Categories > Anime/Manga > Gundam SEED > On the Longing for War and War's Ending
Title: Zero-G
Genre: Humor
Wordcount: 313
Timeline: Between GS phases 41 and 45, ish.
Summary: They didn't really cover this kind of situation in zero-gravity training.
--
Mwu hadn't really intended to disrupt the mood by yelping like a startled schoolboy - but he hadn't exactly expected to bump against the ceiling, either. Painted metal against sweat-damp bare skin was /cold/.
Murrue, craning her head around to eye their predicament - floating near the ceiling of her quarters, out of easy reach of decent leverage - turned an endearing shade of pink.
"I'm pretty sure this room is smaller from the floor," he observed wryly, and she gave up, resting her forehead against his shoulder in a mostly pointless effort at muffling her giggles.
After a vaguely dismayed look around him, Mwu had to laugh himself, just a little. "You know, they didn't really cover this kind of situation in zero-G training."
Murrue's voice quivered with repressed mirth as she looked back up at him, brown eyes bright. "I don't think they intended for it to come up."
The shirt from his uniform floated within reach; he stretched out a hand to catch it, and used it to pull her a little more firmly against him, snugging the fabric around her naked back. "When are they supposed to be turning the artificial gravity back on, anyway?" he wondered.
She looked briefly for the digital readout of her clock. "Not for a few more hours. We're trying to conserve fuel." She paused to study his face, arms still wrapped around his shoulders. "...Why? Are you having any brilliant ideas?"
Ignoring the dryness of her tone, he raised his brows, doing his best to look bland. "One."
Murrue, bless her, started to blush again, but she made a valiant effort at a dubious expression in spite of it. "Just one?"
"Just one," he told her solemnly, inclining his head closer to hers. "But it's a good one."
He caught her in a kiss before she could ask, and it was her turn to gasp.
--
Author's Note: It demanded to be written. I cannot be the only one who has had this thought about the Archangel's wacky artificial gravity.
Genre: Humor
Wordcount: 313
Timeline: Between GS phases 41 and 45, ish.
Summary: They didn't really cover this kind of situation in zero-gravity training.
--
Mwu hadn't really intended to disrupt the mood by yelping like a startled schoolboy - but he hadn't exactly expected to bump against the ceiling, either. Painted metal against sweat-damp bare skin was /cold/.
Murrue, craning her head around to eye their predicament - floating near the ceiling of her quarters, out of easy reach of decent leverage - turned an endearing shade of pink.
"I'm pretty sure this room is smaller from the floor," he observed wryly, and she gave up, resting her forehead against his shoulder in a mostly pointless effort at muffling her giggles.
After a vaguely dismayed look around him, Mwu had to laugh himself, just a little. "You know, they didn't really cover this kind of situation in zero-G training."
Murrue's voice quivered with repressed mirth as she looked back up at him, brown eyes bright. "I don't think they intended for it to come up."
The shirt from his uniform floated within reach; he stretched out a hand to catch it, and used it to pull her a little more firmly against him, snugging the fabric around her naked back. "When are they supposed to be turning the artificial gravity back on, anyway?" he wondered.
She looked briefly for the digital readout of her clock. "Not for a few more hours. We're trying to conserve fuel." She paused to study his face, arms still wrapped around his shoulders. "...Why? Are you having any brilliant ideas?"
Ignoring the dryness of her tone, he raised his brows, doing his best to look bland. "One."
Murrue, bless her, started to blush again, but she made a valiant effort at a dubious expression in spite of it. "Just one?"
"Just one," he told her solemnly, inclining his head closer to hers. "But it's a good one."
He caught her in a kiss before she could ask, and it was her turn to gasp.
--
Author's Note: It demanded to be written. I cannot be the only one who has had this thought about the Archangel's wacky artificial gravity.
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