Hey look, I'm a high school graduate now! It's off to college in September for me, which means that I have the rest of the summer for fanfiction! In celebration, allow me to toss a few dozen fanfics at your faces all in (mostly) rapid succession. I actually have a few requests that are going to be posted within the next week too, but I'm working backwards and posting my "oldest" new stories fist. Believe it or not, I started this story back in January of this year and only got around to finishing it in the wee hours of last night. It was done to experiment with the present tense writing style, as well as to screw around with my favorite dynamic duo of the Dark Axis. So without further ado, here's a bit of Zapper/Grappler angst for your troubles. Be thankful that SD Gundam Force is not mine. It would have been a very, very scary franchise if it was.
The walls between you and I
Always pushing us apart, nothing left but scars fight after fight
The space between our common rage
Started growing shorter, disappearing slowly day after day
The Older We Get - Skillet
i
Kissing Grappler Gouf had been an accident.
Right from the start, it had been a very bad day for the both of them. Between the failed recon mission to Neotopia, the heavy damage taken on by the Gundams and SDG gunperries, and their singed hides from Commander Sazabi's most recent dealing of punishment, nothing had gone right for either of them and their sense of frustration was as equally maimed as their sense of patience, or at least as much patience as either of them had to begin with. Just when it seemed that things could not have possibly gotten worse than they already were, they just had to start arguing with one another again. Just like the quality of their social chemistry, the timing simply could not have been worse. The both of them were boiling and practically seconds away from a total meltdown. Fighting back with words and demeaning insults was not going to qualm their tempers this time. There was too much anger in their shrewd relationship to avoid the inevitable first punches that were thrown in that dark corridor of the Magna Musai that evening.
He can't remember who started the fight first. Pitt, he can't even remember what they had been fighting about. All he can remember is going from tossing insults to exchanging blows. The fight was not smooth and even as their training dictated it would be. It was wild and frenzied – him slamming his fists into Grappler's armor and the younger mech returning the violent gestures in kind. Physical violence had never been present in their dynamic before and obviously for good reason. They were ruthless and with their own strengths that trumped one another easily. They were too easily matched – one trying to take out the other in an actual brawl would be the equivalent of yin trying to outdo yang and vice versa. Thank the Allspark that neither of them were armed either, because they might have gone ahead and tried to kill each other. They were beyond words. They fought out their mirrored fury in silence, slamming into one another with fierce crashes of metal and garnering no attention whatsoever. They were in their own little world full of hate, isolated from the nervously prying optics of Zakos.
That had been when the kiss happened. He body slammed Grappler into the nearest wall with enough force to momentarily stun the other squadron leader. He made to slam their foreheads together in order to knock the other mech unconscious, but somehow their mouthpieces met instead. By the time he realized what had happened, Grappler was already kissing back and desperately gripping his shoulders for purchase. Everything became very quiet after that. The fluorescent lights overhead remained their only witnesses, their complacent buzzing crackling like rolling waves of intrusive thunder in his ringing audios.
Kissing Grappler Gouf had been an accident. At least, this is what Zapper Zaku keeps trying to tell himself.
ii
This was not a relationship.
Legitimate relationships involve emotion outside of hate, and Zapper can't bring it upon himself to do anything other than to hate Grappler because emotions just make things messy. Emotions make things painful. Emotions make things too damn real. It causes too much trouble in situations where conflict is unwarranted, as well as makes life a living hell for anyone caught in its destructive path.
Grappler Gouf is an arrogant fragger. Zapper Zaku has convinced himself of this, straight to the point where the fact has become practically sacred to him. Grappler is young, vain, and too damn conceited for his own good. With that said, he still remains a good fighter and brilliant strategist, and that gives Zapper all the more reason to hate him. He is also handsome and charming in a vicious sort of way that Zapper can't deny admiring, and admitting that makes him hate himself even more than he hates Grappler. He's witty, clever, and yet still remains to be as tough as nails. Zapper Zaku admires that and hates himself for that admiration all at the same time.
Even the hatred is complex in its own way, and to imagine anything coming between them other than that same hate is frightening. They goad one another, taunt each other, and outwardly argue with brutal verbal exchanges whenever they can. When they're not fighting – when there's no time for hate – they make sure that there's absolutely nothing else. There's no contentment. No happiness. Nothing. There can't be, because emotions make things more difficult than they need to be. It doesn't matter how many encounters they have in their secret little world either. No matter whose room they stay in overnight once their shifts end, no matter what closet they lock themselves in, they both make sure that no emotions get involved. The time they spend together beyond the Dark Axis mission is stoic and robotic. Kisses are loveless. Touches shared are given only to reassure their own payment in pleasure. They are tools to be used by one another – nothing more, nothing less.
This was not a relationship. At least, this is what Zapper Zaku hopes.
iii
Zapper Zaku has plenty of secrets.
For one, he is a Defect. An Imperfect − one of those unfortunate sparklings created with a crippling flaw that can't be repaired. Even though the rate of deformation is significantly reduced for Axians who were spark born and bred like he was rather than created in some stuffy factory, his mother's death in childbirth set the stage for his inherited handicap. He is a hemophiliac – a mech whose bleeding failsafe program does not work. To have a severed fuel line is a death sentence. His clotting nanites are malfunctioned and sit dormant in his tubing veins rather than being fully activated as they should, and the only thing worse than dying on the battlefield from such a deformation is having another Axian learn of it. The army's response for dealing with defected soldiers is mercy killing – immediate deactivation. The thought of unconsented euthanasia does not bode well with Zapper Zaku. The only reason he's survived this long because his defect is so discreet. Other Axians created – Zakos – are usually not so lucky.
It's a secret that Zapper guards with his life. He knows the other Imperfects on the Magna Musai – Tap, Merry, many others – and protects them, but dares not reveal his own malfunction. If anyone ever found out, it would be the end of him. Commander Sazabi would have no choice but to kill him. Destroyer Dom as well.
Grappler Gouf? Zapper Zaku doesn't want to think about it.
He has other secrets too – that he really doesn't like fighting. That he still has his primary Zako programming. That he's a recovering high grade addict. Where he likes to be touched. How he likes to be touched. He thinks that Grappler may have figured some of it out, and that bothers Zapper Zaku more than anything in the universe. Grappler is starting to figure him out, it seems. It's scary and horrifying for Zapper to think about.
Zapper Zaku has plenty of secrets, and he's afraid that Grappler Gouf will one day find out the most important one.
iv
Sometimes there are days where things go so horribly wrong that they drop their arrogant façade for one another and just let go.
They had lost a particularly important battle to the Gundams and Commander Sazabi had chewed them out brutally for it. Zapper is sporting a bad limp and Grappler has a cracked chassis from the debriefing alone, never mind the other injuries they sustained from Captain and the other Gundams. It's been a very bad day, more or less. In spite of the less than favorable turn of events leading up to the end of their shifts, they still find time to screw around and have a quick uplink in Zapper's quarters. Grappler is a brilliant interface despite his young age, but then again, with a body like his, Zapper wouldn't have been surprised if femmes were practically themselves at him back during his time at the war academy. That would certainly explain how good he was in the berth.
Whether or not it's just because he's talented or simply had a lot of practice, Zapper Zaku can't bring himself to care. He's on bottom this time – Grappler is on top of him. Zapper doesn't particularly like being on his stomach either because it makes him feel venerable, but staring down into the bed sheets is better than looking Grappler in the face. The pleasure has become so intense that the older mech can't really bring himself to care about anything anyways. Beading coolant covers his armor in a fine layer of mechanical sweat as his engine is sputtering in bliss. His and Grappler's energy fields are perfectly melded into one another and surging with electrical feedback that loops and arcs in sync with every thrust and energy pulse Grappler sends out. Zapper tries to respond with his own rhythm, but he's so out of his league right now that all he can bring himself to do is endure it.
Their overloads come and Grappler finally rolls off, and Zapper immediately feels cold from the loss of contact. His back is damp and he's sore. Aching. Ten years younger and he might have had the strength to roll over with his partner or sit up, but his age fails him like a miserable old dog. He listens halfheartedly as Grappler shifts around on the bed. He expects him to leave, but Zapper is immensely surprised to feel the duvet as it's crisply tugged up over him and the mech settling down beside him, also on his stomach. Grappler's open palm is suddenly on his lower back. Firm, warm, gentle. It glides up to the nape of his neck over his thrusters and then down again, caressing him. Petting him like he really is some kind of miserable dog ─ like some kind of lover in a relationship that isn't completely fragged up and up to its neck in proverbial slag. Zapper keeps his head turned away and refuses to acknowledge the presence of the other Axian, but be damned, he actually likes having Grappler touch him like this. It's proof to him that Grappler isn't just sleeping with him for the free interfacing. Its proof that Grappler actually does want him ─ that someone wants him.
Grappler's hand eventually slows and stops moving altogether, resting comfortably on the small of his back and keeping perfectly still. Zapper turns his head and sees Grappler has fallen into recharge. His face is totally lax, optic dark, breathing steady… Zapper wants very badly to punch him in the mouth and leave him for dead in a Clarke nest, or maybe even leave him to his fate with the Gundam Force – he doesn't care. He can't care – that would make things even worse and out of control than they already are.
Sometimes there are days where things go so horribly wrong that they drop their arrogant façade for one another and just let go, but Zapper is afraid. Afraid because it's harder for him to keep up the façade and even harder to make sure Grappler remembers that too.
v
Grappler is the first one to finally cross that invisible line and pop the question neither of them wants to hear. "Why are we doing this?"
It is late in the middle of the night and they are in Zapper's quarters. His room bigger than Grappler's and all the more easy for them to share space like this. Pale light from the twin moons streams through the dingy window on the far wall, casting long shadows over the berth and making the white comforter glow ghostly silver pink. The smell of high grade energon lingers and clings to the molecules in the heavy air like moisture in humidity. They had been drinking up until their most recent "episode" in one another's company. Not enough to be drunk − just enough to have a buzz in their systems. It is not an unpleasant odor, altogether. It works against Zapper's olfactory sensors like incense and helps relax his tired gears as he turns over on his side to look at Grappler.
"Because," Zapper snaps back bitterly. It's the only answer he's willing to give.
vi
"I can't do this anymore."
It's in the middle of the night again, less than a week later. They're supposed to be recharging but Zapper honestly doesn't mind the break in silence. He had not been able to sleep at all. Zapper Zaku rolls onto his side and looks at Grappler with feinted accusation. "Do what?"
Grappler is sitting up on the recharge berth his one of his knees drawn up to his chest. The other leg is hanging haphazardly off the edge of the berth tangled in sheets. His optic is dark, deep in thought. He's sitting entirely still. At first he doesn't look like he's going to say anything else, but then his optic gives an angry pink flash and his shoulders shake. "This. What we're doing. I can't keep doing this… whatever it is."
"No one said you have to stay," Zapper sneers back. His voice is gruff and rough in comparison to Grappler's light alto – ugly compared to perfect. "You have two legs. Leave."
"Slag it Zapper, doesn't any of this bother you?" Grappler turns his head to finally look down at the other mech. His optic is bright with renewed anger, but there it a flash of uncertainty behind the lenses as well. It is the kind of confused anger that reminds Zapper of a Zako. "Here we are, two mechs who hated each other up until recently, currently sleeping with each other like slagging lovesick Zakos."
"I still hate you," Zapper clarifies tartly, voice mockingly whimsical. "You're the lovesick Zako. I never asked you to stay. Get the slag out and see if I care."
And Grappler Gouf does leave. He stands up without another word, readjusts a few loose pieces of armor, and leaves without as much of a goodbye. It isn't until a few cycles later that Zapper is finally able to acknowledge what's happened. His quieter half silently wishes that Grappler will come back, but he doesn't. There is a slowly rising pain that builds up in his chest and it takes him a few cycles later to realize that it's hurt. The bed suddenly feels too big – the room too empty.
Zapper spends the rest of the night alone. He reminds himself that things will just go back to the way they were before, and that everything will get better. It has to.
vii
But it doesn't get better.
Not at all.
viii
Zapper Zaku's spark aches.
He can't recharge. He can't refuel. Everything becomes so monotonous that he goes through entire days where he can't remember anything. He's stopped going to the medbay after missions. He doesn't even bother going to watch the Zako Zako Hour anymore. The Zakos are worried. Red, Blue, and Yellow all personally approached him on separate occasions to see if they could offer help, but Zapper declined every time. The medic, Cyan, even offered to prescribe him recharge codes and firewall software to help his health. He denied her. Commander Sazabi tried to talk to him as well – get him to take some time off – but Zapper Zaku hardly remembered the meeting at all. All he could clearly recall was the pity in the commander's optics. Maybe he knew. Maybe.
The only one who never said a word was Grappler, and that was the person who Zapper desperately needed.
It tore the older squadron leader apart. His hatred, his anger, his frustration, his love… and that was the worst part, because Zapper Zaku promised himself that he couldn't love Grappler. It was worse than being cut open and bleeding to death, not because he was angry with himself for being so weak, but because he knows he needs Grappler. It's the forthcoming of those emotions other than hate that Zapper tried so hard to push back, and now they're knocking at his front door with maces and torches ready to totally ruin him.
He's freefalling and has no control. He's dying and there's nothing he can do about it.
It's late at night when there are three very loud knocks at his door. Zapper thinks he's imaging it at first, but then they come again harder and faster. Desperate. Zapper rolls off the recharge plate and shuffles to the door, entering the passcode and opening it just a crack. He expects to see one of the Zakos there looking forlornly at him and wanting to talk, but that's not the case. Grappler Gouf's silhouette is darkened from the fluorescent light striking his back from the hallway. His optic is bright and his shoulders are tense. "Can I come in?"
"No," Zapper rasps hoarsely. "Go away."
It's not the answer Grappler Gouf wants to hear, nor is it the one he's willing to listen to. Before Zapper Zaku can close the door in his face, Grappler grabs the door and forces it all the way open. His strength is commendable. The mechanisms in the door squeal with protest as the cobalt mech shoves his way in and he launches himself at Zapper like some kind of angry animal. The door slams all the way shut and locks behind them. It's completely forgotten. All Zapper Zaku knows is that he's being attacked and forced against the nearest wall. He tries to fight back with what little strength he has left, but Grappler's punches him in the hip and delivers a swift knee between his legs. Zapper is totally helpless and his legs give out from underneath him. The maroon mech is vaguely aware that Grappler is kissing him forcibly on his mouthpiece and hissing scalding air against his vents. It's brutal, but there is certain gentleness to the way Grappler does it that only Zapper can recognize. It's violence without violence. Anger without anger. Hate without hate.
"Go away," Zapper wheezes pathetically, voice broken.
Grappler stops assaulting his mouth and presses their foreheads together. "Not this time, Zipper."
And Zapper is glad. Terrified, but glad.
ix
It feels like an eternity later, but the moons are still high in the sky just beyond the window and Zapper's internal clock reads that it's been less than an hour. The bed sheets are an insane twist of knotted fabric and Grappler is lying supine underneath him. He doesn't care about the other squadron leader's unwanted intrusion anymore – the overload was well worth the price of admission. It was strong enough to make him see barcode and fill his hearing with nothing but intense static. His firewalls dropped with a violent jolt and electricity took bounds and leaps into every aching circuit in his body. His surge protectors failed. Every sensor node across the surface of his hide was charged with power and it felt so good that it almost hurt. Almost.
"You're welcome," Grappler says crisply. He's completely recovered from the afterglow and looking up at Zapper with acute awareness glimmering in his optic.
The aftermath was less forgiving for him. When he finally came to – holding himself rigid above Grappler, covered in condensation, hissing air through his overworked ventilation system – he instantly began to assault himself with self-loathing. How could he let himself be so goddamned weak. There was no reason for him to need Grappler like this. He was a warrior – a decorated squad leader and war veteran. Warriors were not supposed to "need" anyone. They were only ever supposed to have themselves, except Zapper was stuck with Grappler and he hates every fragging second of it – hating it because he loved him. It's the one emotion he's feared more than the threat of someone discovering he's an Imperfect. It's his one weakness – that one devilish little secret worming its way out of him.
Grappler suddenly looks alarmed. "You're shaking."
And he is. Zapper Zaku can hear his armor clanking softly as his entire superstructure shivers all over. It's not from post overload either. It's from something else entirely – something that Zapper Zaku can't put a word to. He doesn't like the feeling.
Grappler is looking at him critically. His optic's gaze is sharp and aware, and Zapper can only imagine how weak he looks in front of the younger squadron leader. "Do you want me to leave?"
"You can do whatever you want," Zapper answers carefully. He can't look Grappler in the face without feeling pathetic. His spark clenches in his chest and he can feel all too real emotions steadily rising inside his body. He can feel his trembling worsen out of acute fear.
Grappler looks at him much more seriously. His optic flares a fraction brighter and his mouthpiece twists into a semi-impatient sneer. Despite the otherwise ugly expression, it is a soft look for him. Zapper does not think he has given that look to anyone before. "Do you want me to leave?"
Zapper can feel his throat constrict and his face turn hot.
"Zapper." It's a silent demand.
"No," Zapper finally manages. His voice is a hoarse croak, barely above a whisper. "No, I don't."
The maroon squadron leader half expects Grappler Gouf to still leave anyways now that the secret is finally out − to shove him off and march out the door without another word − but he doesn't. After a tense moment of silence passes between the two of them like an avenging force, Grappler slowly moves his clawed hand up to the back of Zapper's head. Usually Gouf takes it off and replaces it with his other arm during their usual encounters, but this was hardly "usual" as the others were. Zapper Zaku braces himself for the pain of the blades cutting into the back of his skull, but it never comes. Grappler's claws lightly caress the metal on his scalp as hand lightly presses down, and his other hand traces up Zapper's back to paint nonsense patterns over the single thruster and grasp his mouthpiece in a firm hold. Zapper is forced to look up at Grappler. The cobalt mech watches him with an intense glow to his optic before dimming the lens and bringing their mouthpieces together. Warm air wafts between his vents, and it's the softest kiss Zapper has ever had in his life. Grappler begins to massage his metallic scruff plate, and it doesn't take long for Zapper to completely surrender to the other mech's ministrations. He trusts Grappler, and he honestly doesn't care about looking weak in front of the other mech anymore. All he wanted… he doesn't know what it was anymore. Maybe he wanted his affection − maybe he wanted his love. Whatever it is, he has it now. Zapper slowly allows himself to settle his full weight on top of the other mech, resting his head down on Grappler's wide chest and letting his guard completely fall. A hot sigh escapes his vents as Grappler's claws stroke him gently. Lovingly.
Grappler laughs and presses his mouthpiece to the side of Zapper's head. It is a careful gesture of affection. "We're getting to old for this."
"We have time to fix it," Zapper offers quietly.
Grappler smiles against him. "Yeah. I love you too."
Fin