Title: Sex and Snack Foods (part of the Blue Series)
Author: Sailor Seraphim (slrsera @ aol.com)
Archive:
l.e.t.h.a.l.t.h.o.u.g.h.t.s. :: http://www.pluh.com/members/icefire
FanFiction.net :: http://fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=39868
Final Triumph :: http://www.geocities.com/finaltriumph
Emy's Archive :: http://emy.gwyaoi.com/main.html
All others please ask.
Rating: PG-ish
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its related characters. If I did, the series would be chock-full of tasty shounen ai goodness. I do, however, own the situations which occur in this fic.
Pairings: none
Warnings: Late-night munchies, language, some deep thoughts and some not-so-deep ones.
Spoilers: Up to the part in the series when Heero [censored] because Lady Une [censored] and Quatre and Duo go [censored] together.
Notes: This is a fic in what I've called the Blue Series. They're all giftfics for my friend aoi, and they're not related to each other in any way except that. And this bunny hit me on a Friday night when I was very tired. The title doesn't really have anything to do with the fic, well, yes, it does... but I just think it sounds cool. I *was* going to post this up the night before Yaoi-Con, but then decided that would be cruel.
Feedback: I take all constructive criticism. No flames, they leave nasty scorch marks on the carpet.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
There was no rhyme or reason to it.
He had had no nightmares; he had not been roused from slumber by the faces of countless people who had died under his blades. He had not been having a pleasant dream either; there were no lingering phantom touches and sweet caresses. But for some reason, Quatre Raberba Winner found his eyes snapping open at 2:44 AM. Quatre groaned, rolling over onto his stomach and burying his head under his pillow, trying to slip back into sleep. After lying huddled under his blankets for fifteen more minutes, Quatre reacted explosively, sitting up and throwing his pillow across the room where it impacted against the wall with a muffled thump and slid to the floor.
His stomach growled.
Quatre rubbed his eyes with his knuckle, digging sleep out of them the best he could. After sitting up in bed for another ten minutes, the blonde staggered to his feet and out of his room. The compound was quiet this late at night. Padding on bare feet, Quatre could make out the faint running lights of the Magunac mobile suits that were doing their patrols. The night was still and calm, so different from a few hours ago when Quatre and the other pilot -- Duo Maxwell -- had arrived under the cover of a sandstorm. Quatre idly wondered what the other pilot was up to. Possibly sleeping. The braided boy had seemed very subdued and quiet when they arrived at this compound. Quatre hadn't wanted to pry... they were practically strangers after all. Taking a quick glance at the stars, the blonde scanned the sky. He couldn't see the L4 Colonies from here. But there, right in his line of sight, were the colonies that made up L1. A breeze came up across the sands and the Arabian shivered. Then the feeling passed and Quatre shook his head.
"At least it isn't too cold," Quatre said idly, rubbing one hand against his bare arm. "Oh, great, Winner. Now you're talking to yourself. Ah, who cares? It's the middle of the night anyway. I can talk to myself if I want to."
Quatre's stomach growled in agreement.
Turning the last corner, Quatre was surprised to see a thin stream of light trickling through the crack of the kitchen door. Quietly, he pushed open the door and poked his blonde head in. What he saw was Duo, kneeling on top of the kitchen counter and pawing through the uppermost cupboards.
"... goddamn... sonova... I know there's gotta be..."
"Duo?"
Duo gasped loudly at the sound of Quatre's voice. Quatre watched in mute horror as Duo lost his balance, flailed his arms frantically back and forth, and then managed to catch hold of the cabinet door to keep from falling onto the tiled floor. Clutching his chest with one hand, Duo shot Quatre a particularly evil look from beneath his chestnut bangs.
"Jeezus, Quatre! Fire a gun next time and you'll kill me for sure!"
"I'm so sorry, Duo!" Quatre said, free of his paralysis and hurrying over stand next to the American. "I didn't know what would happen. Really, I'm very sorry!"
Duo waved off the apology, twisting around easily so that he was now sitting on the counter instead of kneeling. "It's okay, Quatre. You just surprised me. I wasn't expecting anyone to be around this late."
"Oh, well I wasn't expecting anyone to be in the kitchen either."
Duo raised one eyebrow and kicked his sock-clad feet against the counter. "So what're ya doin' up so late anyway? I didn't figure you to be the night-owl type."
Quatre opened his mouth, but his stomach answered for him.
Loudly.
The Arabian boy could feel the warmth flooding his face as the American laughed.
"I guess that answers my question, ne, Quatre? I'm here for the same reason. There's just something about being able to eat in the middle of the night, when no one's around, that appeals to me."
Quatre looked up into Duo's violet eyes. "Oh... I'm sorry..." he stammered. "I'll just get something and go, if you want to be alone..."
Turning abruptly, Quatre was stopped when he felt a pull on the shoulder of his nightshirt. Quatre looked over his shoulder. What he saw was Duo's face, devoid of the merry expression that it previously had. Instead, there was a desperate, haunted sort of look that made Quatre's heart feel tight in his chest.
"No..." Duo said, tugging on Quatre's shirt just a bit. "Don't go." Then the desperate look disappeared and Duo dropped Quatre's sleeve. "Besides, you're already here. You can help me look for something good to eat that doesn't require cooking."
Quatre nodded and crossed over to the large walk-in cupboard as Duo scrambled up onto his knees again and yanked open another cabinet. There were a few minutes of silence as the two teenaged boys rustled through the cabinets, looking for food.
"Cereal?"
"Uh... what kind? Not that whole grain shit?"
"No... It's sugar... sugar... sugar something. I'm not awake and I can't read but the box has a lot of bright colors on it."
Duo laughed. "Sounds good to me. How about... eeeww... what the hell is this? Quatre, why do you have 'strained beets' in your cabinets? Forget that... I don't even wanna know. Ah! Graham crackers!"
The blonde wrinkled his nose at some far too healthy looking boxes of oat bran and yanked out a bag of chips from behind them. "I think the Maganacs are hiding all the good food," Quatre commented dryly. He fumbled past some cans of baked beans and managed to locate some dip and a bag of cookies. Carrying his armful out and placing it on the table, he looked up to where Duo was still pawing through the cabinets. As if he could feel eyes on him, Duo looked over his shoulder and gave Quatre a knowing look. The Arabian felt himself start to blush again as he realized he was staring at the other boy and hurried back to the cupboard to hide his burning face. Just as he was moving over some packages of macaroni and cheese, a low voice broke through the silence.
"So, Quatre... ever been kissed?"
Quatre was startled and banged his head against one of the shelves. With a muttered curse, he moved away from the cabinet and yanked open the refrigerator door instead. He ignored the sound of Duo laughing at him, ignored the slow burn moving to his ears, ignored the little voice in the back of his head that was glad something was filling the silence. "What kind of question is that?"
Duo turned on the countertop and tossed a bag of pretzels onto the kitchen table. They landed with a crunch that promised that at least half the contents within would be broken to small pieces. "Aww, come on, man. It's pretty goddamn late. If I can't make stupid, inane conversation, what's the point? It's not supposed to be a stumper."
Quatre bit his lip, ducking his head to peer into the bottom shelves of the refrigerator. To answer or not to answer, that was the question. Would the American pilot pry until he got an answer or would he let the question lie? Quatre didn't know enough about the other boy -- they had met only a few times in the past, running into each other when the missions allowed. What did he really know about the chestnut-haired boy that was perched on the smooth Formica? And now, they were only brought together because... because... the Arabian shook his head against the midnight thoughts that threatened to overtake him. It was too late to be thinking about such things. Too late in more ways than one. What the hell... it was too late for so many things, and Quatre didn't want to lose the chance to make a new friend, or at least an ally.
"Aah... no. I was too busy with my tutors or with Father. I never really... you know. There weren't any... well... I wasn't..."
"No chicks caught your eye, huh?"
Quatre frowned at a box of baking soda. "Well, yes. What about you?"
Duo shrugged, tossing a bag of marshmallows onto the kitchen table. "I've kissed a couple of people in my time."
"You've kissed a girl?" Quatre asked, marine eyes blinking. He couldn't shake the feeling that this whole conversation was taking a turn for the surreal. If Rashid walked in carrying a sheep and wearing a kilt, the blonde probably wouldn't have been surprised. Well, maybe just a little.
A bar of chocolate followed the marshmallows. It slid across the table top but stopped before it fell to the floor, hanging in the uncertainty of the air and the wooden surface. "Among others."
"You've kissed *more* than girls?" Quatre asked, a jug of milk held loosely in his hands. He quickly put it back in the refrigerator before he dropped it. "Like... like... like..."
"Boys? Yeah."
Quatre knew that he was gaping like a landed fish at the other boy. After a brief moment, he managed to shut his mouth and took on a disaffected manner, struggling to be nonchalant about the whole affair. If the other boy wanted to make such confessions, it was alright with him. It was late. That was the excuse for everything. "You know, Duo... I think I really learned more than I wanted to know about you."
Duo stuck his tongue out at Quatre. "What's wrong? Jealous?"
"Of you? Hardly."
"You really don't know what you're missing, Quat."
"What? Kissing?"
"Yeah. It's pretty much the same with a guy as it is with a girl. It's after that that the real differences happen."
Quatre blinked then turned to stare at Duo. He didn't bother to cover up his shock this time. He was fifteen! Quatre pegged the other pilot to be around the same age. Could he...? Was it really possible...? How much had he been sheltered? Was he... behind... in learning such things? Why was he trying to compare in the first place? Wasn't he happy being who he was? Was he? But, still...
"So you've...?"
Duo quirked an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't want to know?" At Quatre's embarrassed stammer, Duo waved his hand. "No. I haven't been all the way. Going all the way with a girl means fathers with shotguns. And with a guy... well, it's sometimes worse. 'Sides, I've been around G and the Sweepers too long. Not too much going on around there, if you know what I mean."
Quatre nodded like he knew what Duo meant and turned back to the cupboard. The conversation between the two boys lapsed again as they both searched out the best things to eat. He had to admit to himself that the search was -- at least for him -- only a reason to have busy hands... an excuse to stay in the company of another person. And it was late. It was late at night and they both obviously couldn't sleep and what was wrong if they both would rather spend time with each other instead of wrapping themselves in the comfort of sleep? Neither of them could sleep anyway. And it was late. Quatre knew he was tired because his thoughts had begun to run around in little circles. The blonde threw a glance at where Duo was perched on the countertop and bit his lip. His heart still felt tight in his chest, and he wanted to know... but was it appropriate to ask? Well, didn't Duo say that now was the time to ask stupid questions?
"So what are you doing up so late?" he asked softly. Too softly. Maybe he didn't really want to ask after all. Maybe the braided boy would pretend he hadn't heard. Maybe the braided boy *really* hadn't heard. What did it matter? Did it matter? Why did he want to know? Why wasn't Quatre eating something instead of staring at a bag of rice? Why wasn't he in bed, pretending nothing was wrong? Why wasn't he back in L4 being the proper son, so he wouldn't have to *deal* with problems like this?
"I was... just thinking too much, I guess. Couldn't sleep." Duo paused in his search for a moment, then started again. He was noisier about it this time.
Quatre bit his lip and went back to the cupboard, poking around in a subdued manner. "Were you... were you thinking about...?" He couldn't even say the words.
The loud rustling sounds stopped. A cabinet door was closed.
"About the self-destruct? Yeah... yeah, I was."
Quatre looked down at the cold bottle of ketchup that he was clutching in his hands. The thick red paste just sat there in its glass prison, slowly oozing down the neck of the bottle. Thick red... red like... red like... Quatre shoved the ketchup back onto the shelf and grabbed a can of peaches instead.
"Do you think you ever could?" Duo asked.
Quatre's head snapped up and he looked towards Duo. The American was kneeling on the countertop still, his head bowed and his arms hanging limp at his sides. Though he had his back towards him, Quatre could still see the faint tremors that ran across Duo's shoulders and they way Duo's long chestnut braid twitched like a living thing with every movement.
"I... I don't know, Duo. If I had to, I think I would. If it was the only possible choice left. If I had a very good reason to."
"But not just because?"
"No. Not just because."
Marine eyes met violet across the space of the big kitchen. Slowly, Duo slid down off the counter, his socked feet not making a sound as he landed.
"I'm not so hungry any more," Duo said.
Quatre nodded.
They both left the kitchen.
-- Owari --
Author: Sailor Seraphim (slrsera @ aol.com)
Archive:
l.e.t.h.a.l.t.h.o.u.g.h.t.s. :: http://www.pluh.com/members/icefire
FanFiction.net :: http://fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=39868
Final Triumph :: http://www.geocities.com/finaltriumph
Emy's Archive :: http://emy.gwyaoi.com/main.html
All others please ask.
Rating: PG-ish
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its related characters. If I did, the series would be chock-full of tasty shounen ai goodness. I do, however, own the situations which occur in this fic.
Pairings: none
Warnings: Late-night munchies, language, some deep thoughts and some not-so-deep ones.
Spoilers: Up to the part in the series when Heero [censored] because Lady Une [censored] and Quatre and Duo go [censored] together.
Notes: This is a fic in what I've called the Blue Series. They're all giftfics for my friend aoi, and they're not related to each other in any way except that. And this bunny hit me on a Friday night when I was very tired. The title doesn't really have anything to do with the fic, well, yes, it does... but I just think it sounds cool. I *was* going to post this up the night before Yaoi-Con, but then decided that would be cruel.
Feedback: I take all constructive criticism. No flames, they leave nasty scorch marks on the carpet.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
There was no rhyme or reason to it.
He had had no nightmares; he had not been roused from slumber by the faces of countless people who had died under his blades. He had not been having a pleasant dream either; there were no lingering phantom touches and sweet caresses. But for some reason, Quatre Raberba Winner found his eyes snapping open at 2:44 AM. Quatre groaned, rolling over onto his stomach and burying his head under his pillow, trying to slip back into sleep. After lying huddled under his blankets for fifteen more minutes, Quatre reacted explosively, sitting up and throwing his pillow across the room where it impacted against the wall with a muffled thump and slid to the floor.
His stomach growled.
Quatre rubbed his eyes with his knuckle, digging sleep out of them the best he could. After sitting up in bed for another ten minutes, the blonde staggered to his feet and out of his room. The compound was quiet this late at night. Padding on bare feet, Quatre could make out the faint running lights of the Magunac mobile suits that were doing their patrols. The night was still and calm, so different from a few hours ago when Quatre and the other pilot -- Duo Maxwell -- had arrived under the cover of a sandstorm. Quatre idly wondered what the other pilot was up to. Possibly sleeping. The braided boy had seemed very subdued and quiet when they arrived at this compound. Quatre hadn't wanted to pry... they were practically strangers after all. Taking a quick glance at the stars, the blonde scanned the sky. He couldn't see the L4 Colonies from here. But there, right in his line of sight, were the colonies that made up L1. A breeze came up across the sands and the Arabian shivered. Then the feeling passed and Quatre shook his head.
"At least it isn't too cold," Quatre said idly, rubbing one hand against his bare arm. "Oh, great, Winner. Now you're talking to yourself. Ah, who cares? It's the middle of the night anyway. I can talk to myself if I want to."
Quatre's stomach growled in agreement.
Turning the last corner, Quatre was surprised to see a thin stream of light trickling through the crack of the kitchen door. Quietly, he pushed open the door and poked his blonde head in. What he saw was Duo, kneeling on top of the kitchen counter and pawing through the uppermost cupboards.
"... goddamn... sonova... I know there's gotta be..."
"Duo?"
Duo gasped loudly at the sound of Quatre's voice. Quatre watched in mute horror as Duo lost his balance, flailed his arms frantically back and forth, and then managed to catch hold of the cabinet door to keep from falling onto the tiled floor. Clutching his chest with one hand, Duo shot Quatre a particularly evil look from beneath his chestnut bangs.
"Jeezus, Quatre! Fire a gun next time and you'll kill me for sure!"
"I'm so sorry, Duo!" Quatre said, free of his paralysis and hurrying over stand next to the American. "I didn't know what would happen. Really, I'm very sorry!"
Duo waved off the apology, twisting around easily so that he was now sitting on the counter instead of kneeling. "It's okay, Quatre. You just surprised me. I wasn't expecting anyone to be around this late."
"Oh, well I wasn't expecting anyone to be in the kitchen either."
Duo raised one eyebrow and kicked his sock-clad feet against the counter. "So what're ya doin' up so late anyway? I didn't figure you to be the night-owl type."
Quatre opened his mouth, but his stomach answered for him.
Loudly.
The Arabian boy could feel the warmth flooding his face as the American laughed.
"I guess that answers my question, ne, Quatre? I'm here for the same reason. There's just something about being able to eat in the middle of the night, when no one's around, that appeals to me."
Quatre looked up into Duo's violet eyes. "Oh... I'm sorry..." he stammered. "I'll just get something and go, if you want to be alone..."
Turning abruptly, Quatre was stopped when he felt a pull on the shoulder of his nightshirt. Quatre looked over his shoulder. What he saw was Duo's face, devoid of the merry expression that it previously had. Instead, there was a desperate, haunted sort of look that made Quatre's heart feel tight in his chest.
"No..." Duo said, tugging on Quatre's shirt just a bit. "Don't go." Then the desperate look disappeared and Duo dropped Quatre's sleeve. "Besides, you're already here. You can help me look for something good to eat that doesn't require cooking."
Quatre nodded and crossed over to the large walk-in cupboard as Duo scrambled up onto his knees again and yanked open another cabinet. There were a few minutes of silence as the two teenaged boys rustled through the cabinets, looking for food.
"Cereal?"
"Uh... what kind? Not that whole grain shit?"
"No... It's sugar... sugar... sugar something. I'm not awake and I can't read but the box has a lot of bright colors on it."
Duo laughed. "Sounds good to me. How about... eeeww... what the hell is this? Quatre, why do you have 'strained beets' in your cabinets? Forget that... I don't even wanna know. Ah! Graham crackers!"
The blonde wrinkled his nose at some far too healthy looking boxes of oat bran and yanked out a bag of chips from behind them. "I think the Maganacs are hiding all the good food," Quatre commented dryly. He fumbled past some cans of baked beans and managed to locate some dip and a bag of cookies. Carrying his armful out and placing it on the table, he looked up to where Duo was still pawing through the cabinets. As if he could feel eyes on him, Duo looked over his shoulder and gave Quatre a knowing look. The Arabian felt himself start to blush again as he realized he was staring at the other boy and hurried back to the cupboard to hide his burning face. Just as he was moving over some packages of macaroni and cheese, a low voice broke through the silence.
"So, Quatre... ever been kissed?"
Quatre was startled and banged his head against one of the shelves. With a muttered curse, he moved away from the cabinet and yanked open the refrigerator door instead. He ignored the sound of Duo laughing at him, ignored the slow burn moving to his ears, ignored the little voice in the back of his head that was glad something was filling the silence. "What kind of question is that?"
Duo turned on the countertop and tossed a bag of pretzels onto the kitchen table. They landed with a crunch that promised that at least half the contents within would be broken to small pieces. "Aww, come on, man. It's pretty goddamn late. If I can't make stupid, inane conversation, what's the point? It's not supposed to be a stumper."
Quatre bit his lip, ducking his head to peer into the bottom shelves of the refrigerator. To answer or not to answer, that was the question. Would the American pilot pry until he got an answer or would he let the question lie? Quatre didn't know enough about the other boy -- they had met only a few times in the past, running into each other when the missions allowed. What did he really know about the chestnut-haired boy that was perched on the smooth Formica? And now, they were only brought together because... because... the Arabian shook his head against the midnight thoughts that threatened to overtake him. It was too late to be thinking about such things. Too late in more ways than one. What the hell... it was too late for so many things, and Quatre didn't want to lose the chance to make a new friend, or at least an ally.
"Aah... no. I was too busy with my tutors or with Father. I never really... you know. There weren't any... well... I wasn't..."
"No chicks caught your eye, huh?"
Quatre frowned at a box of baking soda. "Well, yes. What about you?"
Duo shrugged, tossing a bag of marshmallows onto the kitchen table. "I've kissed a couple of people in my time."
"You've kissed a girl?" Quatre asked, marine eyes blinking. He couldn't shake the feeling that this whole conversation was taking a turn for the surreal. If Rashid walked in carrying a sheep and wearing a kilt, the blonde probably wouldn't have been surprised. Well, maybe just a little.
A bar of chocolate followed the marshmallows. It slid across the table top but stopped before it fell to the floor, hanging in the uncertainty of the air and the wooden surface. "Among others."
"You've kissed *more* than girls?" Quatre asked, a jug of milk held loosely in his hands. He quickly put it back in the refrigerator before he dropped it. "Like... like... like..."
"Boys? Yeah."
Quatre knew that he was gaping like a landed fish at the other boy. After a brief moment, he managed to shut his mouth and took on a disaffected manner, struggling to be nonchalant about the whole affair. If the other boy wanted to make such confessions, it was alright with him. It was late. That was the excuse for everything. "You know, Duo... I think I really learned more than I wanted to know about you."
Duo stuck his tongue out at Quatre. "What's wrong? Jealous?"
"Of you? Hardly."
"You really don't know what you're missing, Quat."
"What? Kissing?"
"Yeah. It's pretty much the same with a guy as it is with a girl. It's after that that the real differences happen."
Quatre blinked then turned to stare at Duo. He didn't bother to cover up his shock this time. He was fifteen! Quatre pegged the other pilot to be around the same age. Could he...? Was it really possible...? How much had he been sheltered? Was he... behind... in learning such things? Why was he trying to compare in the first place? Wasn't he happy being who he was? Was he? But, still...
"So you've...?"
Duo quirked an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't want to know?" At Quatre's embarrassed stammer, Duo waved his hand. "No. I haven't been all the way. Going all the way with a girl means fathers with shotguns. And with a guy... well, it's sometimes worse. 'Sides, I've been around G and the Sweepers too long. Not too much going on around there, if you know what I mean."
Quatre nodded like he knew what Duo meant and turned back to the cupboard. The conversation between the two boys lapsed again as they both searched out the best things to eat. He had to admit to himself that the search was -- at least for him -- only a reason to have busy hands... an excuse to stay in the company of another person. And it was late. It was late at night and they both obviously couldn't sleep and what was wrong if they both would rather spend time with each other instead of wrapping themselves in the comfort of sleep? Neither of them could sleep anyway. And it was late. Quatre knew he was tired because his thoughts had begun to run around in little circles. The blonde threw a glance at where Duo was perched on the countertop and bit his lip. His heart still felt tight in his chest, and he wanted to know... but was it appropriate to ask? Well, didn't Duo say that now was the time to ask stupid questions?
"So what are you doing up so late?" he asked softly. Too softly. Maybe he didn't really want to ask after all. Maybe the braided boy would pretend he hadn't heard. Maybe the braided boy *really* hadn't heard. What did it matter? Did it matter? Why did he want to know? Why wasn't Quatre eating something instead of staring at a bag of rice? Why wasn't he in bed, pretending nothing was wrong? Why wasn't he back in L4 being the proper son, so he wouldn't have to *deal* with problems like this?
"I was... just thinking too much, I guess. Couldn't sleep." Duo paused in his search for a moment, then started again. He was noisier about it this time.
Quatre bit his lip and went back to the cupboard, poking around in a subdued manner. "Were you... were you thinking about...?" He couldn't even say the words.
The loud rustling sounds stopped. A cabinet door was closed.
"About the self-destruct? Yeah... yeah, I was."
Quatre looked down at the cold bottle of ketchup that he was clutching in his hands. The thick red paste just sat there in its glass prison, slowly oozing down the neck of the bottle. Thick red... red like... red like... Quatre shoved the ketchup back onto the shelf and grabbed a can of peaches instead.
"Do you think you ever could?" Duo asked.
Quatre's head snapped up and he looked towards Duo. The American was kneeling on the countertop still, his head bowed and his arms hanging limp at his sides. Though he had his back towards him, Quatre could still see the faint tremors that ran across Duo's shoulders and they way Duo's long chestnut braid twitched like a living thing with every movement.
"I... I don't know, Duo. If I had to, I think I would. If it was the only possible choice left. If I had a very good reason to."
"But not just because?"
"No. Not just because."
Marine eyes met violet across the space of the big kitchen. Slowly, Duo slid down off the counter, his socked feet not making a sound as he landed.
"I'm not so hungry any more," Duo said.
Quatre nodded.
They both left the kitchen.
-- Owari --