A/N. Sometimes, it feels like coming home. Set sometime during Season 1, Neil and Feldt, one of the first oneshots I wrote so quite possibly slightly out of character.
Disclaimer: Don't own it. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.
Red Lights
She knows she shouldn't keep coming to him with her problems and wandering thoughts or when she just wants a little company and doesn't want to have to answer questions. He knows he shouldn't encourage her, always accepting of her presence and never turning her away, and he'll make the time to listen or talk or just watch the world go by, because that's what he does.
Once, she falls asleep without his noticing, her head resting on his shoulder. He has to laugh at that, quietly so as not to disturb her while he tries to decide how to deal with the peculiar situation. It seems something of a shame to wake her.
Somewhere between debating with himself what to do and actually coming to a decision he closes his own eyes, and that is the end of that.
She thinks something is different when she wakes up, something is strange, and it takes her a moment or two to realise what it is, and she has to laugh quietly at the sheer absurdity of it all, more than a little embarrassed. More quietly still she slips away, returning with a borrowed blanket for the sleeping Meister, daring only now to whisper her thanks and kiss his cheek, asking Haro to keep her secret for her.
Christina can guess, teasing her friend for her crush, smiling all the while, upbeat and carefree. In all honesty she envies her friendship with him when her own crush is beyond unreachable, but all the same, Christina is happy for her - regardless of how foolish it is - and for that she is thankful as well.
He knows that Tieria frowns upon his closeness to the girl, and that written in Sumeragi's gaze is a wordless warning, in Allelujah's is concern. But, against perhaps his better judgment, he ignores them all and allows her to keep visiting, to keep talking and keep trying to bring a smile or a laugh to her serious features.
Once or twice, without realising it, she calls him by his real name and he wonders what hers is, or if she even knows it and he thinks he'll have to find out after the war is over. Not 'if', only 'when'. And he thinks of inviting her to see his home country after the war is over and now that it is peaceful there at last. And he's somewhat taken aback when he realises just how much he has come to enjoy her company, looking forward to seeing her whenever he's back on the ship or whenever they come down to Earth. She fills a gap he never expected anyone would.
More often than not, without realising it, his accent slips, back to that old familiar Irish of his youth, and she knows more often than not he doesn't notice, because when he does it stops short. And it's the little things she remembers the most, the everyday, normal things, and she can almost believe that there is an end to this war she was born into and lives through. And she hopes he will keep in touch when it does, she knows it is foolish, but none the less she wonders and dares to dream as she watches the screen, meticulously completing the docking procedure for the last one back.
She always greets Haro first, and he jokes that she cares more for the orange robot than him. It's become almost tradition, just like the accent and name, both now so familiar, and it's kind of like coming home.
Only the alarms are nothing like home, are not how home should be as they have to abandon their hot drinks and chatting, catching up time, both with work to do. And she has that concerned look hidden behind her serious eyes that tugs at his heartstrings and he doesn't need Haro batting him to gather the girl in his arms and hug her tight. He's never liked to see a girl afraid.
She's taken aback, confused, unsure how to respond, letting his words roll over her. Words she's heard before, and words she hasn't, words tumbling over each other, linked by that accent and ended with a small, almost petty request, something almost fierce in his tone, but comforting, warm, not in the least frightening.
She nods and he releases her, smiling kindly, that grin that everyone knows so well, but something softer in his eyes.
And she smiles back. It is only a small smile, but it is a start, and it is better than a worried frown.
And he ignores the voice which sounds like his but isn't that he knows would laugh at the whole situation.
And despite the red light alarms he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead.
And despite the red light alarms and chaos and war she knows he'll come home again soon.