Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing.
A/N: I like this story! It's got me writing again! I even started working on the next chapters for the other stories, expect lots of updates simultaneously in the near future!
Warning: Duo swears a lot! As in A LOT!! Yeah...
Warning 2: There is some deliberately bad grammar in here, e.g., "I tells ya!" or "Me haves it" (which will come in the future) etc. It's put in there just coz we're in Duo's head and he's not going to have perfectly grammar. #grin#
Hope you like...!
Chapter 1: Peaches n' Apples
Posted on 23rd Jan 2008
I stayed in front of the electronics shop till it got dark, soaking up every news piece that covered what had happened to Heero. They had an alert running across every channel asking for everyone to be on the lookout for him.
People were being advised to 'not approach the target' and they were calling Heero 'dangerous'. It made my blood boil. He couldn't have killed them!
For fear of sounding like a prepubescent fan girl I shall admit that I know nothing about him other than what is publicly known anyway… but still! He didn't look like that kind of a guy… you know… the murderous kind.
I was still plastered to the glass in front of the shop and people were giving me strange looks as they walked past. Fuck them. One old man was eyeing my butt as he went and I wiggled it in his direction suggestively. He caught the movement and stopped, giving me a sly smile patting his pocket.
Ah… he thought I was a hustler. I grinned at him widely and with a swagger to my step that came naturally I went towards him. Instead of standing in front of him I went right past him flipping him off. His pleased expression dissolved to that of surprise and then anger as I dashed away from him.
Evil sodomizing bastard.
He didn't follow me. Good for him. I slowed down as I came to a shopping complex. A small keening sound came from my stomach which slowly morphed into grumbling. Great, I was hungry.
Time for my twice daily check up on Quatre-baby. Catching a bus right there I headed down to the rich ass place. Where, ya know, the whole big rich people grow up with the golden spoon up their ass. Yeah… Quatre was different though. He was so sensitive he cried while watching lion king.
Still does… actually. In fact, just saying 'lion king' brings tears to his eyes.
I walked past the guards at the gate to Q's mansion, doing a little jiggle when they looked at me. They knew better than to stop me. I'd unleash a pissed off Q-tip at them. And a pissed off Q was a scary Q. Scary… scary Q.
"Rashid mah man!" I drawled when I saw Qutie's butler. "I'll have something with rice today!" He laughed and patted me on the head. I love this guy.
"Sure, it'll take a few minutes though." He said and I grinned widely for him.
"I shall be with the Q-ness. Temme where."
"He's in his room." He smiled at me one more time and headed back in the general direction of the kitchen… somewhere…
Hey, I still get lost here so… well…
I made my way to Quatre's room admiring the thick clean carpet and the wood paneling on the walls, the number of paintings decorating the hallway, the thick velvet curtains adorning the windows… Quatre wasrich ass if you didn't get it by now. As in filthy, stinking, golden coins out your ass rich. Ahem… moving on…
I opened the door to Quatre's room slowly, quietly… like a cat! I was stealthy and silent as a shadow as I stalked my prey… slinking closer to the hunched form of one, Quatre Raberba Winner, pouring over his books as his exams approached… his defences right now… were none! Grounding my feet into the carpet I bent my knees preparing to launch myself at the unsuspecting little pale bony body.
"Qutie!" I threw myself on his blondness as he yelled at my sudden arrival.
"God Duo don't do that!" He panted putting a pale little hand on his chest. "You'll give me a heart attack one of these days!"
"If I do you can give yourself CPR and come back to life. Where else would your training come in handy?" I threw myself on his bed and started shuffling through the magazines he owned.
"Give myself…?" He looked confused for a second and then he got the joke. "Haha, very funny." He said sarcastically. I stuck my tongue out at him before enjoying the soft sheets on his bed. In his house, everything worked. And I mean everything. The walls were painted and shiny. He had a working TV that he could watch in the comfort of his home. He had a fridge that had probably never been empty and a butler. A BUTLER!
And his bed didn't collapse upon jumping on it. And he had a fucking wireless internet connection. WIRELESS!!! How cool is that?!
So getting back to my original point, Q-baby is as rich ass as they come. Only with a heart of gold… which is rare. He wants to be a doctor just so he can help people get better, do his part in making someone's life a little more comfortable… and he is studying for it.
See Q here is in med school. And I always joke about how he's smart enough to get in there but not smart enough to get my jokes which always pisses him off and let's just say I'm very good at dodging flying surgical instruments.
"Did you see that thing about Heero Yuy?" I asked him as I looked at the centre-page fold of a girl in a very, very skimpy outfit. Yup, I'm still definitely gay. As gay as they come. Rainbow pride and Fairy wings and all that bullshit.
Hey… a guy's gotta remind himself of his sexuality sometimes. I don't get laid enough for me to remember by myself.
Make that – I don't get laid. Period.
"Hmm… yeah." He said distractedly. He had returned to the book that he was reading which may have been the creation of the devil himself. It had to have about five thousand pages and it was at least written in a font size 2.
"I don't think he did it." I threw the magazine with the girl in a skimpy outfit randomly; it fluttered to the ground a little bit away from Quatre. "I mean… why would he? He had no reason to."
"You don't know the whole story." He mumbled squinting hard at some small detail before exclaiming 'aha!' and scribbling down quickly. "… the distribution volume is 8000 litres means the plasma concentration is…" He continued mumbling to himself.
"I know as much as the next person and it makes no sense! He had no reason!"
"He had no alibi." He pinched the bridge of his nose lightly, his eyes squeezed shut as he probably ran facts through his mind quickly. "No alibi makes him pretty suspicious. And he shouldn't have run."
"Of course he ran! He was going to jail! He got life sentence!" I got up enraged. How dare this rich-ass-med-school-student-who-was-about-to-feed-me question Heero's integrity?
"He could have asked for a retrial, appealed to a higher court. Given an alibi. I doubt resisting arrest, assaulting a police officer and then escaping would look very good on his file." He flipped his hand easily, way too confident with his little spiel. "You're just biased because 'he's hot'." Damn it he rabbit-eared the words.
"I hate you." I hissed at him just as the door opened and Rashid poked his head in.
"I have chicken and rice if that's all right." He said to me as he handed me a plate of the most delicious smelling food you have ever smelled in your entire life.
"Oh! Gimme gimme!" I extended my hands making clutching movements. He laughed, handed me the tray with the food, patted me on the head and left.
"You don't hate me now that I'm feeding you, do you?" Quatre said looking way too smug for his own good.
"Nope." I mumbled through a mouthful of rice. "Still hate you. Love Rashid though." I grinned at him and he laughed.
oOOo
I dawdled along the side walk watching the people in cars speed past me. I had used the last of my change to take the bus to Quatre's and now I had nothing which meant I was walking home.
Actually… that would be a lie. I had about… one, two, three… four pennies.
I spied a man counting bills in his wallet and then stuffing it into his jacket pocket… a very expensive looking jacket if I do say so myself. Now I'm not a thief… well… not always anyway. But I am guilty of a bit of slight of hand.
Yeah, fine. I'm a thief. Sometimes. It's not a trade.
Speeding up I bumped into the guy hard. He stumbled and I grabbed his arm in the pretext of helping him regain his balance. He never felt my hand slip into his pocket and deftly transfer the wallet to my pocket.
"Hey sorry man! Didn't see you there." I said sticking my tongue out in an exaggerated expression of 'oops, clumsy ain't I?'
"No problem there kiddo." He said and smiled at me. I immediately felt like a bastard.
Sighing deeply I pulled out his wallet. "This is yours." I handed it to him and his eyes widened. I just hoped he wouldn't call the police on me.
"Wow thank you. I didn't even notice I dropped it!" He said taking the wallet from me. I stared at him. How did he not notice me take the wallet out of my pocket and hand it to him? It was obvious I had stolen the damn thing!
"I uh… well…" I shoved my hands deep in my pockets and decided I really should get going. This was not good. Maybe he just hadn't noticed it?
"Goodnight! Thank you again." He said before waving goodbye and he ran off.
I sighed watching him go already regretting not keeping the wallet. Just a few seconds after that I saw a man come running towards me, salt and pepper hair starting to thin, his bulging stomach jiggling with each step and his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. "C-catch him…" Gasp, heave, pant, "T-thief…"
I stared at him slack jawed, then I turned to look at the rapidly disappearing back of the guy I had returned the wallet to. He was running away as though he was being chased by the devil himself, crossing the road midway causing a lot of honking horns and yelling.
All I could do at that point was yell out, "SONOVABITCH!"
oOOo
I breathed in deeply, lying on my couch as the light filtered through mismatched curtains and one bed sheet hung over the windows. My nose wrinkled as the smell wafted out from the shitty couch. Something was rotting in there but I was too afraid to pick up the cushions to check.
And how long can it rot anyway? Once the food for the bacteria is gone, they'll die off too.
Yeah… I know it doesn't work like that. If you wanna clean the couch that badly, be my guest. I'm happy ignoring it.
Getting off the couch I opted for a quick shower. Then it was time to go outside and look for a job. Any job. Preferably something that required me to stay dressed thank you very much.
"Hello Mr. Adams, how are you doing today?" I greeted the rather large spider that loved my bathtub. "I'm sorry I have to take a shower, I'll put you right back I promise." I lifted him up – I think it's a him – and stuck him on the wall. He was used to this by now and didn't even bother moving from where I stuck him. Taking a quick cold – freezing – shower I stepped out, returned Mr. Adams back to his place on the corner of the shower wall.
"Have a good day!" I said to him as I wrapped a towel around my waist. He moved his legs lazily in answer and I grinned at him, twisting extra water out of my hair. I twisted them into a makeshift bun and headed into the living room turned into a bedroom.
Changing quickly and braiding my still damp hair I headed out the fire-escape, jumping down the last ladder. The cold air hit me in the face like a bitchslapping ex-girlfriend and I cursed colourfully. It was getting cold too damn fast. My apartment had no heating and I hated the winters in there. The lack of a proper blanket may have something to do with that.
"Duo! RENT!!" A guy stuck his head out of the window near where I was. Oh great, it was that time of the month again. The landlord was going to go all hormonal on me.
"What did the peach say to the apple?" I whispered to him, bringing my face as close to his as possible.
"Err… what?" He asked annoyed.
"SEE YA!" I yelled in his face and I saw him back off quickly from the loud volume. I ran off just as he started cursing me into oblivion.
I spent the entire day rummaging through garbage – oh look! Someone threw out a perfectly good pair of underwear! … Nah, I'm not that desperate – stealing newspapers to keep up with Heero's news – Today, there were none. He's escaped and the authorities are goingmad! MAD I tells ya! – and then I managed to dust old man MacDonald's shelves. He paid me fifteen dollars for three hours of work. Slavery much?
Well technically, I took three hours when it should have only taken half an hour. I'd only work while Mac was around which meant that I ended up piling the hours.
Yes! Fifteen dollars! Now I just need a hundred more and I'll have this month's rent!
I yelled out in frustration. Yes, I was screwed.
I kicked a can nearby as I glanced at the sky. It was starting to get dark and the wind was getting chillier. I shivered and tried to warm my hands by breathing on them. Damn my thin jacket was only good for keeping the wind and rain out. It did nothing for the old fashioned temperature drop.
Oh and it also made me look bigger – about twice as big actually – than I was which dissuaded a lot of people from attacking me. I live in a bad area remember?
I was walking along quietly down the darkening streets, just about to turn into the alleyway that held my fire-escape when I heard a yell and something crash, kind of like glass breaking.
Oh crap, trouble. I decided to keep my head down and keep walking when I heard a moan, a painful drawn out moan.
Oh double crap. Someone was being picked on. Normally I still walk away, but today I didn't have the heart to. I'll go see what the fuss is about, then decide if I will be doing the saving or the beating.
In either case, I'll need a weapon. I looked around me and noticed a wooden stick with the diameter of about an inch, an arms width long, lying a few feet from me.
That'll do just fine!
Picking it up I swung it over my shoulder, letting it bump against my back with each step. About one alley down the noise intensified and I could make out actual words being spoken.
"Did you make the call yet? Do it! Do it!" A hoarse voice said, quivering with excitement.
"I am boss, but they think I'm lying!" A smaller voice.
There was the sound of rapid footsteps and then a loud thud. "Try and run away from me would ya? Make sure he's unable to walk." The first voice said bossily.
I heard the sound of shuffling feet and next thing I heard was a pained grunt. I slid closer to the mouth of the alley, my back to the wall. I peeked around the corner and saw a man lying on the ground, on his stomach surrounded by at least five goons. He was wearing an expensive suit, now matted with dirt and… blood? He was slowly moving his hands, putting them on the ground around his head and hoisting himself up before a thug standing next to him put a booted leg on his back and pushed down, foiling his attempt easily.
"He's still moving boss!" He said and the 'boss' who was a lumbering half giant with brains the size of a pea – I don't actually know this fact of course, he just looked retarded… no, mentally challenged as Quatre would correct me…very painfully – looked at the man lying on the ground.
"Oh ho ho pretty boy! Got a lotta spunk don't ya?" He said to the shivering body. What the hell was a guy doing dressed like that on such a cold day? I watched my breath fog in front of me. Yes, a very cold day indeed.
Deciding who's side I was going to be on I stepped into the light. "How about you let him go and I won't hurt you... much." I said my voice loud and clear. Now I shall point out one very important –crucial – fact: I am a five feet, eight inches 21 year old male who weighs roughly a hundred and ten pounds… with all my clothes on. The lumbering half giant probably weighs… hmm… about three hundred, give or take a few hundred.
"You?You'll hurt me?" He raised an eyebrow surprised by such a threat from me. He looked around at his goons and they all laughed. "I don't think so pretty boy."
Taking my make-shift weapon out from behind me I held it in a swing-ready position. "Come and get it ugly." I challenged.
In the darkness I saw one icy blue eye peak out from a mess of dark hair to look at me. The shadows prevented me from glimpsing his face but wow! The guy was a hunk!
"Oh look, baby has a toy." They mocked and I bristled. "And is that a braid I spy? Or maybe the bitch has a tail?"
Maybe this would be a good point to tell everyone I am not an honourable fighter. I fight dirty. I kick, punch, bite, scratch and pull hair. I also do a lot of kneeing the groin, kicking the groin, hitting the groin with everything hard… I do a lot to the groin, and none of it sexual.
As the first goon came towards me I stayed still waiting for him to get into striking range. "Maybe he just wants to do the dirty? Been lonely lately love?" He drawled.
"Yeah, real lonely. I was getting tired of fucking myself with a cucumber. Gets old after a while." I said smoothly. "But then," I glanced at his crotch very pointedly, "You don't look like you could fuck a rat so…"
He sneered at me and I knew I had him. As he thundered towards me I changed the angle of the stick at the last moment. The thug, who was expecting me to swing, didn't see me stab the end of the stick right between his legs. As he howled with pain and doubled over, the war was on.
In a rush of madness every goon there tried attacking me. I dodged all their hits managing to incapacitate majority of them through my dirty underhanded tricks. I did a lot of kicking, I tried to avoid biting but I bit one in the thigh at a point.
I was getting tired soon but I didn't let them see that. I swung the stick hard at the leader's head and it cracked, breaking into two pieces. Holy fucking mother of all hell I had just signed my death warrant.
"Oh shit." I said horrified as he grinned at me widely. I was surrounded, my only weapon useless and I was not strong enough to get away with hand to hand combat. "Look I don't mean any trouble…" I tried at a truce but it fell on deaf ears.
"Get him boys." He said and everyone surged forward. I yelped ducking and covering my head when I heard a loud 'bang!' Then… silence. I risked a look, peaking through my fingers. The leader lay in front of me, out cold, the tall shadow of the man he had been harassing standing behind him holding what looked like a crowbar.
"Step back." His voice was low, thick with exhaustion or pain I didn't know which. "NOW!" He yelled and everyone scrambled back. "Leave." He ordered and the thugs scuttled forward quickly and dragged the leader away, emptying the alley in seconds.
Wow, he would make a great leader. He had such authority in his voice he made me shake in my boots.
I watched his figure in the darkness of the alley, the crowbar fell from his fingers and he sank to the ground, pulling his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. "Y-you okay?" He asked me and I nodded standing up.
"I should be asking you that. What are you doing in this part of the town? Are you lost? I can lead you to the nearest bus station or the police station." I said stepping towards him. As I came closer I saw his face covered with dirt, a trail of blood coming from the side of his face down to his chin, soaking the collar there crimson.
He had a head injury. He needed a doctor. "Go away." He whispered before laying his head in his folded arms and closing his eyes.
"Hey dude! Don't sleep man, or you'll die or something." I said crouching before him, peering through the darkness at his lax features. The dirt was caked there! "I can call an ambulance for you real quick."
"No…hospitals... please" He mumbled but he was falling asleep fast.
"Hey!" I snapped my fingers in front of his face and he looked at them lethargically. "Okay that's it dude, you're coming with me." I said grasping his hand, which was warmer than normal¸ and wrapping his arm around my shoulders, trying to bring him to his feet.
Well, he weighs more than me that's for sure. And I'm no muscleman to be able to haul him wherever a the drop of a hat.
"A little help here?!" I asked and he got up with a groan. I dragged him to my apartment which thankfully wasn't far. I dragged him upstairs, aided only minimally by him and left him sitting in front of my door. Then I ran back downstairs, behind the building into the alley and jumped up on the fire escape ladder, dashing up three floors and then climbing in through my kitchen window. I went to the living room and prayed to the god I don't believe in that the door would open. I jiggled the lock. Nope. Stuck.
I took a deep breath and jiggled the lock with more vigour and it still didn't work. Getting tired I twisted the lock and kicked it hard near the edge. The frame of the door came apart a little and the door busted open.
"Come in!" I said and saw that the guy had slumped over and was lying on the filthy ground asleep. "Oh damn it!" I grabbed his hands and dragged him inside leaving him lying on the ground. I poked him with my foot. "Hello! This is no sleepy time ya hear?" I said rather loudly but got no answer from him.
I saw that he was rather pale – unnaturally so – under the mess of dirt and blood and he was shivering. I placed a hand on his bloody forehead and realised he had a massive fever. I dragged him to the shitty couch and dumped his ass there. Grabbing a first aid kit Quatre insisted I keep and a wet cloth I went to the living room.
That was when I noticed it. From this angle it was hard to miss the slowly oozing wound on his left thigh. And it wasn't oozing blood… there was pale yellow liquid soaking into the dark trouser and the wound itself was bloody and black in areas.
Damn, damn, damn, damn. He had an infected wound! This was out of my league… way, way, way out.
And you know when something is that out of my league, it's usually within Quatre's.
I dashed downstairs and knocked on Bruno's door hard. "BRUNO!! OPEN THE MOTHERFUCKING DOOR YOU ASSWIPE!" I screamed and he opened the door looking bewildered.
"What the fuck do you want?" He asked me and I got to my knees.
"I need your phone, please give me your phone! I need to make a quick call!" I pleaded with him even getting fake tears in my eyes.
"Rent first phone later." He said and started closing the door again. I lodged myself in between the door and the frame to keep it open.
"Listen you shitbag, if I can't make that call someone's going to die up there and I'm going to dump his dirt, blood and pus covered body right into your balcony you get that?" I said to him and his eyes widened. He grabbed the phone near the door for me and gave it to me.
"Keep it quick." He said but I could see he was worried that something had happened.
I quickly dialled Quatre's number. "Rashid! Quatre! Give me Quatre!" I yelled and I heard him called Q downstairs telling him there was an emergency. Can that man read me or what?
"Hello? Duo? What happened?" Oh bless his little heart Qutie was worried.
"There's a guy in my apartment and he has a concussion and an infected wound and he's DYING! Get your ass here!"
"What?! I-I'm not qualified, I can't treat him! I'll get a doctor and…"
"No, no, no. Get your ass here. Now!" Poor little Q bumbled a bit more before he relented and decided to 'see what he could do'.
A half hour later the guy's pant leg was cut off, the seeping wound being washed and Quatre had given the guy a bunch of antibiotics. Halfway through the fiddling and trying to clean his wound the guy woke up and we had to calm him down. He was convinced we were going to the police.
In his fevered state he told us he had been shot in the leg. Quatre's face paled.
"I am NOT extracting a bullet Duo!" He hissed at me in the shitty kitchen, out of earshot of the dying guy.
"Come on man! You can't leave him to die!" I pleaded.
"I won't! I'll take him to a hospital." He said before he headed into the living room. "Excuse me?" He said gently to the guy lying on my couch. "I'm going to call an ambulance okay? We'll get that wound treated the right way."
"No!" He said his fever-bright eyes opening when he heard the word 'hospital'. Quatre then proceeded to explain to him why it was impertinent that he go to a medical facility and the guy refused every time.
Eventually sighing, he told the guy he was not qualified but he'll do his best. He also had us swear we won't tell anyone he did this because apparently it's illegal for him to practice medicine without a licence or some such bullshit.
I won't explain the gory details of the events that followed. Not because I want to spare you some misery, but because I didn't watch. I disappeared into my studio as I heard the guy shout and holler and then moan for the next fifteen minutes. I also heard Quatre trying to sooth him. I also remember something about him not having any anaesthetic.
I am a sissy. I admit it.
I came out when Quatre said that it was okay now. There was a bloody bullet lying on some tissue paper and the guy's leg, bandaged tightly, was resting on all the towels I owned, soaked in blood and pus and well… other things I'd rather not name.
"Let's get him washed up." Q said tiredly and I nodded feeling faint from all the blood. Q helped me undress the guy – and what a body he had! Hubba hubba! – down to his boxers, covering him with a thin sheet and used the wet cloth to wash the dirt and blood off the guy's face.
As more and more dirt was washed I felt my eyes widening. I knew that nose, those lips, those eyes and that hair!
Goddamn and shit on a bun! I had Heero Yuy in my apartment! I had touched him! Helped him! Undressed him!
Last thing I remember was Quatre saying, "Oh my god it's Yuy. I just helped a felon!" And here comes sweet oblivion.
A/N: Yeah... Duo swears alot...
Reviews!!! Thanks alot!
