Vague spoilers for Lockon's backstory.
The headcanon in this fic, as written in Laora's incredibly beautiful heaven turns away as the skies come crashing down, is that Neil has had cause to wear gloves since he was fourteen.
Also ALL OF THE CHRIS AND LOCKON BROMANCE. GIVE IT TO ME.
Tacenda
February 27, 2016
n; things not to be mentioned, matters that are passed over in silence
Lockon twisted from his place on the couch as soon as he heard someone fumbling with the lock on the door, but didn't reach for his sidearm as, a moment later, he recognized the voices echoing from out in the hallway. A few seconds later, the door swung open and Chris and Feldt burst into the room, burdened with the fruits of their labors.
Feldt came first, walking in slowly, determined not to let her stack of boxes topple over. Chris grinned at him from behind armfuls of brightly colored bags and boxes.
"Yo," he greeted with a lazy salute, grabbing the remote to turn down the volume of the news broadcast he'd been watching and starting to get up to help them.
"No, we got it!" Chris assured him brightly, kicking the door shut behind her.
Lockon snorted but sat back down, realizing that the girls had everything well in hand. He settled back into the couch and watched in amusement for a moment as Feldt carefully shifted her balance to make it the last few steps to the safety of the bedroom they were sharing with Sumeragi. Chris followed her, chatting happily about all of the things they'd bought that they'd have to show everyone once they got back.
Then she, too, disappeared into the room and the door closed behind them.
Lockon didn't have much time to reconnect with the news channel before the door opened again, however. Chris was pushing Feldt in front of her, and Lockon dutifully turned to give them his full attention as they came to a stop a few feet away.
From there, Chris spun Feldt around in a slow circle so that Lockon could fully appreciate the new skirt and scarf she'd put on.
"Isn't it so cute?" Chris prompted him, and Lockon smiled, because it was true, and he could see how self conscious the younger girl was, staring at the floor despite the obvious care both of them had gone through to find a floral pattern that exactly matched her hair color.
Before Chris had taken it upon herself to host a massive shopping trip every time they were earth side, it had been a long time since he'd played this part, but he remembered exactly how it went.
"It is," he agreed warmly. "It looks really good on you, Feldt," he added when she finally looked up, cheeks flushing at the compliment. "Are you going to wear that tonight?" he asked.
"No," Chris answered for her, with a mischievous grin. "We got some really cute dresses that just look perfect on her," she said, "so I'm going to talk to Miss Sumeragi as soon as she gets back and convince her to take us all out to a really nice restaurant tonight. Because we deserve it will all of the hard work we've been doing lately."
Feldt nodded in serious agreement and Lockon smiled. "Well, I can't disagree with you on that," he said, "although you shouldn't go overboard, yeah? Not all of us have super fancy clothes with us, you know."
Chris made a face but had to agree. "You're right," she sighed. "And I doubt I could convince Setsuna to wear them even if he did have them. Oh well," she said after a moment. "Change of plans, then. We'll just have to pick out new outfits for tonight, huh, Feldt?"
Feldt groaned.
"It won't take that long, I promise!" Chris protested, already leading her back to the room.
"But I just want to sleep," Feldt murmured.
"Well how about this, then," Chris asked as she opened up the bedroom door. "As soon as we pick a good outfit, you can sleep for the rest of the afternoon until it's time to get ready to go? That's fair, right?"
"I… suppose."
"Perfect! So I was thinking the blue skirt could work? Or maybe the white sundress- that one isn't too fancy…"
The door closed behind them and cut off the rest of Chris' deliberations. Lockon threw his arm over the back of the couch and turned back to the screen, face hardening again as he saw recurring reports of conflict and terrorism around the world.
No matter what they did, the world remained the same…
Just a few minutes into the latest report about the never ending warfare in the Middle East, Chris walked back out of their room.
Lockon threw on a smile as she walked toward him, wrenching himself away from the news so he could give appropriately enthusiastic feedback for her running fashion show.
She didn't start twirling to show off any new accessories, though, and after a quick glance, he realized that she hadn't even changed. His confusion was only heightened by the flat black box in her hands.
"We didn't just go shopping for ourselves, you know," she said when he continued staring at her blankly. "This is for you," she added, holding it out for him.
Lockon blinked in surprise, eyes flickering between the girl and the box she was waving in her hands.
"Oh, don't be so surprised! We got a little something for everyone," she said. "Come on, open it up!"
He wordlessly reached out to grab it, swallowing the sudden emotion that threatened to rise up in his throat—because taking Feldt out shopping was one thing, but buying something… for everyone in this rag tag team? Buying something for him?
"Well," he managed belatedly, "let's see what this is, then."
He slid the ribbon off the box and twirled it around his fingers for a moment before tossing it up to land on the top of Chris' head. She laughed and, instead of brushing it off, straightened it like a flimsy fabric crown.
Lockon grinned and then turned to open the box, setting the lid on the cushion beside him and carefully pushing aside the crinkly tissue paper inside.
Underneath was a pair of men's gloves. They were dark, a similar style to the ones he always wore, but obviously higher quality with the fine stitching and the fuller weight of the material.
His breath caught in his throat as he pulled them out to look closer, turning them over to admire the workmanship, and realizing just how much money Chris must have spent on them- on him.
"Thank you," he said, running his gloved fingers over the gift. "These… these are really great."
Chris beamed at him, but the expression started to fall as the moments passed and he made no move to switch out his old ones.
"Aren't you… going to try them on?" she asked eventually, trying to keep her tone light, but he could sense the disappointment waiting just below the surface.
Well. He couldn't have that. Not after the lengths she'd gone to in order to get these for him. And it wasn't like a pair of pants, or even a shirt, where he could claim modesty as an excuse to change in private.
A moment passed, and he assured himself that no one else was around to see.
"… Of course," he said with a tight smile that he knew didn't reach his eyes. Setting the rest of the box down beside him, he handed the new gloves to Chris for a moment.
"Here, hold these," he instructed.
"Okay!" she replied brightly, holding onto them eagerly.
He hesitated only a moment before starting to peel his left glove off, trying not to draw attention to the disrobing or letting her know how naked he felt taking them off with someone else watching.
His eyes remained steadily fixed on his hands, but he knew the moment Chris saw— it was impossible to miss the discolored skin, the misshapen lumps and almost shriveled creases running down the palms and the back of his hands— heard the almost noiseless "oh" and knew she understood his hesitation now.
They were perfectly functional, of course. The regeneration treatment had seen to that, repaired the burns and frayed nerves that had been all but melted away. But he'd refused to spend the extra money on what was essentially cosmetic surgery, not when-
Lockon pushed away the decade old memories and held out a hand for his new gloves instead.
It was easier to see the burn marks so close, and when he risked a glance up at the delay, he saw Chris' eyes shining a little more brightly than normal.
"Sorry, sorry," she stumbled over the word as she came back to herself, and gently laid the gloves in his hand, not flinching away when she brushed his skin and for that, at least, he was grateful.
"Thanks," he said, subdued, and quickly put on the new gloves, immediately feeling the difference in material against the sensitive sections of skin. Wiggling his fingers all the way into the glove, he pulled the edges up past his wrists to cover the furthest reaching scars.
He flexed and fisted his hands, testing the flexibility and weight of the fabric and being very satisfied with the change.
"These are great, Chris," he said. "Thank you."
When she didn't say anything in response, Lockon looked up, worried. Her face was openly twisted with emotion and he grimaced for a moment before pushing up from the couch and taking a step toward her. She watched his movements but otherwise didn't really respond, hands still clasped in front of her where she'd been holding onto her gift.
"Oh, Chris," he breathed, reaching forward to loosely wrap his arms around her. "It's fine," he said, pulling off her red plaid bow and dropping a hand on top of her head. "Happened a long time ago," he told her quietly.
Her hands tentatively reached forward to grasp the edges of his vest.
"But-" she started.
"It's fine," he said again, and she grew quiet.
They stood in silence for a long minute, then, "Thank you," he said. "For the gloves. They're perfect. And I'll wear them all the time."
He felt her shift against him, opening her mouth before closing it again. Finally, she wrapped her arms around him to return the hug. "You're welcome," she finally said.
Lockon smiled at that. "We're lucky to have someone like you around, you know that?" he asked, squeezing a little bit before letting go.
"Now," he cleared his throat. "You better go check on Feldt," he advised. "Make sure she hasn't passed out in the middle of all of her dresses, yeah?"
Chris chuckled a little as she pulled away. "Yeah." She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes and sniffed once. "Yeah, okay."