WYLS
by Karma-chan
THIS STORY IS RATED R - for language and adult situations. Including yaoi (slash) and het implications.
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. I barely own my car. Please don't sue. College students don't make good Sugar Daddies...or Mommas...or whatever. Besides, this is definitely for entertainment purposes only. I work in hell for money. Writing demented fics is fun!
Warning: Reading this fic could be dangerous for your health. Especially if you attempt to do so while driving. Or something else that requires your senses to be concentrating on doing it, and not reading. Get it? Who cares! Must warn you kiddies about the language. Yep, language is used! But, I mean the "adult" type. OH, and adult situations. Implied yaoi, implied hetro. OOC, author doing origami to make things fit, and a bit of Relena bashing. If you don't like it, bite it. I mean, leave. NOW ...
Part 5: What's Up, Doc? (A/N: Kill me now!)
Wufei gasped, groaned, and cursed small red buttons as he pulled himself up the stairs of the safe house. He crawled across the porch, then used the last of his energy to bang one open palm against the front door.
Luckily for him, Quatre was standing in the foyer. The blond boy opened the door and peeked outside. Seeing nothing, he began to shut the door, but heard a moan. He quickly pulled the door open again, then stepped outside - and right on top of Wufei's head.
"Injustice!" Wufei managed to squeak, and then his world went black.
Wufei moaned softly, and carefully turned his head. There were soft voices coming from somewhere behind him. He thought about opening his eyes to see where he was, and who was speaking, but his body really, really hurt. So, he kept his eyes closed and concentrated on listening.
"...she's the only one?" Quatre asked.
"Yes." A fluttering of paper sounded as Trowa responded.
"Can she really help?" Quatre sounded concerned.
"Hmm," Wufei thought, "they are talking about me." He didn't like that. His experiences in the past few days had his warning bells ringing. Just who was this "she" and what was "she" going to help him with? He braved the pain, opened his eyes, and sat up. He was on the couch in the living room of the safe house he had crawled to ...sometime... today, he supposed. Probably not too long ago. Quatre wouldn't have left him like that.
"Wufei!" Quatre exclaimed, noticing the Chinese pilot was awake, and in an upright position. "How do you feel? You should lie down."
Wufei scowled. "I'd be much better if you kept your voice down." He gave an indignant squawk as Quatre moved towards him, and gently pushed him back down. However, he really didn't have the energy to fight. So, he endured it. For now. "Who were you speaking about?"
"Sally Po," Trowa said. Simple as always. He moved closer to the two boys. Quatre took the opportunity of proximity to snatch the piece of paper Trowa was holding. He turned it around, showing Wufei.
"She's on the list." Wufei glanced at the paper. The words "People You Can Trust" were boldly printed across the top.
"Where did you get that?"
"Why, from the back of the script." Quatre pulled the paper back, glanced at it, then back at Wufei. "Haven't you read it?"
"No."
"Ah, well. I suppose you can study it later."
"Yeah, right," Wufei mumbled.
"What?" The blond boy asked.
"Nothing."
"Ah well, anyway. Sally Po is on the list. It says here she has had some medical training. We thought it'd be best to call her and ask her to come check you out." Wufei shuttered involuntarily at the Arabian's choice of words. He mentally slapped himself. Surely, not everyone in this damned show was as... demented...as Kushrenada, Maxwell, the Peacecraft girl or Yuy. Four perverts was plenty, right?
"Very well. If you feel you must."
"Why of course. You do require medical attention, like it or not." Quatre smiled and, well, flounced off. He turned back at the door. "Trowa, make sure he stays put."
"Yes." Wufei narrowed his eyes at the pilot of Heavyarms. He really didn't trust the strong, silent type.
Trowa stood motionless for a moment, then moved to the doorway where Quatre had disappeared. He whispered something, probably to the blond, then turned back around. He strode towards Wufei. The injured pilot glared. Trowa was not phased. He scooped Wufei up, ignoring his comrades gasps, and began walking out of the room.
"What in hell do you think you're doing?" This was not an ideal situation for one who had been through what the Chinese boy had over the past few days.
"Taking you to bed." Simple. Direct. *Not* what Wufei wanted to hear.
"Excuse me?!"
"It will be more comfortable for you, and easier for the examination." Ah, yes. That. Wufei relaxed a bit. Just a bit. No need to let down all his defenses.
Up the stairs, down a short hallway, through a door, and then he was released. The bed was, as Trowa had stated, more comfortable. However, the pilot of Heavyarms was known to be a bit succinct, so it was no surprise that the bed was a damned site more comfortable than the couch. Not that the couch was really uncomfortable. An uncomfortable couch would have no place in a Winner residence. Wufei sighed as his body relaxed into the bed. He closed his eyes for a moment, then reopened them quickly when he recalled his predicament. So, instead of giving in to lethargy, he glared at Trowa. Trowa, in return, found a seat at the desk across the room, and booted up the computer.
Twenty minutes later, the glaring was still in progress. The glaree, blissfully unaware of the two holes burning in the back of his head, was practically drooling over some sinful piece of Final Fantasy 42 fan fiction. The glarer was finding it harder and harder to blink once every 90 seconds - only. A slight rap on the door caused one set of eyes to blink, and the other to widen in horror. Wufei, done blinking, turned his gaze to the partially opened door. Quatre was smiling angelically. Who'da thunk. Behind him stood Sally Po. Trowa had calmed himself enough to put his face back in order, and was scrambling to cover his tracks (no need for his obsession to come to light), all the while promising himself to go back and finish reading the juicy bits as soon as he had some... time on his hands.
"The doctor is in!" Chirpity chirp chirp. Quatre moved further into the room, allowing Sally Po to enter. Wufei was finding it hard to decide whether to glare at the woman, or the bag she was holding. Who knew what torturous devices were in that bag.
"Trowa, why don't we leave the doctor to her job?" Smile, halo. Trowa, who had just finished shutting down the computer, simply stood, and left the room. "We'll be waiting downstairs." That said, the pilot of Sandrock left, shutting the door quietly.
Sally moved to stand beside the bed, then set her bag down on the nightstand and rummaged around in it, finally pulling out a few devices and laying them to the side. "So, Wufei, where does it hurt?"
"Nowhere."
"Ooookay. I believe you. Now, if you'll just get up, stretch-out, go through a kata, maybe do some push-ups, then run around the house about fifty times, I'll be on my way." Then the woman had the nerve to snicker.
Wufei glared.
"I'll take that as a 'no'. Let's start again. Take off your shirt." Wufei paled. That was not a good start. He preferred the first one. Why'd he have to go and screw it up? Begrudgingly, he sat up and removed his shirt.
A quick and painless examination later, Wufei was finally able to put his shirt back on. "Well, aside from the abrasions, and a few shallow puncture wounds, you're fine. Though I do wonder how you managed some of those abrasions."
Wufei, who was busy blushing from the lack of shirt period, and was trying to get his mind of how he got the abrasions, slipped. Big time. "Stupid Yuy. Damned self destru...uh..." He looked up. Too late. She heard.
Sally's eyes went impossibly wide. Then the damned woman laughed. Hard. The Chinese pilot went back into glare mode. After a minute, Sally managed to gasp, "Sorry...sorry. Thought..every... hahahaha...everyone knew about Heero's little...," her laughter turned to snickering, "fantasy."
"'Heero's little fantasy?'" Nudge, nudge.
Sally had finally gained control over her laughing, and was down to the 'huge grin' phase. "Yeah. Fantasy. Pleasure and booms, ya know? It's really no big surprise. Come on, think about it. It's Heero Yuy we're talking about."
Wufei's mind went off again, and for the second time in five minutes, he performed an 'open mouth, insert foot' maneuver. "Pleasure and booms," he muttered, "yeah, and really bad timing." Once again his brain kicked in just in time to not save him.
Sally blinked. "Bad...timing?" Her mind turned this over for a few seconds, and then her grin took a turn towards predatory. A big turn. Like a U. "Uh-oh. This will never do!"
"Never..uh..do?" Wufei stuttered, then quickly began scooting towards the corner of the bed. Sally was crawling towards him, looking like a cat. And her prey was trapped. "Damn, but this bed would have to be against the wall..." Wufei thought. He was busy calculating his escape routes, when he found himself face to face with a very hungry looking feline.
"Nope. Never do. Wufei," Sally purred, as she ran her hand gently down the trapped boy's chest. "you're supposed to tell the doctor *everywhere*," Sally grinned, Wufei paled. Not chest. "it hurts."
**********
If you wish to review..well, gee...feel free! Also, if you hate waiting, check my website. You'll find this story (completed) under the TCC (The Crack Chronicles) section.
by Karma-chan
THIS STORY IS RATED R - for language and adult situations. Including yaoi (slash) and het implications.
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. I barely own my car. Please don't sue. College students don't make good Sugar Daddies...or Mommas...or whatever. Besides, this is definitely for entertainment purposes only. I work in hell for money. Writing demented fics is fun!
Warning: Reading this fic could be dangerous for your health. Especially if you attempt to do so while driving. Or something else that requires your senses to be concentrating on doing it, and not reading. Get it? Who cares! Must warn you kiddies about the language. Yep, language is used! But, I mean the "adult" type. OH, and adult situations. Implied yaoi, implied hetro. OOC, author doing origami to make things fit, and a bit of Relena bashing. If you don't like it, bite it. I mean, leave. NOW ...
Part 5: What's Up, Doc? (A/N: Kill me now!)
Wufei gasped, groaned, and cursed small red buttons as he pulled himself up the stairs of the safe house. He crawled across the porch, then used the last of his energy to bang one open palm against the front door.
Luckily for him, Quatre was standing in the foyer. The blond boy opened the door and peeked outside. Seeing nothing, he began to shut the door, but heard a moan. He quickly pulled the door open again, then stepped outside - and right on top of Wufei's head.
"Injustice!" Wufei managed to squeak, and then his world went black.
Wufei moaned softly, and carefully turned his head. There were soft voices coming from somewhere behind him. He thought about opening his eyes to see where he was, and who was speaking, but his body really, really hurt. So, he kept his eyes closed and concentrated on listening.
"...she's the only one?" Quatre asked.
"Yes." A fluttering of paper sounded as Trowa responded.
"Can she really help?" Quatre sounded concerned.
"Hmm," Wufei thought, "they are talking about me." He didn't like that. His experiences in the past few days had his warning bells ringing. Just who was this "she" and what was "she" going to help him with? He braved the pain, opened his eyes, and sat up. He was on the couch in the living room of the safe house he had crawled to ...sometime... today, he supposed. Probably not too long ago. Quatre wouldn't have left him like that.
"Wufei!" Quatre exclaimed, noticing the Chinese pilot was awake, and in an upright position. "How do you feel? You should lie down."
Wufei scowled. "I'd be much better if you kept your voice down." He gave an indignant squawk as Quatre moved towards him, and gently pushed him back down. However, he really didn't have the energy to fight. So, he endured it. For now. "Who were you speaking about?"
"Sally Po," Trowa said. Simple as always. He moved closer to the two boys. Quatre took the opportunity of proximity to snatch the piece of paper Trowa was holding. He turned it around, showing Wufei.
"She's on the list." Wufei glanced at the paper. The words "People You Can Trust" were boldly printed across the top.
"Where did you get that?"
"Why, from the back of the script." Quatre pulled the paper back, glanced at it, then back at Wufei. "Haven't you read it?"
"No."
"Ah, well. I suppose you can study it later."
"Yeah, right," Wufei mumbled.
"What?" The blond boy asked.
"Nothing."
"Ah well, anyway. Sally Po is on the list. It says here she has had some medical training. We thought it'd be best to call her and ask her to come check you out." Wufei shuttered involuntarily at the Arabian's choice of words. He mentally slapped himself. Surely, not everyone in this damned show was as... demented...as Kushrenada, Maxwell, the Peacecraft girl or Yuy. Four perverts was plenty, right?
"Very well. If you feel you must."
"Why of course. You do require medical attention, like it or not." Quatre smiled and, well, flounced off. He turned back at the door. "Trowa, make sure he stays put."
"Yes." Wufei narrowed his eyes at the pilot of Heavyarms. He really didn't trust the strong, silent type.
Trowa stood motionless for a moment, then moved to the doorway where Quatre had disappeared. He whispered something, probably to the blond, then turned back around. He strode towards Wufei. The injured pilot glared. Trowa was not phased. He scooped Wufei up, ignoring his comrades gasps, and began walking out of the room.
"What in hell do you think you're doing?" This was not an ideal situation for one who had been through what the Chinese boy had over the past few days.
"Taking you to bed." Simple. Direct. *Not* what Wufei wanted to hear.
"Excuse me?!"
"It will be more comfortable for you, and easier for the examination." Ah, yes. That. Wufei relaxed a bit. Just a bit. No need to let down all his defenses.
Up the stairs, down a short hallway, through a door, and then he was released. The bed was, as Trowa had stated, more comfortable. However, the pilot of Heavyarms was known to be a bit succinct, so it was no surprise that the bed was a damned site more comfortable than the couch. Not that the couch was really uncomfortable. An uncomfortable couch would have no place in a Winner residence. Wufei sighed as his body relaxed into the bed. He closed his eyes for a moment, then reopened them quickly when he recalled his predicament. So, instead of giving in to lethargy, he glared at Trowa. Trowa, in return, found a seat at the desk across the room, and booted up the computer.
Twenty minutes later, the glaring was still in progress. The glaree, blissfully unaware of the two holes burning in the back of his head, was practically drooling over some sinful piece of Final Fantasy 42 fan fiction. The glarer was finding it harder and harder to blink once every 90 seconds - only. A slight rap on the door caused one set of eyes to blink, and the other to widen in horror. Wufei, done blinking, turned his gaze to the partially opened door. Quatre was smiling angelically. Who'da thunk. Behind him stood Sally Po. Trowa had calmed himself enough to put his face back in order, and was scrambling to cover his tracks (no need for his obsession to come to light), all the while promising himself to go back and finish reading the juicy bits as soon as he had some... time on his hands.
"The doctor is in!" Chirpity chirp chirp. Quatre moved further into the room, allowing Sally Po to enter. Wufei was finding it hard to decide whether to glare at the woman, or the bag she was holding. Who knew what torturous devices were in that bag.
"Trowa, why don't we leave the doctor to her job?" Smile, halo. Trowa, who had just finished shutting down the computer, simply stood, and left the room. "We'll be waiting downstairs." That said, the pilot of Sandrock left, shutting the door quietly.
Sally moved to stand beside the bed, then set her bag down on the nightstand and rummaged around in it, finally pulling out a few devices and laying them to the side. "So, Wufei, where does it hurt?"
"Nowhere."
"Ooookay. I believe you. Now, if you'll just get up, stretch-out, go through a kata, maybe do some push-ups, then run around the house about fifty times, I'll be on my way." Then the woman had the nerve to snicker.
Wufei glared.
"I'll take that as a 'no'. Let's start again. Take off your shirt." Wufei paled. That was not a good start. He preferred the first one. Why'd he have to go and screw it up? Begrudgingly, he sat up and removed his shirt.
A quick and painless examination later, Wufei was finally able to put his shirt back on. "Well, aside from the abrasions, and a few shallow puncture wounds, you're fine. Though I do wonder how you managed some of those abrasions."
Wufei, who was busy blushing from the lack of shirt period, and was trying to get his mind of how he got the abrasions, slipped. Big time. "Stupid Yuy. Damned self destru...uh..." He looked up. Too late. She heard.
Sally's eyes went impossibly wide. Then the damned woman laughed. Hard. The Chinese pilot went back into glare mode. After a minute, Sally managed to gasp, "Sorry...sorry. Thought..every... hahahaha...everyone knew about Heero's little...," her laughter turned to snickering, "fantasy."
"'Heero's little fantasy?'" Nudge, nudge.
Sally had finally gained control over her laughing, and was down to the 'huge grin' phase. "Yeah. Fantasy. Pleasure and booms, ya know? It's really no big surprise. Come on, think about it. It's Heero Yuy we're talking about."
Wufei's mind went off again, and for the second time in five minutes, he performed an 'open mouth, insert foot' maneuver. "Pleasure and booms," he muttered, "yeah, and really bad timing." Once again his brain kicked in just in time to not save him.
Sally blinked. "Bad...timing?" Her mind turned this over for a few seconds, and then her grin took a turn towards predatory. A big turn. Like a U. "Uh-oh. This will never do!"
"Never..uh..do?" Wufei stuttered, then quickly began scooting towards the corner of the bed. Sally was crawling towards him, looking like a cat. And her prey was trapped. "Damn, but this bed would have to be against the wall..." Wufei thought. He was busy calculating his escape routes, when he found himself face to face with a very hungry looking feline.
"Nope. Never do. Wufei," Sally purred, as she ran her hand gently down the trapped boy's chest. "you're supposed to tell the doctor *everywhere*," Sally grinned, Wufei paled. Not chest. "it hurts."
**********
If you wish to review..well, gee...feel free! Also, if you hate waiting, check my website. You'll find this story (completed) under the TCC (The Crack Chronicles) section.