Warnings: It's a 1x2, meaning yaoi. It's a simple concept, don't like, don't
read.
Chapter 1
Heero
leaned silently against the railings of his balcony staring out at the lights
of the city beyond. Sighing, he lifted
the snifter of brandy to his lips, inhaling deeply of its spicy scent before
taking a sip.
He looked at his watch. He'd have to finish dressing soon. Relena's ball was due to start within the
next hour.
His mouth set into a grim line. Another night on a crowded dance floor. Another night of being dragged around from
one corner of the room to another.
Another night of listening to pompous asses further convince Relena that
he would be the perfect husband for her.
He narrowed his eyes to slits. He was tired of the balls, tired of the
obligations, and tired of his rumored allegiance to the Vice Foreign
Minister. He was her bodyguard—nothing
more—and he'd be damned if he let her or any of those other elitists make his
decisions for him.
He was pulled from his thoughts by a
knock on his door. "What?" he growled.
A muffled voice answered through the
door. "Miss Relena requests that you
hurry, she wants to arrive early tonight."
"I'll be there in five minutes," he
heard the man walk away, heading in the direction of Relena's suite.
Setting the glass down, he stalked
back into his room and put the finishing touches on his tuxedo. He didn't waste time on his hair, nor did he
check his appearance in a mirror. He
looked the way he wanted—like Heero Yuy, dressed and ready for a mission.
Picking up the decanter on the
sideboard, he poured himself a small dose of brandy. He drank it in one swallow, savoring the burning trail it left as
it flowed through him. He was ready.
He exited his room and stalked down
the hallway to the wide double doors marking the Vice Foreign Minister's
suite. He raised a fist and rapped his
knuckles against the door.
It opened almost immediately. Heero held his scowl—she'd been waiting for
him. "Heero," she beamed at him. "Do come in." She swept her arm wide, "I'm just about ready." Heero decided that had to be a drastic
understatement since the only thing she had on was a pink bathrobe. 'Ready my ass.' She walked away from the door, heading back into the room,
obviously expecting him to follow.
Heero held his stance outside the
door, his mouth set into an expressionless line. She stopped when she realized he wasn't following her. She turned back to look at him. She quirked an eyebrow suggestively. "Are you coming in?"
His cold blue eyes met hers. "I am your bodyguard—not a tool for your
amusement." His voice was harsh and
devoid of anything, "If you find you're that lonely, I'm certain your secretary
can find someone willing to spend a night or two with you."
Her face showed no outward reaction,
but she slowly stepped towards him.
"Considering how likely I am to heed the advice of my peers and name you
as my intended husband, I believe you should—"
He cut her off, his voice low and
menacing, "Let me make this clear to you.
I escort you everywhere because it's my job to be with you and keep you
safe. I harbor no feelings for you, nor
have I ever disguised that fact.
If you're so bent on marriage, find someone who actually gives a damn."
She looked affronted and her eyes
widened. "How dare you take that tone
with me."
He bent down so he was looking
directly at her. "If you want to go
early hurry the hell up. If you called
me out here for you own entertainment let me know so I may go back to my
room." His voice held an underlying
threat that even she dared not provoke.
"I'll be ready in an hour." She shut the door in his face.
He spun on his heel and stalked back
down the hall. He reached his door at
the same time a bellhop was knocking on it.
"I'm right here. What do you want?"
The boy jumped, startled. His hand shook slightly when he raised it,
revealing a letter addressed to Heero.
"This . . . this came a few minutes ago."
Heero kept his face blank as he took
it from the boys shaking grasp. 'A new
assignment?' He looked at the return
address. It was from the Winner
residence. 'What does Quatre
want?'
The boy was still standing there
when Heero looked up. "You may leave
now." The boy's eyes grew wide with
fear and he ran off. Heero shook his
head as he entered the room—'what was wrong with people?'
He poured himself another brandy and
sat down in a nearby chair to read Quatre's letter—message. It was only two brief paragraphs and he
skimmed it lazily. Quatre and Trowa wanted
all the pilots to spend a few weeks together as a sort of small—very
small—reunion. Apparently, a separation
of almost five years meant that a lot of things had changed. Heero eyed the two signatures at the end of
the letter and the shadow of a smile touched the corners of his lips. Some things had changed.
That thought made him think of the
other two. How had things changed for
them since the end of the war? His eyes
darkened and a frown creased his finely chiseled features. Why did he care?
Unbidden, his words to Relena echoed
in his mind. "If you're that lonely
. . .." He stared blankly at
Quatre's invite. Lonely. Was that the feeling that was nagging at
him? Was that the force that kept him
at the balls for so many hours, despite his hatred of them? Was he lonely? He scowled; of course not.
'So why don't you believe it?'
He stared down at the paper
again. It was an opportunity to be
among friends—his only friends, but. . . should he go? 'Why shouldn't you?' He would be just as lonely there as he was
here. 'I thought you said you weren't
lonely.'
The knock on the door broke his
thoughts. Shaking his head, he glanced
at his watch. Had it really been an
hour?
Rising from his chair, he swallowed
what remained of his brandy and walked to the door. Relena stood on the other side dressed in a gown of pale pink
trimmed with white. Heero wondered if
she was aware of the fact that there were other colors in existence. He decided it was doubtful. He bowed to her and offered her his arm. She smiled graciously and accepted his arm,
seeming to have forgotten about his words earlier. Without so much as another glance in her direction, Heero
advanced down the hallway, tired and anxious for it to end.
-----------
What the hell made him say that? Heero stormed into his room and slammed the
door. What the hell had he been
thinking?
It must have been five hours in an
overheated ballroom combined with all the brandy beforehand. He walked over the sidebar. Finding a glass, he yanked the stopper out
of the decanter and filled it too the brim.
Without concern for consequences he threw his head back and downed the
drink in one shot. He leaned forward,
his head resting in one hand while the other supported him against the
sidebar. He opened his eyes and glared
at the sheet of paper that had now become his enemy. 'Damn it.'
Though he hated to admit it, he'd
been trying to avoid a solid week of peace conventions—and further attempts to
convince him that marriage to Relena was a good thing. Unfortunately, Quatre's damned reunion had
been at the forefront of his mind all evening and had been the first thing to
come to mind as an excuse. Now he had
to go.
Closing his eyes, he rubbed his
temples, trying to ease away the ache pounding through his head. Inside he knew he wanted to go, but by
going, it meant he was admitting to his loneliness and his need to be with his
friends. 'Damn it.' He slammed his fist into the hard wood
surface of the sidebar. 'Just go
already. What could it hurt?' Everything. He opened his eyes and looked at the letter again. The date had been set for Monday—that was
two days ago. At the very least he
would be a week late. They probably
assumed he wasn't coming. He almost
grinned—almost.
Maybe a
few weeks away would be good for him.
Maybe a few weeks without him would make Relena realize that she
couldn't marry him.
With his decision made, he turned
out the lights and went to bed.
Miraculously, his headache was gone.
'See? You're feeling better all
ready.'
