Title: I Wonder What They're Doing Now
Warnings: Er..stuff =D *blinks* Find out for yourself ¬¬
Disclaimer: I do not own the pilots or anything related to Gundam Wing ¬¬ *mumbles about injustice* If Duos Pikachu plushie or Heeros cat Shinigami were to suddenly appear somewhere in this fic, that is mine ^^
It wasn't long before Heero and his new companion spotted what looked like a shiny black car, simple in design but impressive in all other aspects, turn the corner to their right with outmost precaution so as not to scratch the perfect paint. Or maybe, if it was Quatre driving it as Heero guessed it would be, it was to allow any possible pedestrian in the area the most safety he could offer. Heero leaned further out the window, hoping his arms could support his body, the lower half of which was pulling him down. Now and then he had to grab the windowsill to pull himself up again. He was anxious again. Excited, even. He noticed that the rhythm of his heart had increased in speed at the first sight of the unfamiliar car. He wanted to will it to slow down, and tried to ignore the feel of adrenaline, which he knew well from the war, slithering through his veins.
Without thinking quite clearly, he wheeled himself over to the front door, bending his fingers back and forth causing them to crack at times, and shifting continuously in his seat. The leather squeaked and strained under his weight. He watched the door without blinking, mentally preparing himself for when he knew he would hear a voice, the sharp ring of the door bell, a knock, or possibly the rap of knuckles on wood. Minutes passed by, and he heard nothing but the steadily increasing pace of his own breath. Shinigami has silently moved to sit beside him, not making anything remotely connected to a sound.
Another minute passed by.
And yet another still. He was growing impatient, and was wondering angrily why he was situated by the front door. Quatre would come, hell, he could be two days late for all Heero cared. It wouldn't even matter if he didn't come at all.
"It doesn't matter at all... I'm indifferent..." he lied loudly to himself, cracking his fingers with such ferocity the little black cat meowed slightly to stop him from breaking his fingers off by accident.
"Hn." Heero muttered in the cat's general direction, still keeping his eyes locked on the door handle.
Then he heard the echo of steps in the cold staircase, possibly a few floors down. Quatre had always taken the stairs; he had an odd fear of elevators. It seemed confined spaces didn't agree much with him, and it wasn't surprising taking into mind what sort of surroundings he'd grown up in. Who else would take the stairs? If it hadn't been for his disability, his pride, and still scarcely emotion-touched heart, Heero would have bolted down the stairs to meet his old friend. Though the word 'bolted' is a slight overstatement. Possibly he would have walked to the foot of the stairs, probably not even that.
He stopped breathing completely as the steps grew nearer, squeaking on the shined concrete with the sound sneakers make. /=/The typical sound of a play full child…/=/, snapping back and wondering where he got that phrase from. It certainly couldn't have been from personal experience. And his imagination didn't stretch over anything like that…or perhaps it did.
A knock rapped the door. Impatient, eager to just fling it open. He could tell. It was an analyzing skill he'd somehow managed to acquire with everything else he'd learnt during his life. He stared at the wooden frame for a few seconds, reaching for the doorknob slowly. But as soon as he touched it, his hand shot back to him as if jolted by static electricity. He turned his back on the door and wheeled himself into the kitchen instead, sitting there for a full seven knocks, progressively growing louder.
"Come in. It's open." He said in a strong voice, not showing any of the surprising giddy-ness he felt. It was easy. He always managed to suppress and kill anything he was feeling. And so far, so good.
Except, it took a struggle to hear the door open with a slight creak, and Quatres shoes squeaking on the cold floor. Shinigami sat on the table opposite the stoic pilot, trying to persuade him with his violet eyes to act out what he felt he wanted to do, even if it was just hinted to Heero himself. He remained dead silent, staring at the activated computer screen, seeing nothing that was there.
"Heero…?" the voice was music to his ears, the familiarity of the tone, the pitch, everything – it was so kind and gentle, a joy to hear. He didn't even allow himself to think it, with practice, he'd become even better at being emotion-less than during the wars. His reply was unenthusiastically said as he turned in his wheel chair. He owed his friend that. To at least turn to acknowledge him. He wasn't that inhumane.
"Quatre. Long time." He couldn't help it. A small smile caressed his lips. It lit up his face with the glimmer of joy and happiness that no one, not even Quatre, would expect from the one they were used to being completely oblivious to feeling. Quatre rounded the corner to the kitchen, and stopped in the doorframe. He hadn't changed.
His shirt was a light salmon pink, tucked partially into his fairly tight- fitting black trousers. The absence of his vest, and the casual look of his T-Shirt made him appear relaxed, at ease. His hair was slightly messier than normal in its platinum blonde shine, and his eyes glazed over slightly when he set his eyes on Heero. His lips curved into a well-known smile, so very taken for granted in its power to make anyone feel welcome and comforted. At least by Heero. He had to fight to keep his smile vague.
They simply remained there for a few seconds, smiling at each other. Each was bathed in the rush of times gone by that swept over them. It was a feeling you couldn't avoid. Not even Heero. It'd been four years. FOUR years since he last saw his friend. Four years since he'd last been offered the famous green tea Quatre made. Four years since he'd last felt a tranquil hand on his shoulder if he was ever discouraged, four years since he'd last met eyes with one of the four people he fought side by side with.
"Four years, huh." Quatre said, off in La-la land to the most part.
"Four years indeed." Heero replied shortly, giving away warmth with his voice for once.
"Four years…" Quatre shook his head and looked at his shoes, still smiling. Not being able to handle the miniscule distance between him and his friend, he launched at Heero like an overjoyed puppy when it receives its treat for its moment of perfected training. He embraced Heero in a bear hug, wrapping his arms around his friends and burying his face in Heeros neck like a child would to his relatives. Heero, slightly shocked by the first hug attack he'd received in a long time, took a few blinks, an 'Ehhh..', and the feeling of Quatres moist eyelashes against his skin to pull himself back to reality. Slowly the smile crept back to his face again. A genuine smile. Not the business smirk or the courteous grin he used to convince people he was happy. He wrapped his right arm shakily around Quatres neck and returned the embrace to the happy SandRock pilot. Quatre was still smiling, holding back tears of pure joy. It took Quatre long to get over four years of absence, it seemed as if he'd never let go of his companion again.
And Heero? It'd taken a full four years.
But he was happy again.
To Be Continued
A/N: What can I say, I'm suffering from slight writers block..*passes out*
Warnings: Er..stuff =D *blinks* Find out for yourself ¬¬
Disclaimer: I do not own the pilots or anything related to Gundam Wing ¬¬ *mumbles about injustice* If Duos Pikachu plushie or Heeros cat Shinigami were to suddenly appear somewhere in this fic, that is mine ^^
It wasn't long before Heero and his new companion spotted what looked like a shiny black car, simple in design but impressive in all other aspects, turn the corner to their right with outmost precaution so as not to scratch the perfect paint. Or maybe, if it was Quatre driving it as Heero guessed it would be, it was to allow any possible pedestrian in the area the most safety he could offer. Heero leaned further out the window, hoping his arms could support his body, the lower half of which was pulling him down. Now and then he had to grab the windowsill to pull himself up again. He was anxious again. Excited, even. He noticed that the rhythm of his heart had increased in speed at the first sight of the unfamiliar car. He wanted to will it to slow down, and tried to ignore the feel of adrenaline, which he knew well from the war, slithering through his veins.
Without thinking quite clearly, he wheeled himself over to the front door, bending his fingers back and forth causing them to crack at times, and shifting continuously in his seat. The leather squeaked and strained under his weight. He watched the door without blinking, mentally preparing himself for when he knew he would hear a voice, the sharp ring of the door bell, a knock, or possibly the rap of knuckles on wood. Minutes passed by, and he heard nothing but the steadily increasing pace of his own breath. Shinigami has silently moved to sit beside him, not making anything remotely connected to a sound.
Another minute passed by.
And yet another still. He was growing impatient, and was wondering angrily why he was situated by the front door. Quatre would come, hell, he could be two days late for all Heero cared. It wouldn't even matter if he didn't come at all.
"It doesn't matter at all... I'm indifferent..." he lied loudly to himself, cracking his fingers with such ferocity the little black cat meowed slightly to stop him from breaking his fingers off by accident.
"Hn." Heero muttered in the cat's general direction, still keeping his eyes locked on the door handle.
Then he heard the echo of steps in the cold staircase, possibly a few floors down. Quatre had always taken the stairs; he had an odd fear of elevators. It seemed confined spaces didn't agree much with him, and it wasn't surprising taking into mind what sort of surroundings he'd grown up in. Who else would take the stairs? If it hadn't been for his disability, his pride, and still scarcely emotion-touched heart, Heero would have bolted down the stairs to meet his old friend. Though the word 'bolted' is a slight overstatement. Possibly he would have walked to the foot of the stairs, probably not even that.
He stopped breathing completely as the steps grew nearer, squeaking on the shined concrete with the sound sneakers make. /=/The typical sound of a play full child…/=/, snapping back and wondering where he got that phrase from. It certainly couldn't have been from personal experience. And his imagination didn't stretch over anything like that…or perhaps it did.
A knock rapped the door. Impatient, eager to just fling it open. He could tell. It was an analyzing skill he'd somehow managed to acquire with everything else he'd learnt during his life. He stared at the wooden frame for a few seconds, reaching for the doorknob slowly. But as soon as he touched it, his hand shot back to him as if jolted by static electricity. He turned his back on the door and wheeled himself into the kitchen instead, sitting there for a full seven knocks, progressively growing louder.
"Come in. It's open." He said in a strong voice, not showing any of the surprising giddy-ness he felt. It was easy. He always managed to suppress and kill anything he was feeling. And so far, so good.
Except, it took a struggle to hear the door open with a slight creak, and Quatres shoes squeaking on the cold floor. Shinigami sat on the table opposite the stoic pilot, trying to persuade him with his violet eyes to act out what he felt he wanted to do, even if it was just hinted to Heero himself. He remained dead silent, staring at the activated computer screen, seeing nothing that was there.
"Heero…?" the voice was music to his ears, the familiarity of the tone, the pitch, everything – it was so kind and gentle, a joy to hear. He didn't even allow himself to think it, with practice, he'd become even better at being emotion-less than during the wars. His reply was unenthusiastically said as he turned in his wheel chair. He owed his friend that. To at least turn to acknowledge him. He wasn't that inhumane.
"Quatre. Long time." He couldn't help it. A small smile caressed his lips. It lit up his face with the glimmer of joy and happiness that no one, not even Quatre, would expect from the one they were used to being completely oblivious to feeling. Quatre rounded the corner to the kitchen, and stopped in the doorframe. He hadn't changed.
His shirt was a light salmon pink, tucked partially into his fairly tight- fitting black trousers. The absence of his vest, and the casual look of his T-Shirt made him appear relaxed, at ease. His hair was slightly messier than normal in its platinum blonde shine, and his eyes glazed over slightly when he set his eyes on Heero. His lips curved into a well-known smile, so very taken for granted in its power to make anyone feel welcome and comforted. At least by Heero. He had to fight to keep his smile vague.
They simply remained there for a few seconds, smiling at each other. Each was bathed in the rush of times gone by that swept over them. It was a feeling you couldn't avoid. Not even Heero. It'd been four years. FOUR years since he last saw his friend. Four years since he'd last been offered the famous green tea Quatre made. Four years since he'd last felt a tranquil hand on his shoulder if he was ever discouraged, four years since he'd last met eyes with one of the four people he fought side by side with.
"Four years, huh." Quatre said, off in La-la land to the most part.
"Four years indeed." Heero replied shortly, giving away warmth with his voice for once.
"Four years…" Quatre shook his head and looked at his shoes, still smiling. Not being able to handle the miniscule distance between him and his friend, he launched at Heero like an overjoyed puppy when it receives its treat for its moment of perfected training. He embraced Heero in a bear hug, wrapping his arms around his friends and burying his face in Heeros neck like a child would to his relatives. Heero, slightly shocked by the first hug attack he'd received in a long time, took a few blinks, an 'Ehhh..', and the feeling of Quatres moist eyelashes against his skin to pull himself back to reality. Slowly the smile crept back to his face again. A genuine smile. Not the business smirk or the courteous grin he used to convince people he was happy. He wrapped his right arm shakily around Quatres neck and returned the embrace to the happy SandRock pilot. Quatre was still smiling, holding back tears of pure joy. It took Quatre long to get over four years of absence, it seemed as if he'd never let go of his companion again.
And Heero? It'd taken a full four years.
But he was happy again.
To Be Continued
A/N: What can I say, I'm suffering from slight writers block..*passes out*