#cadmon lasky

[authortobenamedlater]

Lost and Found

I did it @rainintheevening

Cadmon lives. That’s it, that’s the fic. I’m so friggin exhausted right now I can’t think of anything else to say.

This is NOT part of my Tom/Chyler AU.

Why can’t I stop writing about Forward Unto Dawn.

@writeforfandoms @ageless-aislynn @infinityactual @naranghim @sarnakhwritesthings @christian-latte-anon I know I’m forgetting some people but I’m about to fall asleep at my desk Lasky-style.

#halo #halo fanfic by atbnl #forward unto dawn #halo 4 forward unto dawn #Thomas lasky #cadmon lasky #fanfic by atbnl

[halobirthdays]

Happy birthday to Cadmon Lasky!

Today is his -484th birthday!

Cadmon Lasky was UNSC ODST and the older brother of Thomas Lasky. Before his enlistment, Cadmon attended the Corbulo Academy of Military Science. He was an exemplary student, breaking Academy records, and was generally well-liked by students and instructors alike. When Thomas enrolled in the same school, Cadmon's legacy loomed over him.

Cadmon was involved in UNSC efforts to quell the Insurrection in the outer colonies. While he was deployed, he would regularly exchange video messages with Thomas, and the two enjoyed a close relationship, despite the distance.

Cadmon was killed by Insurrectionist forces on Andesia. Because there were no remains, their mother chose not to pull Thomas out of school to attend his funeral. Thomas struggled deeply with the loss of his brother, though he was ultimately able to be inspired by his life rather than crushed by his death.

#cadmon lasky #halo forward unto dawn #halo

[eclecticboogaloo]

Bedraggled Beppe and Cadmon Babby Burrito

Ah the joy of fatherhood.

#dadsky #giuseppe lasky #cadmon lasky #fanart #halocs #augur 2022

[infinityactual]

which lasky would be the MOST into bad karaoke?

cadmon

he got the giuseppe karaoke gene ut not the ability to sing v well and he knows it,.so he just goes balls to teh wall and gives no fucks

#asks #cadmon lasky

[half-ton-toe-beans]

General Dipshittery.

Mostly old work, the last two pics have outdated markings for that particular wierdo.

#demon dump #demon!cadmon #demon!lasky

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

Can you love a machine? That's what Lasky wants to ask the Master Chief as he sits in front of Sarah's new promethean form. The Chief, immune to the Composer, but not immune to the suffering he feels about dragging her on this mission. In return, she is immune to his guilt because - well, does she even cycle emotions.

He hated seeing both of them like this. Halsey had come up with a "radical approach" for integration. To see him readily sacrifice himself once again, laying on an operating table face down with his spine exposed.

All to give him back Sarah. "Electrophysiology synced, Doctor." Roland's somber voice says from his pedestal, serving as an intermediary between the Chief and Sarah.

"John?" Halsey asks, as she monitors his gamma and beta waves to see if it dips.

He doesn't say anything, face down, probably being in the worst pain that he's ever been in with the multitude of probes across exposed nerves.

After a tense thirty-seconds, before Halsey could ask again, this time a thin underlay of panic in her voice, the Chief took a deep inhale as he, Roland, and Sarah started to make the same twitching movements.

Lasky almost leapt to stop Halsey before the monitors lit up with various things: a Forerunner, the matrices, the inner workings of Roland's complex decision trees and matrix transformations, flashes of Sarah -

"Memories, Captain Lasky." Halsey muttered, as if it was obvious, "They are in synchronization. They are attempting to rebuilt Commander Palmer's humanity from a mixture of organic electroimpluses through the filter of Roland's ... matrices."

"Halsey-" Glassman interrupts as a myriad of alarms start go off, and Roland starts screaming, "Master Chief's bios - they're all over the place and they're fluctuating wildly - he's going to go into arrest. You need to stop."

"We are almost there." She said through gritted teeth.

Memories of flashing lights, Roland screaming that it burns as the Chief started to seize on the table.

"End it, Halsey!" Lasky said, "We can't lose three people on one day."

"Almost there." She replied, her hand making a stopping motion between him and four other Spartan IVs.

"Halsey!"

"Sir, we're losing anti-grav on decks four, seven and eight. Local hydroponics have sprung leaks and S-Deck is reporting power outages."

"His Gamma waves are reaching critical values, even for an integrated Spartan, Halsey!"

"You're going to fry them all!"

"Almost there."

Cortana's face flashed on the screen, and Roland asking the question: "promise us you'll figure out which one of us is the machine"

The helplessness that Lasky felt was something that he hadn't felt since Cadmon's death, or fuck, even Chryler's death. What did he do? Just stand there and let it happen?

"Catherine Halsey, I'm ordering you to -"

A watcher deployed from the Promethean's back and in a screech, it and Roland said: "Beginning neurological reconfiguration. Recomposing harmonies. Our song has changed. We sing Alone."

Memories started to flood screens, children fighting each other, a small hand reaching for a bell. A woman in a playground asking to flip a coin.

"For heaven's sake, am I medical now?" Halsey proclaimed, grabbing a syringe and flicking her finger to turn over the table.

Then, Roland asked, whether it was Sarah, Chief or Roland himself:

"Am I a machine?"

Mehs, I am going to get you. You attack me in my own inbox, trying to hurt several of my guys at once. This is beautiful. We are getting operating tables involved? Okay Mehs okay. Hi friend

#when the workday is over you will answer for what you have done #i love this #mehs friend tag #promethean knight palmer au #Sarah Palmer #roland the ai #john 117 #Thomas Lasky #Catherine Halsey #fic tag #asks

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

If Tom and Chyler had a son, his name would be Cadmon Walter Lasky.

That's all.

#Thomas Lasky #Thomas Lasky x Chyler Silva #Chyler Silva #curse AuthorToBeNamedLater for filling my head with headcanons about Mr and Mrs Captain Lasky #yes they decided to name their kid after Vickers #because even though he and Tom fought all the time that kid was a hero #I will die on that hill #just like Vickers

[borealtwilight]

talking briefly about this shitpost with some homies because @killer-orca-cosplay was surprised to learn that warthogs can have crash harnesses or seatbelts of some kind ( can, not do, it's possible it's an aftermarket modification on general black's warthog, just for the record ), and chat may have exploded briefly when i said teenager gets yelled at by giant gun car, more at 11

@dancing-coyote then produced the gem of

lasky: -gets behind the wheel of the warthog-

lasky: -MENTALLY SCREAMING-

after i stated that tom probably only drove his family's martian modified spade truck once when cadmon let him, and he immediately crashed it... he has 1 Driving Experience in a warthog adjacent vehicle

@infinityactual added that he may be one of those people who Gets It in "how to drive", which also explains why he is able to drive the warthog — despite likely having 0 actual prior experience — while also panicking in complete confusion

#halo #meta #shitpost #disco shenannies #IT MAKES SENSE OK

[lemniscate-graphics]

College-style Corbulo shirt made for @hellyjumper

Commission info here!

#halo #halo merch #htv shirt #corbulo military academy #halo forward unto dawn #cadmon lasky #lemniscate vinyls

[lincolnandbruce]

SO apparently the guy that plays cadmon lasky in FUD has a twin whos also an actor who stars in a Hawaii five o episode and when i tell you my body did a whole ass double take when i saw the episode

#why was i watching h5o??? i have no clue #but every time he was on screen it was just so weird #like dude #arent you supposed to be dead #or pranking your brother #halo #cadmon lasky

[authortobenamedlater]

Okay how about the one where BOTH Chyler and Cadmon survive and Tom has to Deal with them both (though it's the best kind of thing to have to deal with)? For the AU asks.

(Send me an AU and I’ll tell you about a potential fic for it.)

I really need to go to sleep but I made the mistake of checking Tumblr and now I will not be able to rest until I answer because SO MANY IDEAS I have been looking for an excuse to shout from the rooftops.

One would go in an MWAS-compliant Lost and Found. Things go as normal up to some point not long after the big reunion when Cadmon notices Tom’s wedding ring. Cadmon says something like Sam Wilson’s “you gonna tell me about her?” line because really Tom, this is the kind of thing you lead with. Chyler’s outside somewhere letting them have their moment but Cadmon insists he must meet this woman RIGHT FREAKING NOW.

Tom goes to get her and Cadmon starts going “This is your wife? She married you? You married him? You’re way too hot for him. She’s way too hot for you. Buddy. Did you tell her you were rich or something????” Like not only is his little brother Tom a dang captain in the Navy but he’s MARRIED. Cadmon’s so mad he never got to properly roast Tom in the best man speech.

I’ve considered writing this.

Another which would go with that is Cadmon gets reinstated and ends up in the Spartan-IV program, which means he eventually finds his way to Infinity. He gets in a scrum at some point because someone was talking smack about the captain. Tom calls him on it and Cadmon says “Yeah but he called you a [insert uncomplimentary term here]” and Tom says “I’ve been called worse. YOU call me worse! All the time!” To which Cadmon says “Exactly. I get to talk smack about you. Everyone else on this ship needs to respect the ever loving eff out of you or I’ll hang them from their heels off the observation deck too!”

Tom is just like 😑 until Cadmon tells him what the other guy was saying about Chyler…and then it takes all his Spartan strength to keep Tom from racking up an assault charge.

As a bonus, there’s my Troublemaker Lasky Kid idea which would mean ALL of them are on Infinity. Tom has his wife, his brother, AND his kid under his command. At one point Admiral Hood says “This is a military operation, not the damn Lasky family business!” I don’t know why he says it or who he says it to. But he needs to say it.

Also, Tom tries to get sympathy from his mom and finds none.

I have a similar Star Trek AOS AU, I see no reason why I can’t apply it to another fandom.

A common theme in all of these: Cadmon never stops giving Chyler a hard time about being “just shy” of his record in that weapons check drill. NEVER. “Hey Chyler, who holds the academy record? What was your time again? ‘Just shy.’ ‘Just shy.’ What does close count in? I don’t see any horseshoes or hand grenades around here!”

(In canon, I think Tom sometimes wishes he could tell Cadmon about the girl who almost beat his record.)

Help I’m so unhinged

#halo #ask meme #ask game #fanfiction #fanfiction asks #thomas lasky #cadmon lasky #thomas lasky x chyler silva #married with a supercarrier au

[halobirthdays]

Happy birthday to Captain Thomas Lasky!

Today is his -487th birthday!

Lasky was born on Mars to a military family. His mother, Audrey Lasky, was a colonel in the UNSC, and was largely absent from the lives of Tom and his older brother, Cadmon.

Cadmon also enlisted in the UNSC and was an exemplary soldier, setting records at Corbulo Military Academy, which both Tom and Cadmon attended, albeit at different times. Despite living in his older brother's shadow, the two enjoyed a healthy relationship and communicated often. This would end when Cadmon died in an Insurrectionist attack on Andesia.

After Cadmon's death, Lasky struggled to keep up with his brother's legacy at Corbulo. His Insurrectionist sympathies, despite the circumstances of his brother's death, marked him as a pariah among his peers. He was offered a medical discharge due to his sensitivity to required cryosleep drugs, but the choice would be made for him when the Covenant attacked Corbulo Academy.

During this engagement, he was rescued by John-117 and Blue Team, and learned of the Human-Covenant war for the first time. Shortly after his rescue, he commissioned into the UNSC Navy.

After the war, he rose to the rank of commander, and was assigned to the UNSC flagship Infinity as its executive officer. CINCONI Margaret Parangosky thought highly of him, and only approved of the assignment of Captain Andrew Del Rio because Lasky was assigned as XO.

During the Requiem campaign, Infinity became trapped in a gravity well which prevented it from leaving the shield world. He activated a distress signal, which was answered by Master Chief. Once Infinity was freed and they returned to the ship, Captain Del Rio ordered Infinity to flee, and for Master Chief to surrender Cortana, who was showing signs of rampancy. When he refused, insisting that pursuing the Didact was too important, Del Rio intended to have him arrested. Instead, Master Chief disobeyed orders and left to pursue the Didact himself, with Lasky quietly assisting his old rescuer by having a Pelican readied.

Once on Earth, Del Rio was removed from duty, and Lasky took over as captain of Infinity . Six months later, Lasky returned to Requiem to secure the planet for the UNSC with the help of Commander Palmer and her Spartan-IVs. While they shared some ideological differences, the two regularly protected the other from consequences from the brass.

Requiem would prove to be more than anticipated, and he would be forced to call in the help of war prisoner Catherine Halsey. This would unfurl into a series of events wherein Halsey assisted Covenant leader Jul 'Mdama as a means to a end--the UNSC was holding her prisoner, and 'Mdama intended to follow the trail to the Absolute Record--a catalog of all Forerunner technology and devices. This lead to disagreement between Lasky and Palmer, as Lasky wanted to spare the doctor, and Palmer wanted to carry out orders to execute her.

Eventually, Fireteam Osiris would rescue Halsey, just in time for Lasky to call on her once again to assist them in stopping Cortana and her Guardians. In 2560, Lasky and Infinity pursued Cortana to Zeta Halo, but were ambushed by the Banished. Infinity was under heavy assault, and Lasky commanded the crew to abandon ship. He escaped on a lifeboat to the surface, but his current status is unknown.

In canon (~2560), he is turning 50!

#thomas lasky #captain lasky #halo 4 #halo 5 guardians #halo infinite #halo forward unto dawn

[pathfinderlittleduck]

New fic 👀

#halo #halo fanfic #captain thomas lasky #thomas lasky #it's gonna be about Lasky in 2556 watching the old logs from Cadmon on his birthday #and Frëja comes in and asks who that was

[eclecticboogaloo]

Buncha Laskys.

#thomas lasky #cadmon lasky #infinidad #febru 2022 #LOOK tom had a MOP of hair as a kid you cannot convince me otherwise #he got it trimmed before he went to Corbulo #and pom-pom head is from part of my fic where they get stranded and yeah #hfhsn

[infinityactual]

Cadmons wife??? 👀👀👀

SO.

Her name is Amihan, and she's a mixed Southeast Asian lady and a native Martian. Physically she's chubby without much in the way of curves, but she's also pretty beefy and has lots of colorful tattoos. Cadmon meets her after she's had her top surgey and they end up staying together throughout her transition.

Ami's personality is the quiet side of loud, if that makes any sense. She loves being around friends and family, and is a very warm and friendly person as well as pretty flirty, but she isn't super loud and raucous. She's also got a competitive streak, and she and Cadmon often get into competitions over silly shit like who can make a the best cup of coffee the fastest.

Somewhat different for a Martian, Amihan isn't big on spice. She likes just enough to make her lips and tongue tingle a little, and one of her favorite drinks is iced butterfly pea tea, both because of the brilliant blue color as well as how the color changes in the presence of acids or bases.

Ami also likes to cook, and absolutely adores her little brother-in-law. She and Tom bond mostly over cooking and harassing Cadmon.

#asks #HalOCs #Amihan #cadmon lasky

[bellygunnr]

Blown Lightbulb

A commission piece for @poisonheadcrabsalesman featuring Thomas Lasky/Sarah Palmer. 

---

The house is cold. It hasn’t changed at all since you’ve last been here, some twenty odd years ago. You hadn’t been a kid then-- just a pilot, home on leave despite not really wanting to be. It had been tense then. It was the same now, even if your mother wasn’t even here, and you were laying bare the contents of your past to the two people you loved the most and considered the most important in your life. You hesitate to look at them, not quite fearful of what they’re thinking but definitely reluctant, like any of this is your fault and something to be ashamed of.

You know no one can really blame you for wanting some modicum of closure, but you’ve always been conscious of starting losing battles. Your mother isn’t even here, for one. A toneless holo-message is all she’s left you, detailing that an emergency at work brought her in and she’ll be back sometime in the evening. Maybe you and your colleagues could meet her at this location, even, and upon further investigation, that location is a startling high-profile restaurant of considerable Martian renown.

So much for flying close to the surface. You’d be in the air for all to see, just for a chance to reconcile with what little remains of your family. But that wasn’t for several hours yet, so you content yourself with poking around the giant empty house and listening to Sarah and Roland banter between each other.

“No offense, but this feels kind of like a museum exhibit,” Sarah says. “It’s not even dusty. I’d prefer it if it was.”

“You’d prefer it? There are stock photos of kids up here-- unless the Lasky family is way bigger than records suggest,” Roland answers.

You look at the picture frames Roland is pointing out. Amid the pictures of your brother Cadmon, there are photos of a foreign family, conspicuously only featuring a father figure. You run your fingers through your hair, nostrils flaring with a barely-restrained sigh.

“We didn’t take many family pictures,” you say, as if that explains anything. “I’m going to check out the upstairs.”

You tug on the back of your head, pulling at the recently shaved strands in a fit of anxiety. You don’t want to go upstairs. You’re afraid of what you’ll find there. Cadmon’s room was practically a shrine twenty years ago. The stairs don’t even creak as you step up them and you’re not sure why you expect them to. They look and feel and sound like wood, but you know them to be special composites that just didn’t degrade.

Your grip lingers on the railing as you take the final step. The door you know that leads to your mother’s room is closed. The keypad lock to it is bright red. You wonder if the keycode has changed at all, but testing it probably isn’t worth the risk. Across from her room is Cadmon’s, but that door is also, as you expected, closed.

And the one you recognize as your own is ajar. You let your hand find Sarah’s, squeezing it so tightly that she squeezes back, thumb rolling over your knuckles in a decidingly tender way.

“You know you don’t have to do this, Tom,” she says gently.

“But I want to,” you say. “I know I don’t need to.”

“Well, that’s something.”

It is. You offer her a braver smile than you feel and let her follow you to your room. There are more picture frames up here, covering the walls in even intervals. You can only ignore them because you know Roland is looking at them. You nudge open the door with your foot and, again, hesitate at the threshold.

Was everything in this house going to be difficult?

You shut your eyes and take in a shuddering breath. You can feel Sarah at your back, her presence radiating warmth. If you wobble, you feel her sturdy body against yours, so you let yourself lean into the partial embrace of her arms. She squeezes your shoulders, just as ice trickles down your spine.

Roland’s presence bleeds into your mind like condensation forming on the outside of a glass. It’s not enough for his thoughts or feelings to be tangible, but it’s so distinctly him that you smile and relax, easing the tension in your balled-up fists and opening your eyes. The room ahead is dark, but all you need to do is step inside for the lights to wake up and--

It’s not exactly the same as you left it, but it’s close. Your eyes roam the room, picking out all the various effects of teenaged you. There are posters on the wall, though some of the pixels have gone dark in their paper-thin construction, and models on the shelves, thick with dust. Your bed is perfectly made, the pillows hidden beneath a dark red blanket. Inevitably, your eyes roam over to a box bolted seamlessly into the wall, just above your nightstand. 

“Ah,” you breathe, staring at the box. “I see.”

“Is that…?” Sarah starts, but trails off, uncertain.

You can feel Roland’s curiosity curling up in the back of your mind. If you strain, you can even see his glittery-gold essence creeping out toward the box, but that gives you a migraine the harder you try.

You open your mouth to try and explain what it is, despite what it is being obvious. It’s a physical control panel for a domestic-grade Dumb AI. His name is still plainly depicted in the form of colorful stickers-- Admiral Hart. He hadn’t been active last time, but he hadn’t been gone either, so at least the sick hope flickering in your belly isn’t fully misplaced.

Still, is it worth trying to activate him?

“Roland,” you say, feeling quite outside yourself. “You can investigate it, if you want. Um, if he’s in there, could you…?”

“Of course, Captain,” Roland says.

Roland’s projection hovers in mid-air, thrown there by the custom commpad he was currently residing in. He smiles brilliantly at you and Sarah before bringing up what must be the digital counterpart of the control panel, his gestures as grandiose as ever, his expression just visible behind the transparent boxes. You hate it, but you distract yourself by leaning into Sarah’s space and kissing the bottom of her chin, staying there until Roland pipes up again.

“He’s in there, Captain. Says here he hasn’t been activated since… 2549. Very long service life, this one.”

Oh, that wasn’t too bad. Still, nearly ten years, completely shut down.

“...I don’t know if I’m ready to see him yet,” you say in one long rush of breath, the realization making you feel ill. “I do miss him, though.”

“There are also several other AI matrices in here,” Roland adds. “Why so many, if I may ask?”

“They were my teachers, when I was doing homeschooling. I’m surprised they’re still here.”

Dumb AI were very limited in their fixed personalities, but you swear they’re more sentient than they let on. One didn’t befriend several all at once and not experience some inexplicable variances, but dwelling on it was starting to make you feel hot behind the eyes. You shake your head, exasperated.

“Sorry, this is-- a lot more than I thought it’d be.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Sarah says lightly. “Want to go back downstairs?”

“Mind if I hang out in your house’s network for a little while?” Roland asks. “I won’t touch anything.”

“Go for it,” you say with a smile.

Roland winks and smiles before gathering up the tendrils of himself, more visible now that he was letting his essence ooze out between commpad, neural interfaces, and nearby network ports. Smart AI were remarkably fluid, or even gaseous, automatically filling in the void spaces around them, not because they wanted to be big as possible-- they were just that big. Still, you rub the back of your neck the same time as Sarah does, acutely conscious of the absence.

“Downstairs, then,” Sarah says. “Think there’s anything in the fridge?”

“I have no idea. Are you hungry?”

“I haven’t eaten since yesterday. To keep the motion sickness down, you know.”

You hum in acknowledgement. Her moving ahead of you prevents you from lingering too long upstairs, anxious as you are to keep up with her long strides. You have no idea where either of you are going to get clothes nice enough to go to a restaurant. Neither of you are dressed for it, let alone packed. Roland had suggested dressing as casually as possible to take the edge off, and well, maybe that was going to backfire. 

“I can feel you thinking too hard,” Sarah says.

She’s in your space the second you leave the stairs. But it’s gentle and unintrusive despite her taking up your whole line of sight. She’s teasing you, even as her brow is bent in concern.

“What am I thinking too hard about?” you ask.

“Hmmm. Something about your mom, like that stupid message she left us. Seriously, talk about a neutral location.” 

You laugh before you can stop yourself. 

“Got it in one,” you say. “I don’t know what she’s thinking.”

“Guess poor mother Lasky is going to have to come home after all,” Sarah says. “Isn’t that sad?”

She bumps your hip with the back of her fist, a playful nudge that, surprisingly, doesn’t send you stumbling. You punch her shoulder in return, silently following her into the next room, where the kitchen is. You watch Sarah go for the fridge and open it, head disappearing inside to scope out the contents. She retreats a moment later to throw something green and limp into your arms.

You catch it more out of surprise than anything, but you feel nauseous just holding it.

“What the hell is this?”

“Nutritional smoothie paste!” Sarah says, like she’s struck gold. “Used to eat this shit when I was a baby Spartan. They put it in Mjolnir on long-haul ops.”

“And that’s…. Is it good?” You ask, instantly skeptical.

“Hell, no. But I’m too polite to eat the meal plan stuff she has in there. So, drink up.”

Well, you couldn’t fault her there. You set the plastic tube of paste down on the faux-granite countertop, deciding that you’d rather let Sarah just drink both of them. You can’t stifle a smile as she immediately scoops it up, tearing open both of them at once and drinking them down in a truly disgusting fashion. But she doesn’t spill a drop, so... 

“I see you’ve gotten better at that,” you say.

“Roland made me promise not to make a mess if I’m going to be carrying the commpad,” she admits, looking exasperated for all of a split-second. “So.”

She tosses the spent bags onto the countertop, despite the trash can being directly underhand. You shrug that off in favor of grabbing her by the collar of her tank top and pulling her down, kissing her flat on the mouth. Her answering hum is felt in your bones and you both relax into each other, your anxious tension sapped by her solid core. She curls an arm around your waist and holds you in place, like she’s been waiting to do that.

“Relax a little,” she murmurs. “We can worry about her when she gets here.”

Not you, we. You feel a little weak in the knees at the distinction and let yourself hang onto her arms, certain that you’re looking at her with a dopey smile.

“But we probably shouldn’t do this in the kitchen,” she adds.

Before you can pull away, Sarah effortlessly hauls you into her arms, supporting you by grabbing a fistful of your ass and waiting until you wrap your arms around her neck. She squeezes your rear a couple times before moving, gait so smooth that you don’t even feel it when she turns on her heel to dump you on the couch with a flourish. 

You sink into the couch cushions, but wrap your arms around hers so that you don’t disappear completely. Her face is so close to yours that you count each individual scar and freckles, including the faint lines of surgical augmentations that only show up in the right light. You snake your hand up to the back of her neck, mindful not to grab ahold of the enlarged neural implant.

“Anyone ever told you you’re handsome, Tom?” Sarah murmurs.

“Mmm, I can think of a few…”

Her laughter is felt on your skin as warm puffs. She kisses you, her lips rough with bitten and half-healed skin that you nip at, chasing them when she tries to pull away. The plasticine fabric squeaks as she carefully, carefully lowers her weight over yours and straddles you, her thighs big enough to keep you in place. 

“Let me know if I’m hurting you.”

“I will,” you promise.

You want to say that you know she won’t, but she always looks so earnest when she asks that this time, you don’t. Because she has before-- there’s a biological differential between the two of you that you never stop thinking about. You work your hand further up to pull her hair out of its ponytail, working your fingers into the coarse locks and kissing her more intently, eyes fluttering shut. I love you, you want to say. I trust you, which is just as hard.

Her hands roam across your shirt and pluck open several buttons so that she can follow the edge of your collarbone and the slope of your shoulders. Her warm, slightly sweaty palms are a sharp contrast to the cool air, and the shock of physical contact has goosebumps lifting on your arms. You lick at her lips and fist some of her hair, mumbling indistinctly as you pull her down closer.

There’s no smart quip or knowing look to make light of your neediness. She finally lets her weight drop onto your lap completely and the kiss moves on, her teeth and lips tracking across the edge of your jaw to just underneath your ear. Instead of letting your hands hover, you start to follow the hard curves of her body, groping at the bunching muscles and admiring the power coiled there. 

Then she snaps into rigid attention, face turned toward the front door, her lips drawn back in a snarl. You vaguely notice that she has a chipped tooth before you hear the door opening and Sarah is still poised over you and she’s kissing you again, hard, and you kind of moan into it--

“Well, then,” an all-too-familiar voice says. “Thomas, care to… introduce me?”

Finally, Sarah climbs off of you, but not before buttoning your shirt and kissing your forehead. Your brain already hurts from the mental whiplash of the situation.

“Um, mother,” you start. “This is Sarah Palmer. My partner.”

Your mother is shorter than you remember. Her hair, once a brownish-black, is in faded tones and grey at the roots. A scar that wasn’t there twenty years ago lurks just by her eye and she looks exhausted. Stress and worry lines make canyons of her face, ones that twist your heart to look at.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Sarah says stiffly.

She does not look amused. She doesn’t look much of anything except terribly stern and suspicious of the scene before her. You almost can’t blame her. Almost.

“You know, I was hoping you’d be here when we got here,” you say. “But it seems you’re still working.”

“Of course. Duty still calls, you know.”

You watch her as she shrugs off her jacket and hangs it up on the coat rack in the anteroom. Both nothing and everything has changed about her and it makes something in your throat tighten.

“Oh, I know that more than anybody,” you breathe. “Yeah.”

“I do appreciate you coming home, Tom,” Audrey says, not looking at you. “It means a lot. I thought I’d have to see you when the Infinity opened her doors to the public. That is still happening-- right?”

“Sure, it’s happening,” Sarah says. “Look, Tom, do you want me to…?”

You shake your head.

“Yes, but I won’t be back on Mars until then. Working nonstop has its benefits-- like a lot of vacation time.”

“That sounds like a dream, to be able to use it,” Audrey replies calmly. “I need to know if we’re having dinner tonight.”

You and Sarah share a look.

“I was thinking we could share a bottle of wine and shoot the shit instead,” Sarah says. “Or some scotch, if you have it.”

At that, Audrey looks amused.

“I never took you for a scotch man, Tom,” Audrey chuckles.

You don’t say anything as she leaves the room, no doubt seeking out the desired glasses and alcohol. The sun is going down outside, plunging the room in a deep red. This was going better than expected. You want to break open the window and run. You want to do anything but sit back down and draw out the table and sit in a semi-circle and “shoot the shit.” But you’re already sitting down and the bottle is open and you haven’t ate anything-- neither has Sarah, even, but with her augmentations drinking on an empty stomach is probably beneficial and--

“Good news, everybody! I took the liberty of ordering us some, what do you humans call it? Party food? You know, for all the drinking we’re about to do. You’re welcome!”

You choke on your own spit and your mother nearly drops the glass she’s pouring. Sarah, for her part, is taking the bottle and stealing a sip directly, if only to conceal a smug smile.

Roland is hovering inches above the faux-wooden table, drawn up to his full height with chest puffed out and expression gleeful. He flicks one hand out in a casual salute toward Audrey before trotting aside and sitting down, legs crossed.

“Cheers,” he says.

“Hi, Roland,” Sarah greets.

You had completely forgotten about Roland. Oops.

“Thomas, I do hate to ask,” Audrey says, peering down at Roland with a pinched expression, “but why is there an AI?”

“Oh, you know,” you say vaguely, waving a hand. “It’s classified.”

“I’m Captain Lasky’s boss,” Roland says, grinning. “So I’m allowed to be here, you see.”

“Are you my boss, Roland?” Sarah asks.

“No, ma’am.”

Audrey’s eyebrows shoot up. She takes a sip from her glass, shifting in her seat uncomfortably.

“Well, I’m Audrey Lasky,” she says finally. “Pleasure to meet you.”

The rest of the night goes painfully.

#halo #sarah palmer #thomas lasky #roland the ai #palmsky