Standard disclaimers for Gundam Wing apply. All of the stuff from the
Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter novels belongs to Laurell K. Hamilton.
Warnings: Language (as per norm), and of course, shounen ai.
::K'lendel races in with a reversible sign, displaying a lime on one
side and a lemon on the other.:: Citrus ahead, minasan! And for some
reason, Mina-kaachan says it's my fault. ::Disappears with a cutely
confused look.::
::Mina waves here own little handy-dandy sign that reads 'It is
his fault, because he's my muse!':: Anou, as K'lendel-musuko said, it got
citrusy. As if you expected anything else from me, ne?
'Yokan'[1] is not usually a word found in my vocabulary, but
that was the thought that started running through my head and wouldn't
stop. I kept having this premonition of doom as Heero continued to drag me
towards the strange pair I'd been eavesdropping on earlier. When Wufei
finally got close enough, I grabbed onto his left arm like a school girl
at her first horror movie, figuring that if I had to be dragged kicking
and screaming to altar of the end of our lives—the proverbial altar,
anyway—then so did he. What I really wanted at the moment was another
drink, a nice strong one. I mean, I was a little tipsy already, but for
some reason I wanted to be three sheets to the wind before we reached our
destination.
Wufei shot me a questioning look, one black brow arched in silent
query. Thankfully, for once, he didn't make a smart-ass comment. I gave
him a pleading look in return, continuing to keep my hands locked around
his arm even as Heero continued to "walk" me with him. If I had thought it
would save my ass, I would have had a temper tantrum about then. However,
Heero seemed rather intent on taking us all to what I was completely sure
would be the end of our lives as we knew them.
Much to my disgust, I would eventually be able to say 'I told you so!'
very heatedly to everyone.
It was almost as if the man and woman had been expecting us. We were
within maybe ten metres of them when they turned almost as one—it was
scary as hell to witness, let me tell you—to watch the three of us
approach. The man seemed to be amused by my apprehension and the woman…
Well, the woman just scowled, pinched the man on the arm, and went back to
scowling at us with her hands on her hips.
Heero finally stopped when we were about a metre away from the couple,
his arm still like a steal band around my waist holding me firmly in
place. Which was probably a good thing since the item at the top of my
'Things to Do' list was to run like hell as fast and as far away as I
could.
Sadly, that hellish entity known as fate had other ideas. Bitch.
"Maxwell, what the hell is going on?" Wufei hissed at me irritably,
shooting me a glare from underneath wisps of black hair.
Okay, that miffed me. As if this was my fault!
I shook my head, blinking dumbly. "I haven't a fucking clue!" I
whispered back. I caught a glint out of the corner of my eye and noticed
he was carrying a glass in his other hand. Not caring what the hell was in
it, I snatched it from him and tossed the liquid back before he could
protest. Gagging and shooting him a shocked look, I handed the glass back.
"When the hell'd you start drinking Lemon Hart Demerara Rum?[2]" I asked
hoarsely, blinking back tears.
Wufei just gave me an innocent blink of his eyes, tipped the glass
back to catch the last few dark drops of liquid, and then returned the
glass to his side without answering my question.
Beside me, Heero chuckled as he overheard my comment, and I had to
fight back the urge to pinch him. I mean, my throat was still burning like
a son of a bitch, my tongue was numb, and I was still trying to keep tears
from streaming down my face, but I was certain I could do some damage with
a well placed pinch to the forearm.
I blinked at that thought, hazarding another glance at the woman, whom
I saw was now smiling at me wryly, as if we were now members of the same
secret society. I looked at her, then to the man beside her, and then back
at her before I smiled wryly myself. Perhaps we were in the same boat;
hanging out with men who managed to annoy the hell out of us constantly. I
didn't know if I'd ever like her or anything, but I knew that I definitely
understood her.
The man laughed softly again as if he shared Heero's amusement, the
sound rolling across my spine like the caress of chinchilla against bare
skin. I shivered, unconsciously leaning closer to Heero. How the hell
could I feel the guy's laugh? I mean, I'd kind of noticed it
earlier, but I'd passed it off as a figment of my imagination. This time,
though, I knew it was real.
"So we meet at last, Heero Yuy," the man—Jean-Claude, I think his name
was—said, a small smile playing about his lips.
Heero nodded, smiling in return. "I hear that you've been looking for
me for quite a long time."
The woman, Anita, snorted at that, tossing her head and sending curls
bouncing at her back. "Almost seventeen years isn't all that long," she
drawled, throwing me a quick wink. "So I take it this is the boy you've
been searching for, Jean-Claude?" She turned her head slightly to address
the man, but her dark eyes—bright and cunning eyes that I was sure missed
very little if anything at all—were kept trained on the three of us.
Again, understood her…yes. Liked her…I wasn't sure that would ever
happen. Something about her seemed off, as if she were acting
rather than showing us her real self.
At this point, I was beginning to get over my apprehension and the
niggling feeling of fear I'd had earlier. As a matter of fact, I was
getting down right angry. Wufei and I had gathered as much information on
this little mission as we could—which, I'll admit, hadn't been all that
much since it seemed to be very hush-hush—and yet Heero seemed to know
more about this than we did and he wasn't bothering to share.
"All right, Heero," I said, craning my head around to glare at the boy
whose arm was still wrapped firmly around my waist—and whose fingers were
still slowly creeping their way up under my shirt. I tried to squirm away,
but I only ended up failing miserably in my attempts, much to Heero's
delight. "Can all this high mystery and the 'sore wa himitsu desu'
bullshit. What the hell is going on here?" I asked irritably, settling for
a pout and a glare as Heero's fingers wandered across my skin and
unerringly found my belly button. I let out a startled and extremely
undignified eep, which just set Heero off all over again. As he continued
to laugh at me and I continued to plot revenge, I absently muttered aloud,
"You're such a damned secretive and pushy bastard, you know that?"
Anita blinked and then began to laugh. It was a nice laugh, I suppose;
not one of those ultra-high feminine giggles, and not the forced donkey
bray that most women I knew had. It was a genuine laugh, that kind of
rich, rolling belly laugh that lets you know the owner is sincere in their
amusement.
I must admit, it made me rethink my estimation of her a bit. However,
my gut instincts had never been wrong before, and I wasn't about to let my
guard down completely.
"He's definitely yours," she said at last, gesturing almost absently
towards Heero and I.
I frowned in confusion, wondering if she was referring to Heero or
myself. But what the hell did she mean by that 'He's definitely yours'
bit?
Jean-Claude turned suddenly, focusing his attention on Wufei, whom it
should be noted was still pinned firmly in place by my death grip on his
arm. And no, I wasn't about to let go any time in the near future. "How is
Shenlong, last of the Dragon Clan[3]?" he asked curiously, cocking his
head to the side.
I glanced at Wufei, feeling even more baffled than before. Wufei's
eyes had widened, and his mouth was working like a fish on land. Strange…I
think I can count on half of one hand the number of times I'd seen Wufei
startled speechless. I would have wanted a camera if the situation we were
in wasn't so damn strange.
His face rather pale, Wufei closed his mouth and swallowed audibly
before replying. "Shenlong was…quite well…the last time I checked," he
said hoarsely. He didn't look at either Heero or me; rather, he stared at
Jean-Claude as if he were trying to figure out some secret and he thought
he was close to the answer.
Throwing my arms up in the air, I muttered, "Great. Some strange guy
has been looking for Heero for seventeen years and now wants to talk
Gundams with us as well. And just what the hell do you mean Shenlong was
'quite well'?" I asked, glaring up and over at Wufei. "Shenlong was
totalled, Wu-man. KOed, obliterated, destroyed, annihilated,
demolished, wrecked, kaboom! That's how you got Altron, remember?"
Yep, I really needed to quit playing with the thesaurus when I was
bored. I knew waaay too many synonyms.
Anita rolled her eyes at my rant. "He's not talking about Gundams,
Duo," she said, as if it should have been a matter of course to me. I
bristled at her tone; I hate be talked down to—hate, hate,
hate it. "Jean-Claude is referring to your friend's pet demon."
Pet demon. Okay, so my friends were off the deep end, and apparently
this Anita woman was as well. I mean, you met all sorts of weird people at
dance clubs. That would explain Heero's and Wufei's strange behaviour,
after all, if Anita and Jean-Claude were complete and utter loony bin
residents and my friends were just humouring them to get the information
we needed. Yeah, that had to be it.
Unfortunately, everyone but myself seemed to be dead serious about
this pet demon shit. "So, when were you going to tell me about your pet
demon, Wu-man?" I asked lightly, though I was hoping to Shinigami that my
eyes were telling him I really felt otherwise. You know, something kind of
like 'As soon as we're alone, I'm going to beat the holy and ever living
hell out of you with a large, blunt object until you scream 'Nataku' like
a soprano Vienna Choir boy.'[4]
Wufei hung his head, mumbling, "I was hoping that no one would ever
find out."
This set Anita off laughing again, only serving to further my belief
that she was nuts. "With the people you have for friends, Chang Wufei, it
was only a matter of time before things were disclosed."
"Speaking of disclosure," Jean-Claude murmured, turning his head
towards the doorway as if looking for something. He must have seen
whatever it was he was looking for because he smiled widely, and I would
have sworn that I saw a hint of fangs in the strobe light. He then pulled
a small business card out from his sleeve, handing it to Heero. "Be here
at midnight with your friends."
That was all he said, that one small sentence, and it somehow managed
to annoy the hell out of me. Maybe it was because it reminded me just a
little too much of Heero. However, I had this feeling that no matter how
much I pushed for answers, I wasn't going to get them until later.
"All right," Heero said, accepting the card. "We'll all be there."
Jean-Claude's smile widened, and I was certain this time that those
were fangs that were glinting in the poor lighting. "I look forward to
it." He then turned to the woman, holding out a slender, long-fingered
hand. "Coming, ma petite?"
Anita smiled and shook her head. "Give me a moment."
Jean-Claude nodded and turned, making his way through the crowd of
dancers and quickly disappearing from my line of sight. When I turned back
around, I found myself almost nose to nose with Anita and had to bite back
on the yelp that threatened to rise from my throat. Heero let go of me so
that if I wanted to take a step back I could, but I was determined not to
give ground. Duo Maxwell does not run from women as short as he is, even
if they are wearing bitch boots and seem about as sane as Dorothy
Catalonia.
It seemed that my tenacity met with approval. Anita smiled, a crooked
twist of the lips that drained some of the tension from my body because it
seemed so natural and genuine. "I've been looking for you almost as long
as Jean-Claude's been looking for your friend, Duo Maxwell, my missing
enfant panthère."
French. Why the hell was everyone using French today? Was it some new
hip thing for everyone to run around babbling things in French? I mean, I
had been picking up some words here and there from Trowa[4], but with all
of the Français I'd had to deal with today, I was reaching the end
of my sooo not extensive vocabulary limit. I knew that 'enfant' was
baby or child, and I was willing to hazard a wild guess that
'panthère' was panther. But yet again I found myself asking what
the hell she meant by that.
Me? A baby panther? I snorted and shook my head. Only in my dreams,
and rarely even then.
I was about to ask her just what it was she had meant, but when I
looked at Anita, I noticed she had that faraway look of someone who was
remembering something from the past. I didn't know if that should scare me
or not.
I opted for at least being mildly frightened.
"You're a lot like your father," she murmured, reaching out to push my
bangs back and reveal my eyes. It took every ounce of willpower I
possessed not to pull away; again, something felt off about her, and it
translated into her fingertips. "Same gorgeous looks, same long auburn
hair. The only difference is that your eyes are darker." She laughed
softly, tipping her head to the side. "It seems you inherited his ability
to look like sex and desert in leather, all at the same time."
Her smile abruptly vanished as she pulled her hand back. "I failed
your father once, and I promised him that I wouldn't do the same with you.
Yet I failed anyway, and you paid for my mistake." She looked at Heero
sharply. "I won't fail him again, Heero," she said softly, her voice laced
with a warning menace I couldn't fully understand. Then again, I wasn't
sure I wanted to.
Heero just smiled softly and nodded, his arms crossed lazily over his
chest. "I understand."
Anita smiled thinly. "Good."
"However…"
Anita had turned to leave, but stopped short when Heero spoke.
His eyes had narrowed, but his tone didn't waver from the almost
light-hearted banter he'd used before. "However, Anita, he is also mine to
protect—they all are. And I won't fail them."
Something passed between them at that moment that made me shiver,
something dark and dangerous. But Anita smiled as if nothing had happened,
nodding her head. "I see." She then turned on her heal and walked—well,
more like stalked—across the dance floor. I say stalked because you
can't walk in bitch boots; you have to move in the damn things like you
know exactly what you're doing and you know you look like god's gift to
humanity while you're doing it.
I rubbed at my throbbing temples in confusion, leaning heavily against
Wufei. "Does someone want to bother explaining what the hell is going on
here?" I whimpered.
Heero just laughed again, which had me wishing for a gun to shoot the
highly amused bastard. If I used some thing with a low calibre, say a .22,
then I could probably shoot him several times before I killed him. Then
again, if went with Trowa's 386 Winchester I could just put one big
hole in the middle of Heero's forehead and it would all be over with then
and there.
No, wait, I reminded myself before I got too trigger-happy. I'd been
pissed the first time he'd died. Wouldn't it sort of be counter-productive
to go and kill him again? It was extremely tempting, let me tell ya, but I
managed to suppress those baser instincts of mine rather well, if I do say
so myself.
"Things will be a bit clearer after tonight, mon petit," Heero
chuckled, brushing his fingers gently against my cheek. "But for now we
need to contact Quatre and Trowa."
"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled. Just to be ornery and contradictory, I
thought about sitting down on the floor and refusing to move. However, I
allowed Wufei—my sexy, Chinese, Gundam pilot friend with the pet demon,
whom I was currently picturing as an extremely attractive castrati since
he'd lied to me—to lead me towards the entrance of the Unseelie Court
without protest.
Have I mentioned lately that I think I woke up in the Twilight Zone?
I knew things were really bad when I was relieved to see Quatre. It's
not that I don't like him; I love the guy like a brother. But I was still
pissed at him over that herbal stuff he'd drugged me with a couple weeks
back, even though I'd finally grudgingly given in to his puppy looks and
Trowa's verbal pleas and returned to speaking terms with the little
neo-hippie punk. I threw myself at him like a ninny schoolgirl and clung
to him like the proverbial limpet, even though he still wasn't my
favourite person at the moment. I was certain that of all my friends,
though, Quatre would be able to make sense out of the night's insanity.
Right? Right.
Somehow, I had a feeling I was going to eat those words—without
condiments.
"Quatre, I don't think I've ever been so glad to see you in my life!"
I said, hands fisted in his jacket front. "Please tell me that you're
normal, please tell me that you're normal. Please be normal!" I gave him a
small shake, eyes wide and pleading as I looked up at him.
Yeah, I know. Pathetic. But when the situation merits, I'm not above
begging in order to keep my sanity. Well, what's left of my sanity anyway.
Have I mentioned before that I'm told there wasn't much to begin with?
Here, sanity… Here, sanity… Stupid thing ran away again. Hmph.
Quatre arched a golden eyebrow at my near hysterical pleading,
glancing at first Heero, then Wufei. "Is he drunk?" he asked, referring to
my illustrious self, of course.
Wufei shook his head. "If any of us were to qualify as drunk, it would
be me." He frowned consideringly, as if he were trying to recall whether
he'd seen me drink anything other than that glass of Lemon Hart Demerara
Napalm—er, Rum—I'd stolen from him. "Well, he might be drunk, but
definitely not as drunk as me, and that's not what his problem is anyway."
Quatre chewed his bottom lip in thought. Quatre just looks so cute and
innocent when he's thinking. He gets that little furrow in his forehead,
and his eyes narrow intently with pale brows drawn over them. Then he gets
all pouty lipped and his nose wrinkles; it makes you either want to reach
out and pinch his cheeks and coo, or lean over and kiss those lips that
are just asking for it. Of course, then Quatre opens his mouth and ruins
the whole innocent act. "Is he high? Have you eaten any unlabeled
mushrooms tonight, Duo?"
Heero smiled and shook his head. "No; there've been no drugs for Duo.
And I don't think he's had anything to eat either."
'…No drugs for Duo…' If I hadn't been clinging to Quatre like a
barnacle I would have decked Heero for that. And I would have decked
Quatre for the mushroom question, too. It was really unnecessary, though I
guess I could understand where he was coming from. My behaviour was a
bit…irrational…even for me, and I was feeling high as a kite anyway, so I
guess I wouldn't have needed the help of any drugs. But, still! It was the
principle of the matter, ya know.
Sighing and raking a hand through his pale blonde hair, Quatre finally
threw out as a token possibility, "He discovered that he doesn't live in
Kansas anymore?"
I wilted at that, my mind freezing at the horrible possibilities that
were dancing in my head. Quatre was making Wizard of Oz comments,
and he knew how much I was traumatised by that movie. He also knew
how I would interpret that remark, because in my book someone who doesn't
live in Kansas can only be one thing: not normal. Heero wasn't
normal…Wu-man wasn't normal…Quatre, of all people, wasn't normal… I
was sure that I'd soon be finding out that Trowa wasn't normal, either.
And I was seriously beginning to wonder if that meant that I wasn't
normal, too.
I'd never believed in miracles before, and I wasn't sure that they
existed seeing as how I'd never seen one and I'm not exactly what one
would call a devout Christian, but a small part of me was hoping that I
had been wrong in my assumption and that the miracle I needed would occur
any moment now.
Slowly I let go of Quatre's jacket and shuffled towards my bed in our
ramshackle safe house. I'd be the first to admit that I've never exactly
lived a normal life, but today had been just beyond strange—even for
me. I looked up towards the ceiling wistfully. "I'm ready to wake
up now, Shinigami."
My miracle was taking too long.
Trowa chose that moment to walk into the room. He glanced at me
curiously, cocking his head to the side in a fashion that I normally would
have found adorable. "Is there some reason that Duo's conversing with
himself?"
I gave a half-hearted sigh, tugging on my ponytail while I looked up
at Trowa. "You don't have to tell me that you're not normal," I informed
him dully. "I already know that you're not normal like them."
Trowa glanced at the other pilots in confusion. "What's Duo talking
about?" he asked softly.
Much to my disgust, it was Wufei that grinned and said in a much too
happy and enthusiastic voice, "Duo just found out that people aren't
necessarily what they seem." He snickered, then added in a lilting
falsetto, "We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto." Then he broke into a
rendition of "We're Off to See the Wizard" with Quatre, the two of them
linking arms and cackling like a pair of mad hatters as they danced around
in a circle. Of course, they severely butchered the lyrics, singing
something about dead bodies, a faerie, and wonderful carnage instead.
I growled and threw my pillow at them, glaring at all four of them
darkly from underneath my bangs. "Not funny." Sometimes I think the only
relationship I share with my fellow pilots is a love-hate one; they love
to tease and torment me—which I hate—and I love to plot
revenge—which they hate.
Sadly, my remark just set Wufei off again. He leaned heavily against
Quatre, one arm thrown over Quatre's shoulders. "If it's not funny, then
why am I laughing?" he asked, dissolving once more into hyena laughter at
the look on my face.
Flopping back down on my bed in disgust, I threw one arm over my face
in the hopes that that old saying of 'Out of sight, out of mind' would
come true. "I give up," I muttered. At that moment, I just wanted to keel
over and die. Okay, so maybe I didn't want to do anything that
drastic—well, not anymore—but considering the company I keep, I had a
feeling that was the only way I'd get any peace and quiet.
"You can't give up just yet, Duo," Heero said softly, settling beside
me on the bed.
"Why's that?" I asked warily, moving my arm so I could see him better.
I wasn't sure I wanted to be this close to Heero with the way he'd been
acting all night. Lucifer…happy pills…Prozac…aphrodisiacs… No, I really
didn't think I wanted to be this close to Heero. Give me a ten-foot
gundanium pole, gundanium armour with lots of padding, a mouth guard, and
a chastity belt and I might risk it.
Heero gave me a small smile, touching a finger to my bottom lip.
"Because Duo Maxwell doesn't give up without a fight. And we are going to
have a fight on our hands if we want to prevent this arms deal from going
down."
Confused, me? Nah.
Okay, so I lied. I was about as confused as if Dorothy had come up to
me, professed her undying love, revealed she was actually human,
and then tap danced and yodelled in lederhosen. Does that give you a hint
as to how confused I was?
Thought so.
"I take it that there's an underground faction within OZ that's
purchasing these weapons?" Wufei asked when the silence had begun to drag
on.
Quatre shook his head, motioning Trowa over to his side. "It's more
than OZ, Wu," he said softly, and something flashed in his aqua eyes when
he said it that sent a shiver down my spine. "The Treize Faction has been
sniffing around in places that they shouldn't as well. That's why Trowa
and I came back early."
Wufei's eyes seemed to get impossibly wide and I couldn't help but
laugh at his expression. It was yet another Kodak moment without a camera
in sight. "Shit!" Wufei snarled. "Are you saying that there are
Shadowkind…?"
Trowa nodded his head once, a sharp gesture that was unusual for him.
"We were unable to tell if the Shadowkind are actual members of the Treize
Faction, or if they are just outsiders helping Treize's loyal followers
out."
After about the one-hundredth time craning my head to look at everyone
in turn, I was getting quite a crick and quite annoyed. "Everyone hold up
just a Jupiter revolution here," I snapped. Me, pissy? Hell yeah. I hated
it when everyone talked over my head; I'd hated it since I was a little
kid living on the streets. Yet the whole night it had seemed as though
everyone was talking not only over my head, they were talking, like,
ionosphere-level over my head. "Would someone for Shinigami's sake take
the time to at least tell me what the fuck a Shadowkind is?" And no, I did
not ask nicely. You want nice, go play with Relena
Darlian-Peacecraft.
Trowa looked at Quatre, Quatre looked at Wufei, Wufei looked at Heero,
and Heero looked back at Trowa. Yeah, we were getting nowhere reeeal fast.
At this rate, I was going to have my question answered after I started my
first round of arguments with Shinigami over the ice rinks in hell.
Wufei suddenly grinned, and as I took in that wolfish expression I had
this insane urge to run screaming into the dead of night for the nearest
bar—just so I could snag a bottle or two of Pucker—and then head for a
dark hole where I could hide for the rest of my life. "I'll take Trowa and
Quatre off into the living room and fill them in on what we found out," he
said to Heero. "Meanwhile, why don't you answer Maxwell's question? He's
going to be an absolute…cat…to live with until you do."
Apparently something in there was part of some shared joke that I
obviously did not get, since it had all four of my lunatic friends howling
with laughter—well, Trowa wasn't howling with laughter, but he was
snickering quite obviously. I would have started screaming obscenities,
but I knew it would just put more fuel on the fire, so to speak.
"Yes, yes," Heero said, wiping tears of laughter from his face as he
motioned for Wufei, Quatre, and Trowa to leave. "I'll fill the impatient
one in as much as allowed."
Impatient one. Well, it was an improvement over short jokes—and at
least he'd said it in Japanese and not en Français.
"All right, start explaining," I demanded once the door was closed and
Heero and I were, in effect, left alone in our shared bedroom. Heero
didn't say anything; he just continued to stare at me with this curiously
intent expression that had me slooowly creeping backwards on my bed until
my back met the wall.
Heero smiled at me after a moment, a small, subtle stretching of the
lips that had me near breathless. You have to understand that Heero, like,
never smiles. He smirks, he scowls, he frowns, he bares teeth like
a wolf, but I think I can count on half of one hand the number of times
I've seen him really smile.
That was part of what had drawn me to Heero in the first place. In him
I saw so very much of myself that it was almost frightening, and yet we
had chosen two completely opposite ways of dealing with things. I might be
accused of being nothing more than a shallow, smiling joker, but that's
the mask I chose to use in order to continue living. Sometimes I wasn't
sure how Heero managed to go on, because sometimes, the only thing saving
me from finding my own death was my false smile, my false promise to all
those faceless, nameless people out there to keep being happy—on the
outside, at least.
And that was part of the reason I'd taken it so hard when Heero had
died. I guess I'd kind of taken it for granted that he'd be around as long
as I was, that he'd be there to lie right along with me…that I wouldn't
have to live through the hell of the war as alone as I had originally
thought I would.
Maybe I was dead, or maybe this was a weird Twilight Zone dream like
I'd thought, because the last time I'd seen Heero smile at me like that
was in the last communication we'd shared before his suicide-mission. I
remember telling myself that when he came back, I'd sit him down and tell
him about how I felt. I was tired of only being able to hold him in order
to comfort him from the nightmares of his past demons; I wanted to be able
to take so much more comfort from him, and to give so much more to the
sullen boy who had stolen my heart without my realising it.
"Duo…"
I looked up in surprise, blinking a few times to clear my thoughts.
Heero had scooted closer, laying one hand on my knee in an effort to gain
my attention. His expression had turned a bit worried, the smile that I
had been admiring gone. "Smile for me again," I urged, my voice thick even
to my ears. In case you hadn't guessed, I was past my anger with Heero.
It's kind of sickening the effect he has on me, but I'm starting to accept
it—albeit grudgingly.
…Kind of like how I'm grudgingly accepting the fact that Wufei
is really, really attractive, in more than a platonic sense.
Maybe it's because I love Heero. But then again, what do I really know
about love? Can you really love someone that you're not sure you even
know? And was the relationship that Heero and I shared one that could
really be called 'love'? If you went by the Greek description of a
relationship between two men, in which the elder, the teacher, took the
title of 'erastes' and the younger, the pupil, took the title of
'eromenos,' I wasn't sure where Heero and I would fit in. Because of our
backgrounds, the way we grew up, it's almost as if we occupy both
positions at the same time. Now how's that for weird?
Heero moved even closer so that we were side-by-side, arm pressed
against arm, thigh pressed against thigh. And I allowed him to without
protest. Even though Heero manages to annoy the ever-living hell out of
me, I sometimes wonder if that isn't part of his attraction for me.
Because unlike most boys and girls I'd associated with in my short life,
Heero didn't fall for me at first meeting, or even the second one. Hell,
it wasn't until we'd all met up again about three months after his
self-destructing Wing Gundam that he'd even verbally acknowledge our
friendship.
Heero's arm slipped around my shoulders, drawing me closer still. I
laid my head against his shoulder, closing my eyes with a sigh. I'd be
lying if I said I wasn't a touchy-feely person, because I was. As far back
as I can remember I'd craved the attention of others; a touch to the
shoulder here, a caress to the hair there… There had been moments in my
past where the only way I was going to keep on living was to turn tricks,
and I'm nothing if not a survivor. But much to my disgust, I'd
liked turning tricks, because it gave me the attention I
wanted—needed—so badly.
What had scared me so much about Heero's behaviour tonight was because
while I might be a touchy-feely person, Heero usually was not. I
mean, he'd been more receptive since coming back from the dead, but before
that he'd only let me hold him in the dark. I don't know what it
was—is—that Heero has nightmares of, because he's never told me, but it
wasn't until I made it quite clear that I didn't mind him crawling into my
bed for comfort that he'd accept the help I offered.
"What are you thinking about?" Heero asked me softly, resting his head
atop mine.
"The past…and about you…" I sighed, opening my eyes. "I was wondering
if today was just some strange dream that I'd been given in retribution of
all that alcohol I drank last night."
He laughed softly at that, arm tightening around my shoulders briefly.
"It's not a dream," he told me.
"Are you sure?" I asked with another sigh, rubbing my face against his
neck like a cat. His skin was soft and warm, and I had the insane
urge—insane because it would probably get me knocked into next year and a
permanent stay in the ICU—to turn and trace my tongue along his jaw line.
But I squashed that tempting urge and settled for expressing my thoughts
verbally. "Because this is how you are in my dreams. Only in my dreams to
you let me touch you…taste you."
Heero sucked in a sharp breath, and I could feel a fine tremor run
through his body. Was it a tremor of fear? I wondered. Could it be that
Heero's behaviour tonight had been the sign I was waiting for, that he
actually did desire me as more than a friend? "You don't know what you're
saying, Duo," he said quietly, he voice thick and tight sounding in my
ears. "You've had quite a bit to drink tonight, and last night, and you've
also worked—"
I began laughing softly, pulling back away from him. In his voice I
could hear his desire, hear that he wanted me—and that more than anything
filled me with a heady power. I looked at Heero from beneath lowered
lashes, assessing his features in the faint overhead light. The slightly
longer hair suited him, as did the earring—hell, as did the whole fucking
outfit! But it was his eyes that I was drawn to, like a moth dancing with
the burning glow of a flame. I gave him a small smile, pushing him over
backwards onto my bed, slowly crawling up his hard, lean frame until we
were nose to nose.
"Tell me you don't want me," I whispered huskily, eyes boring into
his. I kissed the end of his nose, his chin, down his jaw line until I
came to his ear. "Tell me you don't want to kiss me." I licked the outer
shell of his ear, blowing gently. I laughed when he shuddered beneath me,
arms coming up of their own volition to pull me closer into the thrust of
his hips. "Tell me you don't want to touch me." I kissed and nibbled my
way down the side of his arched neck, lips forming a seal against the
throbbing artery at the base of his neck. Heero's fingers dug into my
back, his soft cries spurring me on. "Tell me you don't want to fuck me."
I went for his ear again, tugging the lobe between my teeth, tongue slowly
working the earring in a parody of what I wanted Heero to be doing to me.
I was making a dare of sorts. I was daring Heero to deny what I'd
finally managed to put into vocal words. And I was hoping that he was up
to the challenge of proving my words wrong.
I guess this was kind of what they deem 'the point of no return'…
Hell, screw that, I was past the point of caring either way. Jean-Claude,
Anita, Wufei's pet demon, the Shadowkind…as far as I was concerned, they
were nonexistent…though Wufei did seem to linger a bit longer in my mind
than the rest. They could go to hell—no, they could take over the Earth
and the colonies for all I cared. I'd been pretty much celibate over the
past year plus, once I'd figured out how much I wanted Heero, and now that
I had him right where I wanted him… I don't know if a saint could have
resisted the temptation of Heero beneath them, but I sure as hell wasn't a
saint.
"Duo…"
"What?" I whispered, tongue tracing its way to the dip below his
adam's apple. The slight salty tang of his skin combined with the scents
of mulberry, cinnamon, and gunpowder, which were uniquely Heero, was
nearly overwhelming.
Much to my surprise, I suddenly found myself flat on my back, a bright
eyed, wickedly smiling Heero straddling my hips. "I want you," he said
softly, one hand slowly slipping up my shirt and across my abdomen as he
slid up my body. I shivered in response, eyes falling closed and mouth
falling open. "I want to kiss you," he murmured against my lips. His thumb
flicked across my nipple, sending a shiver spark of sensation through me
even as his lips descended upon mine voraciously, swallowing the groan
that was wrenched from my throat. I opened my mouth eagerly, yoking my
arms around his neck as our tongues twined.
Heero was awfully good at the seduction bit, a small corner of my mind
noted. I wondered briefly where he'd picked up that interesting talent,
but I was soon occupied with much more captivating things.
"I want to touch you," Heero growled, pushing my shirt up and latching
his hot, very insistent mouth around first one bared nipple, then the
other. I buried my fingers in the thickness of Heero's hair, biting my lip
to keep from crying out. The last thing I needed was everyone running back
to see what was going on and interrupt us. If anyone interrupted us now, I
just might kill them.
"Is that all?" I asked in a pant when Heero's mouth continued to track
downward. I should have known from the smile, from the glint in his bright
prussian eyes that there was more in store. But I needed the admission
from him; I needed to hear him say the words.
And say the words he eventually did. He slipped one knee between my
legs, then the other, mouth unerringly finding mine again. His tongue
danced along my teeth, across the roof of my mouth, and still it wasn't
enough.
I twined one leg around his, tugging on his belt loops so that his
full weight came crashing down against me—and boy oh boy, was I not sorry.
I'd the beginnings of a hard on all night, ever since I'd caught sight of
Heero in leather (and, if I was honest with myself, when I'd seen Wufei
later), and as soon as the door handle had clicked closed, effectively
leaving me alone with Heero, that which had been barely their had come to
life with startling speed. However, I wasn't sure how into this—into
me—Heero was, at least, not until I felt the hardness of his
arousal throbbing against my own.
Let's hear it for the Wing ZERO Gundam pilot's burning
single-mindedness!
"I want to fuck you, Duo," Heero said harshly against my lips. "I want
you to scream my name as I take you and mark you as mine."
I whimpered, nipping at his bottom lip and drawing it into my mouth.
"Promise?" I panted.
Heero pulled his head back, lips tracking down the side of my neck. I
could feel the tickle of hair as he nodded, his teeth nipping insistently
against the meaty juncture of shoulder and neck. I was in the process of
moving my hands downward to untuck Heero's shirt from his pants when that
oh-so-dreaded interruption that I'd been hoping wouldn't occur,
occurred.
We both stilled at the small, polite cough from the doorway. I groaned
in disbelief, even as Heero turned with a snarl to tell our very
unwelcome visitor to get out.
Quatre stood casually in the doorway, ankles crossed carelessly,
leaning with one arm propped up above his head. His relaxed pose made me
wonder just how long he'd been standing there. "Sorry to…bother…you," he
said with a quiet laugh, "but it's nearly eleven. We need to get going if
we're going to reach our rendezvous by midnight." He gave me a wink and
splayed his fingers in a victory sign when Heero wasn't looking, and then
turned and disappeared back down the hall.
Why was it that everyone thought that Quatre was the nice, innocent
one among us? I think he's the most sadistic—barring myself, of course.
Although I was gradually learning that Quatre could give me some very
interesting pointers in that department.
I couldn't help reflecting as I gathered my jacket, fixed my hair, and
made sure that Heero hadn't messed up the makeup, that my night hadn't
gone well at all. I still hadn't found out what a Shadowkind was, and—most
disappointing of all to my nearly seventeen-year-old, hormone-driven
body—I hadn't gotten laid.
If things didn't get better soon, I was going to kill something. No,
no—torture something. Yesss, the blood and screaming and flayed
skin would definitely help to ease my mood. Either that, or I'd just get
all hot and bothered again, and then I'd be back at square one.
Being a teenager really sucks.
Because the meeting place was halfway across town, we decided to take
the subway. Why the subway, you ask? Well, we could have taken a taxi, or
even just stolen a vehicle I suppose, but according to Quatre, we were
doing our best to blend in. 'We need to look and behave like normal
civilians would.' There was kind of a slight problem with that; I'd
never been a normal civilian, so how the hell was I supposed to act like
one? And I wasn't sure that I wanted to find out what or whom Quatre
considered a normal civilian.
I glanced at him with a raised eyebrow when he and Trowa settled
beside me on the seat. "Normal civilians?" I asked, noting his and Trowa's
outfits. Somehow I'd never thought of Quatre as a braided and sequined
vest and harem pants kind of person, but there he was in all of his
Arabian Nights' glory. At least he'd picked a good colour in dark teal. Of
course, once you got a good look at Trowa's outfit… Trowa's almost as bad
at the whole monotone wardrobe thing as Heero is. Maybe more so since the
only time he changes clothing schemes is when he's undercover or
performing at the circus. But I must say that the metallic green
fishnet-mesh did wonders for his eyes, and those long legs of his encased
in first black leather pants and then matching knee high boots…
Ho-kay, the blood was all flowing to the wrong part of my anatomy
tonight. If I didn't say some smart-ass comment soon, I thought I might
turn into a gibbering pile of jell-o. Oh, wait; I'd been doing my
gibbering pile of jell-o impression all night. Well, it was more than past
time for a change then.
"Does your sister know that you go out in public like that?" I asked
Trowa lightly. Oh, and I was talking about his choice of accessories, not
of clothing. I don't think that Catherine would have minded the clothes,
but the collar she probably would have objected to very…pointedly.
I love a person that can wield knives with talent.
Trowa shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. "It's a full moon
tonight."
"No, really?" I gasped sarcastically. I never would have guessed that
the big, spherical yellow-orange thing hanging up there in the sky amongst
those little pricks of light that were stars was the full moon. I had
absolutely no fucking clue as to how the hell the full moon bit was
supposed to explain his wearing the collar, though. I must admit, however,
that it was an interesting collar to say the least. It looked like some
weird sort of claw collar, and it was quite big. "Are you hoping he'll
grow into that thing or something?" I asked Quatre, gesturing to the
collar.
Quatre laughed and shook his head, the leather leash slipping through
his fingers. Can you believe that the collar even had a leash? And not
just one of those wimpy patent leather bits that you can buy down at any
old sex toyshop; this was the real deal. Six feet of black-dyed,
re-enforced stitching up both sides, two-ply genuine cowhide—with a
swivel, steel bull-snap, of course.
"You'll probably understand by the end of the night, Duo," he told me,
that mysterious twinkle that I hate so damn much flashing in his eyes. He
then turned away from me, reaching up and running his fingers through
Trowa's hair, smiling when the Heavyarms pilot leaned into his hands.
It was time to look at something else; pilots zero-three and zero-four
were getting touchy-feely and I didn't want to watch. I've got a number of
titles under my belt, and 'Voyeur Extraordinaire' is not one of them—and
I'm not looking to put it their, either.
Unfortunately, when I averted my gaze I ended up focusing on Wufei,
who was sitting directly across from me with a grin on his face as wide as
the Tallgeese had been high. "What?" I asked sharply, scowling and
narrowing my eyes. I was willing myself to look menacing, but I must have
been failing miserably if Wufei's lack of expression change was any
indication.
"I was just wondering something," Wufei said quietly, gaze flicking
briefly to Heero who sat beside him before settling on me again.
"And what would that be?" I asked warily.
Wufei didn't say anything aloud; he just mouthed the words to me. I
flushed bright red, squirming in my seat. I glanced at Heero who gave me a
small smile before going back to reading his sheaf of printouts. No help
there. I wondered if he had seen what it was that Wufei mouthed to me. I
wondered how he would have reacted if he had.
'Was it good?'
I wondered if Quatre had told him about finding Heero and me in a
state of dishabille back in our bedroom. Somehow I didn't think Quatre
had, and once again that left me faced with the notion that Wufei had an
uncanny way of finding out about things that had happened to either Heero
or myself. Of course, that also left me wondering why the hell Wufei
cared.
For some odd reason, I really did not want to think about the
various possibilities that topic held—it was disconcerting enough that I
kept realising how attractive he was. I turned my gaze to the wall,
determined to stare at the tiny red lettering the rest of the way to our
station stop. Couldn't tell you what the tiny red lettering spelled
because I was basically looking at it cross-eyed in an effort to keep from
looking at anyone else.
Well, I'd succeeded. I'd made it to the station stop alive and I hadn't
looked at any of my friends the rest of the trip. Let's hear it for
good-old fashioned Maxwell-stubbornness!
I glanced at the building before me, whistling in appreciation.
Jean-Claude might be a complete and utter lunatic, but he sure could pick
meeting places. It was an uptown café on the west side of New Kobe, and it
somehow managed to blend sophistication with a darker, slightly gothic
look to near perfection. The street front glass was tinted so dark that
you could barely make out shadowy figures inside. However, the sign—which
read Féeriques Coteau—was done in soft blue neon, and numerous, tiny white
lights hung like delicate icicles around the sign and over the tops of the
windows.
"Nice place," I whispered to Wufei as we opened the door and stepped
inside, looking around the room. The chair and booth fabric was a dark
cobalt blue with black and silver embroidery, the wood accents around the
room as well as the furniture were done in a wonderfully dark cherry wood,
and the slim, metal tooling that decorated the walls were done in silver.
All in all, it was quite a pretty café.
Until you tipped your head upwards, that is. When you looked up at the
ceiling the room took on a whole other appearance. The ceiling was covered
in an ornate painting of what appeared to be a woman—a woman who looked an
awful lot like that Anita chick we'd met earlier—surrounded on all four
sides by varying groups of—well, monsters. Behind her back appeared
to be a group of the living dead; to her right large panthers and
half-men, half-panthers; to her left a group of large wolves and half-men,
half-wolves; and in front of her—I was going by the amount of blood on
their faces and the large canines—a group of vampires.
"Yeah, it's great all right," Wufei said sarcastically, rolling his
eyes at my rapt expression. "I'll have to have the artist do my home, as
well."
It was about then that I noticed the redhead standing a few meters
away. He was quite gorgeous, with pale skin, blood red hair, and dark
emerald green eyes that rivalled Trowa's in intensity. But there was
something about him that seemed…wrong. It was the same wrongness that I
had sensed in Jean-Claude earlier.
The man came over to us, winding his way through the tables like a
stalking cat, unerringly stopping just in front of Quatre. He looked
Quatre over from head to toe, head tipping to the side as his gaze finally
settled on Quatre's face. The redhead frowned suddenly as Quatre continued
to gaze at him unwaveringly, a small smile quirking my blonde friend's
lips. "What are you?" he finally asked Quatre, eyes narrowing.
I was kind of hoping that Quatre would answer the guy, since I'd been
wondering that little question myself for some time now. I mean, I'm the
guy's friend and he won't tell me, so I was guessing that he wouldn't tell
the redhead. But a Gundam pilot who thinks he's an incarnation of Death
can hope, can't he?
Quatre just smiled—that little, smirk-like twist of the lips that
usually meant you weren't going to like the answer—and said, "Sore wa
himitsu desu."
I couldn't help it. I started laughing hysterically, and if it hadn't
been for Trowa's timely intervention, my face would have become intimate
with the polished, hardwood floor.
"Is something wrong with your friend?" the redhead asked Quatre,
peering over at me curiously.
"Yeah," I replied, wiping the tears that had slipped down my cheeks
away with the back of one hand. I continued to lean heavily on Trowa, not
sure if my own feet were ready to support me yet. "Yeah, I found out that
I don't live in Kansas anymore, and I'm still having a hard time adjusting
to that little fact."
The man blinked in confusion, the expression on his face one of 'I'm
really curious, but I don't think I want to ask.' Which was a good thing
since I didn't want to bother explaining. I wasn't sure I could
explain.
"I am Damian, and I have been asked to escort you back to my masters,"
the redhead said softly after a moment, eyes continuing to slide towards
Quatre every so often. I was guessing that he was more than a little bit
interested in my blonde friend. I wondered what Trowa would have to say
about that.
"Masters?" Wufei asked, arching a black eyebrow. "As in, you have more
than one?"
Damian sighed, as if he had been forced to make the explanation
several hundred times. "Yes, I have more than one master. Do not question
me further, for I cannot say anything more."
Heero nodded, motioning for us to do as Damian had said. "Got it. Take
us to your masters."
'Take us to you masters' sounded an awful lot like that old cliché of
'take us to your leader' from old B-rated alien movies. Now I was starting
to wonder if I was in a B-rated monster flick.
Damian smiled slightly at that, turning and motioning for us to follow
him.
I trailed behind everyone, letting Heero and Wufei take point, and
Quatre leading his leash-bound Trowa take the middle. I hated taking
rearguard in any situation; it's just not my place of choice. But I was
nervous about going deeper into Féeriques Coteau, and I figured that I
could check the buckles on my bracers to make sure that the quick release
sheaths would work the way they were supposed to. Why did I have the
feeling that I was walking in the depths of a café of lunatics?[5] I don't
know—maybe the company I keep just has me needlessly paranoid.
Somehow, I didn't think that was the case.
[1]. 'Yokan' means sign, omen, or premonition.
[2]. Lemon Hart Demerara Rum… ::gag, retch:: The stuff's got 151 proof
(that's 75.5 percent alcohol in case you didn't know), has the kick of a
shod Belgian draft horse, burns like there's no tomorrow, and no matter
how hard you try you can't dilute it in soda or juice. I rate it up there
with straight Cuervo for pure nastiness.
[3]. Okay, I've finally decided that this takes place in A.C. 196, kind
of late in the year, actually. So this means that Wufei's clan and colony
are gone—KABOOM!—and though he wasn't a Long biologically (I guess he
could have been on his mother's side), he's the last relation of the Long
clan, which can in theory make him the last of the Dragon Clan.
Plus, I figure his earlier marriage to Long Meiran would help in those
familial ties, and that's the basis I've used for Wufei's unusual ::blink,
blink:: condition.
As far as I've got it figured, the Eve Wars never happened and Zechs
never met up with Quinze and White Fang. It's kind of a stalemate
universe: Relena is still the figurehead of the Romefeller Foundation and
has been for almost a year and a half thanks to Dorothy's ::cough, cough::
help and support; Treize is still in seclusion while his supporters in the
Treize Faction continue to war with OZ; Barge is still around and Lady Une
is still missing; Zechs is up in space with Howard and the Peacemillion,
though no one is sure exactly where—and yes, Epyon is somehow with him as
well; and Colonel 'Yes-Mr.-Chief-Mechanic-Sir' Tubarov it still around
too, though not for very long since he annoyed the ever living hell out of
me in both versions of GW.
[4]. My parents used to love to regale me with stories about living in
Europe, and one of the ones I remember the most was the story about the
Vienna Boys' Choir. Apparently not all that long ago, the sopranos (the
really good, pure—and I'm talking voice, not morality—ones) were castrated
in order to keep their voices. ::blink, blink:: Well, isn't there some
saying about music being an art, and artist's suffering for their art?
[5]. Before you yell at me that Trowa isn't French, see my defence of
why he is French in "Just Kidding." And, hey, even if he's
not French, he was a mercenary. ::Mina reverts to
watery-eyed chibi-Demonchild mode.:: Mercs pick up all sorts of
handy-dandy talents no da!
[6]. For those of you who haven't read the Anita Blake, Vampire
Hunter books, The Lunatic Café is the name of the fourth novel
in the series. Yes, I was being corny and cliché. Do I care? …Not in the
least. ^_^
[Part 4]
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