You Kids Get Off My Lawn
I hate yard work. A lot. So do cyborgs. A lot. Did I mention I hate yard work? Rate T
A/N: I was never fond of the forced labor I endeared as a child, which was also called yardwork. Though, now that I'm an adult I accomplish these tasks on my own. Re-experiencing these frustrations drove me to write a fanfic. 009x003, 004x002, conversations with inanimate objects, light yaoi, and probably a couple other surprises. Enjoy.
Geronimo Junior knelled silently in the full daylight glow. The drifting breeze and delicate clouds floated off the ocean, blessing the sanctuary with its grace. He pulled the delicate form from its seedling bed, its majesty commanding praise. Junior kindly offered his worship, endowing the petunia with the proper throne of the stone planter.
Junior raised the watering can and offered the clear liquid in homage to the grand bloom. Finally, the entry to this quiet castle had its king. The strongest cyborg smiled warmly, satisfied his diligent work could help make this possible.
Though it was no feat he accomplished alone. Dr. Kozumi repaired most of the damage 0011 wrought upon his home. Over the months, it slowly regained the status as a haven from the trials of daily life and the horrors of war. Although their family no longer resided there, Kozumi remained in their family's trust. The home retained the warmth of this quiet man. New shingles and siding finishing the appearance. Dr. Gilmore offered his friend their services in any way. He declined but the Russian insisted. It was decided some landscaping work would be an excellent way to share the day and give kindness in return.
He stood and reached down into the massive planter, and caressed the blooms he placed just minutes before. They smiled in return.
"Thank you for blessing this space with your presence and beauty. I know from experience, this place will make a wonderful home."
He paused from his touch for a moment.
"Your grace and cordialness are a joy. It has been a pleasure working with you today."
Another pause. He lightly chuckled. "You have many interesting things to say my friend. Please continue." He kneeled by the earthen throne, taking in the adventures of plant life.
"Your move Gilmore."
The doctor stammered, not paying attention again. "Oh sorry Kozumi! It's just that everyone is so busy working, I wonder if I should be out there myself." He placed his arm behind his head, adding to his shy grin.
"Now now. 004 and the others said they could handle it, so we can chat and catch up again. It's been a while since I had a match, visitors have been rare since construction was so loud."
The Russian swore under his breath. When will he be free of this infernal game? Even when he cheats he can't win. Why couldn't him and Kozumi just get drunk and karaoke late at the bars, just like the other scientists? Gilmore missed that, but some people consider that a 'youthful' thing to do. He started to regret being so insistent to visit. He made thoughts of being teleported very loud in his head, but Ivan continued his contented, deep sleep next to the go board.
006 noisily huffed by their playing area, carrying an armful of landscaping bricks. "006!" called Gilmore.
"What is it professor?"
"You look so rushed. Do you and 007 need any assistance?"
The chef smiled and shook his head. "Don't worry about us professor. We have this under control." He scampered off before Gilmore could reply.
Chang wasn't about to let the professor help him. He worked and overworked himself everyday cooking at his restaurant. He'd made sure the simplest task was his, so that he could have a more leisurely the day, not having to work up a sweat. The heat of the day prevented the goal of not sweating. At least he wasn't digging in the dirt or fighting with the mower. Just slowly, calmly, putting bricks end to end around the predefined flower beds.
"Chang, the layout of this floral enclosure just isn't right, we better tweak it before we put anything down."
At least, it would be simple, with the omission of a certain actor. Chang made a very vocal sigh.
"You're an expert of the stage, not staging. Dr. Kozumi already has this arranged how he likes it, so we should just follow that plan." Chang bit his tongue to not say anymore. The chef had little patience for the Brit normally, and it was even shorter in the pressure cooker of 007's creative inspiration.
"I must disagree my dear captain of culinary creations. As you know, I have an eye for these things. The flow of the sight lines would be much better if we increase the curve of this bed and straightened that one."
"We don't have time for that, we gotta lay all the blocks before the day is over."
"I just might knock your block off if you don't listen to me! I've got a good point!"
"Well tell 005 then! Or did you forget that he said these beds looked perfect?" Chang smiled as he saw the Brit flinch.
"Alright, alright. Give me some of those bricks, this landscaping won't lay itself."
The ballerina smiled, watching from the corner of her eye, Joe's tentative motions moving the dirt to the side. She was starting to frown a little, but wiped it from her face when he unsurely looked up to her. "How does this look Françoise?"
She glanced and smiled, still working on spreading fertilizer. "That is looking good Joe, but you need to dig the hole a few inches wider and deeper."
His vocal sigh scraped on Françoise's sensitive ears. "But I have it the same size at the root bundle."
"You need to mix some of the potted dirt and the surrounding dirt around it for the best transplant." She leaned next to him to show him what she meant. Again. "Just like a person, it's a bit of a shock when you remove a plant from where it's been comfortable. So try to surround it with a mixture of both soils. Then soak it in water, it'll help remove the shock." She gave a sweet smile, but quickly refocused on her task.
Her nearly endless patience was wearing a little thin today due to Joe's lack of plant care knowledge. She could understand, growing up in an orphanage does not predispose one to the discipline. But that was okay, unskilled hands were somewhat a help.
She lightly hummed saturating the ground for another flower. Her mind wandered back to those early mornings in Paris, when she used to help with watering and weeding back at her boarding school. A simple joy in the hectic days, the smile from a bloom always helped with a less than perfect practice. She dreamed of the day she could get her own garden, Dr. Gilmore's sandy property did not allow for traditional flower beds. She enjoyed the container gardening she could do, but reveled in massive beds such Dr. Kozumi's soil could support. She'd looked forward to this day for weeks, hoping to play a hand in recreating that greatness. She looked back at Joe's progress.
"That's good Joe, now only forty more to go!"
Joe squinted his eyes, from the sun or embarrassment, she wasn't sure. "Thanks Françoise."
Françoise sighed, she looked dreamily into the air, cupping her chin in the lightly soiled gloves. "Isn't this wonderful Joe? When the war is over, I will start my own flowerbeds, grander than this!"
"Yeah... it's great..." His voice was sweet, but his eyes twitched with something she couldn't read.
"Joe, what's wr-"
Pyunma swore. Loudly. Braking the gentle planting scene. Joe and Francoise tensed. That was highly out of character for their easy-going African. They watched him kick the idle lawnmower in frustration. Françoise noticed he hadn't heard it sputtering the past few minutes, its rusty parts enjoying the break.
Pyunma over the years had come to rely on the dependability of Black Ghost machinery. He'd found other devices and tools just didn't have that solid feeling you had with one of their tools or weapons. If they ever got out of the black market weaponry business, he'd consider buying whatever it was. Though he hoped they'd make lawnmowers.
"Pyunma," Joe called. "Do you need a hand?" Joe's voice had a little something extra in it, Françoise was sure of it now. Pyunma's eyes now analyzed the situation. Françoise gave him a hard glare, she couldn't give up her extra help now, there was too much to do. She couldn't be loud about it, so she hoped Pyunma would pick up her not so subtle nonverbal cues.
She smiled as she saw Pyunma ever so quickly shiver before he replied. "No, it's okay Joe, I got a couple more things to try, don't worry." Joe's face falter a little, as Françoise's grew more smug. He hurried to the garage, hoping to avoid fireworks.
She busied herself again, another nonverbal prompt to her lover. "Pyunma will be fine dear, let's keep planting!"
Another sigh. "Of course."
"Sunovabitch!" snapped Jet, he shoved the digit in his mouth, sucking the wound. "That hurt!"
"I told you to be careful when pulling thistle."
"That's impossible, it's completely covered in needles. Gloves and artificial skin don't help." He withdrew his finger, his pronounced features furrowed in thought. "Can't we just blast them?"
Albert snorted a laugh. "Sure, if Dr. Kozumi doesn't mind a wall missing in his bedroom."
Jet gave a defeated sigh and rocked back from his crouch onto his back, relaxing his shoulders on the soft lawn. He wiped the sweat from his brow, managing to smear dirt as well. It took them over an hour to pull all the weeds in that god-forsaken flower bed in front. This second bed was massive, running the whole length of the east side of the home. When they first started, you could not see the dark wood chips that covered the flower bed. With over an hour of work, only half of the mulch was visible. He sighed again. "This sucks, how much longer do I have to do this?"
"It's not really a question of how long, it's finishing everything we promised."
"I didn't promise anything like that."
"Such are the benefits and drawbacks of a family."
"Why can't we help GB and Chang with the landscaping bricks again?"
"Somebody has to do the weeding. Besides, Chang called it first." Jet frowned.
"Tricky little cook, I thought it was odd he was running around so fast before we started. He was scouting out the easy jobs."
Al couldn't help but laugh at Jet's annoyance. "You need to relax and enjoy this. It's good to get a little dirty from time to time." He flashed that good-natured smile, which turned in amusement at the end. That all-knowing smirk that perfectly finished his statements of victory.
It might be a sign of triumph, but it only served to piss off the New Yorker more. Which Albert had little qualms with, as it helped to pass the time. Jet was not ready to call this verbal struggle a loss yet.
"Whatever, this is just the same slave labor we get roped into all the time. Isn't there some political or military peril in the world we should be fixing?"
"You've said it before we can't fix all the world's problems. But we can help fix some small things for Dr. Kozumi. He appreciates it a lot."
"Yeah, whatever. Françoise only wanted to come here to jump behind a bush and have some alone time with Joe."
Albert's face soured. "Stop being an ass." Jet smiled inwardly.
"Why? I'm good at it, people should stick with their strengths."
"Strengths and idiocy are not the same thing."
"You use them pretty interchangeably."
"Just because you perceive something, doesn't make it true."
"And your smart-ass observations are no better! I'm not-"
A metal hand grabbed Jet's collar and jerked him into the wet, forceful lips. Albert's other arm pinned the two taut bodies against one another. Jet moaned softly when the kiss was released, eager lips tracing up Jet's jaw. Albert pushed the unbalanced cyborg and they tumbled into the damp wood mulch. Jet shuttered as Albert's breathy voice grazed his ear.
"I told you before, enjoy it, it's good to get a little dirty from time to time."
TO BE CONTINUED