Title: Son of a Preacher man.
Author: Raven
Pairing: 1+2
Rating: PG if that
Notes: Drabble. Crack!fic. Rambles and a bit of blasphemy...okay a lot of blasphemy. It's all LinkWorshiper's fault. You and your icons...
Beta'd: by my grammar diva, aka: Dezdess. Sorry for anything she missed, and if there is any part that just plain floors you, tell me and I'll fix it up as best as I can.
Disclaimer: I've tried to sell my soul, but it's not accepted as a form of currency.
"Come on Heero!" He's pulling on my arms, yanking me through the sea of people to get to our place on the beach. That long rope of hair he insists on growing stretching out between me and him. Taunting me. I feel my eyes narrow, locking onto it like a target. It's been taunting me ever since we moved here all those years ago. We live near the Church now, not that we go, which is ever a subject of good-natured argument between his father and mine.
Duo Maxwell is his name, my best friend and first...something. We grew up together, me and this Preachers son, who's more corrupt then the pope himself. I can't count how many sin's he's committed, between the ones his father knows about and the one he's blissfully unaware of. He says the good lord will forgive him, but I'm skeptical.
One day I might actually get to run my fingers through that hair. The long brown strands that tease me, being attached to him, and he to them. But for now...
"God Heero, your so slow today!" He turns back to me, an alluring, devil-may-care grin, stretching his lips. His eyes are an amused, twinkling dark, almost violet, blue. They hold sinful promises. "What's the matter? Can't keep up?"
I've never feared the devil. Mostly because I don't believe in him, and even if I did, I assume he only torments the good Christian's because it's so much fun to do. Now, however, looking at the Preachers son, Duo Maxwell.. I feel a sardonic smile tug at my own lips before his touch mine so sweetly, but just for a second in this crowded place.
No...I don't fear the devil. But I'm beginning to think, maybe I should.
"Hurry up, dude! What's the harm in a little fun?" His words are just as seductively sweet as his lips, and I'm nodding now, letting myself be dragged through the crowd.
The road to hell is paved with good intentions after all.