03-Jan-2003
Title: Ozzie Snog (WalkerxOtto)
Author: Hope of Dawn
Critical commentary desperately desired. Hit me with your best shot!
Archive: GW Addiction at http://www.gwaddiction.com, Snogs archive at http://www.happyfangirl.org/snogs
Word count: 797 (hah!)
Notes: Got my snogfic done! *does a little happy dance Not sure what to say about this--normally I don't write things this... silly. *scratches head* Oh well, hopefully it'll be a good present for Tyr!
Space is silent, they say. No air, no sound. Sound waves suffocate and die stillborn in the vacuum between planets, between colonies, between... everything. No sound, no words, no thoughts... or so they said.
They'd obviously never shared a shuttle with Walker.
The man was incapable of being silent, and space certainly proved to be no barrier. When working, he hummed. Walking, he whistled. Piloting an inter-colony shuttle, he kept up a running monologue, addressed to no one in particular.
It was driving Otto *nuts*.
"So... what do we have today, boys and girls? Looks like the scrubbers are slacking on the job, sports fans--our CO2 levels jumped a whole .05 percent. This is bad... this may require drastic action. I may have to issue a memo. Maybe even two memos."
"The scrubbers are working well within parameters, Walker, and you know it." Otto gritted out.
Shot down, Walker continued, unperturbed. "Okay, so no memo." He addressed his next remarks to the offending readouts. "But consider this a verbal warning, you guys--shape up or ship out. There's no room for slacking scrubbers in OZ."
Otto resisted the urge to knock himself--or Walker--unconscious. It never helped.
"Trajectory, good. Thrusters, all good. Fuel poundage not great, but the old girl needed to lose a few pounds anyway, right?" He patted the console. "Not that you aren't beautiful just the way you are, babe. Both Otto and I love every ton of your million-metric-tonne self, even if you do maneuver like a Stone Age garbage scow."
A gag was looking more and more appealing by the moment. Finding something that would work in the cramped cockpit was a challenge, however. He could always stick a sock in Walker's mouth, he supposed--but short of gnawing a strip of polyurethane off of the backrest of the piloting chair, there was nothing available to keep it there. Not to mention that stuffing a military sock in his mouth was likely to kill the man, given the toxicity of the item in question.
"Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight... I wonder if that works in space? All we see is stars, so it's not like we don't have a lot to choose from if the first one turns out to be a dud." Walker reached over and punched up some colony coordinates. "Then again, wishing on a big flaming ball of gas is probably kind of stupid in the first place."
Must not shoot co-pilot. Must not shoot co-pilot. Must not--
"What was that?"
"...nothing."
"Wasn't there a song on the radio a while back? Something about stars and wishes and love and such? I don't remember the band, though. Si~tting on a staaaar... wai~ting for your luuuuuuuv... "
Walker was singing. Badly. In a very small cockpit that seemed to determined to amplify his every acoustical effort. Otto's fists clenched on the armrests of his chair.
There was no God.
"Reaching from afaa~aar/ doobie dum dee du~uuum... "
Enough was enough. Walker gave a startled yipe as Otto lunged from his seat. "--doooo... Hey!"
Hooking a hand around the back of Walker's neck, Otto yanked him forward into a hard kiss. He took full advantage of Walker's open-mouthed surprise, exploring Walker's mouth with ferocious intent. It was a minute or so before Walker responded, his body relaxing and mouth firming under the kiss. Then he gave as good as he got, nibbling at Otto's lower lip, hands sliding forward to catch at handfuls of fabric and draw him forward.
Wrapped up in the kiss, they had completely lost track of time when a deliberate, somewhat embarrassed cough broke the silence.
"Ahem."
The two officers jumped apart like scalded cats. From the doorway, Zechs Marquise watched them spin and salute, heedless of open collars and rumpled hair. "Is there a problem I should know about, gentlemen?" he asked, inscrutable under his mask.
Visions of reprimands dancing before his eyes, Otto turned an unlovely beet red and stammered, "No--no, sir!" He looked beseechingly at Walker, who had the gall to grin.
"Not a thing, sir. The Lieutenant was having problems breathing, so I was administering mouth-to-mouth."
Otto wondered if it was against regulations to die of embarrassment while on duty. Knowing OZ, it probably was.
"I... see. I hope it was sufficient to revive you, Otto."
Now completely red, Otto muttered, "Yes, sir... I'm fine."
"Hm. That's too bad." Turning to leave, Zechs flashed them a smirk. "Walker, make sure to let me know the next time either of you have trouble... breathing. I'll make sure it's taken care of."
A stunned silence descended.
Otto blinked. That was unexpected.
An evil grin spread across Walker's face. An order was an order--right? Otto caught the look and groaned.
"Si~itting on a staaaar/ Waaaaaiting for your luuuuv...!"
The End
(:./hope/snogc)
