I call them my Three Wei because I think I am hilarious. Written in celebration of the Chinese New Year! #新年快樂 #恭喜發財 #身體健康

Just to be on the safe side, the three of them ARE touchy-feely with each other, so this can very well be read as incest (nothing explicit though). Heads up if that's not your thing!

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like they say

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There are a lot of things people call Jaeger pilots. Two halves of the same soul. Two sides of the same coin. And they aren't wrong. But then there they are, the Wei Tang Clan, between the halves and twos, and twos, and twos.

Their drive suits have long been abandoned, along with their circuitry suits, sets of threes peeled off of skin and flesh just starting to bruise from their first solo kill. Hidoi's claws making some resemblance of fists by the coast of Bangkok, every slam is a crater made against the red of their Jaeger.

And the way they shake in their harnesses from every blow sends them rattling all the way down to their bones. But they come home with their third kill in many to come, and they are whole.

His hands don't leave the warmth of his brother's skin, and his sense of self doesn't quite come back, not just yet. Not for another hour or so where they are submersed in the neural feedback that goes from Hu to Jin to Cheung and back.

They are lying tangled on the single they've pushed next to the bunks. The two beds just the right size for when they come out of the drift that has them intertwined further than they've been for all their lives.

For a moment, Cheung wonders whether he will lose himself one day, enter the drift with himself intact and come out—

"Would that be so bad?" Jin asks with a faint grin, eyes closed but head tilting to where Cheung is lying barely an arm's length away from him.

"I don't think so."

It may have been Hu or Cheung that replies but never have that mattered at all.

"Well," and he pauses as he swings a leg over the other two, dragging them closer into his warmth, "that's what I think too."

The taste of those words are sweet, content, the tangle of limbs sweeter. They close their eyes in the dark of their shared quarters, adrenaline still thick in their veins. Breathing the same breath, they are curled around each other, one hand laced with two other, and another grazing over the settling bruises.

In the morning, the world will find them in the Jaeger Bay where Crimson stands. Bouncing the ball from Hu to Jin to Cheung and back as they stand in her one of a kind silhouette, a Mark IV made just for them.

And the feel of the orange rubber against their fingertips will be familiar, the brush of the edges of their clothes as they move even more so.

XXX Kuro