had already stolen one of the couple’s tablets, scrolling through… something wordy. Jimmy didn’t know if it was some database or just an article.

Bdubs shook his head in disbelief. “Fine, fine. It’s fine. Well, um, I’m not quite sure. Not exactly up to date on inter-planetary marriage laws as related to refugees, you know. We can ask Mumbo to look it up though, he should be able to access records like that. How legal that is ain’t none of my business, but he can!”

“Yes please.” Jimmy hastily requested. “And, um, exactly how on the books is me being here?”

“Well, I dunno if it’s gone through yet but I’m sure Grian’s pulled his little strings to get you guys proper documentation. It’d be difficult for you to do anything outside the base without-”

“So, theoretically,” Jimmy wrung his hands nervously. “Theoretically, if I am still married, then the government would be obliged to give my spouse my information and location?” Now that he was thinking about it, he was really thinking about all of it. He wasn’t sure if it held true for Sanctuary, but if it was like Pluto then he was screwed. Guilt still irrationally pricked his heart at how easily he recalled those laws, even now that he could be more honest than his younger self on why he spent those nights reading them over and over again.

A grounding hand fell onto his shoulder, bring him back out of his memories. Tango’s eyebrows were worried together, but he offered a comforting smile.

“I think so, maybe.” Impulse said, almost apologetically.

Jimmy sighed. “Then, um, there might be a bit of a problem.”

“From what I’ve found you could get it annulled, if it even still exists.” Tango offered, turning the tablet around. “It’s a bit of a process, but it shouldn’t be any longer than the red tape for citizenship. Not to assume about things I don’t really know, but if Grian’s just making up identities for us then it wouldn’t matter in the first place.”

“Yeah!” Bdubs agreed, pulling out his phone. “I’ll shoot Mumbo a message, he should be messing up my espresso machine on base right about now.”

Jimmy smiled, tension oozing away.

“So, what’s your spouse’s name? And maybe the date of marriage would be good, too.”

And then it immediately flooded back. Tango noticed, leaning in with a look of concern. “Jimbo?”

“… Scott…” He mumbled, hoping desperately that it was too quiet to hear.

The room tensed into silence. Apparently, it was not.

A chuckle escaped Bdubs. “Scott, huh? Must be a pretty common name out there on Pluto?”

Heat pricked Jimmy’s ears. His head shook stiffly. “It’s Scott Smajor.”

Somehow the silence became even heavier, before Bdubs and Tango both sputtered. Impulse seemed too shocked to join them. Bdubs was the first able to get words out. “Sco-Scott Smajo- Scott Smajor? Scott Smajor ? Are you pulling my leg?”

“Not a lot of people know…”

“What? That Jim Nobody is married to the emperor of Pluto ? No, it was not common knowledge!” He shrieked, almost forgetting his phone entirely. “What do you mean your spouse is Scott Smajor?”

“We were pretty young when it happened.”

“You say that like it was some sort of natural disaster than something you had sign up for!”

“… It feels that way.” Jimmy laments, propping his head up in his palm. A force of nature was probably a good descriptor of Scott, now that he thought about it. If it were even a few years earlier he would have recalled the day Scott showed up with everything ready to go, just waiting for Jimmy’s agreement, with fondness and maybe a busybody joke or two. It was hard to even recall those emotions these days. He shook his head. “Well, on Pluto nobility tend to have several marriages, it’s more of a political network. I’m not important, so I didn’t get much attention.”

Impulse worried the phone in his hands. “I see, though. I don’t think him using legal channels is the biggest concern if that’s the case.”

“It… Wouldn’t be great if the enemy could just find Canary by making a demand for me.” Jimmy humourlessly chuckled.

“One way or another, don’t sweat it. We’ll keep you safe.” Tango assured.

“It’s nice to know but I don’t think it’s something we can really think about.” Bdubs agreed. Impulse gave a half-hearted sound of agreement, but Jimmy could tell he wasn’t as sure as the other two. Jimmy couldn’t help feeling similarly. Scott never hesitated to take advantage of any opportunities that came his way, and he had an eye for spotting them. Now that he knew Jimmy was alive and piloting a gundam…

A shudder ran through his body. He reached out for Tango’s hand, who gave a reassuring squeeze back, but it did not calm him as much as he hoped. Not while his mind was coming to the looming realization that nowhere was safe from the past.

The door to Ren’s office slammed open, cracking against the back wall and rebounding into Cleo’s already waiting hand. She ignored the protest of the nurse behind her and marched straight up to the startled director, her working fist slamming into his desk. “Where is he.”

Martyn stepped forward, “Cleo-”

“Where. Is. He.”

Ren cringed. A silence took over the room as she glared the two men down. “We don’t know.” He finally told her. “Not yet. We found the ship he was most likely kidnapped onto-”

“Kidnapped!” She laughed humourlessly. “Try ran away! Abandoned! Betrayed!”

“Kidnapped.” Martyn growled. “From everything we have been able to gather as of yet he was taken against his will.”

“Come off it, Martyn. We all know what that two-face coward was doing.” She snapped back. “What? He spends his entire time on this base getting one unit after another killed, and then the second he locates a gundam Pluto cracks the KD and they both fuck off? Please!”

“Either way!” Ren stands up, placing an arm between the two. “Either way we don’t know where he’s gone. Whatever ship took him and the Canary were able to get away before we could break through its signal cloaking. The most we know is it headed out rather than in.”

She scoffed. “Of course it did, it’s probably half-way back to Pluto now.” What a brilliant situation they had let themselves get into.

Tense silence overtook the office. Only the tick of Martyn’s watch filled the empty space while the two sides stared each other down from opposite sides of the desk.

“Well?” She didn’t have time for this.

“Well what?” grumbled Martyn.

“When do we go up?”

“We aren’t.”

“Excuse me?”

He pinched his nose, and Ren spun away on his chair towards his computer. “The higher ups have not given us assignment to follow. That’s a matter of another base not on the front of the civil war. We aren’t going up after them.”

“Are you kidding me?” Cleo could feel her blood boiling in her veins. She swung out her arm. “And exactly who are they sending if not us? The puttering infants they call pilots from the academy? Some out of the loop loons from a southern base?”

“They didn’t say-”

Cleo’s fist slammed into the desk once more, cutting off his words. She dragged the sore knuckles away and walked out their door right past the nurse. One growl kept her from getting too close.

After everything they’d been through, and now they couldn’t even track down the son-of-a-bitch themselves? Not even halfway down the hall she paused, too frustrated not the pound another fist into the wall. It didn’t help nearly as much as she wished, so she punched it again. And again, and again...

“Cleo?”

Her hair whipped out and smacked the new intruder in the face, who stumbled back in shock. All the tension built up in her shoulders dropped at the sight of neon green. “Hello, Bigb.” She said, rolling her eyes.

The man smiled nervously. “You seem to be a bit… troubled.”

“Understatement of the century.”

“I just came to tell you that you had a call from Joe-”

“I’m not available.” Not waiting for him, she stomped off towards the reports room. If no one else would do anything, she would figure out a way to do it herself.

She was elbow deep into what seemed like an endless cabinet when her communicator blared. Narrowed eyes focused down on the annoying little device. Expecting another reminder from Bigb of her missed call, instead she saw a peculiar code and something quite wrong with it. A string of numbers. Cleo raised her eyebrow, until it clicked. Someone was jamming the device.

Muffled and panicked voices passed by the office door. So not just me, she tilted her head at the communicator again, however. There was something wrong. If someone was launching an EMP attack it would simply go out, wouldn’t it?

Then a familiar string of letters passed by. They were hidden among nonsense, but the pattern recognition part of her brain pulled them together. An address. A very questionable address, one that mattered to nobody else alive anymore. This was for her.

Then it was over. Her communicator blinked off, restarted, and blinked a short warning before it was as if nothing happened. Warily, Cleo stood and poked her head into the hall. People were still scrambling to put everything back into place from the curious attack. There were no signs of anything out of the ordinary besides, not even an unknown face or out of place stapler.

She glanced back down at the communicator, brows furrowed. “This is some sick prank from the eggheads.” She told herself before returning to the cabinet.

Tango flipped through his tablet, squinting at every new word he caught. “Why the K-3Ms?” He grumbled, darting his glare towards the violet eyed blond across from him.

Zedaph rocked in his chair like he was being forced to sit in it, humming to himself as he scribbled something down. “Because they’re better for space.”

“But they’re for supporting heavy frames with minimal movement capabilities.”

“Yes, so if we put them on the Canary it’ll be even more maneuverable.”

“It’s already more maneuverable than literally every other model out there. She needs the M-5M thrusters for stability, otherwise Jimmy’s going to be flung around like a 3D slip-and-slide. Besides, it's better for her reactor.”

“But that’s just mitigating its greatest strength! We should install the K-3M or at least K-2M, I’m sure he can get used to it.”

“I’ve literally been in the cockpit with him and watched how much he has to fight with just F-2Ms, and that was planetside.”

“You can’t say that every time you disagree with a modification I want to make!”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He growled.

A light giggle sounded behind the pair. Tango leaned back to give Jimmy an exhausted look, who only smiled wider behind his hand. “You trying to out-nerd each other?” Asked the pilot.

“Jimmy, listen to this guy. He wants to install K-3M thrusters and a second reactor funnel and doesn’t see the problem.” Tango whined.

“How dare he.” There was a humouring hum to his words, which got a snort out of Zed until he spoke again. “That would cause a pretty bad drift problem. I’m used to light frames but Canary’s on another level, especially for its size class.”

Tango pointed accusingly at Zed. “Ha! Told you. I have first hand experience, buddy, with both Canary and Jimmy.”

Jimmy abruptly squeaked and turned away.

Zed folded his arms in a huff. “Oh, and I suppose next you’ll be telling me to cancel the order for the CHR rifle?”

“Of course not, it’ll be cool as hell.” Tango grinned, which got him a similar smirk in return. Immediately both went to their tablets and updated their information, Tango on Canary and Zed the launch specs.

Over his shoulder Jimmy just shook his head and laughed. “You guys having fun, then?”

“Indeed. I’ve got to say,” Zed leaned his head to rest his chin on the edge of his screen, eyes wide with curiosity. “It’s been a real help with you actually knowing your machine! Normally when I try to talk to Grian or Skizz they just say, ‘make it go fast and shoot big!’ then run off.”

Nobody else seemed to catch it, but Tango saw Jimmy’s smile falter for only a half second. “Well, me and Tango had to repair the Birdie on our own, so I learned a lot from him. Tango’s really amazing.” A beaming smile was turned on the mechanic. Heat filled his ears, forcing him to sheepishly look away. He scratched the back of his head while Zed began barraging Jimmy with questions. Tango quietly listened to his companion explain his experience from the pilot’s seat, but the longer he did so the more something nagged at him.

It was true, Jimmy had learned some things from Tango, but that had mostly been about specific models of parts, newer ones in particular. Despite his own words, and perhaps having less intimate knowledge, Jimmy had always been able to more or less keep up. Was it how they trained pilots on Pluto? They do have fewer pilots and engineers out there, and a lot of communication dead zones. It’d probably help to have the pilots able to make their own repairs. Especially the scrap king, here. But even as he told himself that it didn’t sit quite right.

Tango stayed quiet and listened. If Jimmy wanted to share he would. A rather grim picture was beginning to form in Tango’s mind, of whatever had gone down back on his home planet. It left him wondering, wanting desperately to fill the gaps, if only so he could figure out where to step. Tango was awful with emotions on a good day.

Did it have to do with the Rapture? Had he seen it? Participated? He couldn’t imagine it.

Tango leaned back to rest his head in his palm, watching Jimmy chatter away with Zed about paints now. His smile was stretched with excitement, face a bit flush from the heating he always handled poorly, happier than he ever was on the earth base despite everything. It was a sudden change over the past week, and a very nice one. The idea of shattering it for yet another of too many invasive questions he’d received recently seemed impossible. Later , Tango promised himself. Later, and with a lot of pancakes as an apology for asking at all.

“It would look good in the original yellow,” Jimmy agreed in reply to whatever Tango missed Zed saying. “But, um, what about a bit of red?”

Zed raised an eyebrow. “Red?”

Jimmy nodded vigorously, grin stretching wide. “It’s my favourite colour.”

“Really?” Tango said with shock, leaning in towards him. “I always thought it was blue? You know, since you wear it so much and being from Pluto, and the nickname.”

His eyebrows knit together in an almost apologetic look. Imagine that. They really ought to work on his self-confidence. “Well, someone said I look good in blue, and I guess I just never stopped wearing it. But, uh, those last two are kind of connected…”

Why did everything that came out of Tango’s mouth have to hit a landmine? “Oh, sorry! Sorry.” He tried to laugh it off, eyes scanning the table for anything to change the subject. He pulled up a random catalogue, one for various Convex laser cannons. “What about sidearms? Her reactor is powerful, I think something lightweight but still packs a punch would be good, like a pistol. there’s room for a holster in the leg even.”

“Ah.” Jimmy averted his gaze, face falling slightly. “A pistol, huh?”

Tango definitely did not let out the most horrific little squeal of a noise as he practically slammed the catalogue down and threw another on top of it. “Or we can talk about anything else, it’s fine!” His voice cracked. Eyes darted about in search of the next topic, until they caught the shake of Jimmy’s shoulders. Tango was about to stammer out the world’s most grovelling apology before he noticed the pilot’s cheeks slightly puffed, poorly holding back a smile and sound. He narrowed his eyes. “You-!”

“Hm?” Jimmy hummed innocently.

“Could you get a room?” Zed grumbled from across the table, nose wrinkled in disgust. “If you aren’t going to be of any more help?”

“We’ll take them off your hands.” Grian’s voice broke through the conversation. “I need them in on a debriefing.”

Tango leaned back until his head was hanging upside down behind him to look at their new boss. “Is that so? What’s up?”

“Jimmy’s first mission with us.” Grian grinned a bit too maliciously. “It’s time to prove yourselves to The Resistance.”

He didn’t like the sound of that…

#tangotek #jimmy solidarity #traffic series #hermitpires #trafficshipping #clock duo #homewreckers #grian #mcyt #fanfiction #fanfic #alternate universe #scifi au #hurt/comfort #sharing a slice of cake

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yacinthemorning · 3 months

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Chapter two is up!

Fandom(s): Hermitcraft SMP, Life Series SMP Pairings: Jimmy/Tango; Scar/Grian When Scar wakes to hear that Pearl has shot a man, it's only a matter of time before the web around the Ratcliffes starts to fray at the edges. If he tugs at the thread he reveals, will the secrets Grian has been hiding finally come to light, or will everything that holds Del Sombra together come crashing down around his ears?

Second chapter is a Scar POV! Enojy! :P

#bookshelf #favourites shelf #sharing a slice of cake

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yacinthemorning · 3 months

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Birdsongs

Chapter 4

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And, perhaps, among the chaos and music, two unsuspecting souls find one another...

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Joel/Lizzie (romantic), Jimmy & Scott (platonic)

Warnings: Alcohol, drugs, anxiety attack, public performance, singing

As it turned out, Jimmy and Tango were, in fact, especially bad at putting up a tent.

“Have you never set one up?” Tango asked in a huff while his companion detangled him from the collapsed structure.

Jimmy managed to finally yank it over his head, coming face to face with Tango as he shook his head. “No, the two times I ever went camping Scott set it up for me. Have you never…?”

“I’mma be honest with you, Jimbo.” He was interrupted by a grunt as he pushed himself up onto his feet. “The closest to camping I’ve ever done is when I lived outa my car for two weeks in college, and a couple tailgate parties.”

“You were homeless?” Jimmy seemed genuinely distressed, as if it weren’t over a decade ago.

To that, though, Tango had to cringe as the memory came back to him. He wavered his hand. “Well, kinda? Me and our old bandmate sorta got kicked out of the dorms until they could fix the damage we caused. Honestly, kinda amazed they let us back in.”

“What? What did you do?”

“I’ll spare you the details and leave it at the fact that homemade rocket fuel is illegal for a reason.”

Jimmy choked, then sputtered. “What!” It wasn’t the first time Tango got that specific face from that story, and was the main reason he avoided recounting it. A face usually followed by- “I thought you were going to say you punched the drywall or something!” Yep. Right as expected.

“Yeah, well, that would be a normal and boring reason to get kicked out. And me and Zed? Couldn’t let that happen. That’s college for ya.”

“I can’t say that was my college experience…”

“That’s probably because you didn’t know enough engineering majors!” Tango swung his arm out with one of the poles, “I knew a group o’ guys whose final project was smithing a historically accurate bronze age sword from scratch. Most of the project was spent tryna spell manganese for their paper, sword was the easy part.”

There was a pause where Jimmy seemed to consider the statement before he sighed in amusement and laid out the tent. “C’mon, Rocketman, Sixth time’s the charm.”

The two absentmindedly worked, mostly just trying to find which end went where. It figures Skizz would pack some old military surplus tent from the Napoleonic Wars he found in the back of his attic instead of just buying a nice easy setup tent from Big Box or something. Tango held the tarp steady while Jimmy triple checked the poles were slotted in place, backing away like it was a wild animal. At this rate, with how much attitude it was giving them, it might as well be.

“So, you went to college?” Tango asked as he tied the tarp down to a joint.

Jimmy ducked past him to pick up another pole. “Is that surprising?” His tone turned defensive, and Tango could imagine his hackles rising.

“No! No… Well, kinda?” He quickly yanked the tarp back just as Jimmy set the pole into the ground. “With the band stuff.”

“Gosh, imagine making a living wage off being in a band!”

“Fair, fair.” Tango conceded, “So what was it for?”

“Well…” Jimmy’s voice wavered, mulling over something. “I was hoping to be a teacher, but it didn’t really pan out. Probably for the best, I hear the pay isn’t very good.”

Tango listened as he gathered his thoughts, batting around the last pole in the general direction of the rambling man. It tapped the back of his hand and instantly was gripped tight enough to yank out of Tango’s hand while Jimmy continued, absently waving it. “It really sucked, actually. The classes were super difficult, I had to retake them a bunch. And that was if I got the class, which I didn’t several times. Scott and Lizzie wanted to go full-time when we were putting our first real album together and I got outa there pretty quick.”

“At least you got the experience?” Was the only lame sentiment that came to Tango.

Jimmy shrugged, unbothered and with a bit of a smile on his face. “Just wasn’t meant to be, but it was a nice experience. I just hop around now, and Lizzie barely asks for rent so I don’t need much.” He dismissed, spoken like a true upper-middle class kid. All Tango could think was how much money it must have been repeating classes.

“I mean that’s probably for the best.” He said instead. “Pretty sure Impy and Skizz are dipping into their sick days for this trip.”

“Oh, goodness me.”

Something about the way Jimmy said those words made Tango bowl over laughing. Despite being younger than Tango, he sounded like an elderly man who just heard something scandalous over the phone. Was it the accent? It probably was. Jimmy shuffled a bit, seemingly unsure if he should laugh along or be offended. He instead focused on the tent, driving the last pole through the loop and into the ground. Both men backed up cautiously, watching and waiting for the tent to suddenly collapse in on itself or maybe spontaneously combust.

It did neither. Though it scooched about in the breeze a bit from not being spiked down, it was built about as proper as could be told. They looked at each other with pure relief which melted into excitement. “I’ll get the mattress!” Tango sprinted off, catching Jimmy picking up his guitar and crawling inside. It suddenly hit him, how cozy it was going to be with the three of them in there. Oh well, at least he got his cuddle buddy. More important than that, getting to sleep outside instead of on that awful table.

It wasn’t until several hours later, after dinner had long since served, with the air already smoky with whatever Skizz and Fwhip were smoking around back, and the two laid staring at the roof of the tent shoulder to shoulder, that they spoke again. Tango honestly thought Jimmy had already fallen asleep. Then he shifted, shoulder rolling into Tango’s to catch his attention.

“Once we’re done tomorrow, can I come watch you guys?”

Tango blinked, “You can watch whatever shows you want.”

“R-right.” Jimmy shifted away.

God, he knew exactly what to say, didn’t he? Tango stuttered for a moment. “I wanna watch you guys too, then.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Too late. I’m gonna.”

Jimmy laughed, then winced as his knee banged into his guitar case. He was a long fellow, unable to sleep in the tent without either bending or sticking his feet out the front. Despite that he took up such a small space, even with his guitar. It wouldn’t do, Tango decided. He shuffled over until there was enough of a gap between them to catch Jimmy’s attention, and patted the space. “C’mon, don’t be a stranger.”

“Oh, it’s fine-”

“Nope, get over here.”

“I have plenty of room!”

“You look like a sardine. C’mon, I’m not a big guy, you take the space.”

Jimmy’s eyes darted from him to the gap between them. With the space now open, however, cold air flooded from outside, sending a shiver through both. It quickly became reoccupied by the guitarist. A bit too quickly, as he overshot the gap and pressed himself right up against Tango. How accidental it was seemed up in the air, but either way he made no move to… well, move. “I can’t wait to get to somewhere warmer.” He muttered, pulling his sleeping bag up to his chin.

“I’m afraid it’s probably not gonna be much warmer at night anywhere.” Tango laughed. He settled into the new warmth, still too awake. Why didn’t he try fixing his sleep schedule before they left?

Jimmy was quiet for another moment, then whispered. “If I get tangled in the cords trying to do some stupid dance move I wasn’t supposed to and fall off the stage, you can’t laugh at me, okay?”

Tango snorted in an attempt not to laugh too loud, sending a gust across Jimmy’s bangs. “That’s specific. I’ll be in the front row, so if you go down so’m’I.”

“Nooo…” Jimmy groaned.

“Don’t worry, I’ll try catching you. I think you’d crush me before I do, though.”

“We aren’t a mosh pit type of band, Tango, you shouldn’t be getting crushed.”

“Well you can return the favour at our show, ‘cause I will stage dive and I will aim for you.”

“I change my mind.”

This time Tango couldn’t stop the laugh, which Jimmy joined in on. “Get some sleep, partner, we got songs to mess up and stages to fall off.”

“Jimmy move back, you’re too close to the edge of the stage.”

The cords at their feet were a pit of vipers snapping at his ankles as he tried to move back as his sister asked. His guitar weighed thrice as much that day, threatening to tear his shoulder out of its socket in its ongoing mission to shatter at his feet. The notes of their first song had danced right out of his mind, then the page Scott shoved in front of him. They floated above him, indecipherable from the shadows of the rafters. Joel tried to console him, but it amounted to claiming ignorance to his failure that was not nearly as comforting at Joel seemed to believe.

Everyone scurried around him while he tried his best to keep out of their way. His finger tapped anxiously against the remnant scraps of the poppy sticker, situated at the topmost corner where his hand naturally rested. A panic button. Jimmy wasn’t sure if it made a particular sound or if the tapping itself was so obvious. Either way, like clockwork ten seconds into the action, there was a hand on his shoulder. Scott’s bow dug into his neck as he rubbed comforting circles. They were just as much for Jimmy as they were for Scott, even if he would never show it. It all felt a little too anxious to call a good luck routine, but a routine it was, all the same.

“This is crowd’s small compared to what we’ll be seeing at other venues.” Scott rambled, making Jimmy all too aware there was no curtain to hide behind on the open-air stage. “Think of it as a warm up, a taste of what to expect for the rest of the pilgrimage.”

“Yeah.” He said, curt.

“We’re starting with pescatarian. The easiest guitar, ‘kay?”

If Jimmy weren’t terrified out of his mind he’d roll his eyes at Scott’s use of the song title from their disc jacket, rather than the one they’d all used long before Jimmy officially joined them. “’Kay.”

“Just follow my lead and we’ll be fine.” Scott tried to assure. It was, if only slightly.

Their conversation was interrupted by the crack of fireworks and whirl of blades. Everyone looked up into the sky, right to where a neon pink helicopter hovered. Jimmy could pinpoint from where in the crowds the uproar rippled out from. The few large projectors dotted beside each stage zoomed in. Out stepped Arianna Griande, her feathered coat going wild from the winds around it. Just behind her was her two favourite backup dancers. She waved to the crowd, and then she jumped.

There was a chorus of gasps and screams. Jimmy felt his own heart jump into his throat, despite knowing what was most certain to follow. As she plunged towards the ground the wings on her back burst open, becoming a parachute just as glitter canons went off below her. The crowd cheered louder than ever as her feet hit the main stage, the camera not bothering to follow her back up dancers as they, too, leapt after her.

She bowed, then threw her hands up, “Welcome, Pilgrims, to the first stage of our lives!”

Jimmy thought his eardrums might burst from the crowds cheers alone. Griande’s grin was impossibly wide, dancing across the stage as if touching the ground was passé. “And what a stage it is, is it not? Open, borderless, the sky’s the limit. Everyone take your first breath into this world!”

Despite the cheesiness, Jimmy found himself taking a deep breath along with several in the crowd.

She, too, took a breath, hand over her chest. “This was where I saw my first concert, the place where I was reborn into who I am today. I’m sure every one of us has that place. Can you see it in your mind? Let us take your spirit there as you let in the very first notes of our pilgrimage this weekend. Today, right now, every one of us is reborn!” Her hands went up, unable to contain her own excitement, and the crowds fed from her. No music had begun to play and they were already jumping about like popcorn.

The distant vibrations of the main stage thrummed through their blood. “It’s almost our time.” Joel announced from his seat. Scott released Jimmy’s shoulder to get in position. Their crowd was beginning to get riled up, hundreds of eyes watching them expectantly and cheering as Lizzie stepped forward to introduce them. Jimmy thought he might throw up.

A small commotion was happening in the horde just left of Jimmy. Fiery blond hair pushed past two folks, slamming into the railing just in front of the stage hard enough to nearly knock his red tinted glasses straight off. Tango struggled to recover, grimacing as he righted himself. His eyes met Jimmy’s and it turned into a beaming grin, hands outstretched in a catching motion. His fingers curled in. once, twice, thrice. Amusement bubbled up in Jimmy’s throat.

Behind him, Joel was snickering. Lizzie’s hands dropped to her keyboard and Scott had placed his fiddle to his shoulder. It was time to play. Tango settled down against the railing, cool as a cucumber as he tapped along to Joel setting the pace.

In all their years of playing, the first note had never come so easy Jimmy. He thinks it might not have even been the right one, with the side eye Scott sent him, but if it wasn’t it left his mind by the second note.

Lizzie and Scott were always in their own distant world when playing, and maybe for the first time Jimmy was there also. Every time he felt himself become too aware once more, felt the vipers tense against his sneakers, he glanced back over to Tango. The way his nail tapped against the metal rail, how his eyes never met Jimmy’s but seemed laser focused on his guitar, mouthing notes a quarter second after they played. If Jimmy tripped and fell he wasn’t sure Tango wouldn’t also collapse to the ground, despite his claims to catch Jimmy the night before.

The song slowed to its conclusion, the crowd already cheering and Jimmy already wondering how he could thank Tango for something that was all in Jimmy’s head. Scott seemed pleased, taking the mic from Lizzie to speak to the crowds and introduce their next song.

They slipped into some sort of groove, Jimmy nearly forgetting Tango was there as he watched his bandmates carefully. Scott led them again, then Lizzie in the third. It was a song she’d written a few years ago. To an onlooker maybe it sounded deep, profound even, about an endless, unreachable longing. Only her bandmates had to hold back their laughter, knowing full well it was about her breaking her VHS of The Little Mermaid.

It was the charm of her poetry, though. Jimmy wished he could see the world as overwhelmingly vibrant as her. He almost could, when he played her songs. Lights seemed brighter, grass greener, feedback from the speakers too loud, every note reverberating through his bones. At the same time, it was hard to remember where he even stood or where the sounds came from. How could he separate the faces in the crowd in front of him when he could feel every microscopic fault along his guitar strings? It was the sort of combination of hyper awareness and total obliviousness Lizzie always existed in. It decided what notes she chose and how she played them.

It was about something silly and replaceable, as had been done the day after she shared the song with them. But why shouldn’t she have been so distraught that she wrote an entire song before she remembered she could get a new copy? It broke because it was the thousandth time she’d shoved it a little too hard into the player after a terrible day.

It was the same as when they were teenagers, the first time he played something they’d created instead of out of a book. He’d never felt he understood his sister as well as he did then, while playing a song she wrote. Scott may have been the reason he started playing, but Lizzie had been what kept him playing back then, if only to play her songs.

If only in hopes it wouldn’t be such a one-way street someday.

I’ve gone and upset myself again. He huffed while Lizzie faded out the song. Escaping from Lizzie’s trance, his eyes settled back into the crowd. Whatever internal collapse just happened had thankfully not shown, as they went wild. No one cheered quite as loud as Tango, though it may just be due to familiarity that his voice stood out. Jimmy chest puffed up with pride. Why was he psyching himself out even when things were going well? He could worry about existential things in the privacy of the tent. Jimmy took a deep breath and waited eagerly for the next song to begin.

The last two went by in a blur. He knows Lizzie and Scott finished off with their duet, a showtune with no show, overly flashy and fun. It stuck out like a sore thumb, but that was the point according to them. Some visions Jimmy would simply never get, but it was always a fun last song to play.

“Thank you so much, everyone! We’ll see you again in the valley!” Lizzie announced as the rest of them shuffled off the stage as swiftly as possible.

Fwhip was waiting for them, barely containing his excitement with thinnest veneer of professionalism. As soon as Jimmy was in range it shattered, and Jimmy was dragged through into a hug. “You guys did amazing!” He squealed.

“Of course we did!” Lizzie said, attempting casualness. It did little to cover up her smile and the shine in her eyes. Her makeup had begun to bleed under the hot lights of the stage, rubbing off on her towel. “Goodness, though, I need a nice bath, I was sweating buckets before we even started.”

“You can go take a shower first, we’ll take care of everything.” Scott promised, wiping away his own running makeup. Jimmy was glad he’d only let them smear a bit of glitter across his cheeks. It would have been in a puddle on the stage before their first song.

Lizzie threw her case over her shoulder, gave her husband a kiss and the other two hugs. Jimmy shuffled his guitar around to give her room but she pulled him down into a bear grip that knocked it right back off his shoulder. “You did great today, Jimmy.” She whispered. Then she was off. “Don’t go to the food trucks without me!”

On her way out she paused, speaking into the crowd before continuing. It was Tango, now joined by Gem and Pearl, waiting for them all to finish packing up. “Great show, guys!” Gem beamed. The two bands had seen little of each other once they began to get ready, Empire going first for their earlier show. Now, an hour out from GIST’s performance, Gem dressed much more in line with Tango and Skizz’s punkish appearance. Though her accents were still bright, they were much harsher, and she’d undone her pigtails. Her makeup and jewellery still needed to be put on, but even without them she’d completely transformed.

“Were you here?” Jimmy asked, then clammed up as he realized how it sounded. Gem didn’t seem to notice, however.

“Yeah, though Tango ran off without us!” She teased, punching the man in the shoulder. He yelped, then shrugged. “There were so many tall people, Pearl had to pick me up at one point.”

The group chattered all the way back to the trailer, where Skizz awaited with an open bag of kettle corn. The next hour was peaceful. The two bands switched back and forth between GIST putting on their costumes and Empire removing them. Scott packed it all away, only having one show scheduled for the venue. They were free for the rest of the weekend from the mortification of performing, and Jimmy couldn’t be happier.

Impulse popped out of the trailer last, somehow still rocking the ‘dad at a barbeque’ look despite the makeup and piercings and leather. He was the last puzzle piece, and as soon as Gem got her pictures, they were off for final setup.

“They’re quite energetic for their age.” Scott commented.

Pearl shrugged. “They aren’t that old... And I’m pretty sure skizz took something while Impulse was in the bathroom.”

“Gods, speaking of, I think I’m about ready to die from stress.” Scott slid onto his feet only to lean against the trailer and put a dramatic hand to his forehead.

After a good chuckle Pearl also stood, pointing past the trailer. “There’s a band called HHH next door. I know the drummer. They always got good stuff.”

“Great, let’s go.”

They walked off with barely a wave to Jimmy, arm in arm. He raised an eyebrow that would never be seen, then shook his head. If they were going to ditch him for some weed he wasn’t going to wait around. He slung his guitar over his shoulder and went on a slow exploration for GIST’s stage.

The number of bands was nearly overwhelming. A psychedelic band that left Jimmy feeling like a boat in a storm was followed by a single guy with a metal mask shredding solo on the fanciest guitar Jimmy had ever seen. It wasn’t clear if he was playing an actual song or just showing off.

The first act he actually recognized was In the Littlewood, a ska punk band whose tape had wound up in Empire’s collection with a box of others bought for five bucks from a friend of a friend. It saw much more play than the rest in no small part thanks to the strange, complicated cords the lead guitarist pulled off. Or rather, usually pulled off and happily fumbled his way through the rest of the time. The same song he’d heard hundreds of times before was nearly unrecognizable at parts for how the band rebuilt the tune on the fly. It was a blasé attitude Jimmy had neither the skill nor the confidence to pull off.

Some noise-heavy act was just wrapping up as Jimmy found the stage GIST was to play on next. They’d gathered near the edge, half-listening to the previous band and half-prepared to set up the second they stepped off stage.

Tango waved him over. “We saved you a spot.” He explained as he oriented the taller right at the front. “Gotta be able to find you easy when I stage dive.”

“Wait, you aren’t actually going to jump, are you?” Jimmy warbled, eyes wide.

“Guess you’ll have to find out!”

This was going to end poorly.

Soon they were up on stage. Even before their set had started they roused a friendly atmosphere with casual conversation, contrasting greatly their appearance. Tango’s hair had been properly gelled and temporarily dyed to be much more vibrant like flames. He’d switched to a tank top under his vest that properly showed off the half-sleeve tattoo of... Well, Jimmy wasn’t actually quite sure what it was. It almost look like a maze, leading up to an icy castle. The other arm sported a much simpler tattoo that simply said ‘ZITS’. Impulse and Skizz sported matching ones in the same place. Below it was a GIST tattoo, smaller and bit more creatively scrawled, for which Gem also sported. Considering how much of a baby she could be, it was a surprise she agreed to get it.

Or maybe it wasn’t so surprising. The redhead had always been bubbly and outgoing, but Jimmy had never seen her quite as giddy as she was now, wavering between nerves and excitement. She bounced between her bandmates, checking one last time that they were all ready, before she snatched up the mic.

“Hey! How’s it going everyone!” Gem screamed loud enough the mic seemed redundant. The crowd burst with excitement, Jimmy nearly getting pushed over the railing by their zeal. Gem was giggling with absolute glee, bouncing on her heels from the reception. It was a motion Jimmy couldn’t help mirror. “Oh my god I can’t believe we’re actually here! How is everyone feeling? Are we ready for the biggest trip of our lives!?”

Jimmy cupped his mouth and shouted, joining in the collective approval. They were whispers next to Skizz’s battle cry. “Okay, okay! So-” Gem cut herself off with a squeal, red faced and shaking her free hand of the excess energy keeping her on her toes. “Sorry, Oh my god. Ah! I’m Gem, and these geezers-”

“Hey!” Tango shouted.

“Sorry, these big babies are Impulse, Skizz, and Tango, and together we’re the GIST and we’re here to rock your socks off!”

“Well, what if I’m not wearing socks, huh, Gemstone?” Skizz asked, which she responded to by blowing a raspberry. Jimmy laughed along with the crowd while Gem tried to keep them on track. Her face was already flushed by the time she announced their first song, the name of which Jimmy never caught through the uproar around him.

Tango was the one to lead, swiping the first note before Gem had stopped talking. It was a long beginning of instrumentals, one Jimmy suspected wasn’t originally so long. Gem, however, had her eyes trained on her guitar, still reeling from the excitement. Once the poor girl could breathe she stepped forward and the rest of the band immediately switched gears so naturally Jimmy felt himself physically swept up alongside them, his feet stumbling.

It’d been a long time since he’d witnessed such energy in a live performance. Nothing complicated, nothing ground-breaking, except when the wild assault of colour felt like it really was breaking the ground beneath his feet. GIST were truly purely hard rock, unencumbered by propriety. The actual lyrics completely slipped in one ear and out the other until the chorus burst forth and Gem was singing too loudly, “... And if you come to your senses, I’ve got a rocket ready to take us back to space!”

The music dropped, Impulse taking up the mic under a muffled hand while Tango and Gem combined the sound. A count down, Jimmy realized. It was ridiculous how closely it came to sounding like the real thing. When Skizz joined in to create a noise not like but similarly overwhelming to a rocket launching it sunk in that he never was supposed to hear the lyrics. Tango looked positively giddy at whatever strange orchestral storytelling they smashed together with their otherwise basic spread of instruments. No one of their parts was impressive on its own, but they blended into a singular mass Jimmy found difficult to pinpoint the individual parts within, even while watching strings being plucked. By the time the song lulled to its end Jimmy’s own heart had joined the cacophony.

A few people in the crowd could sing along to their lyrics. Jimmy joined them in the chorus, tripping up when Gem switched up one of the lines and giggling his way through the rest when Tango noticed and turned his nose up in mock smugness. He’d have to ask Pearl to borrow one of their discs so he could learn the lyrics for next time.

The rest of the songs felt like walking through a kaleidoscope. Nothing Jimmy hadn’t heard before, one was even a cover of a country song he’d heard Impulse playing in the van. Their lyrics were nothing to write home about, downright corny at points. They didn’t need to be, not with grins as wide as theirs. It was overwhelming.

Gem nearly jumped off the stage as the last song came to a close, her wildly styled hair flying all over. Tango’s hair, too, had started to lose its structure but he looked like he’d only just warmed up. It bled into the crowd cheering them on, which bled back into GIST. If there weren’t already another band waiting Jimmy had no doubt they would have been happy to play every song they’ve ever written until they collapsed from exhaustion. Alas, someone off stage sent a signal to them, and Gem was forced to wrap it up. Jimmy was surprised to find he was just as disappointed as GIST it had come to an end.

“That was amazing!” Jimmy said, intercepting the band as they escaped.

Pearl pushed past him to replace each of their water bottles for refilled ones. Tango snatched his up and immediately pressed it against Jimmy’s face, laughing as he jumped away. “You’re nearly as red as we are.”

“Well, it was a good show!” He pouted, then swiftly put behind him. “Are you playing again this weekend?”

Impulse replied, “Nah, I don’t think so. I think only main stage bands get to play multiple times most places.”

“Which means we’re gonna probably head out early so we can get an extra day to make it to the next destination.” Pearl declared.

“Whu- but Horsehead Farms doesn’t play until Sunday night!” Tango whined.

“You’ll be able to catch them at the other venues. Besides, Gem needs to rest.”

Jimmy blinked at the singer, who looked sheepish while Impulse rubbed her back. “I’m totally fine.” Her voice cracked painfully leading to a coughing fit. A roll of halls appeared in front of her, waved until she begrudgingly snatched them up.

“Glitter Girl has a bad habit of going all out, start to finish.” Tango explained, which got him a silly face from his bandmate.

“Like you’re any better.”

“My instrument ain’t my amazing voice!”

“Either way, we can’t have your voice shot if we gotta play again in a few days.” Pearl ended the argument, pushing between the two to take Gem away with Impulse. “I’ll go make some lemon tea. You guys should go have fun before we start packing up in the morning.”

Jimmy nodded and turned to Tango, hoping to ask the man to join him. He never got a chance. Tango hopped the railing and wrapped an arm around Jimmy’s neck, dragging him off without request.

They waded into the muddy crowds, Tango’s heavy boots splashing through the muck. The air was thick with the most pungent mixture of smokes and Jimmy was sure they were starting to get to him. At the intersection of stages they could all faintly rang over the crowds cheers. “Got anyone you wanna check out, partner?” Shouted Tango, barely audible despite no particular noise in the vicinity.

“I don’t even know who’s playing.” Jimmy admitted.

“Then I guess we follow the sound we like best.”

So that was what they did. A tune caught one of their ears. Jimmy wasn’t even sure which, only that they had stumbled off towards the open stage with more excitement than what they found warranted. It was probably a sign when a can tossed haphazardly over someone’s shoulder bounced off Tango’s head and smacked Jimmy in the face. Slipping in the mud onto their butts when a wave swept through the crowd was most certainly one. The singer was off key from nerves. Jimmy’s eyes stung from the dust and smoke. Halfway through the next mediocre song they realized the can had cut his nose. There was a ringing in his ears from standing too close to the speaker. He had to cover them when everyone started screaming at the start of a done-to-death cover. At one point Jimmy felt himself go red from second hand embarrassment when the singer tried to get the crowd to sing along to a song nobody knew.

It was the most fun he’d had in years.

The lounges and bars they’d near-exclusively spent the last five years in were a distant nightmare. When was the last time they went to a big concert instead of just catching the act after them?

They didn’t even wait for the goodbyes to end before they moved on to another stage. The main stage, it seemed. Griande was still going, dancing her heart out. Lizzie adored her glitter, but even she’d balk at Griande now. She was on to one of her pop-ier songs, a silly love song, but Griande could make anything sound like the most romantic lyrics you’d ever heard.

While singing along with the rest of the crowd he caught sight of Tango from the corner of his vision. It wasn’t his jam, Jimmy could have guessed that the moment he met the guy, but he was still swaying, a big grin on him. Jimmy bounced on his heels, singing along with renewed vigour.

“You’re gonna shoot your voice, there, partner.” Tango joked as the next song began.

Jimmy could hardly stop to reply, “It’s not like I need it, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“I dunno, you start sounding like me?”

“Stop it, no I won’t! You take that back!”

“Ouch.” But there was no real hurt in Tango’s voice. He slung an arm around Jimmy’s shoulder, tearing his gaze away from the stage and onto a water bottle Tango offered up. “At least oil the pipes.”

The water bottle was snatched up, even as Jimmy gave him a raised eyebrow. “I feel like there were better ways you could have put that.”

“Reasons I write lyrics as often as I sing ‘em.” He shrugged. “We can’t all be pretty little canaries like you.”

Jimmy choked mid gulp, laughter turning to pained coughs as water came back up his nose. Tango made the most ridiculously inhuman noise as he jumped back, not helping Jimmy at all in remembering how to breathe.

“Not those pipes!” Tango chastised, though he’d begun to laugh as well while he helped Jimmy wipe his face off.

“That was one of the lamest thing I’ve ever heard.” Jimmy gasped. His face had gone red for too many reasons to count.

They wandered towards the back of the crowd until they found a spot to sit in the grass. “But not the lamest? I guess I gotta try harder next time.”

That’s what he cared about? Jimmy covered his eyes and tried not to start laugh again. His throat and nose stung but he croaked out, “Where to next?”

#tangotek #jimmy solidarity #solidaritek #team rancher #rancher duo #trafficshipping #traffic series #hermitpires #fanfiction #fanfic #mcyt #modern au #alternate universe #hurt/comfort #'fluff #sharing a slice of cake

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