Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sprawled on the floor of the training mat, Boothill wondered if he was even heavy at all.

This wasn’t the first time he had been thrown so easily over Argenti’s shoulder, and Boothill lost count after six.

His eye didn't sting from staring into the harsh light of the ceiling, but he blinked once when his partner leaned over him. Red hair blocking and shielding his eye from intense glare, draping over him, and cascading down at him like a wave of ocean of crimson.

(He suppressed the thought of reaching out to touch it, he wouldn’t be able to feel it regardless but Boothill didn’t doubt it would be as soft as it looked.)

It tickled his cheek from where he laid, and he swore he saw something shimmering like a star between the red locks.

He must have hit his head or something, even Argenti looked mildly concerned down at him.

“I thought the worst,” Argenti said, smiling down at him, “why haven’t you gotten up, friend?”

“Can’t a guy catch a fuckin’ break?” Boothill grumbled.

“Of course, but I doubt the floor is comfortable.”

“I dunno, it’s pretty nice down here.”

Argenti raised an eyebrow in amusement, lips curling into a genuine smile, his amusment evident. Argenti bent on his knees this time, moving his hair away from where it had surrounded Boothill like a curtain, settling beside his defeated form on the ground.

“I sincerely doubt it, did I strike your head?”

“No less than I did you, princess,” Boothill retorted, gaining a deep chuckle from the other.

They’ve been at it for hours now, ranging around from different weapons and what not. From wooden sticks, to their bare fists, just like the first time.

And just like the first time, it left Boothill breathless.

His attacks were blocked, he barely could defend himself, he had to actively think to take down Argenti, he hadn’t met a brute force like him before.

“Can’t beat it till ya try it.” He drawled on intentionally, placing a hand behind his head and making himself comfortable.

It was hard not to, Boothill found, not in Argenti’s presence.

Argenti seemed to actually mull over it, before another voice introduced itself to the conversation.

“Training is not over.”

Boothill blanched, As Argenti stood up quickly and straight as a ruler.

It’s been a must to get a judge, ever since the news of them being compatible, fitting each other, came out. and now they finally got a judge to watch them over, the chance to show him they were compatible.

To which they proceeded to forget he was there then, too caught up in their fighting.

Boothill sat up as he looked at where the general stood, glaring down at them, or more specifically, at Boothill.

(he thought that maybe a marshal, or even a lieutenant would watch them, not the general himself. Wasn’t this guy always fuckin’ busy or something?)

“For the sake of your growth as a team, I do applaud the friendly chatter…but let’s leave it out of the training bounds, maintain the focus, understood?” General spoke, looking between them both.

“Understood.” Argenti said, his face slightly pink.

Boothill rubbed the back of his neck as he sat up, not really wanting to meet the general’s eyes.

“Now, I believe we still have a few more rounds…unless?” General muttered the last bit, directed and aimed at Boothill.

Boothill rolled his eyes as pushed himself to stand.

(he wondered, did he offend the general someway? Boothill even made sure not to cuss around him as much…not a lot but still, the effort was there.)

“Yeah yeah,” he grumbled underneath his breath, but the annoyance washed away when he met Argenti’s eyes in a quick glance.

Instead, he grinned with eagerness, a wave of rush to pin the other down overcame him.

Boothill was determined to show Argenti that the floor was quite comfortable.

All while Ignoring the burning stare that was directed at him from the general.

Boothill bit into his hair piece, keeping hold on it by his mouth as he tried to gather all his hair in his hands, careful of the crease of his metal joints on his digits. 

He squinted his eyes at the most reflective surface they’ve got in the training room, a metal pillar or rather a tube, that was heavily smudged but it did the job to let Boothill know he got all of his hair in one hand, and seeing Argenti talking with the general in the far back.

They were whispering to each other, standing close. 

Boothill focused back on his hair that had come loose. There had been too many times his hair got caught up in his joints, and Boothill would rather take his time than be bald.

He hissed, as a strand tightened itself around his finger.

“Here, let me.” 

Boothill glanced to see Argenti, and with a quick glance he noted that the general must have left.

“It’s…” Boothill was about to refuse, before tugging harshly at his hair when he tried to quickly do it himself.

“…” 

Argenti didn't say anything (bless him), not even when he reached to free the strand that betrayed his dignity from around his finger.

“I’d wager that a neat bun would look good on you,” Argenti said then, his offer still standing, and his gaze lingering with a hint of admiration, “though any style would, you’ve got the complexion for it.”

Boothill blinked, looking away from Argenti as he let go of his hair, caught off guard by the compliment.  

“thanks…” he awkwardly replied, not knowing how to respond to unexpected sweetness. 

It’s a moment of silence before Boothill gestured, “aren’t you gonna…?”

“Oh,” Argenti blinked, then perked up with a smile, “ oh ! Yes!”

He reached excitedly, but his grip was soft around his strands. Boothill tensed just for a split second, the feeling of someone’s hands in his hair was foreign, but not unwelcome.

Argenti threaded his fingers through his hair, combing it between his digits carefully, and Boothill stayed still as a statue so as to not disturb him.

The press of his nails at his scalp was calming, enough for Boothill to shut his eyes. 

He leaned his back a little, following along the directions of Argenti’s hands with his head absentmindedly. 

He didn’t realize how much he could feel there, still feel there.

“You’re humming,” Argenti said.

“And you’re taking too long,” Boothill shot back, abruptly halting his unintended melody. 

“Forgive me, is that a complaint?”

“It will be, I need ta fuckin’ shower.” 

Argenti twisted his hair, and Boothill felt the pull as he formed the bun. Idly, he felt as if he should tell Argenti he shouldn’t put too much care into it, that he was going to wash it later on.

Boothill stayed quiet.

“Then, how about we head together?” Argenti asked.

“Dunno if you got fuckin’ clue or not but I don’t exactly shower the same way you do.” 

“Ah.” There was a pause at his hand work, Boothill could hear him as Argenti realized what he meant, and resumed tightening the bun. “Then, I shall walk with you, if you don’t mind.”

“…why?” Boothill couldn’t help but ask, and surprisingly found himself not against it but he wasn’t going to say it.

(It’s all good for drift compatibility, he reasoned with himself, maybe that’s why.)

“To relay to you what the general told me,” Argenti answered, and Boothill wasn’t sure why he was a little disappointed in that answer.

(Boothill wasn’t sure what reason he could pin on from where his disappointment came from, however.)

“Oh.”

“And my task is complete.” Argenti declared and let go of his hair.  

Boothill hesitated on reaching to touch it, half worried his touch may cause it to come undone, ruining Argenti’s work but he felt how secure, tight it was, not that it hurt. 

“Thanks a bunch, princess.” Boothill turned around now to face him, free to do so without Argenti’s hands in his hair.

Argenti gave him a smile, and only grew bigger as he marveled at his work.

“It truly does suit you.”

Boothill shrunk with a fluster under the praise, walking off ahead. Knowing well enough Argenti will catch up to him and walk beside him. 

They were going to drift tonight, was what Argenti told him, walking him to his dorm.

“It's mandatory ofcourse, to further on test,” Argenti said, “And I know you’ve been expecting it as well, though that is to say that this one could also be an…exercise. It has been a while for the both of us, and simulations weren’t going to measure up to the real thing.” 

It wasn’t until he bid goodbye to him that Boothill realized he didn’t give Argenti his hair tie, and the one in his hair was too flamboyant and sparkly that he knew it belonged to the red head.

Boothill didn’t end up washing his hair after scrubbing his body, the bun still neat and tight.

The one and only was a sight to behold.

Boothill saw his fair share of news about the Jaeger, a kind that’s a jack of all trades, its weapons consist of a plasma blaster and a sword, along with extra smaller mechanics hidden in its compartments.

Boothill had been a Jaeger that’s mostly for range, they were known for having quite the hawk eye, and a mean punch.

But Boothill’s flexible-heck, every ranger got to be-and he can do with a normal plasma caster.

His partner was more than good enough to use the sword, too.

Argenti had beaten him many times at any training involving a long weapon, not that he could say the same with a ranged and aiming one. 

The inside of the hull was silent.

After a small greeting from Argenti, only tension remained in the air between them, their last private thoughts to themselves.

Out of the training gig, stepping into the real sort of deal after so long, it’s like a slap to the face.

Argenti will know every single thing about him, nook and cranny, every thought and fleeting feeling.

Memories that Boothill wasn’t familiar with will be part of him now.

(He has only ever been with his family, never experienced a lick of difference or new.)

There was something comforting that they sat in shared silence, something telling Boothill that he wasn’t the only one feeling the way he was.

Boothill carefully wore his helmet, trying not to disturb the now messy bun.

“You do not need a suit?” 

Boothill glanced beside him, to where Argenti stood locked into the motion rig.

“Nah,” Boothill smirked, patting his padded chest. While not a suit that the normal pilot would wear, like Argenti was wearing, with bolts, locks and safety mechanics to operate on the Jaeger.

Just a padded vest, to not keep him naked and of course, an extra safe measure.

His body already got everything a pilot suit needed.

“…so that’s why the One and only has been under construction,” Argenti hummed, staring as Boothill locked himself in place, the intercoms announcing his security.

“Making a place for myself here, hope ya don’t mind.” Boothill chuckled.

“No, not at all.” Argenti muttered, but it echoed in the hull, clear in the headphones. “i am grateful, even, thankful for you to have—“ 

“Neural handshake initiating in 10 seconds! Are you both ready?” A voice in the intercoms interrupted.

Argenti blinked, and Boothill chuckled.

“Ah, yes Velite, we’re both ready,” Argenti responded, and the intercom's voice was replaced by a robotic countdown to their fall.

“ 9… ”

“what I was trying to say, that i am thankfull—“

“ 8… ”

“It’s alright princess, I’ll know what you feel in a bit.” 

“ 7… ”

Argenti blinked, before smiling at him.

“I suppose you’re right.”

“ 6… ”

Where the tension has been just cut, excitement replaced it, anticipation, preparation, the burning rage that he had quelled deep down inside him licked at his walls in desperation of making their neural handshake as quick as possible to get out there.

“I am sure…you heard about what happened,” Argenti spoke suddenly, reminding the both of them.

“ 5… ”

“You’re…going to see Auero, but please don’t fixate on anything, the past…I’m striving to be better for the both of us.” Argenti continued to say, trying to prepare Boothill for the worst, warn him of his strongest pulls of memory. His words carrying anticipation and caution. 

Boothill knew what it was like, the gravity of the situation and knew they would inevitably were going to hear each other's thoughts soon.

“ 4… ”

“And you’ll see a shit ton from me, my problems and all, and it ain’t that pretty,” Boothill said in truth too, regardless, and shot his Argenti a grin. 

“Ya ain’t alone in this partner, it’s me and you.” 

“ 3… ”

Argenti’s eyes glimmered at that, his tense posture dropping slightly. 

“Ah, yes, you’re right.” Argenti smiled at him softly.

“ 2…1… ”

Boothill smiled back, before slipping his eyes shut.

“Neural interface drift complete, Initiating neural handshake…”

Boothill fell into the darkness.

Argenti right beside him.

Boothill watched as everything flashed as quick as the wind, yet living in them as slow as sand trickling through an hourglass.

The floodgates of his mind opened wide, unleashing memories like a relentless waterfall, engulfing him and crashing over him with unyielding force all at once. Digesting them at a speed that pressed weight on his mind, the sensation of it all was familiar, itched into his deep core. He had been through this once.

The drift was silence.

“Graey c’mon just let me hold him…hey little sherif, come here! Come see, this bean sprout is your little brother, real cute, right?…do you wanna hold him? Here come on, careful with his head…” He watched his dad cradle his baby brother, humming to him a lullaby, 

“...i’ll enroll you into an academy if you wish, perhaps, a new family if you’d like…you don’t have to do this, be a normal kid…”

The general’s face wasn’t as wrinkled, lacking his gray hair from future ahead as he helped guide his hand on a wooden staff. Hours of pleading with him to teach him finally paid, his white hair pulled into a tight ponytail to keep out of his face.

watched as pops would braid his long hair and then do Boothill’s, watched as his older sister secretly let him drink of her beer.
“Don’t tell pa, kay?” she said, handing him the beer over a pathetic remains of a bonfire, his dad tuckered out on the side outcold, his pa inside the house. “Drink slowly…”
He watched himself spit what he had drank, and his sister laughing so loud she woke dad up.

“You’re too young to have white hair, so why not choose a color…that is…a bright red…are you sure?…heh, this color almost matches my Jaeger, makes me think you’re picking it for a reason and not at random.”

A box of dye emptied, but not enough to cover it all. A strand stayed white, and it continued to stay after his master and others complimented him on his unique beauty. 

“Gives you a unique look! Like a new person, nothing like the old you.”

Watched as he lucked out, driving with his dads to a town and hiding out in a bunker all while clueless about his siblings and home.

Master laying on the hospital bed, no one else visited after a day. They didn’t allow anyone near, not when the radiation was dangerous. Argenti knew he wasn’t supposed to hear that, but he found out nonetheless.

coming back to everything gone.

He no longer had to sit back and worry over master going out in a Jaeger anymore, but it didn’t feel like a win whenever he watched the blood trickling down master’s nose.

The promise of being left alone foreboding in his mind.

Blisters formed on his small hands as wooden sticks broke after another in training grounds, small drops of blood beading from cuts between his fingers. 

“Look at the mess you made! What is with you? If you’re going to have an ugly tantrum then you better do it alone! No one wants to see this!” he didn’t remember who said it, an officer, janitor, a pilot? He didn’t know. 

but Argenti never forgot his words.

Their house was gone, but his siblings were nowhere to be found.

his siblings' bodies were nowhere near their wrecked home.

but a bunker that was close by.

A bunker that wasn’t even supposed to be called a fucking safe place, crumbled like a piece of paper when it could have been withstanding if the corporate greed wasnt in charge.

Failing the lawsuit, getting in debt and having to watch his dads get out of retirement and fall back to what they were always good at to gain back money.
They were famous before as a duo and became more as a trio when he joined.

As they killed countless Kaijus, paid back the debt but still kept being pilots.

(Where else would they put all this resentment in, where else would the guilt that ate at them go, if it weren’t drilled into the head of ugly fucking beasts.)

It’s the thing that made them smile, that made them stick closer and hadn’t pushed them apart in their grief and blame.

“My name is Aureo,” said the man who knocked him to the ground, a kind smile on his face and a hand extended down towards him. 

Aureo became a close friend, and Argenti became his co-pilot.

Master, now turned general after being promoted, had been proud.

Boothill watched as that day came.

watched as Boothill crumpled, two pilots dead and one heavily injured.

“—shit! fuck! fuck! Another one?! We can’t do this, we're outta fuel!”

“It’s knee deep in the city, there are still people here.”

It was a mutual understanding that occurred at that very moment.

They were all willing to die if it meant keeping one more person alive, if it meant there would be a way to kill it.

And another thought that resonated between his dads only, that Boothill could hear in his mind and it still echoed.

“I can’t handle the thought of losing another kid.”

“One and only ! You’re out of alignment!!” A voice in the intercom cut through the illusion like a hot knife, burning and cutting any sort of hold their consciousness had of them with uncompromising clarity.

Boothill gasped, forcing his eyes open and heaving for a breath that’s lost under a mountain of memories.

He blinked past tears in his eyes, and he grit his teeth, forcing away the sound of pa’s voice.

“Just—just gimme a fuckin’ minute,” Boothill stuttered, shaking off remnants of the past.

“You’re stabilizing but Argenti isn’t!” 

Boothill blinked, snapping his head over to his side to see Argenti standing still, unresponding. 

Motionless and like a suspended doll, a haunted distant look in his eyes with all the colors drained from his face. His gaze was fixed on something unseen by Boothill, lost deep within the recesses of his own mind, beyond the reach of their shared drift. 

“Shit!” 

Boothill felt panic at his throat, he’s not sure if it’s his, Argenti’s or their shared emotions lumped together. 

“Argenti! Hey, hey!” Boothill yelled, tugging harshly at the bounds that locked him in when he tried to reach for the other. “Don’t engage!”

There was a phasing daze for just a moment, and for a fleeting moment, Boothill thought he finally reached Argenti, that he had heard Boothill for a split second but-

In a blink of an eye, it wasn’t the Argenti who stood beside him, but another man–Aureo–with a terrified expression, with the hull torn open to a dark haunting sky that lit with lightning, the lull of the rain and waves of the ocean. 

and an eye of an ugly beast peeking in through the gap.

“Argenti!”

“He’s starting to chase the rabbit!” The intercom's voice–Velite, his mind supplied, taken from Argenti’s memories–called out in a hurry.

“Argenti!” Boothill shouted, still in a haze himself as he tried to ignore what he just saw, in favor of trying to get his partner back to his feet. 

“Argenti! snap the hell out of it!” 

Argenti moved finally, but not in the way Boothill hoped.

he lurched forward with a mangled broken gasp that almost sounded like a sob, a sight that shattered Boothill’s heart.

He’s in too deep , Boothill realized, and calling out to him here wouldn’t help.

He had to go after him.

Boothill dived into their shared space without a thought, into the world that Argenti was stuck in.

The memories phased through him like whispers of ghosts, touches that were barely felt before his feet found ground once more.

Boothill half expected to find himself in the One and only hull again, to see Aureo again and the horrible incident that left Argenti without a partner, a pilot and a friend. Left Neural scarring, the head trauma and damage.

Except, Boothill was standing in the middle of a street.

The air was thick with swirling dust and the smell of heavy smoke, the buildings were skewed and threatening to fall over with broken gaps. Glass littered the floor beneath him, broken mangled bodies surrounded him. 

And there were bloodied screams tearing through the fog of it all.

Boothill stumbled on his own two feet, whether he was unsteady by his dizzy head or the uneven ground, he struggled to maintain his balance on shaky legs. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the devastation, couldn’t comprehend it.

This was…Argenti’s memory?

But–he hadn’t seen this in the flow just now–

A bellowing of a monstrous sound resonated behind him, and Boothill's heart dropped to his stomach as he turned to face the one responsible for it all, a colossal figure of a beast, a Kaiju.

It’s a memory, Boothill reminded himself, his teeth ached by how hard he clenched his jaw, it’s a memory, Argenti’s memory—

Argenti.

He needed to find him.

Boothill forced his gaze away from the monster, ignoring the fact that it tore at a nearby building so easily, and tried to scan around the dust that never ended for the familiar red.

“Argenti!” He yelled, “where are you?!” 

People were running past him but their faces were of a blur, but one captured Boothill’s eye.

A child, walking off peacefully into an alleyway.

Argenti.

Boothill ran, and caught up to find the kid—Argenti, as a small child, sitting down beside a trash bin. 

Blood stained his clothes and skin, but no visible wounds that Boothill could spot. His hands terribly shook, tightly clutching something unseen between them like a lifeline. Tears welled in his eyes, unshed and glossing over, but betrayed the profound sorrow pooling in them. 

Yet, as his lip wobbled, as his eyes never dried without tears, Argenti did not make a single sound, did not move a muscle.

The kid was in shock.

“Argenti,” Boothill breathed, kneeling down in front of him. 

Argenti eyes seemed to look past him. 

“Hey come on everything is okay, fuck, it’s bad i know but you’re safe!” he had the half mind to reach out and hold him but stopped himself when he saw the way Argenti reacted.

Or lack thereof.

Even if he was in shock, Argenti should have responded to seeing Boothill right in front of him.

“Wake up! It’s a memory, it’s the past, it can’t hurt you now! You’re fine, I’m right here, c’mon Argenti!” Boothill nearly begged, starting to feel the same paralyzing fear that Argenti was feeling at the moment. 

The little boy didn’t hear him, but he heard the ear splitting bellowing roar.

It startled them both, enough so that Argenti dropped whatever he was holding in his hand to the ground and it shattered upon impact.

Boothill flinched, blinking down between them to see pieces of broken ceramic.

The sight of it broke his heart, flooding him with a wave of sadness. 

Boothill blinked, knowing fully well that those weren’t his emotions but Argenti’s at that very moment.

The sadness and sorrow, the paralyzing fear as the Kaiju tried to force itself to the narrow alleyway they were hiding in. Its claws are trying to reach little Argenti. Who could only raise his hands in any form of self defense he could have against something that was a certain death.

Boothill was a helpless spectator, watching the nightmare his partner had once went through

“Charging plasma castor.”

Boothill blinked, and his hands tried to grasp at where Argenti’s form was but he was only a ghost of the real world in a place where time had already passed. 

“Argenti, c’mon, it’s me and you! Remember?!”

“- Oh fuck, get the power line quickly! It’s powering up! -” the officer's panic was clear in his voice, peeking into the microphone.

Alarms were beeping loudly in the hull, and Boothill could see the charge meter in front of him. 

“Turn the fuckin’ power off!” Boothill yelled, trying his best to try and disengage from his side, but Argenti’s connection was too strong. 

Boothill could only call out once again in desperation, “Argenti!” 

The lights died the very same second, the whirring of the machine and the charging of the plasma caster were gone, and only a lull of silence remained in the hull. Where once the sound of the machine was reassuring, it’s death at this very moment was pure relief.

Boothill blinked, as lights flickered back on, and One and only was brought back to life once more. 

The connection was severed, from the One and only , and each other.

Boothill’s turned to face Argenti, his gaze remained locked on him as the were released from the motion rig, unlocked out of it’s clutches with a loud click.

Once Argenti started to sway, Boothill dashed towards him. He caught Argenti in his arms as they both fell to the ground, buckling together and Crumbling under the weight of it all. 

“Argenti,” Boothill breathed, his hands flying to grab at his helmet and ripping it off of him. Watching him take a breath, a sharp gasp, eyes darting around them with an unfamiliar gaze, still out of it.

Boothill wrapped his arms around his shaken form.

“It’s okay, you’re okay…” he assured Argenti, his friend, as the red head ducked his face to the nook of his neck, finally responding back, finally coming back to him.

An ugly sob wrenched it’s way out of Argenti’s throat, and Boothill tightened his hold on him. 

“Neural bridge exercise invalid…drift sequence terminated…”

“I-i…am sorry–” Argenti's voice shook.

“Don’t,” Boothill stopped him, kept holding him, “it’s okay.”

Argenti’s tremor ceased, but still shaken. Boothill felt his shuddering breath fan over his neck, saw the whiteness of his knuckles as he gripped to the front of Boothill’s vest, holding on to him like a life line.

“You’ll be okay.” Boothill whispered, rubbing his back, letting Argenti sink on to him with a broken sigh.

They stayed as long as they could on the ground, holding each other after reliving their worst nightmares. Murmurs of assurance, comfort whispered.

Argenti wasn’t heavy, when Boothill helped him up. 

Boothill’s hand held his waist, and his arm looped around Boothill’s neck. He wasn’t heavy at all when he leaned against Boothill all the way to the dorms, when he helped his friend to sit on his bed, red eyes from tears that were left unsaid.

“...you can leave,” Argenti said meekly, smiling up at him pathetically in a weak way to convince him.

Boothill's frown deepened, “...I know.” 

“Thank you, Boothill, I'll see you soon–?” 

Boothill sat on the bed right beside him, ignoring the way Argenti stared at him as he made himself comfortable, taking off the annoying vest that felt constricting even without lungs. 

“Boothill…?”

“I don't wanna leave you alone after that,” Boothill said, throwing it off to the ground somewhere, soon to be picked up when he leaves. 

Argenti blinked at him, clearly having not expected that. 

“It’s alright,” Argenti insisted, “i am certain you need space after enduring that–”

“I don’t,” Boothill cut him off, not willing to hear more excuses, “and I know you don’t want to be alone, Argenti, I've been in your head.” 

Argenti clamped his mouth shut, smile dropping and staring at him deeply. Searching through something in Boothill’s eyes, and when he saw how sincere Boothill was, he turned to face away, his hair moving like a curtain to conceal his face.

“...do you want me to leave?” Boothill asked just in case.

“No,” Argenti replied swiftly, letting the truth slip out, the cat’s out of the bag. Boothill relaxed hearing that, and made something inside him giddy that Argenti wanted him to stay. 

“…I…don’t mind, I mean. You can leave or…stay, but I fear I’d be nothing but an ugly sight.” he said with a breathless chuckle, stealing a glance at Boothill while trying to muster a reassuring smile.

It failed miserably, too forced.

“I appreciate your care, but it’s best for you to rest.” Argenti continued.

Boothill raised an eyebrow at him, sending Argenti an unimpressed look at his sad feeble  attempt of pushing him away.

“ya think i can ‘rest’ with ya bein’ like this?” Boothill gestured at him, at the heaviness of his eyes and weak posture that Argenti wouldn’t have ever been caught in.

Argenti breath caught in his throat as Boothill came leaning in, speaking with a whisper that held no deceit, no flattery.

“If ya think you’re such an ugly sight then you’re blind as a fuckin’ bat,” Boothill asserted, “even if you rolled round in mud all day, even now, i never thought or will think you’re ugly. I’m staying with ya no matter what.” 

Argenti's pretty green eyes widened.

Boothill tapped a finger to his own head, just to send the point across, “next time you get in my fuckin’ head, you’ll see.”

“...next time?”

“...uh, duh?”

“But i…” Argenti started, looking away, “...i failed, the drift fell apart because of me–”

“Ah, nah, fuck that, we ain’t doing that.” Boothill tsk’d, shaking his head at him. “None of that, ya hear? Just because of a mistake you think I'm gonna ditch ya? You’re human, Argenti, and it ain’t even a mistake, an accident at best. hell, do i know what it’s like…i wasn’t that stable too in the beginning.”

“You’ve managed to bounce back,” Argenti spoke softly with a small smile, though it dropped as fast as it appeared, “but i knew how you wanted it to be perfect, i want to apologize for that.”

Shit, right, fuck.

Just as Boothill was in Argenti’s head, the other was in his as well. 

“Don’t,” Boothill said, reaching to hold his hand that sat between them. “I don't care about that.”

Argenti's expression betrayed his skepticism.

Boothill squeezed his hand, so the other could see how genuine he was as he assured.

“I don't, sure what ya said is true, but I care about you more than that.”

“...you care about me?” Argenti asked, expression melting into one of shy wonder, curled his hand around his, fingers slotting themselves perfectly. 

“You’ve been in my head haven’t ya? Fuckin’ Course i do, you’re my partner,” Boothill scoffed, intertwining their fingers to better their hold without a thought.  

“...it was nice to hear.” Argenti’s corners of his mouth lifted up slightly.

“You’re a friend,” Boothill pressed on, trying to get him to smile, “you’re…important to me.” 

Argenti smiled at him, this time it was a drastic change from the very first one that he aimed at Boothill, a genuine beautiful one. 

But it dropped as soon as it appeared, as Argenti began to say, “...about what happened–”

“Hey,” Boothill stopped him, shaking his head.

“later, we can talk about it later…let’s take a fuckin’ breather.” 

Argenti stared deeply at him, gauging out his expression, deciding for himself if that’s what they should do, but eventually, agreeing with Boothill with a muted nod.

it was too fresh, wounds of old reopened, only now they slowed their bleeding, and the heavy air had just been lifted. 

Argenti no longer hid his face away from him this time, and Boothill was sure they had more time to figure themselves out.

For now, he held Argenti’s hand, as the other began to fret over his messy bun, insisting to redo it.

“It is a mess!”

“It wasn’t like it was on fuckin’ purpose! I tried not to mess it up!”

“Ah, you did? Then, how about you suggest what style i should make of your hair?”

(to do something else entirely that avoided the elephant in the room, change the topic, but Boothill wondered, why it had to be his hair of all things?)

It lingered in the air however, as both of them knew facts that never were told out loud. 

As Boothill spoke of how he couldn’t braid his hair anymore, making it seem to be about his metal joints, the problem of tugging his hair, but Argenti knew it was because he couldn’t do it the same way pops would, tight and fitting.  

As Argenti told him why he loved to take care of his own hair, but Boothill knew because he wanted it to look natural despite being dyed red, the white color underneath being the true color after the shock he went through as a kid.

Boothill stayed, lying alongside Argenti on the too small space of the bed. 

“...do you dream?” Argenti asked in a whisper, when their chatter died, when it got quiet and comfortable. 

“...sometimes.”

“Of?”

“...what could have been…” the old farmhouse, his sister finally working as a mechanic, his brother growing up, his dads enjoying retirement, running across the fields…

 ”you?” He glanced at him from the corner of his eye, staring at Argenti’s serene face.

“I do…but, nothing outside of this.” Argenti hummed.

“No?” Boothill perked in surprise, but it felt he shouldn’t have, considering the lack of anything outside the Jaeger business in Argenti’s head.

“No, this is my purpose, I was born for this.” Argenti answered with ease, with a smile. 

“...ya think that?” Boothill asked, as something tightened around his heart.

“It is a fact, What else would I be good for?”

“...mhm, you and I are the same.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, except I made it my purpose.” Boothill muttered, tapping his iron chest with his free hand. 

“...I promise you, I'll try to make it work.” Argenti squeezed his hand, “i’ll talk to the general, i’ll–”

“Dont worry ‘bout it,” Boothill chuckled, “not to sound like a toxic son of a bitch but they need us even if we fuck up, who else gonna kill those fuckin’ bastards out there if not us? and we will make it work, i know we can.” 

he turned to face Argenti, seeing the other already had been facing him.

“It’s me and you, remember?”

Argenti smiled, and it wobbled slightly as he tried to talk, “i am truly sorry, i didn't mean to put everyone in harm’s way, i…that memory…it was…i am not even sure…” he struggled to say, and Boothill brought a hand to cup at his cheek, drawing a shaking breath from him.

“Tell me tomorrow, and if ya want, ill tell ya some stuff too, so you ain’t alone in this.. ” Boothill said.

Argenti nodded, looking far too grateful for a simple thing.

Their shoulders touching, Argenti unbothered by the cold press of his metal, and their hands still held. Boothill’s hair redone to a braid, an attempt to look similar to the one his pop’s would wear. Argenti has done his own as well, wearing Boothill’s hair tie as a replacement of his own.

Their limbs are tied in a comforting weight, Boothill never imagined to find himself one day laying down with someone on a bed like this before, as he was now. That he would find it so easy to stay.

Boothill hummed a tune in the comforting silence.

it wasn’t soft as it should be, not as smooth, but Argenti leaned his head against Boothill’s shoulder nonetheless, shutting his eyes. 

Argenti hummed, following along perfectly, memorized from having seen it in one go. 

Boothill stayed.

until someone knocked on the door.

For a moment, Boothill believed his murder was being plotted. 

Just having been able to untangle himself from Argenti’--too strong–grip to go and see who dared to interrupt, he found none other than the general standing right outside. 

The man was glaring at him, a deep frown itched permanently to his wrinkled face whenever Boothill was near.

Boothill hasn’t said anything, he wasn’t sure if saying anything would help his case. He can already figure out that there would be some kind of chewing out for being in a dorm that wasn’t his in front of a superior but he knew that this wasn’t just some kind of high figure thing, not right now at least now when this man was also Argenti’s guardian. 

The memory of the mangled street, Kaiju an inch away from reach for Argenti, and a Jaeger apprehending the beast. The pilot within was none other than the man in front of him.

“How is he?” the general asked.

Boothill blinked. 

“Uh,” he said dumbly first, then straightened, “he’s fine.” 

The general nodded, his shoulders dropping slightly, “good, that's good.”

“...and you?” the general asked once a moment passed too long.

“...I'm fine.” Boothill stiffly answered.

“Go rest, we’ll talk tomorrow morning.”

“Yes’sir.” 

Boothill spared a glance behind him, at Argenti. The latter did not look that surprised to see the general standing there, as he bid Boothill a goodbye with his eyes and a sweet smile that made something churn in his chest. 

Suddenly, he realized he didn’t really want to leave.

But Boothill didn’t want to get in more trouble, so he forced the thought of his head, and he went around the general and out of Argenti’s dorm.

He walked a good distance, before glancing back, seeing the general still standing by the doorway, but now, just noticing something in his hands. 

Something wrapped in a small handkerchief. 

The general stepped into the room, and Boothill rounded the corner to head to his own.

He failed to stop thinking about Argenti.

There was a blonde chihuahua looking officer staring him down across from him. 

The only reason Boothill hadn’t said a word to him was because he was standing right beside the general’s office after having been chewed out because of yesterday’s–almost–accident, waiting on Argenti who went in after him. 

So, he settled on glaring right back. 

“...you helped Argenti, right?” the officer asked after a moment, and his voice was oddly familiar, but Boothill couldn’t pin point to where he had heard him before. 

Actually, he was familiar overall, Boothill felt like he had seen the man somewhere before. 

“What’s it to ya?” Boothill crossed his arms, expecting a fight. 

He had heard that some technicians and others were angry at them for nearly blowing and killing them all, which was fair, but Boothill wasn’t going to let anyone beat them up over it more than they already got. 

“How is he?” the officer asked, and at that moment, Boothill realized who the fuck face was. 

“Valentine?” he said, pointing to him as ‘Valentine’ sputtered. 

He had seen the man before, coming here, and he was the officer that was in the intercoms with them during the drift. Boothill knew more about him other than what he already got, thanks to being in Argenti’s head. 

The guy was a failed pilot, turned into an officer, and one of Argenti’s close friends. 

“W-what?! No you idiot, it’s Velite! How the hell do you mess up my name that bad?! Do I look like a Valentine–is there anyone named Valentine?! What kind of parents name their kid that? Come on!” Velite said with irritation, groaning and shaking his head. 

“Ugh, I don't care about that right now, just–is Argenti okay?” 

Boothill thought of yesterday, and of this morning when they walked to the office together. Argenti looked tired, he was silent as well, something obviously weighing his mind. 

“Did he say anythin’ to you?”

“No, no, you know he wouldn’t.” Argenti assured, but his posture was still stiff, “he just helped to clear a few things up…”

Was all that he had said, and Boothill did not feel that it was right of him to push anymore than that, at least, not yet.

“...he’s okay, but ask him your god damn self.”

Velite visibly relaxed hearing that, then glared at him, probably for the second part of the sentence but whatever he was going to say next was lost as the door opened. 

Argenti stepped out, meeting Boothill's eye immediately from the side, as if he knew and was sure Boothill would stay and wait. 

“We’ve got the permission to have a second attempt,” Argenti said, smiling with hope, “though with the weapons system power shut.”

Boothill snorted at that. 

“Argenti!” Velite called, walking closer. 

Argenti turned to face him, surprised but smiling, “Velite, oh it is good to see you my friend! i have been meaning to apologize to you due to my mistake–”

“It’s an accident, don’t say sorry.”

“You didn’t do shit to apologize for.”

Argenti blinked, glancing between them both with surprise. 

“Ah, i…appreciate that, but still–”

“I’ll punch you.” Velite pressed on, and Boothill nodded along, liking him a little.

“...I assume you two have been acquainted?” Argenti asked, stuck between two walls. 

“Nah, first time seein’ this fuck face but he’s okay.”

“Yes, we have just met–fuck face?! Hey hey now you can’t just call me that! Just because you’re so handsome doesn’t give you the right to call others things like that! Hasn’t anyone ever told you how rude you are!? Where are your manners–”

“My friends,” Argenti interrupted this time, his hand stopping Boothill’s raising fist, and a hand held to Velite’s mouth, “I haven’t managed to eat breakfast and I suspect that the both of you haven’t either, let’s go eat, alright?” 

The training room was vacant, highly resembling the first time he had just arrived and waited in for Argenti to come. Boothill could easily remember the wait he had to endure, he wasn’t the most patient guy ever but…as his pops would say, patience is bitter but its fruit is sweet.

Said fruit stood right in front of Boothill.

“When you mentioned you had a private place to talk, I assumed you’ll finally invite me to your room.” Argenti remarked with an amused twinkle, flexing his hands and finding his place across from him on the mat.

“Don’t get all excited cuz you got in my head and all,” Boothill chuckled, settling on a stance across from him, “ya ain’t on that level just yet.”

“Yet?” Argenti parroted, giving him a half raised smile. 

“...might have called this a spar but i ain’t holdin’ back.” Boothill said, ignoring his blunder. Argenti had mercy in him by moving along, though his directed look spoke volumes, and changed the subject.

“I assumed we’d be talking about what we had agreed to yesterday.”

“What? Can’t tussle and talk?” Boothill beckoned him over.

“I would have preferred words by mouth,” Argenti said.

“Is that a no, princess?”

“I am afraid it’s not.” Argenti lunged.

Despite what Boothill had just said, they did not necessarily talk through it. 

far too focused on landing a punch, far too focused on dodging a punch. 

Trading blows one after another like a repetitive motion, far too familiarized with each other's moves, more so than before. They fell into their shared tug of dance, that’s familiar between the both of them, a slow descent into calibrated practiced moves.

It took the edge of Argenti’s stiffness, it sharpened Boothill’s smile.

Argenti parried a kick from Boothill with the back of his arm when Boothill aimed to his midsection, and reached with the intent to grab at Boothill’s feet to pull and make him lose his balance. But with a quick twist and stagger, Boothill managed to narrowly avoid getting grabbed by the other. 

That move was already burnt in his head, or more like whacked into him, with how many times Argenti grabbed him and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

Boothill grinned, avoiding Argenti’s lunge and grapple. Blocked and weaved away when Argenti reached to grab him. 

It was easy, to fall back into something they had been routinely doing, slip into the rhythm that was only familiar to the both of them. 

It already had the effects Boothill was hoping for, as the tense posture that Argenti held melted into fluid movements, as the edge of the anger softened gradually. 

They were the same, in emotions that ate at them alive, in their determined pursuit to their purpose.

Still, Boothill didn’t have to be in Argenti’s head to know he was holding back slightly, when he hesitated to deliver a punch that would have won him this round, and might have given Boothill a bloody nose. 

“C’mon!” Boothill called out, a little pissed off, staggering back.

“Don’t fuck ‘round and come at me!”

“I-” Argenti grunted, his arm shook slightly, where Boothill had struck him with a strong kick prior. “I don’t believe this is ‘talking’.” 

“It is!” Boothill laughed, enjoying Argenti’s bafflement, “this is more like…yer body talkin’ things through.”

“...and what is it that you hear from this ?” 

“That you’re angry despite the smiley shit you got goin’,” Boothill let out a breath, his eyes never falling away from Argenti, as the both of them circled each other.

 “That ya ain’t looking forward to havin’ this conversation, that you’re makin’ this a longer spar than necessary to prolong, despite your ass sayin’ you’d liked using words.” 

Argenti paused, his slight guilty face was confirmation to Boothill's guesses.

“I wouldn’t have minded if we started talking at this very moment, or before,” Argenti said with a frown, “you brought us here.”

“I know,” Boothill stepped closer, just an arm away, “wanna stop?”

“...no,” Argenti murmured, perking up, “I can understand from this as well, that you need it–...no, we both do, you are right.”

“...alright well, if you’re speakin’ my language now then come at me.”  

Argenti gave him a sweet smile, then aimed to punch him in the face. 

Boothill cracked a grin as he jumped back, and it doubled its size when Argenti followed with no chance to recover. 

Now fully getting into the spar, now fully understanding what Boothill wanted, what Argenti also desperately needed underneath. They were the same in some aspects. 

Argenti was beautiful, his every motion was precise, nothing he did lacked reason. His eyes burnt with determination, gazing at Boothill with fire that mirrored his.

He met Boothill’s onslaught with calm resolve, and Argenit’s smile never dropping once, if not, widening further.

Something changed in the air between them. A hypnotic pull that was undeniable, an electrifying presence. 

They were dancing, just like they had the first time they met, and many times before this very moment. 

Argenti’s slightest touch felt like a burn, Boothill wanted to be grabbed by him, wanted to hold on to him. He wanted to pin Argenti down on the mat, maybe Boothill even wanted to be thrown to the floor by him. 

He’s dangerous , Boothill realized, beautiful . 

And that he was majorly fucked, as he realized where his thought stemmed through, that the roots were growing terrifyingly out of his heart. 

Adrenaline was not the only thing making his heart beat faster, the rush of thrill all came from one source alone.

but…Boothill thought it would be okay, staring at Argenti’s flushed face, his radiant eyes held a hint of something more, something unexplored, something that might resemble and mirror what he too carried.

Far too engrossed staring into Argenti’s eyes, Boothill faltered and failed to notice the landing blow.

He got his revenge in the second round, by managing to land a roundhouse kick on Argenti’s head when the man seemingly stumbled, that was after Boothill hiked the fabric of his top to wipe at his sweat for a quick second.

Sprawled on the floor, out of the arena’s bound and backs against the wall, they both sat beside each other.

Their shoulders and thighs are touching, no significant gap between them. Boothill watched as Argenti drank from a water bottle they had just gotten from a vending machine, staring down a drip of water that escaped, trailing down Argenti’s chin and neck.

“Here,” Argenti offered, snapping Boothill out of his heated daze. 

Dumbfound, and caught in the act, Boothill took the water bottle without question. Looking away as he drank his fair share. 

“...it was the first time that memory surfaced,” Argenti spoke, and Boothill was half glad the man waited for him to swallow the water before he started. 

“First time?” 

“Yes…i’ve only ever heard words of it, and could only put trust in them that they were truth, whatever master told me i had to believe as i had nothing else…apparently, the shock suppressed some of my memories,” Argenti further on elaborated, a light chuckle escaping him, to make light of the situation. 

“the strain of it even made my hair white.” he mused, his hand coming up to touch the bang close to his face.

Boothill blinked, eye flickering to his hand, staring at the white tipped lock between the crimson red. White, similar to the color of his own hair.

“Same thing, ‘cept it was a side effect of the cybernetics…” Boothill found himself saying, remembering back on the doctor’s words when he woke up, shocked seeing himself in the mirror for various reasons.

“I’m glad we can share a semblance!” Argenti excitedly smiled at that, “it’s a good thing i kept it like this.” 

“Uh, yeah.” Boothill glanced away, unable and unsure how to reply to Argenti’s openness. He hadn’t even put much thought on his hair.

“...there remain memories that elude me…” Argenti continued with a whisper, his smile dipping, “master told me it might have been a consequence of the heavy trauma I endured and sustained solo piloting, that pushed it to finally resurface.”

“...that makes sense for you to latch on that rabbit,” Boothill murmured, “even more that we got a second chance so quickly too.”

“It might have been a valid reason, yet I inadvertently endangered many,” Argenti shook his head gravely, voice stern and tone firm. “I must have placed a burden of stress on you as well. For that, please, let me apologize.” 

Argenti turned to face him, tenderly placing a hand to his heart, genuine in his request and his gesture spoke of true remorse. 

That he wasn’t apologizing because it was the polite thing to do, a social obligation, not to appease anyone, to give people what they wanted to hear, but because he genuinely was sorry, and it all because he was truely regretful. 

“...you’re forgiven.”

“Boothill, I assure you that I do not need coddling and–pardon?” 

He snorted at Argenti’s surprised face, “what?”

Argenti wide eyes stared at him up and down, uncertain and shocked, “...you’re not insisting that I shouldn't?”

“Figured that the reason why you keep apologizin’ is because ya need someone to forgive you, so, here, i forgive you.” Boothill said, meeting Argenti’s wide eyes with assurance. 

“you’re okay, princess.”

Argenti closed his gaping mouth with a wobble and pulled Boothill close with swift motion, drawing him to a tight hug, sinking his head to the curve of his neck. Boothill let out a strained yelp, having not expected it at all. But he returned the gesture once he realized, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist in a comforting hold. 

“Thank you,” Argenti whispered, breathless and the weight of it lifted off of him.

“M’the one who’s sorry, shoulda figured out what you needed to hear…not that i don’t mean it, i do forgive you, ain't like you killed my dog.”

“No, no, it’s–you have a dog?” Argenti pulled away to ask, Boothill itched to draw him back close. 

“Argenti, you’ve seen my whole fuckin’ life like a movie, I do not have a dog.”

“Ah, right i apologize–”

“Okay ya know what, if i hear you say sorry one more time i promise you i will kick you.”

Argenti held a hand to his head, where he had been struck before by Boothill and shook his head. 

Boothill cackled, an ugly snort escaping from him but he couldn’t stop laughing, not when Argenti joined in, leaning against him as he giggled prettily.

“...mhm that’s why the general came to yer room yesterday?” Boothill asked once the laughter died down, but the softness lingered, and Argenti didn’t back away from where he pressed himself close to him.

“Yes, he came to deliver…he knew exactly what happened even without telling him.” Argenti hummed. 

“...you know, my dads weren’t keen on letting me join ‘em in this whole business,” Boothill started, holding back a sigh. Thinking back on the arguments, on the pleading and everything it took for him to finally persuade them. 

“They only took me in as their third when no one woulda been able to fill the spot.”

“...they used to…” Argenti was about to ask, but stopped.

“Yep, they used to be a duo,” Boothill confirmed, but that was old news, everyone and their mothers who knew about Boothill knew about the both of them.

“But they retired because of a bad hit my pa got…left him with neural scarring too harsh to pilot again, but…not bad enough if they were three instead of two…” Boothill explained, tapping his fingers on his thigh. 

“They were settled well, so they took early retirement, but…after the international protection corporation bastards decided to cheat their way to court and sucked our money dry.” 

Boothill grit his teeth as he remembered very clearly, the stress of the court with the weight of having just buried his siblings six feet under, having to watch his dads carry all the weight. 

(They could have lived, that was what ate at him, they could have lived if it wasn’t for greed.)

“bunkers my ass!” Boothill growled, “that shit don’t protect anybody and the only thing i can do is fuckin’ kill these monsters before they could reach anyone, lord knows how many cases are there that are like me, that they’re getting away with blamin’ us pilots and Kaiju’s, fucking bastards the lot of them!” 

Boothill heaved, and only glanced towards Argenti when the other reached for his clenched fist.

“It’s a vile corporation,” Argenti spoke softly, but his voice tinged with quiet rage. His eyes gazed at Boothill with understanding and sorrow for him. “It breaks my heart to know there are ugly beasts out there that are similar to the one we battle but share our humanity instead of scales and monstrosity…”

The corner of Boothill's lips tugged upward slightly, it was rare to see someone willingly talk about the IPC considering their uphold over the world. 

“Yeah…” Boothill sighed, all the boiling rage subsided, “but we managed to get some sort of payback, we’ve managed to cut back some of the damage done by ‘em, didn’t hafta pay full price…still, even after all of that, we continued being Boothill …” 

They responded to a Kaiju sighting near a shore, and managed to bypass all of their bullets. The Kaiju’s defenses were tough, its exoskeleton could take all the damage of their plasma fires and most of their ranged weapons. 

Though Boothill was a ranged Jaeger, it was a Jaeger nonetheless, and it could fight a fucker straight head on too. 

Especially since the Kaiju had been injured by their relentless shooting beforehand, in its weakened state it had been easy to take down. 

That was until another Kaiju appeared so soon right after, one that was much stronger, much more evolved than the other. 

It had been a grueling battle, the Kaiju managed to push them further up from the beach, to the city, where it risked reaching the civilians. 

Boothill could remember the last thing his dads thought of, how they made sure to twist the whole Jaeger so they who rested on the side that faced the Kaiju, struck them in its final moment, took the damage more than Boothill could, that if there was even a chance for Boothill’s survival that they would take it. 

“...I've survived between my brothers and sisters, my dad and pa…it’s a bit unfair, ain't it?” Boothill spoke with a whisper. 

It was a miracle he was alive.

“Figured i should bury that man along with them, and continue their legacy, what was our purpose and is solely mine alone, i’ll hunt down Kaijus until there ain't one of em left.” it was a promise, he’ll do whatever it took.

Many pushed him away from this path, the doctor he seeked down even pushed him away and only agreed with a gun to her head. He tried his best to find a way to pilot a Jaeger alone, but it wasn’t possible, no matter how fancy cybernetics he could get, nothing will allow him to hunt alone.

Argenti pushed at his hand, Boothill blinked at him, seeing his silent request. 

He uncurled his hand, watching as Argenti slid his palm over his, pressing them softly. 

Boothill watched as Argenti raised their palms together and twisted, Watched as Argenti pressed his lips against the back of his hand. It was impossible for Boothill to feel anything there, but for a second he could imagine the warmth of the sweetness. 

“It is as you said, my friend,” Argenti said against his hand, breath fanning over. It would have been ticklish against human skin instead of iron, but regardless, Boothill shuddered under Argenti’s warm determined gaze. 

“It’s me and you.” he said, like a promise.

It was easy to slide the helmet in with his hair tidied into braids, all thanks to Argenti who hunted him down to do it for him first thing in the morning.

(Boothill hadn’t hesitated, as he agreed. 

Guided to a corner by themselves, Argenti’s fingers again in his hair. His touch was gentle as last time, if not, if maybe it was Boothill’s imagination, softer, lingering far more than he would have.)

Argenti’s red hair tie somehow seemed to fit on Boothill’s black and white hair, and his thin black hair tie was lost somewhere in the red bun of fluff that was Argenti’s hair.

Somehow, with all that mane hair of his, Argenti wore his helmet with elegance, fitting him like a glove. 

Standing once more inside the One and only hull, for their second ‘trail’, their next chance that finally arrived.

“Commencing a neural handshake in ten seconds…” Velite’s voice echoed through the coms.

Boothill looked over at Argenti, to see him already staring at him with a smile. Though the tension of their first wasn’t the same, the air still held its own kind of nerve, but sated slightly with the lack of unfamiliarity of each other. 

“10…”

“Ready to face the music?” Boothill grinned, and it eased Argenti’s nervous smile.

“9…”

“Ready as I can be.” 

“8…”

“Hah! If I could, I woulda offered you to hold my hand.”

Argenti eyes sparkled, leaning his head towards him as much as he could while locked on the rig. “I would love that.” he said, amused but sincere, not in the same tone of teasing that Boothill held.

“7…”

“Gee, you sure know how to play along,” Boothill huffed, looking away, unable to keep his hold on Argenti’s eyes. He heard Argenti’s little giggle in their coms, in the void of the hull, the way it vibrated against his helm, and it echoed many times in his head. 

“I'm not afraid to speak the truth,” Argenti hummed, “you ought to know what a great offer that you are willing to give.”

“6…”

“...yeah, well, don’t need to know all about it, ain’t willing to offer it just to anyone.” Boothill confessed, still unable to forget that kiss at the back of his hand, the phantom thought of the warmth and tingling. 

“5…”

Argenti eyes sparkled, opening his mouth to reply when someone else butted through.

“ You guys know the coms are open, right ?” Velite’s voice filtered through, his irritation visible enough by his tone alone.

“-ah, apologies Velite, have we crowded the interceptions?” Argenti smoothly replied, but Boothill caught the pink on his face.

“4…”

“No, ugh, just focus on your thing!” Velite hissed with no real heat, and promptly closed the line with a click. 

“3…”

Boothill felt the creeping fluster holding him by the throat, but a spare glance at Argenti, who smiled at him with his own red cheeks and embarrassment made him chuckle. 

“2…”

“It’s me and you,” Boothill reminded, feeling Argenti’s nervousness despite not being in the drift just yet. 

Seeing it in the way he curled his fingers over the hand controls tightly, in the way his posture tight than it would have been with the locked rig motion, in the way his eyes shifted over multiple things at once, familiar with him like Boothill was to himself,

Argenti blinked at him, smiling softly, the kind that did a dangerous thing to Boothill’s heart.

“Yes,” Argenti whispered, “thank you, my dear partner.”

“1…”

“Neural interface complete, initiating neural handshake…”

Together, They fell into the deep abyss of their linked minds.

“One and only alignment, successful.”

“Neural bridge exercise…successful.”

“Congratulations, One and only.”