A Date with A Collector
Well, it's time to start again! This fic may as well be called "Rai's Happy Ending" for all the thought put into it – it was mainly inspired by my first SRX slash piece, and more importantly the fact that I just couldn't let it go. For all his stuck-up behaviour and piloting of non-sexy mecha, Rai is one of the best guys around, so I wanted to give him a break… or was it a bone?
It is sequel-ish, but since I hate long epics I'll try keep it understandable even if you haven't read my first SRX-yaoi piece, Team Spirit. If you have, though, it should slot right in.
As they all say, full of gusto… Tronium Engine, Full Drive!!
The two robots stood side-by-side, majestic yet understated, somehow seeming to brim with power and might even in the dim lighting, their sharp edges and metallic bodies casting crisp shadows onto the walls. Exactly identical, both took a warrior's stance – feet wide apart, broad shoulders squared, a glistening array of weapons, each as polished and as efficient as the last, tucked securely into various parts of their robotic structures. Chrome silver hands clasped a sword and a gun, eyes dark as night reflected the lights around them into pinpoints of silver bright as a star.
But wait. As perfectly constructed as these two figures were, there were still differences.
Not to an average person, perhaps, but an expert's eyes wouldn't be fooled. The one of the left clasped its sword a little loosely, and its feet pointed a depessingly inaccurate 15º inward. Its paint was bright and shiny, yes, but a little too lustrous, as though the robot was not a combat machine but rather a model of some sort, for parents to buy for their children. And the cockpit! Everyone knew that this particular series featured cockpits that slid out and then slotted in, rather than the standard clam-shell design favoured by the Gundam and Macross series. But there it was sitting him in the face – an open-and-shut design on a mecha that had never had such a cockpit! (And he knew this for a fact, considering he was on speaking terms with the pilot.)
"AAAAAH!!!" cried Ryuusei, falling back on his bed and pumping his arms after two hours of scrutinising. " Nothing beats the Chogouki series, man!"
Exhilirated beyond belief, he snatched the better of the two models and cradled it against his chest while rolling around on the sheets, a joyous grim plastered to his face. Lifting it into the air, he eyed the miniature robot the way a mother would her firstborn son, while his fingers played with the various functions with gentle skill. The robot moved with all the fluidity of its bigger, combat-ready conterpart, tiny fists clenching, miniscule lights flashing, thrusters blazing with blue fire as its 'pilot' (who was in truth simply flicking its limbs) flew it through the mobil hanging on his ceiling. Ryuusei couldn't resist a triumphant shout at the faultless mechanics.
Then his eye fell on the other robot, the nearly-perfect one, and all joy vanished.
Gently, and with infinite care, he placed the superior Chogouki model next to its inferior counterpart, then folded his legs and stared at the two again. The differences in quality were obvious. Ryuusei's features contorted as he scrutinised the two. The paint! The weapon design! The cockpit!!
With a frustrated shriek, the pilot grabbed the second model, and snapped his hand as though to throw it – out the window, into the dustbin… somewhere!
Then memory came crashing down, and his arm fell limply against his chest, still clutching the miniture robot. Suddenly tired, the brown-haired pilot barely felt his back hit the mattress as he stared blankly at the ceiling, mind occupied by a worry more important than even his mecha obessions. Tucking one hand behind his head, he absently noted that the inferior model even weighed less than its more realisitc counterpart, a definite sign that some workman had cut corners somewhere.
Ryuusei lifted it and frowned as he examined each side. It was so obviously inferior.
"AAAAAARGH!" the scream echoed up and down the corridors of the barracks. "How could you buy the wrong model, Rai!!!?"
"Sometimes people make mistakes, Ryuusei." To all appearances, Aya sipped her tea calmly, but the small furrow in her brow and the slight trembling of her fingers gave away her irritation. When Ryuusei had called her about an 'urgent problem', she had to admit she'd expected something like this, but…!
"Not on a model! A Chougouki model!! How could anyone make a mistake with a Chougouki!?" Ryuusei's frustrated voice once again echoed. Aya suppressed a twitch.
"I don't even know what a Chou.. Chou…"
"Chougouki."
"I don't even know what a Chougouki is," she informed him, watching the young man swell like a pufferfish at her ignorance. He took a deep breath, doubtless intending to tell her more about Chougoukis than she had ever wanted to know – before she cut him off. "And anyway," Aya kept her tone patient and warm, something she was rather good at, especially in stressful situations. "Why don't you just sell it or something?"
Ryuusei half-glared, half-frowned.
"I… can't," he admitted, his tone somehow both exasperated and petulant.
Aya's eyes widened, and Ryuusei felt even more irritated. How could Rai have made a mistake? Was he blind? Wouldn't his genius-level IQ (and the genius-level brain that used that IQ) help him easily tell the two appart? This was the guy who could do quantum equations in seconds and correct every mistake of his battle data frame-by-frame, and he couldn't even tell a Chougouki from a… a substandard something-or-other! The young warrior fumed in his seat. If he just had bought the correct model, Ryuusei would be happily romancing a full-fledged Chougouki right now, not sitting on a stool tied up in knots asking Aya for help!
"Why not?" the lady asked, her tone inquiring rather than accusatory, which he was grateful for. At least Aya was geuniely interested in helping him out, unlike Rai, who only seemed to be interested in making his life confused and miserable by making stupid mistakes with the most important pursuit of his life… the "Full Set" collection he'd been aiming for since the age of ten, and now he'd had to go buy a Chougouki, on top of the wrong model, and that had set his finances back quite a bit…
But if he sold it, he'd recoup quite a bit, wouldn't he?
"Because…" Yeah, he suddenly thought. Why not? He could just sell it off, or donate it to somebody, or wrap it up and send it back to the store, and all his problems would be solved. No more inferior models taking up his workspace, no more hours comapring paintwork (hours which always led to the same conclusion), and no more problems with cockpit designs, or locking mechansims, or the strangely uncertain look on Rai's face when he handed him the wrapped package…
He was speaking almost before his brain could register it.
"Because Rai gave it to me."
Across him, his commading officer drew in a breath. Ryuusei himself gasped, startled by the revelation – so sudden, so strangely true. It hit him like something wet and hard against his chest, coupled with Aya's surprise as her teacup hit the saucer with an audible "clang!", and he realised, belatedly, that he'd started biting his lip sometime during their conversation.
"I-I mean… why didn't he just get the correct model?" Why did he suddenly feel like he had to explain himself? "I even said I'd transfer him the cash as soon as he got it, even for the… the substandard one… And he said he'd pay for it! Like he has so much money! Like, like a gift! Like the LAST time!!"
He remembered – when Rai had first bought him a model, and it had been the wrong one, just like this one, and yeah, Rai had had that same expression then, too… that same inexplicable, half-embarrassed expression crossing his face for just a second…
Is that why he'd asked Rai for a model again, now that everything was over? Because he'd wanted to start over, in a sense, with a brand new clean slate and a brand new correct model? Because he'd wanted Rai to…
"And he got it wrong again!" He was shouting now, almost unaware of what he was saying, his fist coming down to slam the table..
"Ryu!" Aya's voice was a command, and he silenced immediately, staring at her with wide eyes. Her own emerald gaze was strangely warm, in contrast to her straight-backed posture, reminding him of the woman who had muttered worried nonsense as she wiped her sister's forehead.
"Ryu." Aya tried again, calmer this time. The man – boy, he looked more like a boy in this moment, she thought, as something warm and indefinable surged up in her chest – gazed back steadily. "Ryu… Rai doesn't really care about… about models and mecha and that sort of thing." And neither do I… except maybe Mai, I guess. "I ordered him to check on the progress of the evacuation centre beneath the mega-mall, and that's what he went to do… I don't think he was really concentrating on anything else."
Ryuusei made a move to say something, and she waved him to silence. "The point is," she continued, "Rai probably just thought he'd pick the model up for you, and wasn't really thinking too much about it… So he got the wrong one."
"How could he get it - "
"And that's probably because he wasn't really thinking about a model as much as he was thinking about… about doing a teammate a favour. And that's why…" Aya leaned towards him, and she was smiling a little at the mixture of wonder and skeptism on his face. "I think it's ok if you want to throw it away, or sell it, or something. Because, well, it isn't really…"
The sharp clicking of a pair of sturdy business shoes alerted them to the small man walking towards the two pilots, and they fell silent, suddenly aware that voices had been raised more than once during their conversation. He coughed slightly, officiously, evidently aware that he'd interrupted some pretty heated dialogue, and quickly addressed himself to Ryuusei, whose wide-eyed look told everyone that he didn't know this man at all.
"Mr… Ryuusei Date?" he asked hesitantly.
"Er… yeah… And you are?"
"Oh.. Oh you were not informed of my arrival?" At the pilot's blank look, the man quickly began to speak again, as though afraid that one wrong word would get him carted away by armed guards. "I.. I am Houston.. Houston Jones, a.. collector, of models, but not for myself, you see."
Judging by the stare he received in return, Ryuusei didn't see, so Mr Jones gave it another shot, his speech becoming even more agitated. "I am part of a project that sells models, such as the Chougouki and Super Grade serieses, in… in auctions. We auction them off to the highest bidder, and.. and give the money to charity, you see. To those children whose families have been ruined by war.
"And you see, Mr Date – is it alright if I call you that? You see, I have been informed that you have a model that you're willing to part with… Would you not donate it to the project?"
"Not my Chouoguki!" the words were out before he could stop them.
"C-Chougouki?!" exalimed Mr Jones, surprised. "No, not the Chougouki! I am a collector of that series myself, and I would never dream of asking you to part with one! I thought… That is to say, I was informed that.. that you had a Super Grade you were willing to part with… not a Chougouki."
Oh, a Super Grade – one class lower, one step down the rung… The model Rai had gotten for him.
His first impulse was to say no, nothing doing, he was not parting with that model either, and he was surprised at the strength of that thought, the steely conviction it possessed as it ran through his mind. He opened his mouth, not knowing precisely how come he was so determined to keep a substandard model, when he'd always insisted on only the perfect, highest-grade ones… when he heard the words Aya had almost spoken, her eyes so softly intense.
Because it isn't really about the model, Ryuusei. Not for him. Not for any of us.
"Yeah," Ryuusei said, nodding in the man's general direction but somehow unable to meet his eyes. "Give me a minute, I'll go get it."
And then he was out of his seat and sprinting full-tilt down the hallway, ignoring the "no-running" signs, and Aya smiled as she watched his silouette disappear.
"Ok… Instruction booklet, check. Bonus spare parts, check. Sales photos, check." Deft fingers slotted each component into its separate box as Ryuusei packed his model up for the selling. Or collecting. Or something. He couldn't really concentrate on what exactly was going on, too engrossed in the sight of each piece sliding into its designated area, then closing the lid on each little pocket, then closing the box entirely…
It was so strange. Ryuusei had collected thousands of models in his time, (and continued to collect thousands more,) but he had never packed one up.
Usually, he got the model, whooped about, and then unpacked it and set it on the shelf. If the shelf was full, then the cupboard. If the cupboard was full, then… something else. Someplace else. He'd never so much as dismantled any of his models before – he smirked slightly as he remembered the first time he'd shown Aya and Rai his collection. They'd stood about a bit awkwardly, Aya looking around in interest, Rai's brow furrowing as he tried to comprehend Ryuusei's fondness for the miniture mecha.
He'd said something about Ryuusei's "bit-sized toys", but Ryuusei couldn't remember precisely what it was. After all, it certainly hadn't been the first time Rai had mouthed off about Ryuusei's interests. All he could remember was being extremely pissed, and swearing inwardly to kick Rai's ass next flight simulation…
i Yeah/i he mused as his hands mechanically packed up the parts. I should kick his ass next flight simulation.. making me go through all this bother…
"Ryuusei."
And.. And I WANTED to keep the damn model, just because HE bou…
"Ryuusei!"
He started, whirling around, the sudden motion causing his head to spin. He reached for something to steady himself, and nearly grabbed the Chougouki. A brief second of panic, as he simulataneously tried to release the Chougouki, get back his balance, and straighten, only to have his body twist strangely and his arms frantically backpedal in the air – If I fall on the Super Grade, it'll be over…
A strong hand closed on his upper arm, hauling him up as gloved fingers pushed the Chougouki upright, and for a single second he gazed into cobalt eyes.
"Rai!" The myriad thoughts flying about his head suddenly settled in the wake of his co-pilot's sudden appearance. In typical Ryuusei fashion, he'd thought of a hundred things to say to Rai when he met him, so that when faced with the man himself he found himself so full of accusations, and pronouncements, and feelings, that he didn't know quite where to begin. "How did you – What're you.."
"Here." Rai pushed something into his hand. "You need this."
It was a receipt, made out to the supermarket for the sale of one Super Grade model with all bonus parts and piloting instructions, at the price of seven hundred dollars, signed by one Raidus V. Flashtein. Ryuusei stared at it blankly.
"You need the original receipt so that the auction knows what price to set," his co-pilot explained, in that measured, cool tone he knew so well.
That shook Ryuusei out of his revierie, and he stared at the man across him. "You…" then it clicked into place. " You called the… the collector guy!" His voice came out a little strangled, sounding surprised and accusing, with an undercurrent of repoachful anger that startled him.
Across him, Rai's expression turned incredulous. "I wasn't aware it was this big mystery." He frowned slightly and folded his arms, his face taking on a slightly mulish cast. "After all, you mentioned – correction, shouted – that you didn't want a Super Grade, but a Chougouki. And seeing that you now have the aforementioned Chougouki, there's no reason to keep the other one."
"No, but.. but, it's not.. I mean.. You bought it for me!" His voice sounded rough and petulant, like an angry child's, as though trying to impress upon Rai the importance of the model, the importance of Rai buying the model…
Because it isn't really about the model. Not for him. Not for any of us.
Not for you, either.
"And look at how much you paid for it! A normal Super Grade only goes for five hundred… even with all the bonuses it's six hundred fifty max… I can't believe you let the store gyp you for so much cash!"
Rai sighed as he looked at the man in front of him, wondering, not for the first time, what the hell Ryuusei was thinking. He could never understand the way emotions seemed to run through, past and out of the R-1 pilot with such furious intensity, seeming to ignite the young man with such inner fire. Whether it was robots, or friendships, or defending the earth, Ryuusei treated everything with such determination, throwing himself face first into every obstacle, blazing through his setbacks, opening the doors of someone's heart with such guiless, wholehearted passion…
No he thought to himself. I wanted to get you a Chougouki as badly as you did.
And the fact that he hadn't , that he'd forgotten , even with the genius-level IQ and the name written in his datapad… It made him angry, too. "I don't know the first thing about pricing," he clipped out. "And weren't you always telling me about how the collecting models is a serious pursuit, not just a cute hobby?"
"Yeah, but.. but you paid for it!"
"It's a gift!"
For a second, they faced off, both angry and frustrated and not really able to understand why.
"Mr.. Date?" the collector's voice sounded from the intercom outside Ryuusei's room, making him jump. Rai's head snapped towards the phone-like device as well, his expression so perplexed it seemed he did not even recognise the machine or the voice issuing from it. "Are you finished?"
"Y.. Yeah!" Ryuusei turned back to the box, pushing the lid down and locking it firmly, before hoisting it into his arms and marching up to Rai, putting his thoughts together and organising what he wanted to say. He owed it to the man to at least try to make things clear. The blue eyes gazed at him, unreadable, and Ryuusei found himself having to screw up his courage to speak.
"Don't do this again, Rai. Next time, we'll both go shopping for models."
"You'll be paying, of course." Rai was smiling, very slightly, as he said it.
He grinned back, and nodded, and turned to sprint down the hall – wondering why he was so happy, his entire face felt hot.