I'm nobody without you buddy

[scubatankfilledwithfarts]

based on this

Ryu Jose solidly admits he doesn’t prepare strategies much in advance. He sees Amuro studying at a console, shoulders [with the weight of an entire star-worthy world filled both with Earth-shattering weapons and people] tucked up into his neck with tension, nibbling his nails, and that just isn’t for him. And maybe that’s convenient—reading the clench of a jaw, the timbre of someone’s voice and it’s enough for the Chief Petty Officer to edge those broad shoulders in the middle of it like a solid barrier, or a bridge to peace.

Him, a peaceful wall in a war that’s taken millions.

That’s why he stalks down the hall with Bright Noa, side by side, stride meeting stride. Because his place is here, bridging the canyon; his place has always been here, between Bright and Amuro. When they reach the pilot’s door Frau Bow thankfully isn’t there, though she can’t be far. She usually isn’t.

Ryu doesn’t bother to try and advise, one because he knows better and two, Bright’s knocking-angrily-on-doors hand is just as quick as his slapping hand.

“Amuro! Stop sulking and get out here! You have a job to do, you little punk.”

After another moment of knocking, the veins on Bright’s forehead steadily popping to the surface, Ryu takes over.

“Come on, Amuro, answer us. We’re all getting worried…you don’t want Frau to fret, do you?”

He hates pulling that trump card. Mostly he feels a little guilty for bringing Frau into it, but also because sometimes the pilot is so far gone even that doesn’t work.

There isn’t a crowd [Bright’s sharp gaze cuts that down to the core], but a few curious heads peek out of doorways. Just when Ryu fears Bright really will break the door down like he’s threatened for the past 5 minutes, there’s a rush of air and a pilot standing there.

Amuro Ray, 15 years old, rubs knuckles into glazed blue eyes, blanket still tangled around his boxer-clad legs.

“Did you just wake up?” Ryu asks softly, his gaze also softening.

Bright’s expression, if possible, hardens at the sight. “You’re neglecting your duties. You were supposed to sortie twenty minutes ago.”

Ryu understands, he does. The frustration between Bright and Kai and Hayato [they get stuck with the hard jobs, the thankless ones—they didn’t want this, didn’t sign up for this—but because Amuro got in the Gundam first, because he could pilot it immediately, because of his father, because--]

This is Amuro’s responsibility. He’s the only one who can do it. He was pushed into it and now his hands are being forced over the open flame. These statements exist at the same time.

Ryu has his own responsibility too. Pushing his way into Amuro’s quarters before the pilot can even open his mouth, he sends Bright a tight smile over his shoulder.

“I’ve got this, Captain. We’ll be out in about 10. Kai and Hayato can hold them off in the meantime, can’t they?”

The look in his eyes, the slump of Amuro’s shoulders, must get across to Bright because he turns away without so much as a grumble. He’s a tough military man, but he’ll understand soon that this isn’t just a war zone. This needs something else. Ryu doesn’t really know if this is it, but—

He does know this is where he belongs. Between Amuro and Bright. To connect the bridge.

Amuro’s only 1 minute later, so that has to count for something, doesn’t it?