Work Text:
The loyal few that stuck with the Jaeger program all the way to Hong Kong were a motley bunch. They came from all over the world, from all walks of life, every one of them with their own story to tell. Interacting with each other could sometimes be a trial, but they knew their cause was too important to quibble over differing cultures.
But, language barriers and opposing viewpoints aside, one thing that they all tended to have was a deep, heartfelt appreciation for Hercules Hansen.
< "Do you think we could ask him to join us some night?" > Sasha mused as Herc passed by their table in the mess hall. He'd shed the jacket and vest that he'd arrived in, down to boots and trousers and a shirt that strained to cover his broad, broad shoulders. He read a file as he walked, head ducked and completely oblivious to the eyes turning his way.
Aleksis let out a snort.
< "Only if we want to lose our heads." >
Sasha draped an arm over her husband's right shoulder, resting her chin on the other as she watched Herc catch his tongue between his teeth, his brow furrowed in concentration. She sighed appreciatively.
< "For that mouth, I am willing to risk it." >
Newt propped his chin on his palm, elbow resting on the table. A dreamy expression stole across his face as Herc adroitly dodged around one of the Crimson Typhoon crewmembers that had four trays balanced in her arms.
"Look at that perfect specimen of manhood."
Hermann glanced up from his notebook long enough to grace Newt with an unimpressed expression.
"Stop looking at Ranger Hansen like you want to dissect him."
"I would never!" Newt gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "I'd just like to examine him sometime. You know, up close and personal. Hands-on. And you always have to get naked when you see the doctor, right?"
Hermann pinched the bridge of his nose.
"You are not a doctor, Newton."
"I have six doctorates!"
"And not one of them is in medicine."
Newt waved a hand breezily.
"Details."
"I used to have the biggest crush on Mr. Hansen," Mako commented as said Ranger returned a distracted, acknowledging wave to Raleigh. Raleigh lifted an eyebrow.
"Really?"
"Oh, yes," Mako replied agreeably, spearing a rather wilted green bean on her fork, lifting it up to examine it. "He was very dashing, the fearless veteran Jaeger pilot with the kind smile. And he always brought me candies when he visited."
Raleigh cast a speculative glance back at Herc, who had stopped briefly to help one of Striker's engineers carry an armful of coffees to her table.
"He still is pretty dashing," he admitted.
Mako smiled.
"Very much so."
< "Boxing." >
Cheung scoffed.
< "Well, that's obvious. We all had training in boxing." >
Hu shrugged one shoulder, twirling his fork between his fingers as the three triplets watched from the second level of the mess hall as Herc made his way across the floor. The Australian navigated the throng of people with an easy kind of grace, weaving between bodies with a light, measured step.
< "And most of that is the kid, anyway."> Cheung continued. <"He brawls; no finesse. Hansen had other training before the Jaeger program, and before Striker Eureka--his style was different back then." >
< "Zen Do Kai, maybe?" > Jin suggested, tilting his head as he examined Herc's muscular build from their limited vantage point. Cheung nodded.
< "That would make sense. He knows a little bit of everything. And he has the discipline from learning kata." >
< "And the body," > Hu put in.
< "Yes." >
The three pilots were silent for a long moment, appreciating the countenance of a born fighter that Herc presented. After a beat, Hu spoke again.
< "I really want to feel his biceps." >
Jin and Cheung hummed in agreement.
Chuck fixed Tendo with a suspicious glare as the tech officer craned his neck to watch Herc walk by.
"The hell are you staring at?" he bristled. Tendo cast him an amused look.
"An enthralling vision that got me through many long, long Alaskan nights."
Chuck followed Tendo's gaze. He promptly spit out his food, staring at the other man in horror.
"You're looking at my dad's ass!"
"Yes," Tendo agreed fondly. "Yes I am."
"Ugh."
In the meantime, having passed blissfully ignorant through the gauntlet of greedy gazes and wistful looks, Herc finally looked up from his documents as a voice called his name. His lips quirked in a brief smile as he lifted the file in acknowledgement, altering his course to take him directly to Marshall Pentecost. He already had his folder open, leaning close to the Marshall's side to show him whatever information he had been so carefully studying.
When Herc motioned to the door, Stacker nodded. He rested his hand at the small of Herc's back as they went to leave the room.
And Stacker paused just long enough to throw a smug, knowing smirk over his shoulder.
The mess hall let out a collective sigh.
Bonus convo between two Shatterdome workers:
"Apparently the Hansens hadn't had a lot of time when the Sydney Shatterdome closed. They left a lot of their things behind."
"So?"
"So, Herc submitted a requisition form for a couple sets of whatever clothing we could dig up for him."
"Oh, you didn't--"
"Yup. Three henleys a couple sizes too small, and a pair of pants that'll hug his ass like goddamn spandex."
"Christ, I love you."