home on legs

[gullwingdoors]

Original prompt from Making-up-Mech-Pilots on Cohost: "Mech Pilot who never really unpacks" (Link)

"What. What am I looking at."

"Home on legs, baby!," xe told me, looking back with a wild look in xyr eyes as the upper panel of the open cockpit hatch creaked slightly under the weight of a conspicuous duffel bag hung on what was supposed to be a manual opening handle. For emergencies. "Ol' girl's never done me wrong."


I looked at xem with a mixture of confusion and concern as I follow xyr lead in to the pilot's seat - rings and points for fastening your flight-suit to to keep you in the seat buried beneath blankets and pillows, with shelves carelessly bolted onto the top bezel of the large screens. Tiny railings barely contain the books lining them; it's a miracle they haven't somehow fallen and hit xem on the head during action. "You... you have a room here, though? I don't think 'ol' girl' was meant to handle this much of a load." I nervously chuckle.

Xe waves me off dissmissively as xe unsteadily fumbles over the mound of comfort - "Oh, come on, it's fine, ah? A little living space never hurt anyone" - and makes xyr way to the maintenance hatch, which xe pops open and clambers into. I look up, growing only more disconcerted.

"Come on!"

"Wait, int... by Her grace did you fucking move into the guts of your Armor too."

"It's fine! It's fine. I swear."

I keep staring blankly up.

"I'm making lu~unch!"

... My stomach growls. I grimace. "Fine," I say as I pull myself up with the help of some entirely not stock pull-handles just past the trapdoor's mouth and look into what appears to be some kind of makeshift closet, hung upon the framework of the Armor's plating.

My grimace turns to a full-on frown as I slowly turn to look around. Small but ornate chests and drawers, a mirror swaying upon a strut, a bed with its bedding thrown halfway across what may as well be a carpeted-over crawlspace, and -

"Soup's on!"

My eyes go wide as my worst fears are confirmed - a large metal plate bolted to the fucking reactor, upon which a large pot of tomato soup and a pan with a grilled cheese sandwich sizzling away inside rest. "Hey, you gonna have some, or what?"

(Link to original post here. A/N: And here's the second! I think this'll absolutely be more than enough digging through The Archives for tonight - hope you enjoyed a peek through the classics! - Alice)