1 - 20 of 23 Works by afs47
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Hey Isami,
Have you ever tried sweet potato pie? I’ve been trying to find some around base, but it’s a totally different pastry in Hawai’i. I think you’d like it, though. So if I can find somewhere that sells it, we should go! It can be kind of like
a dathose pancakes we had in Tokyo.From,Your pal,Thanks for everything,
Lewis Smith
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Their first date (it wasn’t a date) (if it was, it wouldn’t be their first; they’d done this before) (wait, did those count as dates?) was supposed to be simple. Just Eiji and Toga, out on the town, for a night of trouble-making, people-watching, and cola-drinking.
But Toga was still nervous.
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Eiji was a little sweaty when he finished his dance. The reception venue wasn’t very well-ventilated. He wiped his brow as he retreated to his assigned seat—at a table with his fellow Gran Knights—and hi-fived Mizuki as he passed her.
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As he came down from the high that was Brave Fusion, Isami found that his hands didn’t shake.
They nearly always had, wrapped around Bravern’s controls, due to his fear of their enemies, or the fate of the world, or even Bravern himself, in the beginning…but not anymore. Now, he was home.
And he didn’t want the moment to end.
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Bravern knew three things about Isami Ao.
One: he was strong.
Two: he was the only man who would pilot Bravern. Ever.
And three: he never even looked at Bravern, because he was always looking at Lewis Smith.
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Isami’s head hit the ground hard when Lulu toppled him over. He stared up at the pink dawn and considered that he might’ve been hallucinating. Smith…there was no way he could’ve come back. Isami had lost him once, lost him twice. A third time would just be poetry.
He didn’t let himself glance back to where “Smith” had been as he sat up. He wasn’t sure he’d survive if his wishful thinking got the better of him.
“Isami.”
Isami couldn’t help himself. He looked, and…there he was. The man before him was undeniably Lewis Smith, soft around the edges and with a hand extended for Isami.
Only for Isami.
Isami took it and stood. Their new day was bright.
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The medical exams had come back clear; he’d passed his physical with flying colors. Isami Ao had done battle with gods and emerged safe, healthy, and strong.
But that didn’t mean he was unchanged.
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As soon as Isami stepped inside the cockpit, he knew something was off. “Bravern. What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean, Isami? I am in top condition and ready to commence Operati—”
“Yeah, right.” Isami crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not going to pilot you until you tell me. What’s up?”
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In Smith’s absence, Isami expected to find only loneliness.
But he didn’t. The man he loved echoed in those around them, never really leaving Isami alone.
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When Isami found himself tied up and stripped down to his underwear in Smith’s room, he didn’t let himself feel surprise. It wasn’t his first time in that situation, after all.
His previous experience had been a lot more fun.
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When Isami agreed to move in with Lewis, he expected his life to get crazier. He was prepared for later nights, hectic mornings, and to have his food stolen off his plate. He was prepared to be a little more flexible in his routine; he’d braced himself for Lulu’s antics. Lewis’s, too. Lewis’s presence in Isami’s life was about to get much larger, and he welcomed that.
He hadn’t expected he’d come so close to losing him.
(Yes, this is a flower-shop themed excuse to write Isami crying in Lewis’s arms about the thought of losing him. I have no shame.)
Series
- Part 3 of Brayflower
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Isami had picked up a dangerous habit.
Every Thursday, with shaking fingers and sweaty palms, he’d go ‘round the Flower Shop and trim excess buds and sprouts from their most colorful offerings. Then he’d buy as many real flowers as his small wages could afford, and scrape together a tiny bouquet.
He thought he’d been discreet, but he only managed that routine for three weeks before Hibiki called him out. “Isami, you don’t have to hold on to all the clippings like that. They won’t make for good compost; you can throw them out.”
Miyu stole his chance to offer a bad excuse. “He’s not composting them. He’s giving them to Lewis. Because he’s in loooooooove.”
Series
- Part 2 of Brayflower
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Lewis’s first love was his parents.
They were his whole world; his lifeblood. Too perfect to be real, but too real to be anything but human. His mom bought him comic books each time she passed their local store, and his dad arranged his eggs and bacon in the shape of a smile every Saturday morning. When he waved his Kikaider action figure around at the dinner table, and recounted the android’s courageous exploits for the umpteenth time, they listened. They asked him questions, and then they asked him follow-up questions. Every minute he spent with them, Lewis knew he was loved.
They were invincible. They were his heroes.
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Isami’s clothes were abandoned in a heap in the hallway. Lewis had been so scared when he saw them that he’d punched the three nearest doors in, locks and steel be damned. Now, though, with Isami sopping wet, barely conscious, and draped over his shoulders, they just made him sick to his stomach.
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“Oh, shit. That’s Isami Ao over there.”
“Brave 1? How can you tell?”
“You haven’t seen his face? It’s everywhere.”
“I don’t recognize him without his mecha. He’s alone now; you think we should go say hi? Thank him for what he’s done?”
“No, leave him alone. He looks pretty bummed out.”
“I heard half of his new support squad was wiped out in their first battle. Their captain, too.”
“The marine? That blond kid?”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck, dude. That’s rough. I’d be bummed too.”
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“Smith. Can we talk?”
“Of course,” Lewis agreed. The request was a surprise, but not one he’d turn down. “Always.”
Isami didn’t meet his eyes, but he took Lewis’s hand and pulled him down the hallway. “We need to go somewhere else for this,” he told him.
Lewis didn’t think Isami could lead him to an even bigger surprise. He was wrong.
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For the first time since their boxing match, Isami found himself alone.
Smith had promised that Isami wouldn’t have to fight by himself, but that had only been the start of it. He’d stuck like glue to Isami’s side in the mess hall, while they unloaded their belongings into the base, and while questioning Superbia. Almost all of Isami’s waking moments were spent with Smith, and the rest were spent trying to get back to him. That had been the case until Superbia spat him out, and Major Plumman summoned him away.
But even then, Isami wasn’t alone for long.
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The sun rose defiant over a battered Tokyo. Everyone’s worry washed away with the pre-dawn, and Lewis heard cheering all around him. In his headset, from the survivors, and from Lulu.
Isami stood at Bravern’s feet, away from everyone else, with his arms crossed over his chest and a relaxed smile on his face. Lewis nearly tripped over himself twice on his jog over.
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Isami was lost in a sea of amber. The bronze of his lukewarm beer bled into the wooden bartop and the hazy, yellowed lights around him. The cacophony of voices and music was too loud for him to listen to any of it. Dull claustrophobia chewed away at his skin.
He’d been zoned out for a while, and reality only kicked in when an arm landed across his shoulders. “You wanna get out of here?” a familiar voice asked.
He did.
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Pain shot through Isami’s arm as he hit the ocean. Bravern fished him out, Hibiki passed him a towel, and Satake ordered the rest of the men to give him a wide berth in the showers. He was exhausted, and clean, and could’ve passed out on his feet.
Instead, he stood outside the door to Lewis Smith’s private quarters.