Gokudera (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
unrelenting_rhapsody) wrote2021-11-18 11:01 pm
unrelenting_rhapsody) wrote2021-11-18 11:01 pm
Entry tags:
Sometimes I dream
Who: Dera, Chrome, Yama, Spanner
When: After the find him.
What: World's till broken. (Plague still gets half blame until this au dies)
It was warm. That was his first, weird thought and probably his second and third too. Warm, and he didn't want to move, the antsy feeling of needing to be doing anything to stop thinking hadn't descended yet. There was a fuzzy head just under his chin and that was...painfully abnormal. Uri was never small these days, yet he could feel all four paws on his chest.
Fuck, were they dead? Or maybe hallucinating, he and Spanner could have caught some rads and there were...
...arms.
Oh fuck that was right,
What if he opened his eyes and it wasn't them?
That was probably why Uri had settled out, she knew he wouldn't wake her up by moving, it was a great way to have to pry claws out of his ribs. It made him stop and evaluate instead of panicking. He'd been...right.
Eighteen years and he'd almost convinced himself his findings had been a fevered excuse to keep going. Tsuna had asked, he'd needed a reason as the man's flames finally flickered out. He very well could have convinced himself there was non-existent data...but here they were.
Here they fucking were.
He cracked an eye open just to check and at least the hair color was right. He hadn't lost his mind entirely yet. A moment longer and yes, they were alive and human; part of him knew that Spanner would have made robots if he truly worried. That man's solutions to problems usually ended in hardware. Fuck Spanner...
Uri only growled a little when he lifted his head to glance at the door, his brat of a cat had left it cracked when she let herself in but he could hear the familiar buzz of the kid's weird snore past that. Okay, hadn't lost Spanner, that was good. So...what now? He dimly remembered asking that last night, and the answer hadn't magically appeared in his head in the interim. Granted, he'd gotten laid for the first time in nearly two decades so that was probably why his auto-answer ability was so much static at the moment.
Heh.
Sue him, it was a fucking amazing feeling. Didn't mean it also wasn't weird as fuck these days. Warm, lazy mornings didn't happen, it wasn't a world for lazing. It felt burningly selfish to flop his head back on the makeshift bed and not struggle all the way awake.
Or to just...not struggle at all.
When had the very act of functioning become a numbing, leaden weight? How had he learned to breathe around it? Why the fuck hadn't Spanner told him to make some god damn antidepressants? Man must have been frustrated enough, at least a time or two, to demand it, right? So why the fuck hadn't he?
Idly he realized this was refusal to face up to shit even now, derailing his brain into hopelessly exhausted irritation was safer than looking at the big questions properly. Questions like...should this be life now?
Should it?
Was it anywhere near healthy?
Fucked if he knew. He probably wouldn't know healthy if it fucking bit him at this point, for himself or others. These two might have the memories and soul but did they have the sheer level of skill they'd had? Could he expect them to keep up safely or was he going to utterly destroy himself worrying about losing them again?
And what about the damn...fans? He knew, distantly, they had a whole slew of crazy ass demands in every town they went to, how would this pair handle them? He'd stopped lobbing dynamite a few years in at towns just because of the fucking bottlenecked gene pool. Thievery and truly bad people narrowed shit enough, casual pruning of civilians just hadn't been a good idea.
What the fuck was he even worried about? Fucking chasing mental rabbits again, it was so easy, bait and switch a worry for a lesser one, let himself shy away from shit again. Fans didn't mean shit, and if their new selves where anywhere near a quarter as skilled as their previous no damn fan was going to touch them. Hah, reasoning one, shattered as shit paranoia zero.
Right. Focus Hayato.
Just.
Fucking.
Focus.
"What now?"
Shit, that was out loud wasn't it? He was great at the not waking people up thing these days. Yeah, he deserved Uri flexing her claws blearily against his nose. What now?
Now he needed a proper fucking lab. He needed data. Where the fuck were they even now? He'd missed that part of yesterday somehow, some place with a good wall, but they put walls in a lot of places. He needed data so he could outline options for...them. For everyone.
Maybe this time he'd even let Spanner have a say.
When: After the find him.
What: World's till broken. (Plague still gets half blame until this au dies)
It was warm. That was his first, weird thought and probably his second and third too. Warm, and he didn't want to move, the antsy feeling of needing to be doing anything to stop thinking hadn't descended yet. There was a fuzzy head just under his chin and that was...painfully abnormal. Uri was never small these days, yet he could feel all four paws on his chest.
Fuck, were they dead? Or maybe hallucinating, he and Spanner could have caught some rads and there were...
...arms.
Oh fuck that was right,
What if he opened his eyes and it wasn't them?
That was probably why Uri had settled out, she knew he wouldn't wake her up by moving, it was a great way to have to pry claws out of his ribs. It made him stop and evaluate instead of panicking. He'd been...right.
Eighteen years and he'd almost convinced himself his findings had been a fevered excuse to keep going. Tsuna had asked, he'd needed a reason as the man's flames finally flickered out. He very well could have convinced himself there was non-existent data...but here they were.
Here they fucking were.
He cracked an eye open just to check and at least the hair color was right. He hadn't lost his mind entirely yet. A moment longer and yes, they were alive and human; part of him knew that Spanner would have made robots if he truly worried. That man's solutions to problems usually ended in hardware. Fuck Spanner...
Uri only growled a little when he lifted his head to glance at the door, his brat of a cat had left it cracked when she let herself in but he could hear the familiar buzz of the kid's weird snore past that. Okay, hadn't lost Spanner, that was good. So...what now? He dimly remembered asking that last night, and the answer hadn't magically appeared in his head in the interim. Granted, he'd gotten laid for the first time in nearly two decades so that was probably why his auto-answer ability was so much static at the moment.
Heh.
Sue him, it was a fucking amazing feeling. Didn't mean it also wasn't weird as fuck these days. Warm, lazy mornings didn't happen, it wasn't a world for lazing. It felt burningly selfish to flop his head back on the makeshift bed and not struggle all the way awake.
Or to just...not struggle at all.
When had the very act of functioning become a numbing, leaden weight? How had he learned to breathe around it? Why the fuck hadn't Spanner told him to make some god damn antidepressants? Man must have been frustrated enough, at least a time or two, to demand it, right? So why the fuck hadn't he?
Idly he realized this was refusal to face up to shit even now, derailing his brain into hopelessly exhausted irritation was safer than looking at the big questions properly. Questions like...should this be life now?
Should it?
Was it anywhere near healthy?
Fucked if he knew. He probably wouldn't know healthy if it fucking bit him at this point, for himself or others. These two might have the memories and soul but did they have the sheer level of skill they'd had? Could he expect them to keep up safely or was he going to utterly destroy himself worrying about losing them again?
And what about the damn...fans? He knew, distantly, they had a whole slew of crazy ass demands in every town they went to, how would this pair handle them? He'd stopped lobbing dynamite a few years in at towns just because of the fucking bottlenecked gene pool. Thievery and truly bad people narrowed shit enough, casual pruning of civilians just hadn't been a good idea.
What the fuck was he even worried about? Fucking chasing mental rabbits again, it was so easy, bait and switch a worry for a lesser one, let himself shy away from shit again. Fans didn't mean shit, and if their new selves where anywhere near a quarter as skilled as their previous no damn fan was going to touch them. Hah, reasoning one, shattered as shit paranoia zero.
Right. Focus Hayato.
Just.
Fucking.
Focus.
"What now?"
Shit, that was out loud wasn't it? He was great at the not waking people up thing these days. Yeah, he deserved Uri flexing her claws blearily against his nose. What now?
Now he needed a proper fucking lab. He needed data. Where the fuck were they even now? He'd missed that part of yesterday somehow, some place with a good wall, but they put walls in a lot of places. He needed data so he could outline options for...them. For everyone.
Maybe this time he'd even let Spanner have a say.