Work Text:
It’s uncommon for Hunters to personalize their rooms.
In general the Hunters spend more time working than resting. A visitor can fling a metaphorical dart at any of the rooms and is likely to discover a sparse studio space with one to four recharge tubes, desks, chairs, and trunks for personal belongings depending on the size of the room and the ranks of the inhabitants.
(After all the turnover rate for Hunters is considerably high. Not many have functioned long enough to truly make their rooms their own.)
It’s what sets X’s room differently than anyone else’s in the Maverick Hunters Headquarters. Though clean and modest, there’s more to it than a recharge tube and it’s clearly lived in. On one wall are shelves stocked with novels, scientific journals, and numerous old tablets, stuff so fully that they’re effectively used as data storage units. On the opposite side is a desk with a customized computer terminal, sitting next to a stout storage cabinet filled with small-scale models of mechaniloid prototypes and action figures – affectionate memorabilia from his time as a former lab assistant to Dr. Cain.
Humming a soft instrumental rock song, the jukebox in the corner is completely out of place from the twenty second century (and the entire Base for that matter), but it’s right at home next to the couch X is using. He doesn’t use it as frequently as he likes, but he likes the domestic flair it adds to his room.
He’s sitting against the arm, pad set in front of him as he scrolls through the latest news when he hears a series of knocks rap across his door. Remotely, X signals the door to open, permitting his guest to enter.
Zero strides in silently.
“Hello Zero,” X greets.
The Zeroth Unit Leader nods in acknowledgement.
X shifts position. He turns his entire body to the side so his back rests against the couch arm and his legs are stretched across the seats. As soon as he does, Zero unceremoniously drapes over the blue android like he’s meant to be there. His limbs position between X’s like puzzle pieces and his blond hair cascades to the floor. X readjusts without comment. He simply raises the arm with the tablet and nestles it on top of Zero’s blanket of hair, continuing to read, his other arm hugging Zero comfortably.
The Crimson Hunter shuts his eyes. Any Maverick can theoretically drop a bomb into the part of Base where Zero’s recharge tube lies and retire him in his sleep.
In short the safest place to rest is in Mega Man X’s arms. Not that Zero need more rest; he’s fully charged, subtanks full, and he’s already gone through the available exercises in the sim gyms. There won’t be an update until the end of the month. There’s no major Maverick attack that requires his attention either.
He’s so comfortable he’s bored.
Being with X kills Zero’s boredom and compensates his security when he lowers his guard. It’s a shame that X isn’t a walking powerport. Zero would never return to his recharge tube if that was the case.
Arms full of the deadliest combatdroid in this side of Abel City, X never felt so comfortable. Gentle fingers curl around the red helmet, thumbing at the edge idly. He pulls away for a second to switch to another article.
It’s not until the jukebox starts up another song that X is struck how rare this is. How the two most experienced Hunters are at a break. No disaster pulling either of them away.
It’s casual. It’s precious. It’s just the two of them.
X exvents softly through his nose.
The quiet hasn’t yet ended and he already misses it.
