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tamingthemuseTitle: Falling Hard
Fandom: Generator Rex
Prompt: #269 - Beguiled
Warnings: spoilers for "A Family Holiday", some language
Rating: T
Summary: Six receives a visit from Doctor Holiday while cleaning his swords
"Well of course it’s all my fault, I never knew that hating you would be so difficult.
Why must I allow this seductive vine to grow, diving head first into the better left alone?"
- "Falling" by Noise Auction
“Take an afternoon off for once,” he’d said. Sure, I thought grudgingly as I lounged in my room. I thought he’d learned his lesson about this the last time. I hated forced downtime bad enough when I was hurt; forcing me to take a break when I wasn’t was just adding insult to my already wounded ego. Downtime meant that even if and E.V.O. did attack, I wouldn’t be alerted to it until people started dying – I hated being the last resort.
In an effort to keep myself even slightly amused, I flicked one of my swords out of my sleeve and started taking it apart, opening the drawer of the bedside table for the bottle of oil that kept the joints loose and blade from rusting. I cleaned and checked them for damage every time I returned to base from a field op, regardless of whether or not that op had resulted in violence; just to be sure they would always be ready when I needed them. She called me more than a little obsessive the first time she’d seen me go through this post-battle ritual – while sitting in the medical bay no less, tolerating seemingly endless tests to be sure the electricity hadn’t done anything to my heart – replacing charred springs and the electromagnets as I went. My head had been what I’d been worried about at the time; I was the sixth deadliest man in the world, why had nearly dying prompted me to consider buying her dinner?
“Surprised you’re not pacing,” I glanced in the direction of the voice and felt the corners of my mouth twitch into a smile before I could do anything to stop myself, quickly turning my attention back to oiling the mechanisms of the sword as I put it back together and wiping the blades down with a soft, oil-stained cloth. Pacing always came after checking the swords, followed by trying to find someone to spar with and eventually lifting a sleeping aid from the medical bay, which saved lives but left me feeling like I’d been hit by a truck the next day. I flexed the joints in the blades to be sure the oil coated all of it and gave them a final wipe to clean off any stray fingerprints, putting it away and flicking the other one out of its sleeve to give it the same treatment. The bed shifted as she sat down and I tried to ignore her, eyes on what I was doing as I oiled more joints and checked springs and magnets for anything at all that might have malfunctioned since this morning. “Didn’t you just do this a few hours ago?”
Her voice was teasing, but I glared at her anyways – it was all I could think of to keep from smiling at her again. She still smiled anyways – gods, does she know my reactions that well? – and I had to force my eyes back to what I was doing, just in time for one of the blades to slip and slice my palm open. “Fuck,” the way her eyes widened wasn’t lost on me as I jumped out of bed to run water over the cut in the sink in my bathroom. It wasn’t deep enough to be concerned about, but the oil that’d gotten into it stung and blood was hell to get out of sheets. I heard her footsteps, but I still flinched just a bit when she took my hand and pulled it closer to her face to examine.
It was obviously enough for her to notice. “What’s wrong with you lately?” I turned away from the mirror so I couldn’t see her reflection in it anymore, putting my sword back together and trying to ignore her question until she took it from me. “Answer me.”
“And tell you what,” I snapped as I took my sword back, “that I can’t look at you without wanting to smile anymore? Or would you rather be reminded that I nearly got myself killed because ‘Make Rebecca happy’ overpowered ‘keep myself alive’ long enough to wedge these” I waved the sword in my hand at her “into some machine that could have been a bigger, flashier version of the dud from the show? I’ve nev…” I caught what I was trying to say before I said it, forcing myself to shut up and wipe the blade clean. Maybe I need some air…
“You’ve… what? Finish your sentences at least; you’re starting to sound like Rex.” I dropped the sword back into my sleeve and was on my feet in an instant, the hand that wasn’t bleeding sliding behind her head before my proximity forced her back against the wall. There was fear in her eyes when my sunglasses slid down my nose enough for her to see my eyes over them – given how predatory I felt in that moment, I couldn’t even begin to imagine what my eyes had to look like right then – though confusion and something I’d never seen directed at me before were there too. I couldn’t stop myself from laughing a bit before I closed the rest of the distance.
The kiss was awkward, an unfortunate side effect of my own inexperience with other people and the fact I’d probably scared the hell out of her, but she started to respond and I had to pull away before I ended up doing something I’d regret. “I’ve never cared enough about another person that I’d be willing to risk my life for their happiness.” I let her go and started towards the door, mumbling something I hope sounded like “I need air” and pushing my sunglasses back up my nose.
“Six?” I stopped long enough to look back at her. “You know where to find me when you stop fighting the fact that you’re still human.” She pushed away from the wall and started towards the door, stopping to smile at me for a minute as she produced a tissue from a pocket in her lab coat and wiping at my mouth. The tissue came away with a light pink stain. “And you might want to perfect the art of not getting my lipstick on your lips, that’s a terrible shade for you.”
Despite how embarrassed I felt, this would go down as time well wasted.
Fandom: Generator Rex
Prompt: #269 - Beguiled
Warnings: spoilers for "A Family Holiday", some language
Rating: T
Summary: Six receives a visit from Doctor Holiday while cleaning his swords
"Well of course it’s all my fault, I never knew that hating you would be so difficult.
Why must I allow this seductive vine to grow, diving head first into the better left alone?"
- "Falling" by Noise Auction
“Take an afternoon off for once,” he’d said. Sure, I thought grudgingly as I lounged in my room. I thought he’d learned his lesson about this the last time. I hated forced downtime bad enough when I was hurt; forcing me to take a break when I wasn’t was just adding insult to my already wounded ego. Downtime meant that even if and E.V.O. did attack, I wouldn’t be alerted to it until people started dying – I hated being the last resort.
In an effort to keep myself even slightly amused, I flicked one of my swords out of my sleeve and started taking it apart, opening the drawer of the bedside table for the bottle of oil that kept the joints loose and blade from rusting. I cleaned and checked them for damage every time I returned to base from a field op, regardless of whether or not that op had resulted in violence; just to be sure they would always be ready when I needed them. She called me more than a little obsessive the first time she’d seen me go through this post-battle ritual – while sitting in the medical bay no less, tolerating seemingly endless tests to be sure the electricity hadn’t done anything to my heart – replacing charred springs and the electromagnets as I went. My head had been what I’d been worried about at the time; I was the sixth deadliest man in the world, why had nearly dying prompted me to consider buying her dinner?
“Surprised you’re not pacing,” I glanced in the direction of the voice and felt the corners of my mouth twitch into a smile before I could do anything to stop myself, quickly turning my attention back to oiling the mechanisms of the sword as I put it back together and wiping the blades down with a soft, oil-stained cloth. Pacing always came after checking the swords, followed by trying to find someone to spar with and eventually lifting a sleeping aid from the medical bay, which saved lives but left me feeling like I’d been hit by a truck the next day. I flexed the joints in the blades to be sure the oil coated all of it and gave them a final wipe to clean off any stray fingerprints, putting it away and flicking the other one out of its sleeve to give it the same treatment. The bed shifted as she sat down and I tried to ignore her, eyes on what I was doing as I oiled more joints and checked springs and magnets for anything at all that might have malfunctioned since this morning. “Didn’t you just do this a few hours ago?”
Her voice was teasing, but I glared at her anyways – it was all I could think of to keep from smiling at her again. She still smiled anyways – gods, does she know my reactions that well? – and I had to force my eyes back to what I was doing, just in time for one of the blades to slip and slice my palm open. “Fuck,” the way her eyes widened wasn’t lost on me as I jumped out of bed to run water over the cut in the sink in my bathroom. It wasn’t deep enough to be concerned about, but the oil that’d gotten into it stung and blood was hell to get out of sheets. I heard her footsteps, but I still flinched just a bit when she took my hand and pulled it closer to her face to examine.
It was obviously enough for her to notice. “What’s wrong with you lately?” I turned away from the mirror so I couldn’t see her reflection in it anymore, putting my sword back together and trying to ignore her question until she took it from me. “Answer me.”
“And tell you what,” I snapped as I took my sword back, “that I can’t look at you without wanting to smile anymore? Or would you rather be reminded that I nearly got myself killed because ‘Make Rebecca happy’ overpowered ‘keep myself alive’ long enough to wedge these” I waved the sword in my hand at her “into some machine that could have been a bigger, flashier version of the dud from the show? I’ve nev…” I caught what I was trying to say before I said it, forcing myself to shut up and wipe the blade clean. Maybe I need some air…
“You’ve… what? Finish your sentences at least; you’re starting to sound like Rex.” I dropped the sword back into my sleeve and was on my feet in an instant, the hand that wasn’t bleeding sliding behind her head before my proximity forced her back against the wall. There was fear in her eyes when my sunglasses slid down my nose enough for her to see my eyes over them – given how predatory I felt in that moment, I couldn’t even begin to imagine what my eyes had to look like right then – though confusion and something I’d never seen directed at me before were there too. I couldn’t stop myself from laughing a bit before I closed the rest of the distance.
The kiss was awkward, an unfortunate side effect of my own inexperience with other people and the fact I’d probably scared the hell out of her, but she started to respond and I had to pull away before I ended up doing something I’d regret. “I’ve never cared enough about another person that I’d be willing to risk my life for their happiness.” I let her go and started towards the door, mumbling something I hope sounded like “I need air” and pushing my sunglasses back up my nose.
“Six?” I stopped long enough to look back at her. “You know where to find me when you stop fighting the fact that you’re still human.” She pushed away from the wall and started towards the door, stopping to smile at me for a minute as she produced a tissue from a pocket in her lab coat and wiping at my mouth. The tissue came away with a light pink stain. “And you might want to perfect the art of not getting my lipstick on your lips, that’s a terrible shade for you.”
Despite how embarrassed I felt, this would go down as time well wasted.
