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dragonchan_archive) wrote2005-10-28 10:14 pm
dragonchan_archive) wrote2005-10-28 10:14 pm
Entry tags:
"Binary Code"
RvB slash, Simmons/Grif. Nothing worse than swearing.
--
Dawn broke over Blood Gulch. Rays of sunlight spilled round the edges of the ringworld and into the canyon. At Red Base, they illuminated a solitary figure leaning on the edge of the teleporter construction, turning his armour from black to blue.
Simmons' eyes were closed, his head resting on one of the neck guards on his armoured shoulders, his helmet on the floor beside him. To most people, this wouldn't seem all that comfortable, but he'd learned a trick or two. For a cyborg, it came as naturally as anything to just shut most of his systems down overnight. But slowly, eventually, machinery started to whir and bleep inside him, bringing him back. He kept his eyes tightly shut still as he came around, trying to ignore his sensors' insistent messages telling him to face the day. It was one he didn't really want to face.
Why did I do it? he asked himself. No, he knew the answer to that one.
Why did they talk me back here? Why did I come back?
His eyes opened and he looked around, glancing down at a hand for a moment. Yeah, I know the answer to that one too.
Footsteps sounded behind him, echoing on the ramp up from the base's interior. He turned around to see Grif approaching, helmet tucked under one arm.
"What are you doing up here?"
Simmons waved a hand. "Not allowed back in the base like this, remember? You heard Sarge."
"Yeah, but - Sarge. He'd let you off. He'd probably still have let you off if you'd killed one of us." Grif sighed, and looked down. "If it was me who'd pulled that stunt, I'd already be dead."
"He's all talk."
"Easy for you to say. He likes you," Grif said, with an offhand gesture.
"Or he will when I'm not blue any more."
Grif laughed. "You still want me to give you a hand?"
"You're not going to talk Donut into it?" Simmons sounded sceptical.
"No way. He's still on his little promotion high horse. He'd probably try and order me to do more stuff while I was at it. So..." Grif shrugged. "I'll go get the stuff."
"Was hoping ya would, really," Simmons remarked as Grif left.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
-
"Okay, here we go. Got everything here. Sure you don't want to take it off?"
"Yeah, I'm sure."
Sighing slightly, Grif reached up, switching on the polishing system he'd brought up and starting to run it over a plate at Simmons' back.
Simmons couldn't help it. He started laughing.
"What's so funny?"
"N... nothing. That just tickles."
"Yeah, sure."
"No. Really."
"What do you mean, it tickles? It's your armour."
Simmons sighed, and looked down. "You know it's not just my armour."
Grif opened and closed his mouth for a moment. "...Oh." He didn't have much more to say, unsure what his team-mate was referring to.
"I think Sarge was trying to save on parts. The armour's sensors are wired straight into my own systems. There's nothing under here." Simmons pressed at the clasps on the maroon panel by his wrist, exposing the wires and machinery underneath, before clicking it back with a slight wince. "That's all. Not much skin still left, 'cept here," he remarked, putting a hand to one side of his face.
"You never told me..."
"I thought you knew."
"How was I meant to know? No-one tells me anything around here! At least nothing that would be helpful!"
"How was I supposed to bring it up? It's not exactly the sort of thing that comes up in conversation, is it?"
Grif paused before he replied. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He looked at Simmons for a moment.
"What is it now? Oh - geez. Don't start getting sorry for me."
"Yeah, like I'm gonna do that." He paused. "You can't..."
"Oh, god. Are you going to ask what I think you are?" Simmons shrugged. "I've never looked. Haven't wanted to look."
"Actually, that wasn't what I was going to ask. I was going to ask if you could turn it off. The sensors and all."
"Oh." Simmons laughed.
"'Cause this just feels very weird now. If you're feeling everything."
"Yeah." He paused. "C'mon. It's no big deal. I've gotten used to it."
Grif looked at the ground. "I haven't, though," he said quietly. "Let me think about this, okay?"
"Sure. I'm not going anywhere," Simmons said, sitting down, resting against the base fortifications. "Could you get me a pack of cards or something while you're down there?" Grif gave him a last look, nodded, and headed down the ramp into the base itself.
-
It was some time before he returned, armour left behind. "Where do we start?" Simmons looked up. Grif sat down next to him and smiled. "Yeah, I thought it over."
"And?"
"And I wish I'd thought about it earlier." He sighed. "I should've asked, buddy, yeah. Kept seeing you in the mess hall, just staring into space, not eating anything. Thought you'd finished. Didn't ever think that you couldn't. Same with a lot of things." Simmons nodded. "Just always had this mental image that things were metal or whatever, but they were the same as..."
"Same as what you got."
"Uh-huh." There was an awkward pause.
"I told you earlier. I'm used to it. Never gonna be the same, but - " Simmons shrugged - "what do you do, huh?" There was a look of resignation in his grey eyes. Grif looked over at his team-mate, at the light playing on his blue armour that might as well have been playing on his skin, and a lump caught in his throat. "The team needed me to do it, so I did," Simmons said, calmly.
"Shit, if I'd known..."
"You didn't."
"I wouldn't have sided with Sarge. I just thought, for once I had a chance to, y'know -"
"You're going to say 'suck up', aren't you."
"Or 'kiss ass'. And it still didn't work, did it?" Somehow, both managed to laugh. "Wouldn't have chased you away."
"Wasn't your fault." Simmons looked down at the ground. "I couldn't stay away, though."
"For Sarge?"
"No, dumbass. For you."
There was a moment of quiet. "What does it feel like, anyway?" Grif started, trying to change the subject.
Simmons thought for a moment. "Can't really describe it. Nothing ever hurts, nothing ever feels uncomfortable, but..." He shrugged. "Something's hot or cold, it sends the same kinda signals. I can tell they're different, I can tell the exact temperature of everything, but they don't feel different, you know? Same goes for anything, really..."
Grif paused, then reached out, putting his hand on Simmons' shoulder, completely aware of what he was doing. "And what does this feel like?"
Simmons started, and looked over. He couldn't think of the words for a while. "You want me to tell you all the little details? That I can feel every little twitch of your fingers there to ten decimal places? That I can tell, just by the way your hand's lying there, just which bits of it were originally yours and which were mine?"
"Holy crap."
"Yeah, I can. And nothing in that whole crapload of data feels anything close to what it felt like to be human." There was nothing in Simmons' voice but a simple statement of the facts. Neutral, level - and tired.
"I..."
"Grif, don't you dare start feeling fucking sorry for me."
Grif turned away, looking at the ground, but turned his attention back to Simmons shortly. "Okay, how about this, then?"
With that, he reached out, pulling Simmons into a kiss.
Simmons stammered as he broke away. "What the hell was that for?"
"You felt it, didn't you?"
"Yeah, but I..."
"You've gotten so used to not feeling anything human that you didn't know you still could." Grif grinned. "Thought you needed bringing to your senses."
"But a k... heh. Yeah." They both fell quiet. "I think you might need bringing to yours, though. After that." A sly smile crossed Simmons' face. Before Grif could react, he had returned the kiss.
This time, it lasted longer. Eventually, the pair fell apart, Grif a little breathless after it. "I wasn't expecting you to, you know, do it back."
"I told you I came back for you, didn't I?"
The third kiss, neither could remember who started it, and neither really cared.
"You know, we could work something out..."
"Gonna be tricky."
"We've got a good start here, haven't we? Thing is, you feel everything differently, right? We just have to work out what you actually like with it all."
"I've tried."
"Yeah. But that was on your own, bluetard." Grif shot Simmons a joking smile.
The cyborg returned the grin. "Now that's a very, very good point. Coming from you. So how about we start work now?"
Grif reached up and ran fingers down Simmons' face, where metal met skin, two different sensations in one stroke. "Haven't we already?"
--
Dawn broke over Blood Gulch. Rays of sunlight spilled round the edges of the ringworld and into the canyon. At Red Base, they illuminated a solitary figure leaning on the edge of the teleporter construction, turning his armour from black to blue.
Simmons' eyes were closed, his head resting on one of the neck guards on his armoured shoulders, his helmet on the floor beside him. To most people, this wouldn't seem all that comfortable, but he'd learned a trick or two. For a cyborg, it came as naturally as anything to just shut most of his systems down overnight. But slowly, eventually, machinery started to whir and bleep inside him, bringing him back. He kept his eyes tightly shut still as he came around, trying to ignore his sensors' insistent messages telling him to face the day. It was one he didn't really want to face.
Why did I do it? he asked himself. No, he knew the answer to that one.
Why did they talk me back here? Why did I come back?
His eyes opened and he looked around, glancing down at a hand for a moment. Yeah, I know the answer to that one too.
Footsteps sounded behind him, echoing on the ramp up from the base's interior. He turned around to see Grif approaching, helmet tucked under one arm.
"What are you doing up here?"
Simmons waved a hand. "Not allowed back in the base like this, remember? You heard Sarge."
"Yeah, but - Sarge. He'd let you off. He'd probably still have let you off if you'd killed one of us." Grif sighed, and looked down. "If it was me who'd pulled that stunt, I'd already be dead."
"He's all talk."
"Easy for you to say. He likes you," Grif said, with an offhand gesture.
"Or he will when I'm not blue any more."
Grif laughed. "You still want me to give you a hand?"
"You're not going to talk Donut into it?" Simmons sounded sceptical.
"No way. He's still on his little promotion high horse. He'd probably try and order me to do more stuff while I was at it. So..." Grif shrugged. "I'll go get the stuff."
"Was hoping ya would, really," Simmons remarked as Grif left.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
-
"Okay, here we go. Got everything here. Sure you don't want to take it off?"
"Yeah, I'm sure."
Sighing slightly, Grif reached up, switching on the polishing system he'd brought up and starting to run it over a plate at Simmons' back.
Simmons couldn't help it. He started laughing.
"What's so funny?"
"N... nothing. That just tickles."
"Yeah, sure."
"No. Really."
"What do you mean, it tickles? It's your armour."
Simmons sighed, and looked down. "You know it's not just my armour."
Grif opened and closed his mouth for a moment. "...Oh." He didn't have much more to say, unsure what his team-mate was referring to.
"I think Sarge was trying to save on parts. The armour's sensors are wired straight into my own systems. There's nothing under here." Simmons pressed at the clasps on the maroon panel by his wrist, exposing the wires and machinery underneath, before clicking it back with a slight wince. "That's all. Not much skin still left, 'cept here," he remarked, putting a hand to one side of his face.
"You never told me..."
"I thought you knew."
"How was I meant to know? No-one tells me anything around here! At least nothing that would be helpful!"
"How was I supposed to bring it up? It's not exactly the sort of thing that comes up in conversation, is it?"
Grif paused before he replied. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He looked at Simmons for a moment.
"What is it now? Oh - geez. Don't start getting sorry for me."
"Yeah, like I'm gonna do that." He paused. "You can't..."
"Oh, god. Are you going to ask what I think you are?" Simmons shrugged. "I've never looked. Haven't wanted to look."
"Actually, that wasn't what I was going to ask. I was going to ask if you could turn it off. The sensors and all."
"Oh." Simmons laughed.
"'Cause this just feels very weird now. If you're feeling everything."
"Yeah." He paused. "C'mon. It's no big deal. I've gotten used to it."
Grif looked at the ground. "I haven't, though," he said quietly. "Let me think about this, okay?"
"Sure. I'm not going anywhere," Simmons said, sitting down, resting against the base fortifications. "Could you get me a pack of cards or something while you're down there?" Grif gave him a last look, nodded, and headed down the ramp into the base itself.
-
It was some time before he returned, armour left behind. "Where do we start?" Simmons looked up. Grif sat down next to him and smiled. "Yeah, I thought it over."
"And?"
"And I wish I'd thought about it earlier." He sighed. "I should've asked, buddy, yeah. Kept seeing you in the mess hall, just staring into space, not eating anything. Thought you'd finished. Didn't ever think that you couldn't. Same with a lot of things." Simmons nodded. "Just always had this mental image that things were metal or whatever, but they were the same as..."
"Same as what you got."
"Uh-huh." There was an awkward pause.
"I told you earlier. I'm used to it. Never gonna be the same, but - " Simmons shrugged - "what do you do, huh?" There was a look of resignation in his grey eyes. Grif looked over at his team-mate, at the light playing on his blue armour that might as well have been playing on his skin, and a lump caught in his throat. "The team needed me to do it, so I did," Simmons said, calmly.
"Shit, if I'd known..."
"You didn't."
"I wouldn't have sided with Sarge. I just thought, for once I had a chance to, y'know -"
"You're going to say 'suck up', aren't you."
"Or 'kiss ass'. And it still didn't work, did it?" Somehow, both managed to laugh. "Wouldn't have chased you away."
"Wasn't your fault." Simmons looked down at the ground. "I couldn't stay away, though."
"For Sarge?"
"No, dumbass. For you."
There was a moment of quiet. "What does it feel like, anyway?" Grif started, trying to change the subject.
Simmons thought for a moment. "Can't really describe it. Nothing ever hurts, nothing ever feels uncomfortable, but..." He shrugged. "Something's hot or cold, it sends the same kinda signals. I can tell they're different, I can tell the exact temperature of everything, but they don't feel different, you know? Same goes for anything, really..."
Grif paused, then reached out, putting his hand on Simmons' shoulder, completely aware of what he was doing. "And what does this feel like?"
Simmons started, and looked over. He couldn't think of the words for a while. "You want me to tell you all the little details? That I can feel every little twitch of your fingers there to ten decimal places? That I can tell, just by the way your hand's lying there, just which bits of it were originally yours and which were mine?"
"Holy crap."
"Yeah, I can. And nothing in that whole crapload of data feels anything close to what it felt like to be human." There was nothing in Simmons' voice but a simple statement of the facts. Neutral, level - and tired.
"I..."
"Grif, don't you dare start feeling fucking sorry for me."
Grif turned away, looking at the ground, but turned his attention back to Simmons shortly. "Okay, how about this, then?"
With that, he reached out, pulling Simmons into a kiss.
Simmons stammered as he broke away. "What the hell was that for?"
"You felt it, didn't you?"
"Yeah, but I..."
"You've gotten so used to not feeling anything human that you didn't know you still could." Grif grinned. "Thought you needed bringing to your senses."
"But a k... heh. Yeah." They both fell quiet. "I think you might need bringing to yours, though. After that." A sly smile crossed Simmons' face. Before Grif could react, he had returned the kiss.
This time, it lasted longer. Eventually, the pair fell apart, Grif a little breathless after it. "I wasn't expecting you to, you know, do it back."
"I told you I came back for you, didn't I?"
The third kiss, neither could remember who started it, and neither really cared.
"You know, we could work something out..."
"Gonna be tricky."
"We've got a good start here, haven't we? Thing is, you feel everything differently, right? We just have to work out what you actually like with it all."
"I've tried."
"Yeah. But that was on your own, bluetard." Grif shot Simmons a joking smile.
The cyborg returned the grin. "Now that's a very, very good point. Coming from you. So how about we start work now?"
Grif reached up and ran fingers down Simmons' face, where metal met skin, two different sensations in one stroke. "Haven't we already?"