Positive Negative Charge
Word Count: 830. It's a short quick one.
Author: TVBOAerosmith on
Pairing: SmithNeo M/M
Rating: T
Warning: Probably OOC?
Summary: Because Smith wanted exactly what this one wanted. He wanted everything.
Foreword
This story assumes that Neo is totally knocked out after he gets punched into the warehouse at the end of Matrix Revolutions during his fight with Smith.
I had just rewatched M1 as I wrote this so maybe the characterisation is strange because I haven't refreshed my M2 and M3 so I'm probably getting some kind of detail wrong here.
Lots of grammar errors because English isn't my first language. Sorry.
A single callused finger, too harsh on smooth unblemished skin. Strings of golden make green ripple and bounce under its pressure.
Captivating. Utterly fascinating; These are the only words that truly fit the face caressed by his own hand, Smith thinks. Beautiful is too cliché, repulsive is too ill-fitting— It used to be the only descriptor he'd have thought of for this one, but back then, he still hadn't truly opened his eyes.
Smith's lower lip quivers. It is cold, oh so cold. His own flesh cannot generate any heat. His only hope is to rely on the unused battery lying peacefully on the floor, broken pieces of wood plank scattered around it.
Thunder crackles outside and illuminates the battery's face; Irresistible, alluring. Bewitching.
So pale, so white. Milky skin so starkly contrasted by its black garb, high collar highlighting the cut of its jaw. The scenery simply took Smith's breath away: Not that he had any.
Smith is going to kill it.
This misled, confused little copper top is going to die tonight, and Smith shivers for an entirely different reason than the freezing temperature that comes with the downpour of rain. Excitement rushes through his veins.
Because after all, Smith has kept it alive for so long. Smith is the one who's exhale is formatted for this one's inhale, Smith is the one who's bruise is for this one's punch.
Who was the one who kept it alive, when it had collapsed on the floor in that hotel, blood staining the wall behind it? Not that woman, no, not with her ice blue eyes, but Smith's own.
Even when Smith had emptied an entire magazine into that code, gaping with red, watched it die with a certain satisfaction, Smith was the goddamn reason why it had been able to get up from that floor. For it wasn't ready to die; for their unfinished business hadn't yet been solved.
This entity, this anomaly's entirety circled around Smith and Smith alone. That silly parasite leeching away on their specialty, their connection, it made Smith's tie itch with a need to be repositioned.
It was them, only them, only ever both of them and never anyone else, not even the lover this one had so foolishly believed it would devote its life to, because it hadn't any lover if Smith never acknowledged it.
Because they were only meant for each other. They were built for each other. Only they would find each other again and again through all the cycles even with different faces or different hearts, and only they were good enough for each other.
Only they were good enough for each other, Smith's hand momentarily switched to cover the entirety of the battery's milk white face, his hand looming over the nose and his fingers resting dangerously on its fragile eyelids so decorated with thick lashes. Just one well executed twist, and it would die.
But he didn't want it to end so dreadfully simply.
For Smith was a glorious god, taking and rampaging everything in his way. The only one that could ever be his equal should die the way Smith thought he should: Something all out, something dramatic, something memorable.
Something horrible.
He didn't want to hear soft, pattering rain. He didn't want the calming, periodic strikes of glowing thunder. He wanted painful pounding droplets, ear splitting booms and screaming.
What he wanted was to see his opposite, his equal's face rife with terror, that interesting crimson liquid seeping into the water beside him, dangerous hands clutched on a painful spot. He wants his… everything, so to speak, to give it its all.
Long lashes casting dark shadows onto it's cheeks, nose long and carved, vivid red cupid bow lips resting tantalisingly on one another. Smith's one attentive eye sweeped over these details for the thousandth time, but he saw the imperfections laying beneath the perfect surface. Pores, sweat, dirt, oil. But only on this one, it became so intriguing.
Not gorgeous, not lustful. Just intriguing. Interesting, to see all the imperfections in this one, because it reminds him that the one who destroyed him, who freed him, who made him… is only human.
Only human.
Only disgusting, only detrimental, only depressive but so important.
Only this one.
Smith never felt his face inch closer to those lips, thumb pressing lightly on the pink indent where a bit of skin was peeling off to reveal blood red.
His own inexperienced mouth lightly grazed the others, eyes unnaturally open, staring holes into the other's unconscious form. His lips fell open for a moment, teeth exposed, gaze trailing down from his equal's forehead to his chin.
Then his eyes closed, shutting everything out in a curtain of pitch black. Something soft and wonderfully warm met his mouth. The battery never stirred as Smith extracted it's heat.
Only this one.
Because Smith wanted exactly what this one wanted. He wanted everything.
Smith's head turns and he licks the other's chapped lips experimentally. Interesting.
He wanted everything, because he was only human.
Notes
Look, I know the philosophy of this one kinda makes absolutely no sense. Neo shouldn't be referred to as a battery because Smith is no longer an agent of the system. Smith doesn't need the human battery farm to survive, if I'm not wrong… but since hes in The Matrix, and the Matrix is probably powered through the human farm, because the "batteries" represent the people that uphold, support and feed the Matrix as they are a part of it and not freed from it. Only when they are freed, they stop being a "battery", stop being someone who supports the Matrix.
Okay, whatever, I don't care about the specifics. To quote Smith, "That is, at this point, irrelevant." because I already wrote the damn fic and don't have energy to change what I wrote. Basically, Neo's referred to as a battery because Smith extracts his heat from him (eyebrow waggle).
I'll probably write something better than this undedicated unresearched crap soon.