A Simple Mistake
Disclaimer: No ownership, but fic
Summary: She had always been the person placed up on a pedestal. He had always thought her prim, proper, and charming...but never would he have thought to think something like 'She really shouldn't have worn such a short skirt today!'
The bar seemed unusually empty this evening, the pungent smell of smoke and liquor filled the small quarters. Strange it seemed as these five people sat gazing angrily, curiously, and desirably at each other. The faint music from the "live performance" was a comforting gesture thought a one: Miss Peacecraft. She reached forward for a shot of some unknown beverage, but was stop by a calm hand. His usual 'grunt' nerved her to no end—she was more than capable of drinking! Swatting his hand away she took the shot and drowned it without a second glance, knowing all too well of the Pilot's gaze. The liquor was strong, stronger than she had thought, but the bitter sting held no comparison to the loathing anger she felt at this very moment. She held out her glass for another…
"Now princess," the nickname made her quiver, shake, for she had almost forgotten who she was—almost. She nudged the handsome brown haired, purple-tinted eyed soldier with her glass, "you're not going to make me beg, are you Duo?" The words didn't even sound right through her ears—her mouth was just spewing out nonsense and she hadn't the will to stop herself! Frustrated, she grabbed a bottle and poured herself a shot, "Now, don't give me that look" she slurred as she drowned another and another.
Quatre looked on with concern as Duo tried to stop the clearly DRUNK (former) vice foreign minister. His blue eyes shifted uncomfortably to his companion, knowing all too well what brought on this outbreak. Trowa was paying no mind to the angry woman beside him; he merely sipped at his own beverage glancing up at Heero now and then…as if waiting for something. Inside Quatre's own mind he was debating on whether or not he should assist his fellow pilot in mellowing the mood of this—this…he could not find a word to describe her.
"I think you've had enough Relena."
It is when Duo Maxwell no longer jokes and calls her lovingly with the silly nicknames that Relena finally realizes that this man is serious, but somewhere between the sixth and seventh shot she had lost the capability to rationalize. Her vision was blurred or rather she was seeing double, triple…somewhere along those lines. Heero hadn't said a word throughout the whole ordeal. He had merely sat there, stoically facing her. She had her reasons for drinking, and they were damn good too! If only…she could remember…what…they were…
Shaking her head lightly Relena took it upon herself to stand up, her feeble stance nearly caused her to crash into the other "stoic" pilot beside her, but she manage to compose herself.
"Miss Relena, you should sit down," Quatre warned warmly, reaching over Trowa to tug her back into her seat. She gave him a faint smile, but continued to stand. She cleared her throat as if preparing to state some vast important fact. Opening her mouth to speak and yet no words were audible. 'This is my last chance' she thought, 'this is it.' Again she appeared as if she was about to say something, but something was lost within transaction. Shaking her head for the umpteenth time she slammed both palms against the cherry wood table, knocking a few glass jars over in the process.
She had finally gained the attention of those sitting at their table.
Licking her dry lips she tried to lock eyes with the man before her. Brown hair. Persian blue eyes. 'Quiet as HELL' the last thought stopped her for a slight second. She was having trouble deciphering who's who. Her hand pressed against her cheek as she closed her blue eyes for a brief moment. Worried gazes stared back at her. Shaking her head again as long hair became short she reached forward to grasp one of the many swirling faces before her and pressed her lips against his.
She had done it. She had finally done it. And it only took her a few bottles of liquor and some unexplainable anger to get the nerve to kiss Heero Yuy! …who was sitting…next to her?
They were beyond shocked. To see the former Queen of Earth (another one of her many titles) drunk was one thing, but sprawled across—
Even Heero had an evil glint in his eyes as he watched the scene unfold before him.
"Ush, brown hair," was the last coherent phrase uttered from her lips as she fell limp. Half against the table and half on a surprise Duo Maxwell. Her words brushed against his skin and as she fell—she left a trail of kisses…
'She really shouldn't have worn such a short skirt today' he thought.
Well had no clue where in hell that came from. I just read a G-wing fanfiction a while ago and it inspired me to write one of my own. Have no clue where this is going because it wasn't suppose to even go that way…I had something entirely different in mind. Anyways hope you enjoy and if you like it I just might continue.
Do review!