#HAPPY BIRTHDAY GOJIRA SAN | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soundwavereporting · 4 years

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Presenting...RODAN’S BIRTHDAY, written for @fauveshumankaiju. Written entirely by hand, and then frantically typed up whilst trying not to look at the screen. Any and all errors are entirely mine. Bonus picture of the og draft at the end!

The snow had stopped falling and settled onto a comfortable, chilly layer of white on the ground when his alarm woke Rodan up.

Ni was already gone—morning person he was not, but a shipment of some kind of fancy, non-IKEA furniture was set to arrive this morning.

Meanwhile, Ichi and San remained in bed with him.

“Happy birthday,” Ichi mumbled into his back.

Rodan was laying comfortably in Ichi’s arms, and San was comfortably settled in Rodan’s arms. Reluctantly, Rodan stretched, feeling Ichi grasp his waist, hearing San mumble a protest.

“Gotta work,” Rodan said, fumbling for his phone. He unlocked it and swiped past a flurry of birthday texts and Facebook messages. Rick had said he was calling out today, wasn’t he? And Quetx had been using her non-rollover PTO this week; she wouldn’t be back till New Year’s Eve at the earliest. Which…gave him an idea.

Rodan sat up. “Hey. You doing anything today?”

Sneaking two-thirds of the Ghidquorum into the lab wasn’t hard. The security guard couldn’t care less who showed up as long as one of them showed a badge—and Rodan did. San was smiling—a genuine smile, Rodan was pleased to notice. He loved San’s smiles. Ichi’s face was a careful mask of cool neutrality. Rodan hadn’t planned on Ichi coming—not that he minded, of course. It was just that he had extended the invitation assuming Ichi would be busy, and only San would be free. Of course, where Ichi went during business hours, his laptop followed, and Rodan was quick to provide him with the lab’s wifi password.

As he had expected, the lab was deserted, just as he had left it. San set down his bag and wandered over to the locked cabinet and began fumbling with the lock, ignoring Rodan’s offer of the key with a wave of his hand. Ichi pulled out his laptop and settled on one of the vacant desks, and Rodan went to work.

Rodan had left a batch of samples simmering overnight. He examined them, then sat at his desk, absently scribbling notes.

“Your handwriting is…charming,” San said carefully. “Is that the correct word?”

Rodan snorted. “Not all of us went to ritzy private schools that taught cursive.”

“Fair point.” San seated himself on one of the lab stools and continued to watch Rodan write.

“Any plans tonight?” San asked, and Rodan narrowed his eyes.

“Is that an invitation for a date, or…?”

San visibly brightened. Rodan had persuaded him to put on a pair of safety goggles. They sat perched on San’s forehead (endearingly, Rodan thought), looking for all the world like an earnest grad student. Impulsively, Rodan leaned forward and bumped his nose against San’s.

San smiled.

“Monsuta Island Bar? Six-thirty?” From this distance ,it looked like San had six eyes. Three Sans. What a concept. “I don’t know, San…” Rodan pulled away and pretended to consult his nonexistent itch. “I did have a date tonight…”

Before San’s face could fall—the man did still have trouble picking up American sarcasm. Rodan pressed a quick kiss to San’s nose. “Of course I’ll be there.”

San’s smile lit up the room. He busied himself with rifling through a former coworker’s desk, and Rodan slipped out of his seat to bother Ichi.

Out of the three of them, Ichi was the best dressed—he had at least put on a suit that probably cost more than Rodan made in a year. Rodan’s phone buzzed—Goji, probably, wanting to know if he would be at the bar today. That would be…interesting. Gojira and the Ghidorah’s truce—or whatever it was—had been in effect for a grand total of 36ish hours.

Privately, Rodan wanted to hope it would last. Ichi had taken his hand, promised him that they would not go after Gojira until the new year, if Gojira agreed. For Rodan. All for Rodan.

And Gojira had agreed, which had lifted a burden off Rodan’s shoulders he hadn’t known existed.

Regardless, tonight would still be…interesting.

The rest of the day slipped by quickly.

San was content to create his own strange concoctions in the junked flasks and test tubes, though his habit of peering directly over the mixtures and sniffing and Rodan on edge. Ichi had situated himself on Rick’s desk, in front of the most neutral-looking of the lab’s walls as he Skyped with his multitudes of global business partners.

At exactly 4pm, the door to the lab opened, and Ni stepped in. Dressed in an elaborate gold and black jump suit made by a designer whose name Rodan couldn’t even begin to pronounce, Ni peered at the three of them over his golden sunglasses.

San looked up from his experiments.

“How did you find us?”

Ni blinked. “I track all of your phones,” he said, as though that were the most normal thing in the world. He turned back to Rodan. “Are you going to wear that to Chez Honrie?”

“He knows,” Ichi said, without looking up. Ni’s lips twitched. “You know, we could simply purchase that little bar,” Ni offered. “If not demolish it entirely, at least get it up to minimum health and safety codes.”

Rodan snorted, trying to quash the instinctive panic rising in his chest. That was something they would do, wasn’t it—and they would think Rodan would like it. Or they would do it, because they didn’t know what else to do.

“If you close MIB down, how will Battra ever make ends meet?” Rodan joked, hoping NI wouldn’t pick up on his discomfort.

“Who?”

“The EMT’S brother,” Ichi supplied dryly. “The one you mistook for her.”

“Ah.” Somehow, Ni managed to look (slightly) sheepish without his expression changing one bit. “I did not have my glasses that night.”

“Have we agreed we’re not buying and/or renovating anything tonight?” Rodan interrupted.

hearing the tone of his voice, San had looked up from his experiments, and Rodan shoved his irritation-slash-fear down and managed what he hoped was a genuine smile. San dumped his concoction into the lab sink and washed his (ungloved, Rodan noted slightly despairingly) hands. He moved to sit beside Rodan, close enough that it felt more like solidarity than simple companionship.

“Anyway…” San looked at Ichi, who lad lost interest some seconds before and had gone back to his laptop. “Do you have anything else to complete before we leave?” San asked.

“You are apparently the most reliable employee here,” Ni added, giving the empty desks a cursory glance. “It is not surprising you refuse to resign. This place would clearly fall to ruins without you.”

Rodan smiled. He accepted the peace offering for what it was, leaving his lab coat on his chair and taking a chance, squeezed Ni’s shoulder.

“Still,” Ni said. “Are you going to wear that?”

Rodan looked down at his shirt. He had gotten into the habit of consistently doing aunty since meeting them, and this was a clean shirt.

“What’s wrong with this shirt?” Rodan asked.

It was one of his favorites, an aloha shirt Angurius had gotten for him two Christmases ago, a dark red print with orange-ish patterned dinosaurs overlaid with vague, tribal-esque patterns probably dreamt up by some white college kid for their Redbubble. But it was soft and comfortable, and entirely Rodan’s style.

“I like it,” San said.

“You like everything he wears,” Ni retorted. “I do have some shopping in the car for him. Ichi?”

Ichi shrugged.

Rodan rolled his eyes. “If the Ghidquorum is finished debating the merits of my wardrobe? I’m ready to go.”

Ichi nodded and closed his laptop, then looked up, scrunching his nose in distaste. “What is that smell?”

Rodan inclined his head to the lab sink.

San grinned.  

As it usually was, at this time of the evening, the bar was pleasantly not-crowded. Later, the other regulars would trickle in—assuming they had actually shown up for work, Battra and Hedorah’s shifts didn’t end till 7, and though Goji’s shift had ended at 6, she liked to shower and change before heading to the bar. Which left…

“Rodan!” Baragon’s dusty, eager, freckled face was the embodiment of pure, obnoxious joy.

“Baragon.” Rodan allowed himself to be pulled into a bone-crushing hug. Faintly, he heard San snickering. Ni had refused to step more than a few feet into the bar, settling down at a booth near the pool tables, looking exactly like a frightened car. Rodan wondered what it would take for him to leap out and scamper out of the bar.

“Hey.” Angurius clapped a hand on Rodan’s shoulder. “You’re wearing the shirt!”

“It’s a favorite,” Rodan said.

“Then you’ll really like this one.” Angurius held up a gift bad decorated with bright, gaudy balloons. Angurius nodded encouragingly as Rodan peeled back the white tissue paper o reveal another aloha shirt, this one a light brown color with a palm tree and volcano pattern.

Rodan wasn’t yet drunk enough to strip off his shirt—the first shot of tequila was still on his tongue—but he slipped the new shirt over the old one.

San pressed another drink into Rodan’s hand.

“Seem familiar?” He asked, and Rodan raised a brow.

“Tell me,” San said. His eyes were dark—troubled, Rodan thought—though his voice remained light.

“If you had known—” San gestured to himself, then to Ichi, then to Goji, who had just walked in, but was already glowering at Ni— “Would you have taken the drink?”

Rodan stepped up on the tips of his toes—even so, he barely came up to San’s chin. ROdan tapped his chin, and San obediently tilted his head down.

His lips were warm.

“Was that enough of an answer?”

San frowned, though his expression had visibly brightened. “I do not know—I might need some clarification, yes?”

Rodan took another sip of his drink and grinned.

San had taken a seat on Rodan’s usual barstool, and when Rodan looked at him questioningly, San smiled innocently and patted his lap.

Rodan was tempted, though he elected to sit on the barstool directly beside him. He finished off the drink and set the glass down, as it settled in his belly, warm and filling, somehow like a fire smoldering over coals.

Ichi and Gojira were talking—arguing, more likely, though it hadn’t yet turned violent—and at some point, Mother had shown up and was nursing a bottle of something bright blue and tantalizingly shiny. Paragon and Angurius had taken over the pool table. Mando and Biollante were comfortable tucked into a booth just outside of his peripheral vision. To his left, luring by the pool table was a man Rodan didn’t immediately recognize, but looked enough like Goji at first glance that Rodan immediately labeled him as “half sibling of Goji’s”, a category that so many in Monsuta seemed to occupy.

The door jinxed again.

This time, the atmosphere seemed to darken as Gigan stepped in, and Rodan could practically see Goji’s hackles rising.

“Rodan!” And then Jet Jaguar and Megalon stepped and inside, and it seemed all was forgotten.

Privately, Rodan was grateful for…whatever Jet seemed to have going on with Gigan and Megalon; he was happy enough for the guy, but his weird redemption-seduction thing they had going on had been enough to divert some of the attention away from Rodan and the Ghidorahs.

“Merry Happy Birthday!”

Unlike the grimace-smile that was plastered on his face whenever he was on the clock, Jet’s smile was genuine. Megalon was grinning from ear to ear, holding out a set of packages out to Rodan. Genuinely curious, Rodan slipped a finger between the wrapping paper and tape and popped it open.

Ah. A book on the chemical reactions that took place during the cycling of a home aquarium. From Megalon, then. And the other gift…

“Thanks!” Rodan examined the decorative test tube-turned-pen-holder, etched with R. Rodan in clear, professional lettering. “Both of you. Really.”

Megalon beamed.

Jet and Megalon grabbed their drinks and sauntered over to Gigan, who had stopped to alternate between chatting with Ni and shooting glares at Gojira.

Rodan waved his hand, as if by magic, another drink appeared.

Fascinating. Out of habit, Rodan sat in his seat, and landed in San’s lap.

“There you are.” Rodan could hear San smiling. “Enjoying the free drinks?”

“Free?” Rodan squinted at the drink in his hand.

“For you friends as well,” San said. “We are trying to fit in here. For you.”

Rodan felt his face heat up. He turned to face San, who was staring at him with something akin to…devotion. It was nice, to be wanted, even if the ones doing the wanting were a couple of gentrifying, foreign luxury real estate developers who wanted nothing more than to squeeze him and his friends out of their homes—

“As nice as that is,” Rodan said, “I’d rather you do it for you.”

“For me?”

“For yourself,” Rodan clarified. “Because you want to.”

“Hmm.” San was still frowning, though he seemed relaxed enough. “I will have to think about that. But tonight, it is all about you. Agreed?”

Rodan smiled. “Agreed.”

The night slipped by pleasantly enough—Battra and Hedorah arrived in due time; the former had slipped Rodan a gift card and was trying to hit on Goji’s brother or half brother or whoever he was, and the latter sat at the far end of the bar, alternating between frantically texting in between shots of cheap whiskey.

Ichi and Goji were still talking about…what, Rodan wondered? Their unofficial truce? The weather? Rodan?

And Ni and Gigan had resorted to carving intricate designs on the tables—the one closest to the door already bore the marks of Ni’s first foray into the bar.

“Here.”

Rodan’s eyes widened as he took in the drink. Beautiful and beautifully on fire, all red and gold in the dim lighting.

“You finished it!”

“Compari, vodka, a dash of Mothra’s tea blends…” Manda trailed off. “Our gift to you, my friend.”

“So,” San said, after Rodan had finished his drink. “How was your birthday?”

Roan took a long look at the bar—at Angurius and Goji and Mothra, at Biollante and Manda, and Gigan and Jet and Megalon, and even Baragon. And Ichi. And Ni.

And finally, Rodan looked at San.

“The best,” Rodan said.

#fauveshumankaiju #rodorah #mine;#i am truly Tired after writing this but it was FUN and i hope i didn't absolutely mangle your interpretations of these boys...

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