Security Measures
The Weaver Atropos
Pairing: 1x2
Warning: AU
Chapters: 1/5
Time Frame: 12.30.2004 – 10.13.2005
Comments: Kudos to my history teacher. He actually did this. Originally meant to be a lime (I think you can figure out where). A bit stream-of-consciousness, a bit alternate reality.
And the headings are just my incredibly sad attempts at creative license.
I started out daydreaming…
He was playing the part of a customs officer.
Why? He had no idea.
He was angry, though, and his usual air of defiance and solitude was heightened to a degree of latent danger. Everyone around him took extra caution not to rouse his suspicion or tweak his nerves, so as to not have to bear the full weight of his glare.
He was not in the best of moods. And that much was obvious—if not by his curt manner of speech, then definitely by his jerky bodily motions. As it was, he'd been assigned to the far east wing of the International Space Port Airlines, so that he had to walk a grandiose half a mile before being able to check in with the rest of the bodyguard staff every assigned hour. Having been there since morning, he'd walked a good five miles or so.
That did not sit well with him.
He wasn't sure if he was more upset that he had to fill the least dangerous and involved part of the entire protection project, or if he was annoyed that he had been assigned so far away from the rest of the team. He couldn't help feeling a little less than useless, he was so far off. Should he spy something suspicious, it would take him a little less fifteen minutes to report it on foot, nevermind all the obstacles that might arise. But hoping for shifty behavior at that extreme of the Airline was ridiculous.
He was in the damned children's boarding area, for god's sakes. After five hours of being stepped on, confronted with crying children, and faced with more girls in pig-tails swooning over their 'Prince Charming,' he feared he'd developed somewhat of a twitch. He would've complained to his Lieutenant, were it not for the fact that he knew that every inch of the complex had to be adequately scourged and guarded; there was never a safe place—it was always the underestimated that became one's Achilles' heel.
So, he had saluted to his Lieutenant, slightly annoyed that he had been reassigned from his position as Head Cryptographer at the P. P. Investigations Government agency to fieldwork—for the time being, anyway—and taken up his post. His investigative side had been gladdened to note his area of vision was relatively clear, not many suspicious targets, the few that were, were stopped at the metal detector and taken away if necessary.
There was only one left. He'd been circling the Spaceport for the better part of an hour, and whether that was because he was waiting for his flight, or due to some ulterior motive, Heero didn't know. But he was a…suspicious character. With a long, trailing plait of chestnut that grazed the curve of his behind every few steps, and eyes bearing the strangest semblance to amethyst, the young man had stuck out to Heero…and warranted surveillance as a result of it.
He'd been watching him…convincing himself that he was only keeping an eye on him, despite the odd fascination he had with his hair…with that thick braid. He kept his eyes trained on it…kept Prussian depths focused on the most luscious—
"Captain. Captain Yuy." Narrowing his eyes slightly, Heero made a slight movement with his right hand, looking as though he were combing his fingers through his hair, and adjusted the transmitter at his ear. "All clear," he muttered darkly, eyes still vigilant of the capped young man.
"No suspicious characters?"
Prussian eyes flashed on the now sitting form, dallying in toying with the end of his braid. "None."
"None?"
Heero bit down the urge to growl, and shook his head no, knowing his Lieutenant wouldn't be able to see the action, but accustomed to it just as well, as he was a man of few words. "None," he finally repeated, just in time to see that mischievous brown head turn curiously to meet his gaze—having been aware of it for quite a while—and wink. He stiffened.
"Roger that. We'll be waiting for you in another half hour, Yuy. Wrap everything else in the next few minutes, and we'll send Otto to fill in the gap. Colonel wants you here for the briefing."
"Roger that."
With that, he felt the communications link in his ear go dead, and slipped a hand into his right pocket to terminate the connection for the time being. If he kept it on, the metal detecting device would go off whenever he approached it, so he turned it off until exactly forty-five minutes after the given hour. It was at that point that his commanders would inform him of any changes in the plan.
Amidst his musings, the final call for the flight to Berlin, Germany rang out above him, and glancing momentarily at the loudspeakers to his far right, he failed to see the braided young man stand up leisurely and raise his hands above him in a lazy stretch. When he let his gaze fall back to where the young man had been sitting, furry, chocolate eyebrows shot upwards in surprise, and he looked about him quickly. He was offset by a deep, husky chuckle coming from somewhere to his right.
Turning to it abruptly, never having enjoyed being the brunt of laughter, he collided with the same pair of eyes he had locked onto earlier. Twinkling amethyst sparkled amusedly into deep blue. In a fluid motion he would've described akin to a cat, the braided youth before him brought up his hands in an absent shrug and cocked his head. "Are ya gonna check me, or should I just board?"
Prussian eyes narrowed dangerously. Heero had never been one to offer confidence, familiarity. Even those closest to him hardly dared to tease or bait him in such a way. The specimen before him apparently had no such qualms. It was strangely…
"Walk through the detector."
His tone was rude, calloused. But the other didn't seem to mind, flashing him a wide smile instead—wavering a bit at the corners at his lack of response—but remaining full force despite it all, as he adjusted the blue cap atop his wispy bangs. He strode through the metal arch confidently, if not curiously, and a peculiar look flickered in his eyes when a beep rang out. Heero's eyes narrowed furthered, barely slits, and he motioned for the man to walk through once more.
The other complied, raising his hands in a gesture of defeat before walking back through the detector, only to have it ring again. When he turned back, it was with a suggestive little smile, and with hands already delved into pockets. Heero's next words were unnecessary, but he said them nonetheless. "Empty your pockets."
Heero extended a small, lavender box towards the young man, subconsciously comparing its hue to that of the man's eyes, his own Prussian orbs shifting upwards to ascertain that exact shade of color. A slight blush filtered into his cheeks then, when he realized the boy was looking curiously in his direction, as if wondering why his gaze lingered, and it would have been noticeable, if not for his tanned skin. "Walk through again."
Another beep.
"Passport."
Amethyst eyes shined absently at the absence of the customary 'please,' but extended a maroon passport just the same. "Colonies," the young man supplied needlessly, maroon being the color protocol for natives of the colonies.
Heero thumbed through the passport swiftly, remembering his Lieutenant's order that he make all necessary preparations within fifteen minutes, and stopped when he landed on a quirky picture. He raised his eyebrow incredulously, frown drawing his eyebrows together as he inspected the waving youth that grinned idiotically from the passport. He glanced upwards at the young man, then at his picture and back again. As if perceiving Heero's indecision, the young man—Duo, by his passport—pulled off his cap, ran his fingers hastily through his disheveled bangs, and flashed him a wide grin.
As if that stupid look was mistakable. Heero doubted it was even reproducible.
"Keys out? Cell phone, wallet…" he hesitated, and then…"any piercings?"
A sultry little smile. "Just one, but it shouldn't be a problem."
"All right then. Walk through, again." There was a slight hint of aggravation in his tone, as though he couldn't wait for the damned man to get on the plane. Protocal was a bitch, sometimes. And, just then, Duo's smile wavered the smallest bit.
He walked through, a little surprised himself when the beeping recommenced, and glanced at Heero apologetically. "It's not like I wanna miss my plane either," he murmured, eyes sweeping downwards quickly.
Heero positively glowered, but stepped back to retrieve the manual detector. "Step forward," he muttered, glancing at his watch with a bit of a scowl. Duo did as he was told, unzipping his black leather jacket as he did so, letting it fall off his shoulders at Heero's command.
He spread his arms and legs as the young man hovered the black device over him, passing it past his shoulders, over his chest, down his thighs and around his calves. Then, he was behind him, and Duo bit his lip uncertainly when he felt the heat the other radiated as he searched him from behind. Damn, but was it an alluring change in position.
Frowning, Heero returned to his front, having not heard a sound, and was swinging the machine back into its cubby, when a small beeping ran out.
Right at the juncture of the man's thighs.
"Maybe it's the belt?"
Heero heeded the suggestion despite himself, waving the detector roughly before the man's black belt, and was satisfied when the beeping recommenced. He was about to wave Duo forward when a sweeping glance at the clock showed that it was 1:45. Frowning, and wondering why the hell Otto hadn't come to the replace him, Heero made that same, discrete movement he'd made earlier and flipped on his transmitter. A sardonic voice greeted him.
"About time, Yuy…a little later and the whole mission would've been screwed over."
Duo was looking at him curiously, as if not sure whether to proceed or remain where he was, having been given a curt nod by the young man before, only to have his eyebrow quirk reprovingly at him. He was attractive, Duo admitted, in a mysterious way that seemed more enticing than discouraging.
Heero meanwhile, was trying to keep as impassive a look as he could muster, not wanting to seem as though he were spacing out as he listened to Une's directives. "There's a character hanging around. Your gate. Berlin, apparently. There's been a call from the security personnel of the Vice Foreign Minister. It seems something's been stolen. A metal of sorts. It should ring out on your detector when it comes through. Pay attention. Out."
Meanwhile, Duo had gathered his belongings, shoving his wallet back into his back pocket, and storing his passport in his jacket pocket. He was in the process of shifting his change back into his pockets when Heero's voice broke through the relative silence of the large gate waiting area. Most everyone had boarded but him. "Have you been anywhere near the Vice Foreign Minister, lately?" The voice was cautious…suggestive and laced with danger.
The young man responded with a inquisitive glance, and another seductive little smile. "The Vice Foreign Minister? Now who would that be?"
"Jacket, off—"
"Wha? I—I'm gonna miss my—"
"Now, or you're missing it regardless for insubordination against an officer."
Seeming skeptic, but not having much other choice, Duo pulled off his jacket once more, left in a loose fitting button down black shirt, left open to reveal a silky red undershirt. Heero inspected the revealed flesh with a trained eye. "Belt off."
"What!" Now the braided man seemed hesitant—if not outright confused by Heero's commands. "Listen, man—I'm gonna miss my flight and—"
"Belt off." The words were ground out, no room for discussion.
Amethyst eyes bored incredulously into him, "You're not serious are you?"
The raised, thick chocolate eyebrow suggested that, yes, he was serious. When Duo didn't move, and, actually, made a motion to push past him, Heero had pushed him into a nearby wall, so that the man's violet eyes widened to near saucers. It seemed as though, for the first time since Heero had encountered him, he finally had the upper hand.
That lasted mere seconds.
When Heero's hands came to the man's belt, recalling his initial suspicions of the man and coupling it with Une's newfound warning, he found that the other gave him the oddest of looks before stilling completely. "You know, I wouldn't go there unless I were planning on following through…"
Heero didn't bother to hide his confusion to that remark. Dark eyes narrowing, he pressed the other man a bit more roughly into the adjoining wall, knowing for all the world they must have been quite a sight for the passerby. Echoing his thoughts, the braided man struggled against his grip, "You want to do this here, in front of all these people?"
What the hell…?
Seeking to get the man to cease whatever inane babble he was spouting, he slammed him further into the metal wall, seeing those amethyst eyes wince in pain, and eliciting another wry comment.
"Belt off."
Those eyes opened again and glared at him a bit rudely. A mocking smile replaced the shining one that had been there earlier. "How 'bout you take it off, if you're so eager."
Duo hadn't really thought he would. To be honest, the man had intrigued him the moment he'd seen him, decked out in a dark navy that highlighted his eyes to the fullest, parading around almost stiffly through the East Asian wing of the spaceport. Duo had memorized his routine…he'd observed how the youth would disappear every hour, only to return after another half hour, another man replacing him for the time span in between. He had, in turn, seen the man see him, he'd felt that hot, inquisitive gaze on his body, and had turned. Only to come face to face with the most soul-searching of eyes he had ever seen in his entire life.
He was of oriental descent, he'd guessed, just close enough to discern the slight exotic slant to the man's eyes, suddenly enraptured by the asian man who seemed—otherwise—so Western. His complexion, though tan, was smoother than most, and his dark mossy, unruly hair defied the limp, straight stereotype that denoted those of Eastern oriental heritage. He seemed like a mix. There was an air of something European in him…something royal…
And his personality seemed so at odds with his looks. Seeing him, one would imagine him vulnerable, fragile…docile, even; yet, as close as he was now, Duo could see that the young man was anything but. He had a cold aura about him, and his gaze was uncouth and his manner brusque. He seemed like deadly porcelain doll. Beautiful, but deadly.
And beautiful he was…though that would normally not be a word he'd use to describe a man. He was of small build—sinewy, from what he'd discerned, and was a warm mass of coiled muscle. He'd figured that much when he'd lifted a fat, chubby, incredibly large child by the shirt and managed to sustain him in one hand until his parents retrieved him. He had seemed awfully uncomfortable with the boy…and dear God, the little girls had swarmed about him as though he were the Prince of England.
By the time the call for his flight had rung out, he had approached the young man at the post of customs security with a mixture of uneasiness and excitement. He thought him attractive, intriguing at the very least, but he was also the slightest bit intimidated by what could happen…and when he was intimidated…he tended to say the stupidest things.
Which was why he wasn't surprised when he had started flirting with the officer. In a very sexual manner.
He was surprised when said officer smacked him up against a nearby wall, demanding that he pull off his belt. As…physically stimulating at the man was, being pressed so unexpectantly into a hardly pliable surface had rattled his nerves. So, naturally, he had struggled. And discovered the other man was able to keep him in check.
So, naturally, he'd cracked another ill-devised sexual joke. Which, being pinned by an obviously temperamental, passionate man, might not have been the best thing to do. His mind worked in the most illogical of ways, sometimes.
He finally quirked an eyebrow in amusement—taunting, perhaps—when the other hesitated, not seeming entirely sure of pulling off his belt. "That's what I thought."
And, he was pushing the blue-eyed man from him, ready to proceed to the gate where a young woman was checking in the very last passenger, when Heero pushed him back against the metal grating, and worked his fingertips against his buckle.
Violet eyes stilled in absolute astonishment.
Duo had quieted completely when the man's hands came to his belt, never having thought he would actually dare to pull it off him, and, sensing his sudden pause, Heero looked up to meet his gaze.
A startling amount of something passed through them. And, were he one for clichés, Heero might have described it as something akin to electricity. It was the first time he had looked into the other's eyes so closely. It was one thing to see them, as he was talking, crinkled in thought, and another entirely to have them a mere centimeters from his own, looking for all the world like a moonlit lavender pool.
He had secrets. A lot of them. One glimpse into the darkness that lay nestled beneath the pale, amethyst eyes suggested as much. "I'm gonna miss my plane."
The words were uttered to distract him, to tear him away from his gaze…as though—as though there were something there the other didn't want him to see.
At his lack of response, Duo looked swiftly about, gauging the amount of bystanders nearby, thinking there'd be too many witnesses if he were to suddenly punch the officer in the gut and run off toward the plane. It probably wouldn't even take off, should he do that. Besides…there was a certain comfort in feeling the other man so close to him, heat rolling off his body in waves.
Duo could almost feel his anger. It made him shiver…and he really didn't want to leave.
He just wished that the damned guy would get off him already, before he did something stupid. It were one thing that he react to the man's comments and actions, it was another entirely that he initiate something of his own accord. Still, the better part of his manhood ached at the contact he was denying it, and remembered it had been a long time since he'd last let another touch him. He'd been hurt too much the other time, and he couldn't help the image of a smiling blond that filtered into his senses then. He flinched when Heero's fingertips left his belt.
He didn't bother opening his eyes. He knew what he'd find once he did. It would be the officer, scowling at him, eyes narrowed and asking him what the hell he was trying to pull off. "Your plane…is delayed."
The words were tentative, as though its speaker were unsure of how to treat the close-eyed, seemingly pained young man.
Duo simply nodded in response, hands clenching almost painfully, and slumped a little against the wall. His eyes were still shut.
He was lost in his memory…
And suddenly he wasn't at the Spaceport anymore…he was in the country, a lithe, bubbly little blonde at his side, a picnic basket in his arms.
They were on Earth, the blonde having insisted that they have a real picnic before returning to the colonies, and were walking through a thick expanse of wheat fields. He remembered the way the sun had warmed his own cheeks and had pinkened the other's. He recalled the scent of the lavender gentians growing about—weeds to the wheatfield—and his companion scooping down to tear one, bringing it close to his face and inhaling almost blissfully…
Alluringly…
Pleasurably…
He remembered how those blonde locks had moistened with sweat later that afternoon…how they'd tossed to and fro in rapture and ecstasy…how his name had fallen like a mantra from those sweet, dulcet lips.
He could almost feel those soft fingertips against his lips, tracing the contours of his face—yearning to elicit a smile from him. He recalled the feeling of the small blonde nestled in his arms, breath rising steadily…slowly…contentedly.
And then it was all gone.
The smile he gave the officer when he awoke from his reverie was bitter, deadened and hollow. He gave a small wave, braid falling thickly on his back as he turned, starting a brisk walk toward the exit—not bothering to recollect his wallet, passport, or luggage.
And that brisk walk became a jog, and later a run.
The officer watched on with a quirk in his brow, seeing the other man—even from that distance—raise a hand to his face, his eyes, and rub at them impatiently.
He was finally distracted when Otto arrived, looking sheepish, but smiling nonetheless. "Sorry, got held up at Security. They didn't believe I was from the Preventers Unit. The Lieutenant is near an aneurysm—she's screaming bloody hell on them all. She says you're dismissed. She said she'd, 'have a talk with that Yuy later.'"
Nodding, and picking up a plain brown, faded leather wallet, the young officer slung a small backpack over his shoulder and pocketed a maroon passport.
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