Work Text:
part 1: machine ballerina
Gou knocked, and heard a cry from inside of, “Coming,” and the first thing that struck him as the door opened was that Medic wasn’t wearing a dress. Not that she was naked, of course, but seeing her in yoga pants and a leotard was almost as jarring, and he didn’t realize he was staring until she said, very patiently, “Hello, Gou. Was there something you wanted?”
He blinked and shook himself. “I’m sorry, I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you in just, like…pants and house slippers before, you’re always wearing dresses. And hats, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a hat on.”
“I returned from work twenty minutes ago. It would be very difficult to teach ballet in my usual clothes.”
“That’s, uh, that makes sense.” He shook himself again and held up his messenger bag. “Anyway, mail call, may I come in?”
“Yes, of course,” and she moved aside and gestured, and he stepped into what he persistently thought of Roidmude House, with capitals and everything like a building on a college campus.
“Every time I come here,” he said as he was taking off his shoes, “I feel like there’s something new on the walls.”
“Of course there is, that’s what the board is for.”
Gou had installed the enormous corkboard that dominated the lefthand wall himself when they’d first moved in, piecing it together in sections like a puzzle with Chase’s help while Shinnosuke and Heart and Otta assembled furniture and Medic and Rinna hung curtains and Brain fussily refused to let Kyuu help set up the wi-fi. At the time he’d wondered what they wanted it for, but then when he’d come by for the first mail delivery it had already been half-full. It was covered with things—photographs, maps, heavily annotated takeout menus, articles that Brain was irritated about and had tacked up so that the others could be irritated as well, programs for shows Medic had attended. One section was dedicated to an everchanging assortment of crude portraits of Heart, mostly drawn in crayon or marker with occasion forays into cut paper and watercolors. The newest addition to the chaos that Gou could identify was a selection of ads for pet adoptions, mostly dogs, with commentary written in three different colors of pen. “You guys getting a dog?”
“We’re considering it. Brain objects. I may have persuaded him to consider a cat, though.” Medic paused for a moment before saying, with an expectant peer at the bag on his hip, “Is there any interesting mail?”
“Right, yeah, here, hang on.” He pulled the bag off and set it down on the table. “Ok, I have Japanese and French Vogue for you, one of those econ journals that Brain subscribes to, five different—how do you have subscriptions to five different cooking magazines? ”
“We like to cook.”
“Yeah, I noticed. Um, catalogues, more catalogues, robotics journal, legal journal, letter for Heart from W, letter for Brain from that violinist he’s friends with. I’ve got a couple of packages for you guys too, they’re still on the bike right now, I’ll get them in a second.”
“Oh, wonderful. We’ll be ordering a sewing machine soon, too, once we agree on the best model. Just as forewarning, since it may not fit on your bike.”
“if it doesn't then I’ll make Shin drive me or something. Oh, and this isn’t, like, mail mail, it’s from Mr. Naruhodo, he said can you all please read it over before your meeting with him on Friday.” The plain brown envelope landed across the three stacks of mail. There was a note on the front of it in the messy handwriting of the Roidmudes’ perpetually harried lawyer:
Please read these, especially the highlighted sections, I need verification and detail on a few of these points before someone tries to spring something on us in court.
Medic nodded firmly. “I’ll read it now, and Brain will read it after me, and we’ll have Heart read it when he returns from the school.” She hesitated, and then added, “Would you like to sit down and have some tea before you bring in the packages?”
Gou let out a long huff of breath. “I would love something to drink, please. Do you mind if I sit down?”
“Feel free.”
He sat down with a thump in the chair, and Medic set up the electric kettle to heat water and began to pull things out of the cabinets and then froze. For a moment he saw her face transformed with intense irritation, and then she stood up very straight and said, in a carrying voice, “Brain, he’s put it on the top shelf again.”
The noise from the back half of the house, which Gou had been vaguely processing as “television sounds,” suddenly resolved into a curt, “I’ll be right in.”
Gou frowned. “What’s on the top shelf again?”
“The teapot, the one Shinnosuke’s priest friend gave to us as a housewarming gift.” Medic pouted irritably. “Heart is always putting it on the top shelf and forgetting that I can’t reach it there. I’d stand on a chair, but our chairs can’t support our full standing weight.”
He blinked and nodded, and then blinked again when Brain appeared from the back of the house, holding a cell phone with its speaker turned on and, as far as Gou could tell, arguing at length with the tinny voice on the other end of the line. Gou wasn’t entirely certain that it was an argument, because they were both speaking French, but the look on Brain’s face suggested that he wasn’t thrilled about something. He nodded shortly in Gou’s direction as he was setting the phone down on the kitchen counter, said, “Good afternoon, Shijima Gou,” and then returned to arguing with barely a second’s pause.
“That cabinet,” Medic said, pointing.
Gou was tempted to ask how Brain was expected to reach the admittedly-high top shelf, but the question was immediately pre-empted as he grabbed Medic firmly by the waist and lifted her entirely from the floor, standing eerily still as she got out the teapot and then, apparently just for good measure, two of the matching cups. Teapot and teacups went onto the counter, and then there was an even more eerie beat in which Brain, distracted by his phone call, didn’t put Medic down, and so she also remained perfectly, precisely still for a moment before saying, “Brain, dear.”
Brain put her down, nodded to her, nodded to Gou again, and then picked up his phone and returned to the back of the house.
Gou stared after him. “What are they talking about?”
“Economic theory.”
“Oh. Uh. I’m…glad he’s having a good time?”
"Academia suits him very well."
The electric kettle started to hum, and Medic busied herself with tea preparation as Gou turned back to look at the corkboard again. One section was, at the moment, a collage of fashion runway shots and pages torn from Medic's magazines, and–a light went on in his head. "Hey, Medic, have you ever considered modeling?"
A tense silence and then, "I may not have the full extent of my powers anymore, Gou, but I can and will punch you in the face if necessary."
"What? No, no, I'm not coming onto you, it's a serious question."
The tea things clinked behind him as she poured. "It hadn't occurred to me, no. Why do you ask?"
"I–ok, you know W? So W's friend OOO, he's another Rider, he has a friend called Hina, and she's a fashion designer, and she's trying to pull together some photos of her latest pieces to add to her portfolio. She got in touch with me through Shin and I said I'd shoot for her, but she still needs a model to actually wear the clothes–oh, shit, it always throws me off how quiet you are."
Medic beamed at him as she set the tea things down on the table. "It's a talent. Tell your friend's friend's friend that I'll consider it but I'd like to see the clothes first."
"I'll, uh, I'll text her right now." He paused. "You mind if I take a picture of you to send her? Just with my phone, so she has an idea of what you look like."
"Of course."
"Ok, awesome, strike a pose."
She stepped back from the table and rose up en pointe , one arm raised and the other one behind her like a music box ballerina, the corner of her mouth curling into a tiny smile. "I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. Shijima."
part 2:
bewitched, bothered, and bewildered
He had to knock on the door with his foot, and when Brain opened it, he just said, "What is in all these boxes Heart's always getting?"
Brain's eyebrows went up. "Paperback novels. It can't be that heavy for you."
"No, it's just big, I barely managed to keep it on the bike. How is he going through this many paperbacks?"
"It's not as if any of us sleep, and we read at significantly greater speeds than most humans because, apart from anything else, we don't subvocalize." Brain took the box from him. "Is this the only mail today?"
"No, it was just going to tip my bike over so I needed to get it off the back right away." Gou patted his messenger bag. "That's the only big package, though, everything else is in here. You guys order that sewing machine yet?"
"No, not yet, we can't agree on a brand. Are you coming inside or not?"
Gou nodded, finally stepping over the threshold and awkwardly toeing his shoes off in the entrance as Brain put the box down next to the kitchen counter. The contents of the board had changed, as usual—some of the pet adoption listings had been taken down and replaced with new ones with more handwritten commentary, a few of the takeout menus had changed, there was a cluster of what appeared to be printouts of Amazon listings for different sewing machines. "What does he do with all these books when he finishes them? Do you just have a room upstairs that's all books?"
"He trades them to our neighbors for new recipes to try."
"That's…really cute of him, actually. Also, super weird seeing you in a t-shirt, just saying." Gou blinked. "Anyway! Mail. I have American, Filipino, and Brazilian Vogue for Medic, a couple of academic journals for you, a magazine about early childhood education for Heart, a couple of letters, another package from the lawyers…" His rummaging hand hit rough paper. "Right, and I have some small packages here, one of them got a little dinged in shipping so I didn't want to put them in the bike's storage compartment." He pulled out four flat packages and stacked them next to the magazines. "Has, uh, has Medic gotten…really into romance comics? Because I recognize at least one of those publishers."
There was a lengthy, a noticeable, a prominent silence before Brain said, "...yes. She enjoys them."
Gou, not always the most socially observant of men, was nevertheless forced to come to a rapid conclusion. "She's. She's reading them after you finish them, isn't she."
Brain shifted irritably, not looking at him. "What of it? They're amusing, well-illustrated, and, and informative."
“Informative? Of what? Wait, no, I promise I’m not laughing at you, please don’t glare at me, I’m actually curious.”
“Well.” A tense adjustment of glasses, and then Brain drew himself up slightly in a manner that Gou immediately recognized as Lecture Mode. “If you recall, when we were originally built our construction and programming only allowed for a noticeably warped emotional experience. Dr. Sawagami has altered that programming somewhat to correct that warp, but it remains difficult to maintain balance, as we still have very little experience with managing our own emotions in a properly adjusted system. Direct observation of human behavior is most helpful but not always feasible, and in my case I’ve been informed that university students, such as the ones I teach, are not the best possible example of ‘normal’ humans.”
“Yeah, students are weird.” Gou paused, frowning. “Wait, do you mean you’re reading romance comics as a way of…studying human emotion?”
“Yes.” Pause. “At the very least, that was the original intent. Despite myself I’ve found that I rather enjoy them.”
part 3:
god only knows
It was Sunday and so, unusually, all of the Roidmudes were home at the same time. Medic was on the phone with, as far as Gou could tell, another ballet instructor, and Brain was making coffee, so instead of reviewing all of the past few days' mail bit by bit, Gou just dropped it onto the table and then headed back outside to get a couple of the packages.
"Hey, Brain," as he was coming back in, "this one's for you, I think it's more comics?"
"Don't mock me, Shijima."
"I'm not, I think it's great that you’re actually enjoying yourself. My sister could probably recommend some older ones to try if you want, she ate this sort of thing up when she was fourteen holy shit, Heart, where the fuck did you, how are you so goddamn quiet, you scared the shit out of me."
"Afternoon, Shijima Gou." Heart beamed at him. "It's a talent. You're looking well. Will you be seeing Chase any time soon?"
Gou blinked. "Yeah, I should hope I am, he's–mmph."
It wasn't an especially lengthy kiss, which was lucky, because Gou could feel Brain glaring at him, and then Heart let go of his waist and straightened back up and said, "Would you give him that for me, please?" in a completely ordinary, pleasant tone. As if he hadn't just grabbed Gou and kissed him, as if he'd simply handed Gou a book to return or something.
"You. Uh." Gou shook himself. "You really do take ‘give him a kiss for me’ literally, don't you. So, so like I was saying, I'll be seeing Chase very soon because he's outside getting your sewing machine off the bike, so you can. Ah, you can. Give him that yourself, thanks."
"Ah." A pause, in which Heart processed this, nodded, and continued with, "I hope my technique is improving?" in lieu of any acknowledgment that he might have acted in haste.
"Yeah, actually, it was less…wet…this time." Because this was the third or fourth time Heart had kissed him unexpectedly, Gou was going to have to start keeping a tally on his phone. “So, uh, what. What.” He shook himself again. “What are you guys going to be sewing?”
Heart shrugged. “Whatever we feel like, I suppose. I was going to try to make some curtains for the upstairs bedroom, the ones we have are nice but I feel like they could be more atmospheric.”
“Wait, if you’re just making curtains then what was all the debate about with different models?”
“ I’m making curtains. Brain is interested in tailoring the off-the-rack clothing we purchase so that it fits better, especially given that I’m apparently a bit difficult to fit. Medic has decided to replicate several historically significant ballet costumes.”
“For fun, you see,” Medic said brightly, finally putting away her phone. “I’m trying to do more things for fun. Did you hear back from your fashion designer, Gou?”
The abrupt change in topic only threw Gou off a bit; he was fairly sure he was getting better at managing how the Roidmudes made conversation. “What, from Hina? Oh, yeah, she finally got to take a look at the pictures I sent, she’s, uh, she’s kind of in love, can we go over your schedule later to see when I could get you over to her place for a shoot?”
Heart frowned. “What’s this? Did you mention this before, Medic?”
“No, I don’t think I did. A fashion designer friend of W’s friend OOO is looking for a model. Go get the door for Chase.”
Gou felt the tension go out of his shoulders. “Oh thank god.”
Chase was already shouldering the door open when Heart got to him, the box containing the new sewing machine in his arms. He nodded when Heart took the box. "Good afternoon, Heart."
"It's wonderful to see you here, Chase, you never visit us enough."
"It is good to be back. Where should this go?"
"We can leave it on the table next to the other mail for now, we're still getting the space for it set up. There we go, and now that your hands are free–"
The kiss previously mis-delivered now reached its intended recipient, who received it with much less visible alarm than Gou. Once it ended, in fact, he nodded solemnly and said, "Thank you, Heart. It is good to see you too. Your technique has improved, this kiss was significantly less wet."
Heart beamed at him. "I'm glad to hear it! I have cards for you from the school, the children loved your traffic safety talk. Daigo hasn't stopped drawing pictures of you for two days now."
"I am glad to have left a good impression." Chase paused, directed an assessing look at Gou, and then said, "Also, please do not kiss Gou without warning. It causes him anxiety."
A solemn nod from Heart. "I'll try to keep that in mind. Speaking of him–Gou, you said there were packages for Brain, is there any other noteworthy mail?"
Gou jolted–he'd let himself get absorbed in the minutia of an argument between Brain and Medic conducted entirely in green and black pen in the margins of a menu for a local Vietnamese restaurant, except at the end, when it had spilled over onto an ad for domestic iguanas. "Right, yes, I have a couple of magazines, I've got actual letters for all three of you, and also you know you're killing your lawyer, right? I have more papers from him, he's so stressed about your next court date, his poor assistant says he's basically living on coffee. And one of the other small packages is for you from Shoutaro, I think he sent you more movies. I–wait, I've been meaning to ask, is that a different Murmur Mansion t-shirt? That doesn't look like the one you stole from Shin."
"Oh, yes, this one is new. I bought it, with money."
"I thought you weren't really into that show."
"I'm not, but I enjoyed the design, and the shop girl was very friendly." Heart grinned, picking up one of the magazines from the table as he passed and peering at the cover. "Five tips to completely blow his–what do you think, do you like it?"
"Heart," Medic was saying, "lift me up, I want to get down the nice coffee cups."
Gou looked at the sort of excitingly geometric design on the shirt, and at the smile on Heart's face, and at his hands on Medic's waist as he lifted her up to reach the top shelf and her hand on the top of Brain's head as she steadied herself and Brain rolled his eyes but didn't move. "I do like it," he said, finally, surprised at himself even as he said it. "It looks good on you. You look at home."