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Tsukishima barely waits for the metal plating of his drivesuit to be unscrewed before he leaves the receiving bay. He shakes off all the hands that grasp at his shoulders, and ignores Yachi’s call of, “Tsukishima-kun, the medical bay…!” He very pointedly ignores his brother’s sigh, and he tells one of the scurrying med-bay nurses that his hand is fine, but Akiteru’s shoulder seems to be bothering him, and then he slips through the door frame and around the corner.
He decidedly doesn’t smile to himself as he hears Akiteru’s annoyed shout of his name as the elevator doors close. He can feel his heartbeat thumping in the palms of his hands, and truthfully, he’s vaguely convinced his ring finger is broken, but he doesn’t care about that right now.
It hadn’t been a hard fight, they’d been running backup more than anything, and Daichi and Asahi aren’t their senior pilots for nothing at the Miyagi sector of the Tohoku Jaegar bay. But lately, Tsukishima has been getting… distracted isn’t the right word, but he’s been more distant in fights.
It wouldn’t be such a problem, or even keep occurring at all, in Tsukishima’s opinion, if Akiteru could just keep his mind to himself. But he’s always been a nosy older brother, and he’s also always loved provoking his little brother, so they’d gotten demoted to backup missions and routine patrols until they could sort out their brotherly mind games. Tsukishima knows that today’s performance is going to get him no less than three lectures from various higher-ups.
But both kaiju are dead, so Tsukishima feels that the job got done, and that’s all he really cares to think about that. The elevator doors open with a hiss, and Tsukishima’s feet are pounding against the concrete of the repair bay before anyone can flag him down. His circuit suit is peeled down to his waist, and the sleeves slap against the back of his legs as he walks.
He’d stolen a white t-shirt out of his brother’s hands right as Akiteru had opened his mouth to talk about why their “beautiful little sister, Moonrise Titan,” as he’d taken to calling their Jaeger, was now down two fingers on her left hand.
Tsukishima’s hands are shaking as he pushes his glasses up his nose. He doesn’t want to think about the mission anymore, and down here, there’s a deafening white noise of metallic clanging and machines beeping and raised voices. He likes the walk here, because no one ever stops him, and no one has enough time on their hands to care what a bigshot pilot is thinking about. Someone had even yelled at him for not wearing a hardhat, once. It was novel.
He ducks under a metal staircase and punches Yamaguchi’s ID number into the number pad of a red door once he reaches the far wall of the compound. Tsukishima doesn’t get nervous, not anymore, but there’s still something dry in his throat as he slams the door closed behind him. The metal beams are all painted red in this corridor, and he turns right at the third one. He’s still ignoring the swelling in his fingers and how his hands shake as he pushes open the door to one of the Mechanic’s lounges.
There’s a fold up table, and an ugly red couch, and some folding chairs placed in a circle surrounding a deck of cards, and a vending machine hums in the corner. There is not a single person in sight.
Tsukishima knows he shouldn’t panic, because Yamaguchi knows he needs this, but there’s no goggles or gloves or boots next to the couch. Yamaguchi always meets him here, every time without fail, but Tsukishima is still suspicious of his devotion.
Today, in the middle of the mission, of all fucking times, Akiteru had said, “You know, Kei, maybe it’s that you’re afraid to be loved as you are, because you don’t like how you are? Maybe that’s why you can’t trust little Tadashi.”
Tsukishima had whipped his head to look at him murderously so fast, and then there’s an angry yell in his headset from Suga, and then the category III that Daichi and Asahi had had ‘in the bag’ was in front of Moonrise Titan and with its teeth piercing through two of her four fingers on her left hand. Tsukishima is hard sweating through the pain and then he clenches his fist so Titan’s fist curls around the beast’s neat bottom row of needle teeth. Tsukishima doesn’t pause, and he knows he doesn’t even have to say it out loud, because Akiteru is already smashing buttons and swearing, but he grits out, “Propulsion, left leg,” with as much venom as he can.
The beast slams an arm against the right shoulder of Moonrise Titan, and Tsukishima can feel it’s claws boring holes into Titan’s neck plating and Akiteru’s own shoulder, but before it can lift another to begin its climb to presumably rip off Titan’s head, Akiteru and Tsukishima smash Titan’s left knee into it’s neck, and there’s an audible crack and the thud of metal into something like flesh.Tsukishima doesn’t let go of the beast’s head, and there’s smoke billowing out from under Titan’s heel.
And then Tsukishima clenches his hand against the swelling, alone in this breakroom, and his heart hasn’t stopped beating in his throat.
There’s a muffled flush of a toilet behind the door of the two stall bathroom in the breakroom, and Tsukishima’s eyes refocus.
The sound of the sink running, and then a pause, and then Yamaguchi bumps the door open, patting his hands dry on the front of his yellow coveralls. There’s a smudge of grease under his right eye and on his chin, and he has his goggles pushed up onto his forehead so his bangs bunch over the top of them.
“Tsukki!” Yamaguchi’s voice hitches at the end, and he steps forward, reaching for Tsukishima’s left hand, but Tsukishima crosses the room in four steps and immediately grabs his jaw with his good hand. The crease between his thumb and index finger slides against the grey smear of grease on Yamaguchi’s chin. Tsukishima kisses him hard.
Yamaguchi doesn’t resist, he just slides a hand up Tsukishima’s stolen shirt to grip the back of his neck firmly. He opens his mouth for Tsukishima’s tongue without being told, and his fingers flex against the edge of Tsukishima’s hairline.
Tsukishima’s heart's still beating in his throat, but it’s different. It’s different, and he sucks at Yamaguchi’s tongue, and he wishes his fingers weren’t swollen into curling in on themselves on his other hand so he could peel the coveralls down Yamaguchi’s shoulders.
Yamaguchi’s shoulders tense, and he pulls his mouth away to pant hot against Tsukishima’s cheek.
“How’s your hand, Tsukki? I heard things were dire there for a minute… Tanaka-senpai traded places with me so I could go watch. Titan looked so cool,” Yamaguchi’s voice isn’t quiet enough to be a whisper, and every time his lips come together it feels like he’s kissing Tsukishima’s cheek.
“I’ll tape it later.” Tsukishima says dismissively, and then he reaches up from Yamaguchi’s jaw to push the goggles off his forehead. They clatter noisily to the floor. “You talk too much.”
Yamaguchi doesn’t apologize or keep talking or look sheepish like usual. He pulls back further, and he studies Tsukishima’s face. He looks concerned, and Tsukishima doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want Yamaguchi tending to his wounds and kissing him better and dissecting his missions with him. He wants Yamaguchi bent over the ugly red couch so he can fuck him until he isn’t thinking about anything anymore, and then he wants to be alone in a hot shower for a few hours.
Something like a nasally version of Akiteru’s voice parrots through his mind, “Is that why you can’t trust little Tadashi? Is that why you’re afraid of the things he says? Is that why you’re afraid, Kei? Are you afraid?”
Tsukishima sneers, at himself, at Yamaguchi and his feelings, and then he pulls his shirt over his head with the hand he’s been babying. The pain reminds him why he’s there at all.
Hurt flashes across Yamaguchi’s face, and he tries to play it off by pushing the sleeves of his coveralls down his arms and avoiding Tsukishima’s eyes.
It’s what he wanted, but there’s something sour about this, too, so Tsukishima bites at Yamaguchi’s neck and tries very hard not to think about anything at all.
He thinks about nothing at all when Yamaguchi pushes his circuit suit to his ankles and sucks him into his mouth, and he thinks about nothing when he takes a fistful of Yamaguchi’s thick hair and pushes forward against his tongue.
He almost thinks about something when he’s fucking Yamaguchi with two of his fingers on his good hand and Yamaguchi pulls him down by the neck so that he can wrap his arms around Tsukishima, but he bites it down and then he bites Yamaguchi on the shoulder hard enough for him to shout for good measure.
His mind is especially blank when he pushes into Yamaguchi, his coveralls hanging off of the ankle of the leg he has hooked over Tsukishima’s shoulder, and they rest against his back as he slides all the way in. Yamaguchi is good and tight and he makes a relieved sounding sigh whenever Tsukishima first fucks into him, no matter how often they meet like this.
Tsukishima fucks him hard enough that the table screeches against the floor every few thrusts, and there’s something satisfying about it to his very empty mind. He pulls Yamaguchi’s hip towards him with his good hand, and he likes that he can see Yamaguchi’s cock twitch against his stomach when Tsukishima fucks him the way he likes.
One of Yamaguchi’s hands reaches for Tsukishima’s bad hand but grabs at his wrist instead, and Tsukishima only pauses for a second, but he doesn’t pull his hand away. Yamaguchi’s hand is warm and firm against his arm, and then his inner arm, and then his bicep, and he’s pulling Tsukishima closer to him again. Tsukishima leans over, and Yamaguchi cradles Tsukishima’s bad hand against his chest with his left hand and he grips his upper arm with his right hand, urging Tsukishima deeper, and Tsukishima is no longer thinking about nothing at all.
Yamaguchi holds Tsukishima’s swollen fingers almost perfectly still against his chest with a painfully tight grip on his wrist, and he’s still asking, “Tsukki, a little bit more, please,” in between breaths.
Tsukishima is thinking about the words, “Are you afraid?”