Disclaimer: I do not own Rockman X. I wish I did, as does every other fan-girl obsessed with the series. I do, however hold first-dibs on the idea of the Insignia thing (it'll make sense, trust me). I thought it was a good idea shrugs.
Author's Small Note: This fic was done while doing my laundry. So, yeah, talk about inspiration in weird places. It's also a bad attempt at a light-hearted fic, and I think I failed. Well, it does have one or two comedic parts.
This was also not Beta-ed by anyone but me, so I apologize if there is anything I missed. I re-read it like 4 times and I have spell-check on and everything...
I'm sure everyone can figure out the use of '...' and "..." and the /.../. It's pretty apparent I think.
Well, anyway, enjoy. Read and Review as always. I'm always glad to hear from people...even people who didn't like it. Thank in advance.
XxXxX
The room was quiet and still; the florescent lights gleaming off the white machines that filled it in organized horizontal lines. Carefully he scanned the place ever watchful of traps and unknown possibilities. His scrutinizing gaze moved back and forth, looking in every nook, cranny and floor crack before feeling he was in relative safety and alone.
Rockman X Light sighed and dropped his burden from his tired shoulder to the tiled floor with a muffled thump. He sighed again, for the hell of it, and then grabbed the large duffle bag and placing it on the green countertop. Grumbling lightly, he reached blindly into the hollow space below it and drug out a wheeled, open mouthed basket. He unzipped the bag, shaking his head as he started to pull out its contents.
"Why did I have to pick /now/ to do this?" X grumbled, not caring that he was talking to himself out loud. "Or, more to the point, why do I have so many clothes?"
He continued to empty the garments out and sorted them half-hazardly into the wheeled cart before wheeling it around the corner of the counter to an open and waiting washer.
'Stupid paperwork,' he cursed mentally while loading the machine, putting in the required amount of soap and fabric softener. 'If it hadn't been a busy week I would have had this already done...or got Zero to do it.'
It was beyond X's knowledge why Zero felt it necessary to have to do laundry once every four days but he really didn't complain. Often he sent his bag with Zero and the Red Hunter was more then happy to wash X's stuff along with his own. Well, as long as X gave him change and pre-sorted it. He shook his head at that thought. The most vibrant and colorful hunter; both in personality and wardrobe couldn't seem to sort darks and lights correctly. X had more then once found a pair of his white socks dyed pink.
He laughed quietly and shook his head, glancing around the room until his eyes fell on the black and white analogue clock. 1:25 AM. Thank whoever it was that thought of 24-hour Laundromats. Pulling a handful of change from his pocket he looked around again, more out of boredom then anything else. 'No one around' he noted with a small amount of happiness. 'Well, it's better that way,' he mused mentally as he slid the change into the slots and started the machine on its set routine. 'The last thing I want to deal with right now are reporters or nosy people wondering what Rockman X Light is doing in a Laundromat.' He snuffed rather un-X like. "Humph. What everyone else does at a Laundromat; cleans their clothes. I don't walk around in my armor /all/ the time."
He stopped and thought more reasonably. Many people wouldn't even recognize him anyway. Turning he looked at his reflection in the glass door of the wall-inset dryers. A pair of blue jeans clung to his long legs; his white trainers peaking out from underneath the fall of excess material at his ankles. His torso covered by a light blue tank that accented his flat stomach and chest, giving a bare glimpse of the muscles beneath. Over top of that, his favorite blue and white thin-line plaid over-shirt hung open to fall around his effeminate hips. His messy, unruly brown hair fell into his bright green eyes covering them, giving a boyish charm to his otherwise timelessly youthful face.
'Nope,' X thought as he gave himself a thumbs-up in the glass for being discrete. 'Nothing too me-ish.' The only thing that would give him away was the Maverick Hunter badge on his right shoulder; the round, weather-protected patch displaying his Hunter's insignia, his stylized 'X', his rank and unit number. It was protocol; you always had to have an identifying mark on you incase of emergencies, in armor or not. And he had blown civilian cover more then once because of that patch.
He laughed lightly to himself as he thought about the time he and Zero had tried to go out and have a nice, quiet supper in the city only to have the waiter look closely at him (or more specifically that damned insignia) and announce his presence to the rest of the restaurant. They had left quickly like two movie stars running from a group of rabid fan girls. They had all but jumping over the growing pile of squealing admirers and wandering, groping hands (because, of course, once they figured out who he was they knew it was Zero with him) and onto the street and quickly away.
X pouted for a moment. It wasn't fair. Zero could hide his. Zero had quite proudly showed X his Hunter Identification; his unique 'Z' symbol tattooed on his right shoulder. That's all he needed, damned famous jerk. The Crimson Hunter had laughed at that comment and told X he wouldn't need any of the 'small stuff' either if he got one done. X was famous too and he didn't have to have it if he didn't want it and as if, or so he said, anyone was going to tell Rockman X different. X crossed his arms unconsciously. 'And he had the nerve to tell me to go and get one done. He knows I hate needles. Jerk. He's such a showoff.'
The machine X was leaning against turned off pulling him out of his half-hearted anger towards his best friend and back to the task at hand. Seeing the 'finished' light on, he flipped the lid open and began removing his clothes. Absently he looked beside his washers and found the ones next to it were being used too. 'Hmmm, so I'm not the only one that was forced to do laundry in the early morning.' He deciding to not think much of it, figuring it was some rookie who had been similarly pressed for time. X emptied his washers and moved the cart to the large gas dryers.
He was half finished loading them when the door behind him opened but he ignored it, following his same train of reasoning. It was a rookie or a civilian and either way, X didn't want a replay of the restaurant or a game of 20-Questions. He half-heartedly listened to the sounds of squeaking hinges and the wet slap of clothes, but he signed quietly as his famed social skills took over. It would be polite to at least acknowledge the other person, no matter what happened, so he turned as they brought their own basket up to the dryers. X looked up and smiled but it quickly faded, the greeting frozen on his lips as he seen the other late-night patron.
"Si...Sigma?" It was more like a blunt statement that a question but X's voice had risen at the end with his surprise making it sound questioning.
"X?" The Maverick Leader looked as surprised. They both stood there open-mouthed, completely lost for what to do. Finally, Sigma coughed and turned back to his dryer shoving clothes into it. "Nice night," he said off-handedly.
X, his shock fading into a kind of numb embarrassment only nodded. "Yeah, sure is."
They continued feeding their machines the wet articles and slotted in the right change. Still unsure of what to do about his unexpected meeting with his biggest and most unpredictable enemy in a public Laundromat, X chose to lean against the countertop facing towards the dryer wall. And, to his surprise, Sigma joined him, standing a little further then a comfortable distance away which translated into around four feet.
They stood there in mirrored stances; arms crossed closely over their chests and opposite feet crossed at the ankle over the supporting legs. X carefully glanced at the big maverick, noting that he wasn't the only one who was being discrete tonight.
Sigma had the look of an over worked businessman which X thought was the understatement of the year. Brown slacks tailored to fit were accompanied by a white button-down dress-shirt complete with sleeve holders around his upper arms. A black tie was loosely knotted and hung past the open top buttons that practically screamed 'I /just/got off work and want to go home.' Covering the man's bald head was a rather tasteful, if not old-styled black fedora that sat at the perfect angle to block the red gem that glowed strangely on his forehead from sight.
In reflection, X was surprised he had recognized the Maverick at all. This thought disturbed him and he sank further into a careful watchfulness, preparing himself incase he needed to get out of the way of an attack. Minutes passed by and silence reigned harshly through the room, only broken by the constant hollow sound of the dryers' drums turning.
"So," Sigma started suddenly, his voice neutral and as un-intrusive as it could be. "Laundry day?"
"Yep," X answered, matching Sigma's tone measure for measure.
"Been busy?" the Maverick asked pointlessly, merely to continue the rather overly-polite conversation.
"Yeah. You?"
"Yeah." Sigma replied, turning his attention from the blue Hunter to his dryers, watching the clothes tumble in a hypnotic fall of colors. "So," he started again after a few tense minutes, "How's Zero?"
X looked at him questionably but found nothing malicious on the bald man's face. "Good, good. How's Vava?" he countered, shifting his weight to the other leg.
Now it was Sigma's turn to stare, raising an eyebrow ridge while scanning the small Hunter's face. He shrugged, moving off the counter to stretch his back. "Same as he usually is."
"Good, good." X said again watching as his company returned to his original position before turned his attention to his own dryers. Seeing they were still going, X fumbled in his side pocket, pulling out a slim novel. He skimmed the pages quickly before he opened it to the marked page. He read until the overwhelming feeling of being watched was too much to ignore. His green eyes flashed to the side to see Sigma looking at him. He glared pointedly and the Maverick cleared his throat and looked elsewhere.
Keeping his eyes on the tumbling clothes, Sigma asked. "Good book?"
X's eyebrow rose as he turned his attention back to him before nodded. "Yes, it's good." He turned the page and started back up again.
"I thought the one before it was better."
That caught him off-guard. X dropped the hand holding the book to waist height as he shook his head and stared incredulously at the taller man.
Sigma gave a weak half smile and shrugged. "Just my opinion." He stated in honesty. "I think they did Drake's character better in the first one. I thought it was a bad sequel."
The Azure Hunter looked down to the book in his hand and surprising the Maverick Leader, he returned the weak smile and nodded. "Yes," he agreed. "The first one was better."
Moments passed as they watched each other, looking for anything besides the obvious; some hidden agenda, a sly smile, a smug glint in the other's eye. Again it was Sigma who moved first. His red-tinged blue eyes glanced up and over to the side as the white-noise filling the room stopped. He moved to his dryers, opening the doors and began pulling the now dry articles from it and into the basket. Snapped out of his inner thoughts at the motion, X watched Sigma for a second and then followed suit.
Silently, they moved their full baskets to opposite sides of the counter they had been leaning on, facing each other as they folded the clothes and placed them into their respective carriers. The room was quiet again, but not uncomfortably so. Both occupants were uninterested to pick up the semblance of a normal conversation they had tried to start.
They finished at the same time, X throwing the strap over his shoulder and hefting the bag's weight onto his back as Sigma dropped his last shirt into his metal wheeled hamper. Both walked exactly beside each other as they made for the doors, still in silence, sneaking glances at each other expecting some kind of attack. Sigma reached the doors first due to his longer stride but the bald man stood and waited until X was there. They stood in front of the outward swinging double doors and glanced out into the dead street and dark night before them.
"Night X," Sigma offered as he pushed his door open.
"Good Night Sigma," X replied, opening his own door and stepping out onto the sidewalk.
Both men, in unknown synchronization, turned away from each other and walked in opposite directions. Both enemies; forever to clash against one another, but linked, if ever only, for one moment in time.
Author's Notes: Wow. The only fic I think I've ever wrote that wasn't yaoi. I'm surprised at myself. And I blame it on my muse Sandriver for leaving me -sobs- I you ever read this Elli, this is YOUR FAULT! I can't write yaoi without you. -sniffles- I'm so pathetic.
Many kudos for all those who write Rockman X stories, as they are getting hard to find. As always I poke people to read Shibby and Gimp, for they rock! And they probably think I'm some crazy girl who glomps them every time they update, which I do, but only cuz they deserve it. So yeah, thanks for your updates Shibby and Gimp. Mebbe you could think about that FortexBlues I asked about...mebbe...mebbe?
Oh, and incase anyone was wondering, the book I barely referred to was a favourite of mine called 'The Black Gryphon' by Mercedes Lackey and the 2 books after it. I dunno, I liked Black and White Gryphon but I haven't managed to get through Silver. So, let's just say X was reading Silver, ok?