AN:I really like this story.. I don't know why...Maybe because Trowa's not OOC? I've been wanting something along those lines! Or maybe because my mind bullied me into writing this and now it seems I must like it, haha! Please review if you read!
Disclaimer: First and only time! I disclaim Gundam Wing.. But NOT this story! Don't steal!
I also disclaim any other anime or game series or book series I decide to put in this here story- Which includes, but definetly is not limited to, Resident Evil, Ai no Kusabi, Tekken, Inuyasha, Harry Potter, and Gankutsuou. Just to name of few- I don't own them. If I did.. Do you think I would write my fics for free? XD
Warnings: Slavery and Bondage- and pretty much everything in between.. Didn't feel like to burden you with a list.. No scat or water works... The bowels are left alone! c:
Warning... Rant/A Lesson Ahead (really, it's very interesting)
Okay, I love reviews. :D One review in particular was purely constructive criticism (I rarely RARELY get such reviews, besides the fact that I get few at all, in proportion to the number of readers I have). Anywho, Ms. Leorising has given me a wonderful insight into 'older readers'. According to that, some people find this story, from the first chapter,, as the everything of this fanfic.
Okay, this chapter came out almost exactly THREE YEARS AGO, when I first started writing with my crappy little computer and my tenth-grade mind. In all honesty, I believe it is great for a first try.
Then, now this is a bit crazy on my side...When I just checked this chapter, I had exactly TWO MISTAKES. I am not bragging. And then to base the entirety of this 2800 hundred word chapter on the word OFTENLY (which is sometimes as muchly debated a word as 'ain't', and a word that I have already realized is NOT a word) is not what I would call Read and Review. It is reading, pointing out one of the two insignificant flaws in this entire chapter (in the entire story) and making a whole academic issue over it, and then basing the entire growth of this story on it. It's like reading a 1x2 fanfic and then realizing it is 2x1... XD
Even Crazier Stuff Ahead: Check my grammar? Check my grammar? So... Lost at 'oftenly'. What, did you have to endure horrible grammar until then? Was it not readable until then? Didn't I at least heed English language up to that point when you gave up? Furthermore, you gave up at the sole word, which means that you probably didn't read the rest right? So how in the world would you know the grammar of this entire fanfic? How would you know I had any other trouble other than the word 'oftenly'?
I'm sorry guys... It just boggled my mind! Saying that I needed to check my grammar because I used the word oftenly, once. In the first chapter! Out of the entire fanfic! In three years!
Maybe it's because... Because.. She was looking at my words... I am writing a story... Not an academic paper. Maybe that little point-and-fail would work great in a Mid-Term essay at the most prestigious high school in Massachusetts, but on my story? Basing my entire story on the fucking seven letters of oftenly?! You have ridiculed the whole point I have written alone all this time. You have ridiculed my very nature! My story means nothing because of the word oftenly! The creativity, the yearning, the passion, all nothing!
Readable Please tell me if it is not. I will definitely stop writing to 'hone my grammar skills', something of which, according to leorising, that I do not possess and makes this entire story meaningless.
Coupon Cashier
It's Saturday. There has been at least three hours of nighttime and the store is still semi-packed with shoppers and langoliers, as it always was on Saturdays. McDonalds, the one way in the back, is closed because no one in their right mind would cook at this hour when there's a MickyDees just down the street that runs business twenty-four-seven.
"Shoreen Wyn, please come to the phone in the back. Shoreen Wyn, please come to the phone in the back." Hilde said over the intercom, finally on announcer duty. There's been a definite lapse since the last time she was on the job, and she became antsy with customers quite easily. That's the reason the manager assigned her the easiest job.
Trowa, on the other hand, had the worst job. The most vile job in all of the department store. Much more disgusting than bathroom duty, where there was often puke or piss that people were too lazy to clean up; there were bloody pads and tampons placed inside the toilets sometimes and dirty diapers under the Koala baby changing rack, that was often left hanging out. Trowa's job was much more annoying than placement duty; a job most employees forgot the real name of. Anyway, placement duty was when you placed cartons and crates and boxes and baskets full of non-shelved items in exactly the right order in exactly the right place. It was your job then to make sure any misplaced (lazily thrown on random shelves) items were brought back to their correct aisles. It was your job then to bring anything broken or torn open (such as candy) to the back office so it could be accounted for. Duo was on placement duty, and he says it is the biggest pain in the ass to have this old guy asking for directions while you're shoving damned toilet paper on the very top shelf.
"I understand that if it falls, it's not like it's going to break but shit!" Duo says oftenly.
This job was ten times more stupid than the best job, in the electronic apartment, where the movies are playing and skinny kids are kicking the stuffing out of demos and your friends are the real people who come to buy stuff. This job was even worse than being the loathed Checker, in which you check if everything is all right and get blamed for anything wrong and get all the fame if everything's right, even though all you did was walk around and check (which made everyone else who worked hate you for some time). It was even worse to be the supervisor in the clothing department, where you watch for people trying to smuggle clothes or you wait for people to try on their clothes. There's also shopping cart supervisor where you wait for someone at the entrance to produce that beeping sound at the detectors and at scheduled times you go out and collect the shopping carts. Not from the marked spots but all over the fucking lot.
"We can save metal, you know." Duo sometimes says, talking about the PLACE CARTS HERE, PLEASE signs and racks.
Now, there might be a guess that the worst job is being a cashier. Close, but no cigar. Trowa's actually the new and recently announced coupon cashier. In this slug city, there are many people who use coupons. Instead of the usual red number highlighted by the frosted plastic above Trowa's head, there reads a sign called COUPONS ONLY, which really meant mostly coupons. You can't just have one discount paper along with your cart full of non-discount items. There's a small laminated poster under the COUPONS ONLY sign which says that OVER FIFTY PERCENT OF YOUR ITEMS MUST HAVE COUPONS.
Now, there's no way someone would take their time to calculate exactly fifty percent of your items, but Trowa has been trudging though coupon cashier duty for a week and a half, so it is obvious to him. When he scans items, he checks for a coupon then after a period of scanning he'll stop. In that case, the shopper would have ran out of coupons and the items needed for the other fifty percent.
"You can go to check-out line three to scan the rest of your items, sir," or, "madam." That rid his line of the coupon-users wannabes and the hardcore people came like moths to ultraviolet light. Mostly middle-aged women with a stack of snack-cake discount papers would comment how handsome he was while he sorted through the damned disorderly coupons for the right one compromising with a box of Twinkies.
Handsome. Trowa was starting to hate the word, regarding it as some sort of adventitious animadversion pertaining to his facial features. It was weird how his mother would have, in earlier years, kvetch how his bang never stayed the right way, as if there was the ultimate way to perceive a bang, and it could absolutely not cover half your face. Now, she fingers through it with a look of awe. Trowa deemed that portentous since he saw. Especially because he saw that night.
Not only his mother liked him more; his teachers did too. He couldn't wear shorts anymore. There would be that special teacher that would ask him to stay behind for something and while he did that thing the teacher would just stare. One specialist in staring would be Mr. Helms, the gym teacher, of course. Mr. Helms would think of tactful ways to make him stay behind in class just so they would take a shower together.
"He wants to rape you, man. I can see it." Duo would say seriously. When Trowa then said that the gym teacher always took the far side his bang fell, Duo said, "He thinks that thing makes you blind? Wait, can you see through it?" They eventually laughed it off.
The whole faculty love was more than creepy since he saw some teachers. Especially because he saw that awful night, with his parents and his teachers participating.
He once attended a business meeting with his father. Trowa saw more than he could stomach that night and to see it all over again in a sugar-coated form made the whole ordeal sickening. His father's colleague's fawned over him, pawing their thick meaty hands on his arms and shoulders as he and they shared handshakes.
"Then," Duo said after the visit, since his father held as high a position in the business as Trowa's dad did, "they pawed each other. Did you see that? They were practically panting... Or maybe we're just getting paranoid?" Duo then added an uneasy laugh, and it made Trowa believe that Duo didn't actually believe that last bit. Especially since he saw; they saw that night.
That night of unbridled lust, of writhing bodies slapping together in the least sensual way. Trowa's mother sharing in a sixsome along with Duo's mother, kissing and swapping spit, sucking and licking. Mr. Helm's back red with slaps and scratches. The sheriff sucking off who-knows-who. Nurse Selsee riding a...
"Okay! We...We gotta admit it Trowa, we're fucking scarred for life. Let's not ever talk about this again okay? It's gonna be hella weird...but I think it's best not to ever talk about about our parents and those people in a... in a..." Duo face began to grow green in color, a sickly rugged look overtook him, and he puked against the wall.
"About them in an orgy.." Trowa finished, seemingly unaffected only because he vomited twice already. Duo nodded weakly, more like he managed to bring his head a bit lower.
They didn't talk about it at all. If he could've, Trowa would have told Catherine. The Barton's deviant child. When he was younger, he didn't understand much about her, but he never resisted his sister either. She had the characteristic bad temper and beautiful looks that seduced her outrageous biker friends. She dated males and females alike, often threatening to become a transsexual just so she could rape boys and other things of that nature. She smoked, did drugs of all types, and drank like a whale. She called her parents fat, ugly, lazy, and stupid in one string of breath. There were times where she got off from punishment just by masturbating loudly in her room or finding a stack of pornos somewhere and bribe either the mother or the father.
She called her parents hypocrites, and Trowa believed every word. Besides the fact that they were true, Trowa knew it'd always be good to trust Catherine because she would always protect him. Never in his life had Trowa faced a bully that hadn't ended up with a busted lip, a swollen eye, or quite possibly a few missing teeth.
Then Catherine died. In an accident. The police said she was drunk and apologized. The funeral was short, followed by an albeit longer cremation, and after, a long convivial banquet as if a reception of her death, a celebration.
The only thing that seemed right to Trowa that night of his thirteenth year was staying with Duo. The long-braided southern American knew how to stand his own, but he too never had to deal with anyone too strong for him. Catherine was there for both of them four years ago, but she's gone a year later, and another year passed, and yet another. At sixteen, Trowa still found it hard his sister was gone, his married parents were involved in an orgy, and he was pressed by the world's most notorious potential rapists. To get away from it all, he and Duo submitted themselves to the local WalMart- though their parents had plenty to provide for them.
It was also hard to believe that an old lady would take out her time to cut out a whole bagful of coupons, much less three! What looked like maybe two of her daughters pushed two carts full of food, drinks, and napkins. In other words, there seemed to be a party going on, and they were introducing it to the coupon counter.
"They don't really expect me to scan all that with coupons, do they?" Trowa asked himself, already feeling the tinges of a headache grip his mind. He watched the two younger women load up the conveyor belt as the motherly one took a seat at one of the benches on the wall not too far from the cashier. They finished rather quickly, haphazardly placing cans and glass bottles on top one another and squeezed boxes in at the edges, then they joined their mother on the bench, dropping the bags of coupons on the counter in front of Trowa.
Trowa wished, while fishing through the bag for a coupon on Lays and Doritos chips, that someone would come by and drop a cigarette that would light up all three bags. He searched through the bags again for anything about chips and finally found it on the third try. He glanced at the three ladies. One of them were reading something by Nora Roberts, and the other two talked. The teenager sighed, looked around for a bit, seeing children run to their mothers to ask for the sugariest foods or the latest movie and a group of friends laugh together and caught one man throwing a bag of marshmallows onto a rack of Oreos, then accepted his fate , grabbing a large can of ravioli, wondering why the ladies couldn't put the coupons in order with the food. At least in alphabetical order. Like this, with the papers all willy-nilly in a bag, it really seemed like they
"...don't give a damn, do they?" Trowa choked on pure spit as he spun his head in the direction of the voice, which was truly unnecessary since the voice's owner stood right in front of the cart still full of food. He drank a Vault, the highly addictive drink that many of the time have fallen prey to, including Duo and Trowa. He stood tall.
That was an understatement. He stood fucking tall. It made Trowa's brain shatter, he's never seen anyone so tall.
"I'm seven-feet-two." The stranger said, smiling around the bottle. Trowa watched the Adam's apple bob, and he felt quite dizzy for a moment. Even though he was a man, Trowa found the tall form with wide, elegant shoulders that tapered down to a narrow waist and longish legs more attractive than last year's prom queen. His blond hair cut short and flared a bit and shaped his face. There was a noticeable hue in his eyes that made him all the more alluring. He topped off his own unique look with a leather pants, undefinable shoes that were probably also leather, and a white T-shirt with a vest covering. He wore a necklace of platinum, Trowa guessed because he didn't find it proper for a man who wore gold rings embedded with jewels on almost every finger to go around with a silvery chain, as Duo would have said.
"M-m-may...I." Trowa's voice was dry and the Vault looked better than it has ever did in his life, and, as if reading his mind, the stranger pointed the soda in his way. Trowa nodded vaguely and before he knew it, the blonde's hands were on the back of his neck and carbonated sweetness trickled down his throat.
The hand gripping his neck felt like heaven compared to anything he has felt before. It may sound ridiculous but that long-fingered hand felt like a smoldering caress. The hinges of his legs gave way and some of the Vault spilled down his chin. Trowa caught himself, held himself up by the counter as the stranger chuckled, scooping up the spilt drink with the brim of the plastic bottle.
Sipping a bit, the stranger practically stripped Trowa with his eyes, smiling slightly. When he joined his eyes back to the boy's, he said softly, flicking out a slip of piece of paper from who knows where. "If you want to see more of me," the blonde started and grabbed Trowa's wrist to place the paper in a shivering hand.
That voice had a soft tone that mingled Trowa's senses, and he felt like falling again. The coupon cashier closed his eyes in a focusing feat to balance himself and when he opened them, the stranger was gone. Trowa straightened while looking around and it seemed like the customers, the ladies, and the cameras alike seen nothing but the usual.
"Holy shit. Wait 'till Duo hears about this," Trowa murmured, reading the paper that read "DOWNTOWN" in sloped small writing, even if it was all capitalized, and pocketed it. When he reached for another can, this time of soup, and took a look at the bags o' coupons he found instead a stack of rectangular papers.
While shifting through, Trowa noticed the coupons were in alphabetical order.
AN: I know.. Pretty long.. But I'm trying to make chapters shorter! smooches Please review!