bakerstreet | The Piggyback Ride Meme!

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The Piggyback Ride Meme!

The Piggyback Ride Meme

Ahhh. The immortal piggyback ride. So versatile, there are so many uses for it—to transport the injured and the beloved, as a means of showing affection, and to even play. It's not just for romance. It can be done between parent and child, siblings, friends, medic and patient, even complete strangers and, in those rare moments, mortal enemies! Just be sure the person can carry you, yeah?

How this works:
→ Leave a comment with the usual information in the subject line: character name, fandom. Any preferences, including what you don't want, should be included as well. If you want, indicate if you want your character to Carry, Be Carried, or Both.
→ Congratulations. Your character is one half of a piggyback ride with whoever tags them!
→ Tag around.
→ Feel free to roll RNG (1-9) if you cannot come up with scenarios of your own.
→ Have fun, and be excellent to each other!

1 — Injury. (You can't walk like that. Here, let me carry you . . . )
2 — Romantic. (Obligatory shippy option.)
3 — Escape. (You're on the run and one of you is moving too slow or can't move at all!)
4 — Surprise! (That back right there? I'm going to jump the fuck on it and they don't even know it yet!)
5 — Duty. (EMT, military and disaster recovery personnel, firemen, etc. are sometimes required to carry civilians like this.)
6 — Game. (Chicken fight, park games, made-up games, whatever!)
7 — Wasted. (Go home, you're drunk. Except you can't walk . . . )
8 — Platonic or Familial. (It's such a beautiful day, can I carry you?)
9 — Fuck da police. (In other words, the random/whatever option.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

One of the downsides of the beautiful shoes that Rhoda favors is that her beautiful shoes can often be quite treacherous.

Especially on wet steel floors, as she so helpfully proved when she slipped and fell, twisting her ankle after Max barreled into her upon his arrival back in the Shatterdome. It wasn't like he and Chuck were gone for very long, but the dog has always been somewhat excitable, and now here she is, wailing about having broken her shoe when it's her ankle she should be worried about.

Max has a nasty habit of surprising Chuck and jerking the leash from his hands.

The dog is sitting nervously next to Rhoda on the ground while Chuck kneels, hands wandering because Jesus Christ, dammit Max.

"It's a shoe," he says, refraining from rolling his eyes. "Rhoda, is your foot alright?"

"It's a Ferragamo shoe," she hisses, scowling and gritting her teeth against the pain when he manages to poke her hurt ankle.

"Do you know how much saving I had to do before I could afford these shoes?"

"Bless you," he mutters, pulling his hands back when he sees her jaw tighten.

"Can you walk, doll?" Or is he going to have to gather you up and carry you?

"He's a designer, you uncultured swine."

She goes to stand up, getting as far as getting her feet under her, before she cries out sharply and collapses back down.

"...Looks like that's a no, dammit. Max!" The poor dog whines and ducks his head down, looking very distraught, and Rhoda doesn't have the heart to stay mad at him, apparently, because she reaches out to scratch him around the collar.

That earns a scowl but he doesn't have much else to say about it because she's crumpling again and he's rushing to catch her, easing her gently back down to the floor.

"Aw, he didn't mean to..." Chuck's reaching to rub his hand over Max's head behind Rhoda's, and he catche sher hand to bring it to his lips.

"I'll take you to medical, yeah? Get this looked at."

She sighs and nods, reaching her arms up so Chuck can lift her off the ground. He's a big strong boy, he can handle it.

"That's probably for the best."

He gives her one of those charming grins of his, then reaches to swoop her up into his arms before standing.

It says a lot about the PT program they've got here that he can even manage this at all.

"I'll be the envy of the dome, walking around with you like this. Maybe I should take a detour, show you off a bit, hm?" Smirk firmly in place, he whistles between his teeth. "C'mon, Max."

She gives him a tight smile and clings to his shoulders as he lifts her up off the floor.

"If you feel you must..." She likes being shown off. And even if her ankle is screaming at her, she's still being carried around by Ranger Hansen.

She leans in to kiss his cheek once he's upright and she's settled. "You're not an uncultured swine, honey. Just uncultured."

Oh, he knows. It's why he's going to do it -- to an extent, anyway. He knows she's hurting, he's just going to take a slightly longer route than necessary, just so that a point can be made.

She's his.

"Too late for that one," he says, dropping a little kiss on her cheek as he walks, Max happily clicking after them, "can't take it back. Y'owe me, now."

"You're my uncultured swine?" she tries, bearing his kiss with good grace, even though her ankle hurts and every step he takes jostles it a little, sending pain shooting up her leg.

"Better."

No worries, they're almost there, at least.

"How's the ankle?"

[ The few times they're given shore leave, Mako rarely leaves the Shatterdome.

It's hardly because she doesn't want to explore—she's exceptionally curious about Hong Kong and its nightlife—but there is still so much to do, so much to study and train and redesign and re-fit with respect to Gipsy's Chain Sword, that she doesn't want to take a reprieve and interrupt the flow of her progress. She's too damned single-minded, sometimes.

But finally she's convinced to join a small crew ashore and after visiting a Cantonese dive bar where she's had just a few too many shots of Shanghai white vodka and lychee martinis, she's attempting to make it back to the dock with the rest of the group. Chuck Hansen, of all people, has an arm under her, half-supporting her, and she looks up at him fuzzily as she stumbles along beside him. Her legs feel like rubber. ]

I should—should have eaten something.

[ Her brows are puckering; even as drunk as she is, she still has the presence of mind to admonish herself as to where she went wrong tonight. ]

[ They've all been drinking - too much for who and what they are, probably but Chuck kind of does what he wants when he wants and no one stops him because of who he is. Chuck doesn't drink much because he doesn't like the feeling of not being completely in control, but he's had a few, enough to ensure that he's got a nice, warm buzz but he's still functional and he can walk without assistance.

Unfortunately it doesn't seem like Mako can boast the same but Chuck can't say much about it, he's one of the ones that was buying her drinks, though it wasn't really with any sort of ill intention other than to see Mako off her game and with her hair down.

Mako's really hit it the hardest, and he's wondering if this is her first bender. Regardless, his arm is strong around her and he's got a brow quirked, grin crooked. ]

Never drink on an empty stomach, love. Bad news, that.

[ If he thought this might have been her first bender, he's pretty much right on the money—Mako hardly ever drinks, hardly ever lets herself be anything other than rigorously disciplined, but after so many 'Dome colleagues had all but pressured her to come out with them she'd decided it would have been worse not to go.

She's rethinking that decision, now.

Still, it's not so bad, she thinks, despite feeling as ridiculously out of control of her own body as she does; Chuck had been amiable tonight, even friendly for a change, and he'd even seemed to have kept a close eye on her even while he'd bought her round after round of drinks. It surprises her. She wouldn't have expected that, from him. ]

...Why are you being so nice to me? [ she blurts inelegantly.

Apparently alcohol is like truth serum for Mako Mori. ]

[ Chuck doesn't have any 'friends' in the Shatterdome, he's only here because he wants to be, not because he was invited. Not many people really like Chuck - he's got fans, not friends or 'colleagues'. He does his own thing, on his own time, and he spends more time with Striker Eureka than he does with actual people.

But Mako and alcohol had seemed like a hilariously fantastic yet very bad idea so when he'd caught wind of it, he'd shown up. ]

Inhibitions are down, [ he drawls, tightening his hold on her when they pass locals that may or may not be the unsavory type, expression settling back into his usual scowl. ]

Don't get used to it.

[ Lucky for Chuck, Mako's become adept at reading inbetween the lines, catching nuances between what's said and what's shown, even when she's inebriated. She can see that now, with the way he grips her tighter around her waist and pulls her into him when they pass by a gang of young Chinese men leering lasciviously at her. ]

...But I kind of like it. [ Also apparently alcohol impedes the edit function between her brain and mouth.

And then she trips over something on the pavement, and nearly goes sprawling face-first. ]

That's too ba --Mako.

[ There's a lot of reasons he's one of the best jaeger pilots on the planet, and his reaction time is one of them. He's snatching her right around the middle as she stumbles, dragging her back up against his chest, hold firm. ]

...Watch your step, love. You sure you can walk?

[ There's a soft oooof from her as he catches her around the waist, but she turns into him gratefully as he holds her steady. ]

...Yes. [ and then she's shaking her head. ] ...No.

[ ...And then she's turning those big brown eyes on him. You are doomed, Chuck Hansen. ]

[ ...Oh, Christ. It was over the second she gave him that look. Part of his grumpy, growly exterior sort of...melts away and he sighs because what the fuck has he gotten himself into with this chick. ]

'S too close to call a bloody cab. [ But too far for her to walk.

He grunts, glancing over his shoulder. The gang of boys is still there, watching, and Chuck knows he could easily handle two or three on his own but there's like five and he'd like to hurry up and get back to the docks so they can get home. ]

Think you could hold on if I carried you?

[ She brightens, at least as much as she can in her state of mind. ]

You're going to carry me?...

[ Mister Hansen, her hero. ]

...What else am I suppose to do? Leave you?

[ sdjkfhd dammit Mako.

He nudges past her til she's behind him, and leans over a little. ]

C'mon then. Let's get this over with.

[ She doesn't even care that he's being grumpy again—in fact, she might see through it, at this point—and Mako climbs awkwardly onto his back, holding on to him around his neck and wrapping her legs around his middle. Her face is tucked into the back of his neck close to his ear, the blue tips of her hair most likely tickling him.

There's a soft giggle, and then: ] ...Am I too heavy?

[ When he feels like she's secure he straightens up, hefts her on his back and locks his arms around her legs, and snorts.

What is his life coming to, seriously. ]

Hardly. [ She's actually pretty solid - she's all muscle and sharp edges, but it's fine. He can handle Mako Mori clinging to his back. ]

Chuck Hansen | Pacific Rim | ota

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→ 7 because fuck da police aka MAKO GETS DRUNK

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