Title: 0102 Wing Street - 2
Author: Sita Seraph
Genre: Romance, Humor
Pairing: 1x2, 3x4 get-together fic
Rated: PG-13
Warning: Attempt at humor. Alternative Universe. Yaoi.
Summary: Duo Maxwell is trying to keep his restaurant and hotel, Maxwell, from collapsing when a youthful stud-with-cash walks into his life…and tries to take it over.
"All righty then, follow me," I tell the suit as he came back into the kitchen with a small bag in hand. Trowa returned, happily I think, to his little haven of hamburger fat while I show my new resident to his room. "Trowa, I'll be back soon." A nod of acknowledgement. Yay.
Turning around, I went the way I came this morning. The suit follows behind me, rather slowly I think, as I strut down the hall. He was either A.) thinking about how disgusting this place is and how much work it needs. All the new people thought that, whether they denied it or not. Well, I wasn't forcing the guy to stay. It was his choice after all and he had picked this place when the front of the building didn't look so hot either. People. B.) He was wondering if I was going to attack him again. I must say that was a mighty close call. I was ready to either chase the guy out of my store or run the other direction and hide under my little bed with my spider friend. He must really think I'm psycho. C.) He was checking out my ass.
I really hope it wasn't the last one.
Turning around, I watch him walk casually towards me after I had bounded off ahead with my endless energy. My foot started doing a nice little impression of impatience against the dirty tiles. Come on, one foot in front of the other…There we go.
"Okay, since its going to take a year to get up these stairs at THAT pace, I might as well start explaining things," I say, turning around when he had finally caught up with me. I start up the rickety old stairs, squeaking and groaning under my massive weight (I'm not large! Really! It was a JOKE! Oi!). I bet they were just waiting for a good excuse to come apart and suck me under their wooden tiles. Ugh.
"The elevator isn't working at the moment," I start explaining, walking quickly up with my hand on the shaky banister. "It actually comes and goes but in case you ever want a private place to scream and rant, the elevator would a perfect place to get stuck in. So, um, yeah."
I think he is listening to me. It was kind of hard to tell since he had that blank face all the time. This guy must be a hell of a businessman. WHY did he choose such a dump to live in?
"Moving on, there are two other people, not counting myself, that live in this little hell hole. Chang Wufei, china guy, and he loves to talk about the unjust things in the world. So if you're in the mood to listen about women, disgusting food, and justice, then he is your man. If not, stay away. Fair warning."
First floor, finally. Moving on to the second…
"The other is Quatre Winner. Know him?"
There came that weird sound again that sounded like 'hn'. I wonder how many ways one person could use that little sound. Acknowledgement. Suggestive. Annoyance. Sexual…ehehehehehehe.
"Well, I'm just going to take that as a no," I continue, shrugging. "He owns the Winner Corporation, which, if you are a businessman, it should jog your memory a bit. Really nice guy, you wont have to worry about running away from him when he walks down the hall."
"I know him."
"You do?"
Second floor…
"Yes."
This guy is just as bad as Trowa! Sheesh, what is it with the world today? Why do they keep sending me the strong silent types and justice freaks? Thank God for Quatre or I might have gone insane by now. The world is so cruel to me.
"Well, uh, then we'll just have to have a party!" I joke. He stared at me strangely. Fiiiiiiine. Humph.
Finally we got to the third floor where I had shoved everyone. It had a good view, believe it or not, from this level and it was also my cleanest floor.
…
Okay, fine. I'm LAZY, all right? I admit it. But would you want to run up and down between floors to get money from your renters when you had more important things to be doing? Nooooo, I didn't think so.
"Okay, well, uh, pick a room," I say and wave my hand around conversationally. "That is, if it isn't taken."
He's staring at me again. I wonder if I just broke out a new pimple…Ew. I *hate* pimples. Just as much as I hate when people touch my hair. And you know how much I hate people touching my braid, don't you?
"What?" I say, getting a little irritated. "Okay, fine, I'll pick the room." Grumbling, I walk to the nearest door, and, hoping with all my might that it is crawling with mice and flying moths to just creep the guy out, I let it swing open. No rats. No moths. Damn.
"There," I say and walk in casually, hands on my hips. "I'll get you some sheets for your bed. No tacks or anything put on the walls, please. I don't think they can handle the rough treatment. Don't want them to come down at you, now do we? Anyway, pets are allowed only if you plan on cleaning up their shit."
The suit had stopped at the door to stare and study his surroundings like some machine. What is it with this guy? Sighing, I continue.
"And under no circumstances can I afford to fix things up for you," I say. "If your faucet breaks down or something, don't come crying to me. Everything comes out of your own pocket."
"Hn," came that beautiful sound again. Sigh.
"All righty then," I say lively, clapping my hands though I really didn't feel any of the energy at the moment. My adrenaline rush from the kitchen left me a little woozy. "With that said and done, I'm gonna leave you alone and return to my meat and stove."
I turn to leave, braid swinging behind me, when the suit calls me back. "How much do you pay to work down there?"
Freeze. Hold the phone. Was this guy actually serious? He wanted to work with a psycho that just tried to shove a knife in his kidneys? Dude, what is it with people these days?
"Are you asking for a job?" I ask, turning back around. The suit just set his suitcase on the floor and he turns to look at me, arms slowly crossing over his chest.
"No," he answers. "I'm just wondering."
Giving him my best skeptical look, I cross my arms over my chest, head tilting to the side. My heavy braid quickly follows and I find an even heavier presence weighing me down. Damn. It. How can girls stand hair so long like this?
Then again, why the hell don't I cut it? Eh…Don't answer that. Please.
"Minimum wage," I answer carefully, just waiting for him to run up and attack me for being a cheap ass…or something. You can never be too careful…MmmHmm…
"Hmm," he mumbles thoughtfully. "And when do you plan to fix this dump?"
"Hey man!" I yell angrily, pointing my finger in his direction. "This is my home, that you're talking about! I didn't ask you to stay here! Why, I should kick you out for wearing-."
"I was just asking," the suit snaps. "Besides, does not Quatre Winner wear a suit everyday?"
"Yeah, but he doesn't have the asshole personality to go with it," I grumble. The suit suddenly perks up and for a minute, I believe he heard me. Then slowly his gaze grows dark. Yep…he heard me…
"I have nothing more to ask you," he grunts, arms crossing. "Leave."
"Yes, almighty leader," I reply mockingly and I bow lowly to his Royal Suit Ass before turning around and walking straight out with all the pride I can muster into my spine.
*****
I find myself cuddling on the couch that evening, hugging my pillow in replacement for a human being. The TV is on, but I'm not really watching it. Instead, I'm just staring off at the pile of bills just beyond my reach on the floor. I owe more money this week than usual, because I fell asleep and left the TV on all night. And then there had been the incident just a couple of weeks ago where a few men were fighting over whether I was a guy or girl. It pissed me off to no end, especially when they cracked my counter when one had punched the other fat ass. I had to replace the whole part of the counter.
I sigh heavily into the pillow, gripping onto it more tightly. I need, right now, some human support. A pat on the back would be nice. A little hug. The stress was climbing from all the bills rolling in. I was ready to scream. And I hated stress. A lot. It was in third place on my Hate List.
What was I going to do? I had to buy more food for the restaurant yet with this six hundred dollar fee over my head, it was going to kill me. No, it was going to kill my business. I'll never have enough to pay off and get all the supplies I needed.
I sigh into the silent night. "Being poor sucks."
And it only gets worse with my new occupant. It is easy to admit to myself that this place needed more work then the Coliseum. But when other people came around, eyes staring at everything with the biggest disgust all over their faces, I just want to scream and tell them to get out. They didn't understand what it is like to never have enough money to keep the lights on. They didn't understand how hard I work to just keep a stupid smile on my face so they would think a poor bastard like me is a happy poor bastard. And that suit – that Heero Yuy – is just like the rest. When he was born, he probably had toys shoved in his face until he was buried in them. Since I was born, I had a spatula in one hand and a mop in the other. It just isn't enough. The rich bastard probably even knows his parents.
I never even met mine.
I lived with my aunt from the first thing I remember. She died sometime after I received news that I owned, from my dead parents, a shabby, run-down hotel and restaurant. I came a long way since then. I improved everything, made it better then when my parents left it. And it still isn't enough.
I rested there all night until I remember looking up and reading the clock say 12. After that, I fell asleep at some point, with all my worries and the stress going up. And you know what?
I left the TV on.