so we remain the same
...
There was a point when they could have liked each other, but the line leading back to that moment got lost somewhere between their first and their ninth kill. That bird has flown; in the meantime, they draw other lines.
It was Chuck's idea, but Mako has steadier hands and a better memory for this kind of thing, given how close she nearly was to tracking into J-Tech instead. She caps off the permanent marker before passing it to Chuck to handle the parts over her shoulders that she can't reach. He traces the faint white paths of scars Bonesquid marked them both with, then fans at the new black lines with his hand, like they'll dry faster that way.
Mako leans into him a little and yawns. They don't talk much, in or out of the drift, so Chuck hasn't ever said that he kind of likes these quiet moments, just between the two of them. Mako knows, and now Chuck knows she's been trying to find a kind of marker that sets and dries without smudging faster than the brand they've been using for the last two years.
Fair enough. Chuck enjoys the quiet, but not near so much as the rest of their little routine. Soon enough, Mako stands and arches into a stretch. Chuck does the same. They're on an odd number this time, so it's her turn to start; Chuck closes his eyes, has done since the fifth time, but she holds off. Mako's good at screening her thoughts, even when they're ghost-drifting, but it seems like she's waiting for something. He opens his eyes, curious, just in time to meet the sharp incoming flat of her palm.
That's new, normally she leads with her fists, but she follows the slap with the drag of her nails, hard enough to draw blood, and it's on. Chuck's head spins, and he chases the motion with the rest of his body, twists around to catch the next incoming hit and wrench her arm and her into a standing hammerlock.
You cheating bitch, he snarls into her ear.
Faces are fair game, she hisses back, and, really, by their own rules it is fair. There are no drivesuit relay paths in their helmets.
Mako hooks her foot behind his right ankle and pulls at the same time she elbows him in the ribs with her free arm. Chuck falls like a London bridge to the cold concrete floor, and Mako capitalizes on his breathless distraction to roll from his grasp and pin him. He struggles, of course, because fuck all, he hates being on the bottom, but Mako hates it more - she reaches down between them and pinches, hard, just below the edge of the lowest-riding pelvic relay. Chuck flinches but doesn't look away when she trails her nails even further down.
You fuckin' wouldn't, he dares her. She arches her brows, pouts her lower lip out in a way that both arouses and terrifies the shit out of him.
Wouldn't I? she says, and rides him in.
...
They wear matching black eyes to their next scheduled drift test, but the drivesuit techs are used to their displays of bruises and abrasions. As long as there are no obstructions or broken skin along their drivesuit relay paths, they'll be cleared for another drop.
They are very good at coloring between the lines.
...
Notes: Chako isn't precisely my ultimate NOTP, but it's definitely not my comfort zone, so I hope you enjoyed it! Feedback, as always, is loved and adored. Thanks for reading!