Title: Scapegoat
From the moment she stepped out of the hazy, chokingly stuffy travel coach and onto the sidewalk, she felt like she had never been more relieved to feel the crisp breeze that Canada offered. The GO Transit driver, who had been actively (and frankly indiscreetly) exercising one of his practiced habits of watching her intently for an alarming portion of the ride, merrily followed her around the bus to unload her bags.
"Anxious to get back on your feet, are you?" He asked with a cheerful smile. "Hotaru, was it? Which bags are yours?"
"A black suitcase and matching duffel bag." Hotaru Tomoe replied with a nod, returning his earnest smile. "And yes—being on an airplane for seventeen hours doesn't make the subsequent bus ride a very exciting journey for my ass." She waited patiently, and was secretly delighted when there was no negative impact of her vulgarity. Unlike Japan, women who swore were not so frowned upon here. Taking her luggage from the man, she took a small bow and bid her farewells before turning towards the vast horizon of the campus.
It was more or less exactly how Setsuna had described. Unmistakably a wealthy school, with a long U driveway lined up with expensive limousines that all looked exactly the same. Making her way along the impeccably, impossibly clean marble pathway towards the entrance of what she certainly hoped to be the dorm inquiry office, she looked around. She was surrounded by thick, neatly trimmed, dark green fields, picture-esque flowerbeds, and a white fountain sprinkling happily in the background. If she only had a guitar, no suitcase to lug around, and in a parallel universe—she would have considered skipping along reenacting her favorite scene from Sound of Music. Ah, classics.
Entering through the automatic doors into dormitory building "Hewitt Hall," she was genuinely surprised to see eight secretaries who were completely occupied—but not with students. Apparently, in-person check-ins were not of the norm at the school, because here she was—standing all alone. The secretary nearest to her was balancing several phones, twice the amount of keyboards she could handle, and frantically scribbling down dorm room requests, switches, as well as dropouts.
The one in the next panel stuck her young, head out of the cubicle to call her over. "Miss! I can help you over here!" She seemed like a sweet girl. She was young, and had an open, honest face. Judging by her age and surname, she was the Headmaster's daughter. Why would the Headmaster's daughter be working a job like this?
"I made a reservation for a Class A room." Hotaru replied, taking a glimpse at her watch. "I just arrived from the airport by bus, so I couldn't pick up my key any earlier."
"Ooh, it must have been a long trip." Lana, the girl, smiled warmly as she scrolled down the list of names for the room Hotaru was in. "We have a lot of new Japanese students in this dorm alone this year." Suddenly, the smile dropped from Lana's face and so did the façade. "God damn this bloody machine! Something's got to be wrong." She picked up a telephone angrily, nostrils flaring, and jabbed at several buttons with blatant impatience and lack of professional decorum.
"Jeremy, pick up the damn phone!" She bellowed over the PA, causing Hotaru to cringe.
After some terrifying phone calls and derogatory exchanges, Lana lay the phone down gingerly in its cradle and plastered a twitching smile on her face. "Would your name happen to be Hotaru Saturn, by any chance?"
"That is the name I registered as." Hotaru replied, raising an eyebrow. "Is something the matter? That was quite a nasty phone call."
"Oh, dear. I am dreadfully sorry for this gargantuan mistake. I know this is inconvenient for you, but… there's no room under your name any more. Well, there may be a room, but none reserved for you alone or…" she seemed to realize she was either rambling or sounding like a defective record at that point. "My apologies. What I mean to say is that earlier this week a certain political figure expressed interest in staying at this University, in residence. Since the only unoccupied residence at the time was yours, we rashly decided to give it to her. Really it was foolish, and entirely our fault, but…"
"—Stop right there." Hotaru interjected, leaning forward onto the desk. "So you're telling me that you gave away my room, with no permission, or notice whatsoever, which I have had reserved for an excess of six months. Do you realize what this will do for the reputation of the school?"
"I will try my best, but—" Lana began, as she looked at the screen helplessly. "There's no rooms remaining with another female, and—"
"I'm from Japan. If you think that I can just turn around and go home thinking, 'oh well, shit happens,' you're wrong. I demand my money back. And what is the University going to do to compensate for the time it takes me to find other accommodations? I wouldn't recommend to anybody." Hotaru waited a moment for emphasis, before taking her black hat off of her head and slamming it down onto the desk. "Well, where's my deposit? Also, I would like to speak with the director of the school."
Lana stood there in awe for a moment. Hotaru was very pretty, and with her height and figure she could practically be a model. Rummaging through a cabinet for the key to the register in the far corner that would return all prepaid money, she crossed a couple of popular magazines inside the drawer that were currently circulating around the world, nation-wide. Suddenly catching a glimpse of one of the advertising articles, she pulled out the magazines. Then she darted her eyes to Hotaru. "You are a model!" She shrieked, dropping the magazines. A famous one at that. The one beneath it startled her even more. "Wait, fashion designer?" She pulled the one beneath and the one beneath those. She was on all the front pages as the hottest new innovator money could hire.
"Yes." Hotaru said curtly. "Just don't say a thing to anybody. The last thing I need is the paparazzi on campus. But you realize how important it is for me to get my room?" Normally, she wouldn't abuse her status like this, but given the circumstances she was sure it was allowed.
She was trained not to betray emotion, but then again feigning some agitation now and again definitely worked wonders here and there. Besides, Setsuna wasn't here. It was okay.
"For goodness sake, can't Jeremy do anything right?" Lana muttered to herself, glancing up to see Hotaru impatiently drumming her fingernails along the surface of the desk. An oily film of sweat appeared on Lana's forehead as she tried her best to work as quickly and efficiently as possible. Why couldn't Jeremy just tell Lady Relena that the rooms were full? Or to apply at a different residence? He was probably turned on by her. Jesus.
"I can get you a room, please wait just a second!" Lana cried desperately. "Just… let me check. Free dorm, free dorm…" she mumbled under her breath as she vigorously scrolled down a long list. "Ah! Yes, great. You're totally lucky. There is a half-free dorm left, and it's just for you! It's room fifty-three, and here's your key." She paused. "Since this is very inconvenient for you, we will refund your prepaid rent and your room will be complimentary for your entire stay here. We'll have you moved into a luxury room as soon as possible." Although Lana knew she was digging a hole for herself, she couldn't help but continue on a list of benefits. Anything that would keep this influential woman from ruining the reputation of her father's school.
"Sure." Hotaru said contently, picking up the key and scooping up her bags. She headed towards the elevator when she turned her head to face Lana again. "As far as I'm concerned, it is you who is the lucky one. You're lucky that I'm not overly picky about being in a standard dorm room with somebody I don't know, rather than in a private suite. But I expect, in return, for you to stay quiet about my being here. I don't want any of those nosy photographers around here, especially if I'm being roomed with a boy."
Lana blushed. "How-? How did you know that you were being roomed with a male?"
"You mentioned earlier than there were no more available rooms with the female gender. It wasn't terribly hard to deduce." Hotaru replied. "Have a nice day."
Once she had managed to wrestle her bags into the elevator, she leaned against the bar on one of the walls when the doors opened again once she reached her floor.
It was around one. It was just to be expected that most of the other students should still be in class. Hotaru strolled down one of the empty halls that one of the signs directed her down. She found her room without much difficulty and stepped inside.
A complete carryover of the cleanliness outside the dorm room, the immaculate scope from where she stood was remarkable, considering this was the natural habitat of a presumably healthy eighteen-year-old boy. Had it not been for the occasional personal effects, she would have almost doubted that there was even a resident here.
Confirming without much effort that her roommate had dominant claim of the left side of the room which was closest to the bathroom and exit, she walked to the right side nearest the kitchenette and tossed a stray t-shirt from her bed onto his. Luckily, that happened to be all of the belongings that had crossed over onto her territorial half. Judging by the room alone, he wasn't particularly OCD about neatness—he just lacked a lot of everyday teenager junk. There was a satisfying inexistent supply of playboys and egotistical self-taken Polaroid shots spread around. Not an at-home alcoholic or smoker. Not particularly nerdy, either, judging by the shortage of books and texts lying about. Nor was he the gamer type, since nothing was connected to the television set. There was no desktop computer or headset lying about his desk either, the usual signs of a PC game-lover.
Overlooking this opportunity to snoop for further information she could extrapolate, Hotaru turned away and began to unpack. Not a whole lot, relatively-speaking. One duffel bag held her clothing, which didn't take much effort being slid into the closet. Her backpack contained her laptop and toiletries, which she promptly emptied into the dresser-nighttable-hybrid furniture drawers. Her second bag was filled with her handpicked choice weapons. She took about five guns with more modest rounds and placed them in various emergency spots around her side of the room. Feeling quite satisfied with the ease of accessibility of them all, Hotaru took off her weapon belt and tucked it underneath her puffy comforter. Her heavy black trenchcoat had provided perfect cover for the belt, so now that she was rid of it she hung it up in the right-side closet as well.
For the first time in about twenty hours, Hotaru spread out luxuriously on her bed and began checking her inbox for messages. Pay for tuition. Pay for phone bill. Submit manuscript. Miracle weight-loss concoction. And then it caught her attention: Death awaits your further ventures. The e-mail had been cleverly sent anonymously by a no-reply address.
"You forget, Julianne, it is Death I seek."
"Julianne" was the reason she was on this wild goose hunt to begin with. It was the senshi code name for the future Big Bad that was threatening to fuse their magics with some form of metal alloy. There were only so many senshi, and yet so many worlds. Her Highness' solution was instead of preventing the attack, for each member to return to present day Tokyo, world-hop and recruit as many eligible volunteers as possible to train them.
Faint, deliberately light footsteps outside the room immediately caught Hotaru's attention. Breath catching in her throat, she slid her hand underneath her comforter and placed it on top of her gun when she hesitated. This was a university, not some military based like she was so used to. Of course, some innocent University schoolboy wouldn't be waiting to infiltrate the room. This was just paranoia.
Before she could process another thought, the unlocked door whipped open and a male practically somersaulted inside, a 9mm pistol raised. Her forehead was dead center. As far as innocent people went, this boy clearly was everything but. He was clearly well-trained beyond the realm of simple first person shooter games. "Who the hell are you, and how the fuck did you get in here?"
Hotaru raised an eyebrow and hesitated. "Sorry, did you want me to answer that honestly? This room is not exactly Fort knox." The locks could be easily picked, the gigantic windows easily smashed, the vents easily burrowed through.
"You're not the one with a gun aimed at my head. You don't get to ask questions." The boy replied icily, unimpressed by her banter. Once he saw that she was none less than a dainty female, visibly unarmed, he let his guard falter for a brief moment—the time it took for Hotaru to literally flaceplant against the floor beside the bed and whip her shotgun out at the intruder.
"Lesson one: I don't respond well to threats. Lesson two: don't mess with me when I'm cranky. I've been having a rough day, and the secretary scooted me in here with you. Now please put that gun away and get over it." Still eyeing him closely, she slowly placed down her shotgun and rose with her hands in the air. "Come on."
Inching slowly towards her, the boy kicked the shotgun under her bed and patted her down lightly. Moving back again, he slid his gun back into its holster. "It's not every day I get a girl in my room who happens to be heavily armed."
"Relax. I come in peace."
"Have you touched anything of mine?" The boy asked, slamming the room door shut and peeling off his green tank top. Hotaru caught a glimpse of his slender yet surprisingly muscular body before glancing away.
"In a T-shirt and doorknob capacity." She replied.
Sitting down slowly on his bed, he didn't lose eye contact with her. "And you're certain you haven't made a mistake?"
"The room number is the same as etched on my key. The key fits in the lock. As far as my competence is concerned, I have not made any error."
"What is your name?"
"My name is Saturn." Hotaru replied smoothly. "And yourself?"
"Zero."
Actually, his name was Heero Yuy, but there was clearly no need to divulge this information to her, especially after she disclosed such a blatantly false pseudonym to him. He sat in silence for a moment, mulling the implications of this situation. She was a trained, heavily-armed individual who just happened to move into the same room as him. Either it truly was coincidence, or some poorly-planned plot. If it was the former, what was her purpose in going to school here? If it was the latter, what did she want from him?
Either way, it would be wiser for him to keep his potential enemy within sight.
Quietly, the both of them withdrew their respective laptops and begun typing erratically. By the time Hotaru had budged from her spot, two hours had elapsed. Hotaru wandered to the kitchenette and plucked a small box of strawberry flavored Pocky from her newly stocked stash. Walking back towards her bed, she took out the first pouch of yogurt-covered pretzel sticks before dropping the remaining pack onto Heero's bed. Swinging her long legs over and onto the mattress, she stuck one in her mouth like a cigarette before resuming her work.
Staring at the box for a moment as if assessing its cyanide content, he eventually gave in and opened the second pocket. "Hey." He mentioned as an afterthought after consuming the entire thing in a span of twenty seconds. He was hungry. "Thanks, Hotaru."
"Pardon me?" Hotaru asked, her face indifferent as she turned to face him.
"Considering your reputation both in the underground world and in the media spotlight, you certainly don't make yourself tough to discover." Heero said smoothly, and Hotaru tried her best not to blush. It sounded much like he'd known about her identity all along, yet she'd only just found information on him! It had taken her two hours to find Heero's identity using a program called AltaCast, constructed by Ami Mizuno herself. Then again, it was true. She was the target of national paparazzi, but that was not the point that bothered her. It was the part where he distinguished her "underground" professions from her more aesthetically-pleasing ones.
Pretending to sound as casual as she could muster, Hotaru gave him a small smile. "You too, Mr. Yuy. You sure do make an obvious point of yourself by telling me the name of your Gundam." Certainly, she didn't know what a "Gundam" even was, but there was no point in letting him know that.
For a second, his blood froze, and he studied her smug face carefully. She knew? Did she know all along? Was that why she was here. No, it couldn't be. If she were there to kill him, she would've done so already. There would have been no need for the charades, unless she was trying to coax information out of him. But even then, she would not have just given her position away like that. She would have acted dumb. What was going on?
"I have to admit, I didn't expect you to dig up my past professions past modeling and books."
"It wasn't easy." Heero admitted, allowing a grin. Sure, photos of her were spammed all over the Internet, marketing her more superficial talents. But there was no way some airheaded beauty queen would be able to handle a gun like that, so he delved deeper.
"Likewise." Hotaru closed her laptop, and tentatively sat down on his bed. When Heero said nothing, she made herself comfortable. "Say, I smelled chlorine in the lobby. What do you think about showing me around this cute campus and going for a swim?"
In all the years that Duo had known Heero, he had suffered more than his fair share of heart attacks on account of his partner. Their first meeting was in the presence of guns. The two of them leapt out of the window of a huge fifty floor hospital on top of a hill. But this? Heero Yuy, the heartless, cold-blooded bastard, had brought a well-endowed woman to the University swimming pool. Talk about mindfuck.
"I hope I'm not imposing. I arrived earlier today and we were paired up as roommates. Heero offered to take me around the campus." Hotaru said with a small smile as she held out her hand.
A very attractive blond boy caught Hotaru's attention as he stepped forward and shook her hand with an unexpectedly strong grasp. "Roommates? I was under the distinct impression that residences were co-ed, but rooms were not." He paused. "My apologies. My name is Quatre Winner."
"It's my pleasure." Hotaru replied warmly. "My name is Hotaru."
"Wufei." The Chinese boy over by the corner said suddenly. Hotaru made a face. "Say what?"
"My name." He repeated with an exasperated undertone. "It's Wufei." He turned and put a hand on Heero's shoulder. "Zero, does she know?"
So it was apparent that at least one member of their team deduced a reason as to why Heero was going through the effort of associating with the girl. "Yes."
"We should kill her."
"You can't. I probably couldn't."
"Great, now that we have any preliminary death matches out of the way, my name is Duo Maxwell." The American piped up excitedly. "That guy over there is Trowa Barton. Man, guys, don't you know how to plot a woman's death with appropriate discreetness?" He half-joked in perfect deadpan.
"Nice to meet you." Trowa shook her hand as well, before addressing the rest of the group. It was clear he was getting tired of being introduced to the same girl over and over again. "Shall we swim?"
"Yes, please."
Off to the side, her roommate was being bombarded one by one by his puzzled, inquisitive cohorts. "Heero, man!" Duo whispered coarsely. "How'd she find out? Are you going to throttle her in her sleep?"
"I do not know her intentions. She seems to have undergone the training we have. She has a purpose here." Heero responded, sending a surreptitious glance in Hotaru's direction as she waved and disappeared in the girls' changeroom. "And her acting is superb. She blends in too well for someone who set pistols all around the room."
"I don't know what to find more strange: the part where you brought a girl with you to meet with us, or the part where a straight man hasn't already nailed her to the bedpost." Duo whistled, completely uninhibited with his vulgarity.
Completely unaware of the yadding and blabbing going on about her outside, Hotaru lifted her sweater from her shoulders and stepped out of her jeans. She'd put on her swimsuit in the room, so she was ready to just up and out when the doors swung open and for a split second she half-expected five perverted University boys to come charging in when she was (fortunately) proven wrong.
"Hey, you!"
Slowly turning around with blatant disinterest to see a blonde surrounded by two, snarling, almost hyena-like brunettes facing her, Hotaru let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. No armed, bulletproof vest-wearing human infiltrators or atrociously dressed Dark Moon minions.
"Just now—who do you think you are, anyways? Everyone who hasn't been living under a rock would know better than to talk to Relena's Heero Yuy. Apologize, won't you?"
About half of what came out of Drone #1 was processed through Hotaru's brain before she came to the conclusion there was no point in listening any longer. Tapping one sandaled foot against the clean tiles, Hotaru put one hand delicately on her hip before turning to the blonde in question. "Your Heero? Sorry, I missed the part where you had his name branded on his ass." Using her free hand to sling a white towel over her shoulder, she shot the rest of them a menacing look. "Go away."
Relena's eyes widened, before her teeth inadvertently gritted from being verbally attacked like this. She'd said absolutely nothing since they met, much less anything to warrant an antagonistic comment like that. Jasmina, to her right, stepped forward. "You obviously don't know royalty when you see it. She happens to be ruler of the Sanc Kingdom, and you'd best keep your distance from him and company."
"Yes, well. At least I don't get my money and my position through my father."
All color seemed to flush to Relena's cheeks, and she could feel her neck burn but she turned and put one delicate hand on Jasmina's arm, since she was more prone to being outspoken. "Guys, I think you should stop."
"You!" Rachel, surprisingly, to her left, piped up. She usually was more reserved and studious, but apparently there was something about Hotaru that rubbed her the wrong way. "I can't believe you would consider opposing a Queen!"
"A temporary figurehead isn't going to intimidate me. If you want to be someone to me, be someone with power. Real power." Eyeing Relena, Hotaru might as well have been dressed in a snowsuit. Beautiful, one of those classical model-esque faces, and all that sophisticated class crammed into the most repulsive, ostentatious, hot pink bikini. It really was a shame. "What's the matter, princess? Can't you get him yourself?"
That was her first encounter with the Lady Peacecraft. But it certainly would not be the last she'd hear of her.
Duo's ears turned crimson when he saw Hotaru exit in her modest but flattering one-piece bathing suit. Swinging one arm around Duo's shoulder before playfully catching him in a headlock, Heero shook his head at his friend's lack of self-restraint.
"Hey, I'll do this to warn you just ahead of time. If you happen to know a peppy blonde girl who cronies who squawk like crows on crack about a queen, she'll be out anytime."
Just the mere mention caused Heero's entire body to tense him, resulting in one gagging Duo Maxwell. "You're serious."
"Aren't I always?" She tilted her head toward the opening door, and soon enough, Relena stepped out accompanied by two ass-kissers who'd been adopted into her new circle of friends. He'd thought her classmates from private school were annoying back when they were first acquainted, but they had no personalities of their own. These girls did have personalities, and it was ironic how the pinnacle of society's children were the spawn of Satan.
"Come, let's swim." Grabbing Heero and Duo gently by their wrists, Hotaru had all of them dive gracefully into the water to avoid another encounter being accosted by any of them. He hated it, but he was entirely too grateful that he was saved from that. These were the girls that Relena had chosen as her new network? The so-called "Perfect Soldier" was trying hard to control his emotions, but as much as he hated to admit it, they were there.
Ready to blow the Queen's brains out.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
The next couple of days had been rather eventful, on its own. By being with Heero, Hotaru had somehow become incorporated into his somewhat limited social circle. This was fine, because the six of them seemed to connect much easier due to their mutual interest in heavy machinery and weapons of mass destruction.
"Higher!" Hotaru yelled out with extra conviction, causing Quatre to burst out laughing as he flipped another card from the deck. Since the group had made a combined effort to tour the campus, the end result was picking up a case of beer and lugging it back to the dorm room.
"It's lower! Drink!" Duo shouted as Quatre uncovered a three, and Hotaru let out a groan as she knocked back the rest of her bottle.
"Dammit, Q! You're trying to kill me, aren't you! This is so unfair."
In the back of her mind, it did occur to her that this was neither a) relevant to the mission nor b) consistent with the way she was trained, but at the same time—she always wanted to attend a university. Be a normal teenager. Of course, she could only assume most teenagers preserved a bit of class, but… well, probably not.
Between the many of them, they had made an amazing team in hour sessions of flipcup and beerpong among the residence floor. This was exactly what Hotaru needed—just some time to herself to make stupid mistakes and learn to live without dying from explosions or blasts of magic after twenty years.
Suddenly losing her balance from God-knows-what, she stumbled backwards. Luckily, Heero was there to reach out and steady her in his arms. "Whoa! How much did you drink?" He asked cautiously, although Hotaru could tell he was fairly inebriated himself.
"Enough~" Hotaru chirped, swinging an arm around his neck. "Are you worried about me, stranger?"
Heero chuckled and shook his head. Sure, she was still very strange to him, but she was growing on him fast. Which was rather alarming, given his natural propensity to doubt and destroy, but at the same time he couldn't help but want to trust her. And clearly, she felt the same, because here they all were—trained assassins who were killing their livers by pounding back shots and beers one after another.
"Shh," Hotaru swallowed hard, putting a finger against Heero's lips. "When you drink, you tend to tell secrets."
"Is she alright?" One of the guys on their floor, whose name escaped Heero's memory, asked as he refilled his cup with the keg. His eyes lingered on Hotaru a moment, and a sheepish grin came across his face. "Want me to bring her back to her room?"
Disgusting. Even a blind person would have been able to decipher this perverted boy's thoughts. Shaking his head, Heero glanced over at the other guys. They were still going at it with their games, which was all and well. He'd have a hard enough time getting Hotaru alone back to their room. "Come on," he said. "Let's head back."
It took some work, but after limping against the walls for a fair bit Heero finally managed to get the both of them back into the room.
Collapsing on her bed, Hotaru rolled over onto her side, giggling. She'd certainly drank before, but not to this degree nor with such company. She felt so happy right now. Feeling her cheeks and wondering if they were as flushed as she felt, she let out a half-laugh, half-whimper when Heero collapsed jokingly on top of her. "Damn, that was hard work." He teased.
"Get off of mee!" She laughed, half-heartedly attempting to nudge him off. "You're heavy!"
"You're not." Heero replied with a devious grin as he encircled his arms around her back and lifted her right off the bed as he stood up. Letting out a surprised shriek, Hotaru wrapped her legs around his waist and held on for dear life. It had been forever since she had let herself loose like this.
Hotaru looked behind her as Heero sat her on the balcony rail, keeping a firm grasp on her thighs. "Nobody's ever done that to me!" It was probably the alcohol, but she could feel the blood pulsing through her body. In her chest, in her head, and in the areas where Heero was touching her.
Heero chuckled, he actually chuckled. Meeting this girl was turning out to be one of a long string of strange subsequent occurrences. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but all of a sudden she was just so… fucking sexy.
Leaning in tentatively, Hotaru nibbled gently on his lower lip, before drawing back and looking him in the eyes. They were incredibly beautiful. In the moonlight, they were a mesmerizing purple color. Taking one hand and pushing it through her hair, he pressed his lips against hers. Lifting her up again, Hotaru grabbed Heero's hand and the both of them practically collapsed on her bed.
"Is this your first time?" Heero managed out between kisses as he unhooked her bra through the outside of her shirt. Hotaru giggled gleefully as she slid the garment off.
"No." Hotaru replied, leaning back with a moan as Heero began to caress her breasts. "Do you have a condom?" She wrapped her legs around him and raised her pelvis to rub against his body.
Heero stopped short. "No."
"What?" Hotaru asked, her head spinning as she sat up to face him. "Is this your first time?"
"No, it's just that I—" Heero began, when he hesitated. "I'm just not supposed to be doing this kind of stuff."
"Says who? Your boss?" Hotaru giggled, although she knew where he was coming from. Setsuna didn't condone this type of behavior either, and she was probably going to die if she heard of this story.
Heero studied her face. She was annoyingly beautiful, and it was actually highly irritating how attracted he was to her. Grabbing her neck, he pushed her back down onto the pillow and kissed her again. "Risk it?" He whispered into her ear as he already began fumbling with his belt.
"I don't know~" Hotaru teased, although she knew that if anything, her birth control pill would avoid pregnancy. Still, were STIs an issue? He did say that he'd had sex before. Any hesitation was completely disarmed however, when Heero reached underneath her skirt.
It had been a really long time. For both of them. So sure, of course they both equally wanted it. Both equally knew how badly this would reflect upon their teachers, yet they were both ignoring the calls of their better reason. Hey, as long as he didn't ditch her in the morning, she was good. Besides, how could he? They were roommates!
As much as he hated to admit it, being rebellious was actually quite a turn on for him. Helping her slide out of the rest of her clothes, he was momentarily deterred by how damn dainty her body was. Compared to Relena, who was more curvaceous in build…
Quickly, he shook that comparison from his mind. He wanted to be gentle with her since she seemed so fragile, but at the same time he wanted to make her scream. He wanted her to leave scratch marks all along his back. He was about to enter her in missionary position when she pressed the tip of her foot against his chest and knocked him backwards on the bed. Flipping her hair to one side, she traced gentle kisses and nibbles up his stomach and chest before straddling him mischievously.
Leaning into his ear, she lowered her voice seductively. "I'm going to ride you so hard," she murmured and let out a moan when he slid into her. She was… very flexible. And she had amazing endurance—he didn't even know how much time had elapsed that she was on top. Picking her entire body up, he turned her around and threw her onto his bed before grabbing her hair and entering her doggy style. "You're going to feel so fucking sore in the morning," he grinned in satisfaction as the strong-willed, fellow soldier let out moan after moan with each thrust.
He felt her body shake with light spasms, and not long after he came inside of her. He was going to pull out—that was the intention—but in that moment a flash of Relena passed through his vision, and he was momentarily paralyzed.
"Ah!"
Heero collapsed on top of Hotaru again, the both of them panting from the unanticipated workout session, and he rolled over onto his side, facing her.
"I think that was one of the most intense orgasms of my life." He stated bluntly, causing Hotaru to laugh.
"It was pretty intense," she concurred, and lay her head gently against his shoulders. "Do you think we'll be alright if we sleep naked?"
"I have two guns under the pillow." Heero informed her, and she nodded her head with satisfaction as she lay one hand on his chest. "You're cautious. I only have one."
"Yes, but you also have a shotgun underneath your bed." Heero pointed out. "I haven't forgotten."
Laughing, she closed her eyes and let out a breath. "This was a great night." She murmured, already falling into a half slumber. Heero knew it would be rude to interrupt her while she was trying to sleep, but he couldn't help but wonder what the implications of this coitus session was. Was she into him? Was he into her? Certainly, he was attracted to her, but he was also attracted to… well, Relena was most likely out of the picture now that her cronies had completely brainwashed her. Still, he wondered whether or not to Hotaru this was a one night stand, a friends-with-benefits ordeal, or the real future boyfriend-girlfriend deal.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Duo knocking on the door the next morning woke the both of them up. Seeing that the door was unlocked (how did two trained killers miss that?) he swung open the door merrily and stopped dead in his tracks. "Quatre! Trowa! Don't come in yet!" He yelled out as Hotaru let out a wild shriek. Wufei, who hadn't been addressed, ignored Duo's warning and waltzed right in when his eyes widened.
"Shit! Sorry!" Bolting out of the room like little kids, the guys ran off to the residence cafeteria downstairs without them to wait while the unusual couple composed themselves.
"What the—what?" Hotaru asked groggily, holding her pounding head before catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Not only was her hair and body a complete mess, but she was… well, naked.
And Heero was right beside her.
Slowly, pieces of the previous night began to jog her memory, and she fell backwards against Heero's pillow again. Sitting up, Heero performed the same process. "Good morning," he said. Hotaru grinned. He had a raspy morning voice. "Shower time?"
"Yes, please." Hotaru reluctantly got up from the warmth of the covers. Heero eyeing her ass as she rose didn't go undetected by her, but she ignored it as she casually picked up her towel and disappeared into the washroom. Well, what now? Was he expected to come in after her? Or should he be a gentleman and wait for her to finish, first?
His cellphone distracted him as it went off, so he turned over and picked it up. Duo had sent him a text message, exclaiming, "HOLY F'IN SHIT YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME. #(*#! U LUCKY BASTARD U! Hurry up we're hungry." It was obvious that one of the others had taken the phone from Duo amidst his rant and typed the rest of the message. Shaking his head, Heero replied back. "Don't wait up."
Still, it would be nice of Hotaru and Heero if they joined them in a relatively timely manner. Glancing over at the washroom, his decision was further assented by the fact that Hotaru had not locked the door. There was a crack at least an inch in width, so he entered just in time for Hotaru to step out of her surprisingly quick shower.
"Have a good time last night?" She asked, wrapping her towel around her body as she picked up her toothbrush. Heero hopped into the shower stall and turned on the cold water. "Yeah."
Once the two of them finished cleaning up, they made their way downstairs to find an awkward group of guys waiting expectantly for the story. Quatre had taken the liberty of getting breakfast for the both of them as well, so their trays sat beside each other untouched.
"Soo, how was your night?" Duo asked Hotaru in a singsong voice. Heero looked down and checked his cell phone again.
"DUDE HOW'D U MANAGE THAT? SHE'S SMOKIN!" Rolling his eyes, Heero ignored the message.
"What are you going to do now?" A more reasonable text from Wufei caught his attention next. Very good question. Now, if only they could speak in normal conversation instead of relying on these little devices.
"Fantastic." Hotaru replied in an almost sarcastic manner, raising an eyebrow at him. "What about you guys? You guys get back to your rooms okay?"
"No. We just sort of crashed in Trowa's room. It was closest." Wufei replied, sending Duo a dirty look for his inappropriate question. "They say a hard surface is good for your back… I guess."
This was really the first time Hotaru had ever seen him make an effort to make her feel welcome, or at least make conversation. Maybe it was because she just slept with his best friend and he felt obligated, or because he was genuinely beginning to like her as a person, or perhaps he'd just walked in on her naked. All three possibilities were plausible.
"So, do you know what you're going to wear for the dance tonight?" Quatre asked. Hotaru hesitated. Dance? Oh, right. Trowa had brought it up in conversation previously, although Hotaru hadn't actually intended on attending. "You guys are going? Sure, but no predrinking… please. I hate drinking two nights in a row."
"Soft!" Duo teased, and Hotaru playfully tossed a balled up napkin in his direction. "That's okay. Girls should be soft anyways."
"I can beat you up," Hotaru continued, lifting up one small arm and flexing in a very… unintimidating manner. Duo pretended to cower in fear.
Well, while she was going on this random detour from the mission to pursue a period of teenage normalcy, might as well attend this function with a few friends. A few non-senshi friends. This mission was getting stranger and stranger! Still, she liked it.
But what was she going to wear? Setsuna had been the one to pack her wardrobe. Mentally going through her entire inventory in her head, Hotaru's heart skipped a beat as she recalled a slender red dress. At the time, Hotaru had rolled her eyes at the priorities Setsuna seemed to be insinuating through that particular choice of dress, but now she couldn't be more grateful. Thank goodness for Setsuna and her forethought for these types of things.
The actual night of the dance itself started off dry and rather… slow.
Adjusting the dainty silver watch on her wrist, Hotaru tossed an empty cup of punch in the garbage can. This is why she hated these events. She hated being a wallflower. She'd much rather just be a recluse sitting in her dorm room than showing the world she's trying to be social, and yet failing dismally at it.
Although the reason was certainly not because she had no friends, nor because she had no one politely requesting a dance. The reason was that she was cursed with the complete inability to dance. Coordination? She could hit any target with one glance using Japanese throwing knives. Balance? She could run across a tight rope without falling to her death. Grace? She could leap off buildings without breaking her legs. But put all that together into dancing? Dear God.
Without even asking like most men she'd declined, Heero came up behind her and took her hand to spin her around. Grinning down at her, he tried not to wince when her foot came down on his foot. "Wow," he snickered, "you're really horrible."
"This is why I don't dance!" Hotaru sniffled defensively, and tried to pull her hand away. Tightening his grasp, Heero put one arm around her waist.
"Just relax. Don't think about it so much." He advised, and in five seconds she stumbled over his left foot. "It's a good thing you're light." He teased as he steadied her with his strong arms.
Suddenly the microphone switched on, around the time when Duo came loping back with a grin on his face from partying it up. Upon the DJ's request, all break dancers began to congregate around the stage. Giving a wild whoop, Duo burrowed through the crowd and grabbed onto Hotaru's hand and began maneuvering towards the front. Once she reached a spot where she'd be able to see the stage plenty clearly, Hotaru let go and joined the cheering. Interestingly enough, the surprise of seeing regular teenage boys spin on their heads or do flips without hands did not appeal to the crowd nearly as much as the sight of the very last contestant who ascended the three-step staircase. None less than one Relena Peacecraft.
Only this time, she was not caught in some ostentatious, tasteless albeit brand-name outfit. She was, in fact, dressed in something Hotaru was most likely to wear during one of her yoga workouts. A simple black top and comfortable shorts that ended mid-thigh. Her dirty-blonde hair was swept back by a delicate white ribbon, visibly untouched by hair products and the like. Her blue eyes shone with an excitement and confidence that was entirely unfamiliar to her, but did not go undetected.
"It's her. She's back." She heard a whisper behind her as the music cut out for the transition from the previous performer to the current. Hotaru looked over her shoulder to see Heero gazing up at her in a shocked… almost bewilderment. One look at the expression written on his face, and suddenly the boy was not so difficult to read.
"Is that the Relena you like?"
Rewarding her with nothing more than a funny stare, Heero cleared his throat and turned to wriggle his way through the crowd to God-knows-where when Hotaru grabbed his wrist and yanked him closer to her. "Stay." She whispered hoarsely into his ear. "It's the least you can do, right? If only to witness her random display of normalcy."
Although Heero didn't look it, he was quite grateful that she had pulled him back and given him an excuse to stay rooted to the spot without looking like standing there all frozen was all due to him. He'd missed Relena. Her modesty, her headstrong personality, her sensibility. But why'd she have to sign up for a break-dancing competition? It was far too dangerous for a girl like her.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" The host of the contest asked, with his mouth in such close proximity to the microphone that most of the front row managed to hear it. Relena nodded to him, and signaled for the music to begin.
"She's going to hurt herself." Heero muttered. "I should stop this."
"If you don't want to be in on her life, stay out of it." Hotaru hissed at him impatiently. "This is what she wants, and as strange as it is hear myself say this, I believe in her." There was a quiet strength about Relena now. A glimmer of hope that maybe she was not just some made up, empty-headed Barbie doll.
The fast-beat music started pumping into his ears, and Relena started to move. At first, it did not even qualify as break-dancing. In a span of ten seconds, the genre transitioned from a ballet/hip-hop/gymnastics medley to the successful attempts of stunts and tricks that even Duo had refused to try.
After around three full minutes of jaw-droppingy graceful maneuvers with utmost femininity, the music faded out and Relena ended with a pirouette and a stop. Her eyes were closed, and she let out a deep breath she didn't even know that she was holding—fully satisfied.
The student body broke out into excited pandemonium as they enthusiastically marveled the sight they'd just witnessed. Grateful for the positive feedback, Relena opened her dark, knowledgeable blue eyes and briefly—just briefly—caught Heero's eye. Their gaze held, and the din around them seemed to cease in his ears. As if the world had just gone mute, and the only two people of significance were only him and her. Then Relena broke away from his fixated stare to disappear from the stage, and the sound resumed in his ears.
Relena reached backstage, her heart pounding from having Heero of all people witness her hidden talent. He never attended social events, dammit, why was he at this one?
"Nice show." A voice greeted her, and her breath temporarily caught in her throat. Heero? Skeptically, Relena turned around and was encounted by the familiar face of Adam Cravero, her fixed fiancé. Her clear eyes glazed over with a bit of sadness as she was rudely reminded this was what she had changed herself for. Suddenly, everything didn't seem worth it at all. "Don't get me wrong, you've got a great ass and body. But you really shouldn't do that anymore." Adam said, his handsome face suddenly turning strict. "I mean, what will the guys think if they find out I'm dating some tomboy? Who told you that you could sign up, anyhow? You didn't ask me."
Oh yes, male chauvinism at its greatest. And people wondered why she did not want to marry him?
"Don't worry, I'm not mad." Adam continued on, putting one hand around Relena's neck possessively. "But what's with your face? You don't look as hot as you usually do. Next time I see you, put more of that makeup on, will you? Violet could probably help you out."
She was silent for a moment. Considering the circumstances, she was at a loss for exactly what to feel. Hurt? Anger? Upset? Or maybe she could bring herself to burst into laughter from how ridiculous this man sounded despite being in the 21st century. Unable to decide, she just spun around on the heel of her foot and pushed through the doors back to the dance floor.
Hotaru was swaying gently to the ethereal piano accompaniment which allowed for romantic dancing and conversation when she noticed Relena weaving through the crowd. "So, marriage, huh?" Hotaru asked quietly. Duo followed her gaze before turning back to face her.
"Yeah. Her fiancé showed up backstage, although I didn't stick around." Duo said, dipping her lightly as she successfully managed not to stop on his toes.
A look that might have been sympathy crossed over Hotaru's face, but Duo couldn't tell for sure considering it disappeared just as quickly as it came. "Is it strange that I feel sorry for her?" She murmured so quietly he wasn't sure he was meant to hear. "Marriage is meant to be the biggest dream for a woman, but with hers—politics aside—it won't make anybody happy."
Running his fingers gently through Hotaru's hair as he held the back of her head against him, Duo grinned. "I wouldn't worry about Relena so much if I were you. That broad's got tougher skin than anyone I've ever known. We need a powerful medium to stop wars and bring about revolution. With her, her voice does it all."
"It is remarkable, isn't it?" Hotaru said, almost enviously. Duo chuckled and said, "Sure, but with all her recent descent to squawking lunacy, I'm not exactly high up on the list of people readying their violins for her. Tonight was absurdly unexpected."
"Don't follow me. Leave me alone!"
Hotaru momentarily turned at the irritated voice whose source was in very close proximity, but reacted no further as Relena bustled past her.
Fumbling through the crowd as best she could without looking back, Relena felt a sense of dread wash over her as a strong hand caught a tight grip on her hand. She whirled around angrily to unleash a few choice words in her to-be-ex-fiance's face when her anger dissolved immediately upon seeing the blue eyes of the lightly tanned Gundam pilot. "O…Oh… Heero."
Her eyes were wide; helpless. Clear, and bluer than the sea. She was back; she was back for good. "What's the matter?" He asked, his stoic face betraying no emotion. Relena opened her mouth for a moment to speak, but when she saw Adam's head pop up among a sea of people, she snapped it shut and tried her best to release her arm from Heero's grip. "Nothing. I need to go."
Her voice sounded like wind chimes in his ears. As in, not like a drugged or dying hyena. God, he loved this sound.
He was refusing to let go of her, and with Adam getting closer with his head turning all directions trying to spot her, Relena was growing desperate. In a panic, Relena wrapped her arms around Heero and buried her face into his chest. As a shocked reflex, Heero's arms went around her, as if to steady her, before instinctively putting one arm around her and cupping her head protectively against him with the other. Adam brushed right past them aggressively before being confronted by two security guards requesting his leave. Heero looked around for the cause of the false alarm, and caught sight of Hotaru behind them who caught his glance and gave him a wink.
"Who was that?" Heeo asked once Adam was pulled out form the gym. "Was that Adam?" Hell, why was he even asking? Relena for sure wasn't going to tell him, and he knew for certain that the douchebag she'd been running from was most definitely him. "I have to go."
He released her abruptly before whisking past her and heading straight out of the building. For the person who'd wanted to leave first, Relena felt lousy for being beaten to it. Refusing to break down into a spasm of gentle sobs, Relena turned and left.
It was half past midnight, and the breeze was a lot cooler than it had been during the day. Not that it mattered, the lack of overcoat or jacket was certainly not going to stop him. Heero threw open the gymnasium doors and headed straight out to the parking lot. As expected the longest, most extravagant limousine was being leaned on by Adam Kravez, ranting and raving all sorts of unkind, unfair, and frankly shallow insults about Relena. It made him walk towards him all the more faster.
And once he reached him, Heero Yuy punched his goddamn bloody lights out.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Feeling more constricted than strictly necessary given she was in the comfort of her own home, Hotaru undid the uncomfortable zipper of her dress. Slipping into her bathrobe, she grabbed her toiletries, towel, and oversized T-shirt for sleeping purposes to prepare to enter the washroom once Heero got out.
Without much notice, the door swung open, and Heero came out sheepishly with a towel draped around his waist. In silence, he made his way over to his closet and withdrew a black shirt and shorts. "Habit." He explained simply, referring to his lonely no-roommate days.
"No worries, Romeo. Nothing I've never seen before." Hotaru replied as she sidestepped past the tight space between Heero and his bed to get to the bathroom door.
Not two seconds after he'd pulled on his clothing, a quiet knock came at the door. He almost didn't hear it, and thought maybe it was just a mistaken sound from the shower turning out, so Heero swung open the door with no expectations.
Lo and behold, Relena was standing there. This time alone. This time looking as if she were made of porcelain. There was no momentary display of affection towards her, like there was at the dance. All she saw in him was the cold-heated, emotionless soldier that she spent years convincing herself wasn't Heero's whole being.
"What do you want?" He asked finally, nearly needing to bite his tongue to keep from saying something—heaven forbid—welcoming.
This time, there was no momentary display of affection, like in the dance. He was back to the cold-hearted, emotionless soldier, and apparently Relena couldn't do anything to change that.
"What do you want?" He repeated.
"I… I just wanted to talk," Relena whispered bravely, in the tone of voice he hadn't heard in so long since her engagement. She was shedding her artificial skin, the one she had slipped under to appear worthy and gain Adam's approval. The merger of their families companies and fortune would be most beneficial, which is why she did it, and he knew that. It was sinful to think this way about an engaged woman…
"I don't." He forced the words out, but they cut through like nothing he had ever said before, with a kind of harshness and brutal edge that he hadn't intended. "Why are you even so surprised? I thought you made the potential existence of a relationship between us quite clear when you got engaged."
"Oh, don't tell me you think I'm in love with him," Relena retorted, her lip curling with disgust. "I can't do this, Heero. You're the only thing that keeps me sane with all my duties."
Heero raised an eyebrow at her. If anything, at least it was a change in expression. "What duties? Treize released you from the real stress. Now it's all your father. They're trying to fix you a fiancé that will support you. Cooperate with them."
"You think I made no attempt to? I tried to turn around and accept him, and the package deal that went with it. Adam wants a Barbie of a wife, Heero. He wants the perfect girl body, the perfect girly face, with an annoying girly attitude and all her shallow and absolutely horrifying girly friends. He's just some egotistical misogynist who forced a life on me that I tried to accept—and just look where it's gotten me."
Heero looked at her, feeling a surprisingly brutal pang of guilt. What was this play? Emotions were for the weak. He'd learned that a long time ago. The things he had learned when he was betrayed by the only man he'd ever loved. His father had abandoned him, showed him what life as an independent individual was really like. Heero didn't need love. And he didn't give it, either.
But seeing the tear-streaked face of the girl who he had never, ever cared for, or even thought about for once without thinking how much he wanted to shoot her, he actually considered embracing her. He wanted to feel how she felt in his arms.
He was about to let his guard down and reach out for her, when Relena jerked back, looking confused. "Heero—were you with another woman last night?" She asked, horrified. Glancing over his shoulder in confusion, he let out a sigh. The damn bedsheets. He hadn't changed them yet.
Seeing the guilty look on his face, Relena began shaking her head, tears rolling down her face. "What the hell, Heero? I thought I meant something to you."
Well, he was sure he meant something to her also, but that hadn't stopped her from running off and getting engaged.
"I don't know what to say, but I—" Heero began, when he stopped. Now what was going on? He was getting stuck in the middle of some nasty love triangle? This was the last thing that he needed. This is what he was trained to avoid—emotional mess.
He couldn't be with Relena. She was too complicated for him, and the two of them lived in completely different worlds.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
She saw things clearer than she had in a long time.
Instead of winding her hair into curls so tight it hurt her scalp like she had been doing on a daily basis the past couple of months to tend to Adam's liking, she let it flow along her back in its natural straight glory—sporting its half-braided look with her bangs combed smooth across her forehead. She wore a sophisticated beige blazer with a white blouse beneath, and a decently-cut skirt ending just below the knees.
No makeup decorated her face. No plastic stained her fingernails. No ostentatious jewelry or brand names weighed down on her person. No high-pitched hyenas at her sides. She may look like a fifty-year-old woman, but at least she was herself.
Adam had nearly suffered a heart-attack when he had initially laid eyes on her like this. Fortunately, she had gone to him specifically to call off their engagement and ultimately the merger, so his parting impression of her was vastly insignificant.
As she opened the large, extravagantly-designed doors into the wide, colossal gathering room, she was gratified to see the men at the table rise at her presence.
"Lady Relena," one of them said quietly, and a soft applaud could be heard echoing through the room as the gentlemen greeted her to the table. She was one of them. She was among those with authority once again.
She had power. She was Queen. She was Relena.
The Relena she was, the Relena she wanted to be, not the one she had to be.
Finally.