The Job
~or~
The Silly Little 4x1 Lime That Wouldn't Let Me Get Back To Sleep!
Warnings: EVIL! Oh wait, that's just me. Yaoi, PWP, TWT, fluffy 4x1 limeyness, implications of other acts of 1x4x1. Happy Valentines Day and all. Don't like? Don't read! LIFE IS THAT SIMPLE!
Rating: I'm gonna say PG-13 because of some naughty words and naughty allusions. If someone really wants I will change this rating to R, but I think it's a bit tame for that.
Disclaimer: I own Gundam Wing! I bought it along with Inuyasha and the Brooklyn Bridge during fantasy week on Ebay. Then I went to the MoonÉ it was made of cheese! Deee-licious cheese! HAHAHaaa...!! I shut up now.
Feedback: C&C is madly appreciated! ^_^
Soundtrack: New Order - True Faith; Adam Ant - Whip in My Valise; & Lords of Acid - Rough Sex! ;)
"Oh, gaaawddd..." Quatre bit his lip, and shifted his position ever so slightly. "This isn't fair... This, THIS is assault with a deadly weapon!" He laughed in spite of himself.
"Two, actually." Heero corrected.
"Don't stop." Quatre said, looking down at Heero. Lying, back flat on the bed, completely helpless. Writhing every so often in pleasure. Heero returned to what he was doing, and then, stopped again.
"I don't get you sometimes." Quatre whined at the loss of contact, but Heero pulled himself into a sitting position at the foot of the bed. One hand holding the side of his face, he scrutinized his lover with a peculiar glance. "I mean, really, this is *really* what you want?"
"YES!" Quatre practically shrieked, and then after composing himself added "Yes, I really really like it and may I have some more please??"
The left corner of Heero's lip pulled itself outwards in a half-smile. "I just find it difficult to believe that you're practically getting off on a footrub." He released one hand back down and let his fingertips glide over Quatre's instep, causing him to squirm in delight.
"But you're, oh god, so damn good at it! Mmmph! Please don't stop!"
"The best?" Heero got that wicked gleam in his eye as he let his other hand drop to the other foot.
"I don't know, should I go around soliciting them so I can make a proper comparison?" Quatre got out before he lost his ability to speak again.
"NO." Heero said, putting some force behind his tone. "Mine." He tightened his grip as Quatre rolled his eyes back and concurred in a whisper.
"...yours..."
*****
After Quatre was properly reduced to Jell-O, and could do nothing more then curl into the curve of Heero, his Kamikaze masseuse started their conversation anew.
"Want to make love again?"
Okay, so no teenage boy is that much of a conversationalist at 2 in the morning. Especially those who get laid on a regular basis.
"Mmmhmmm, but that would require moving... None of *that* for me..."
"Not the way I'm thinking of doing it." Quatre laughed, and nuzzled his chest for a bit.
"Still, mmm, work... Tomorrow... I think, what day is it? Thursday, but it used to be Wednesday right?"
"Yes, it used to be Wednesday."
"But it's Thursday now..."
"Yes," Heero could sense Quatre slowly drifting off, and wrapped his arms around his favorite human pillow. "It's Thursday for about 22 more hours." Quatre didn't respond, and Heero took a moment to relax into the silence, and the pseudo-darkness. The dull ache of city lights poured in through the window, lighting the room enough for him to see, but not enough to keep him awake.
Just as he was about to fall out of consciousness, "Heero?" Quatre called him back.
"Mmmn?"
"You didn't tell me yours."
"What?" Heero opened his eyes to see that Quatre had pulled another one of his famous switches on him. The boy could go from dead asleep to wide awake in a matter of seconds. "What didn't I tell you?"
"You didn't tell me what you wanted. Like tonight, when you-" he laughed, and tried to continue "When you, y'know, you did the-"
"When I pretended to be the naughty massage parlor worker and you were the overly tense, stressed and knotted customer?"
"Yeah, that." Quatre beamed at him and laughed at the silliness of it all. "Did I mention how much I loved that yet?"
"Mmmnnn."
"So... what should we do for you?"
"Mmm?"
"Oh Heero!" Quatre sighed, "Don't give me that passive crap, I know there's something I can do for *you*!"
"I don't really want anything special."
"You sure Heero? I'll do anything for you, this is your chance. Whatever you want, you name it you got it." Quatre said in all earnest.
"I don't really, umm..." Heero searched for an idea, something, anything at all he could want. But: "You've given me everything I *could* want Quatre." Heero tightened his grip around him. Quatre snuggled even closer to the warmth, and thought.
After a bit of thinking, and just as Heero was about to drift off again, he got an idea. "A surprise!"
"Hrmmmph?"
"I'll surprise you!" Quatre smiled, already crafting about a million different plans that Heero would love.
"Fine. Sleep now."
"Do you want a surprise-surprise, or like a shock-surprise?"
"What?" Heero sat up, realizing he wasn't getting to sleep anytime soon. "What's the difference?"
"Well a surprise-surprise is like, 'Look! I made souffle!'" Heero raised an eyebrow. "Well, in my case it would be 'Look! I bought a pre-made souffle and put it in one of our bowls after heating it to make it look I made it!' But shock-surprise, that would be something like 'Look what I got pierced!' Or 'Look what I'- ow! Heero you're hurting me!" Heero had reflexively tightened his grip to a near dangerous level.
"*DON'T* get anything pierced. *Don't* hurt yourself like that."
"Okay! I won't! Ow!!" Heero released him and muttered an apology. "It's okay, okay, so no shock, just a surprise?"
"*Just* a surprise."
"Good! This is going to be fun, you won't even see it coming..." Quatre said, with a twinkle in his eye.
"Hmph, yeah right..."
"You know Heero, I can be sneakier then you think..." Heero pat him the head, earning a growl. Which was more of a purr, but he elected not to comment on that.
"You just go on thinking that."
"And what's wrong with a piercing anyway?" Heero *winced* thinking about it. He had this *thing* about metallic foreign objects stuck in him. It might have had something to do with a very bad experience he had messing with Dr. J's staple-gun when he was younger.
"What's *right* about it?"
"Some people like it. It's a matter of taste."
Heero shuddered in disgust. "Too much pain... *there*."
"To each his own I suppose." Quatre said, turning his head back down against Heero's chest. His eyes caught the sight of row after row of windows and buildings, and the tiny lights of the city. Sky scrapers could only come close to recreating the illusion of being so high up, on top of the world. But he could still remember a time when he went beyond that...
Sleep crept up, embracing the two boys; proving itself to be the sneakiest one of all.
*****
Heero was *not* being paranoid, let's get that straight.
He just, developed, a habit... of charging into dark rooms, ready for- well... Sex!
He was Ready (with a capital R!) to finally get his damn surprise! And it was driving him insane. He was on the edge waiting for that phone call, telling him to meet Quatre at a secret location. Or the pair of tickets to an exotic island getaway. Or the smell of a leather- well you get the idea. He had cleared his calendar of major appointments for the next month, he was just so God damned ready!
Duo had made a comment, something along the lines of "Surprise! It's a pair of blue ba-" and that's as far as he got before *almost* getting throttled. He was very *very* lucky that Trowa just happened to be getting something from the break room, at the time. And that Wufei wasn't really *that* angry with his teasing from that morning. Duo was also lucky that Zechs and Noin were taking a week off on Earth, and were in shouting distance. He was even *luckier* that Une had walked by just as Heero was about to break free and harm them all. It was the Preventers' first ever incident classified as a "5-MS-pilot-pile-up". Duo filed that report with a sardonic little smile.
No, Heero was *not* being paranoid. Hysterically anxious, I'll give you that one, but not paranoid.
On a Friday like any other, he sat in the living room, flipping madly through a newspaper. Stopping to look at the major headlines, and getting more and more anxious by the second. He lifted his head again to look at the clock. 7:13. He was meeting Quatre at the Winner Enterprises corporate HQ at 9:00 that night.
Earlier that day, it was decided that Quatre and he were going to go to lunch, and when he asked where and what they were eating, Quatre had given him a *look*.
He knew knew *knew* it was his surprise right there and then!
Sadly, as he was halfway out the door, Quatre's secretary buzzed the vidphone.
Behind her Quatre was surrounded by men and women in business suits of varying degrees of navy, black, and grey. He looked like a bloodspot, a burst of casual, comforting, and exciting red against their drab. He would have looked so good that day at lunch. He was smiling awkwardly, shaking hands and learning (or re-learning) names as they all crowded him until he seemingly vanished amongst the bureaucracy.
His secretary had explained that the meeting was an emergency, sprung upon him. And that Mr. Winner would love to reschedule for lunch on Monday.
Heero agreed, crushed again inside, but showing no change of expression on the outside. He asked Quatre's secretary when he would be free again. She had mentioned he probably wouldn't be leaving until 9 that night. Heero replied that he would meet him outside his office then, and to make the necessary preparations so that he could enter the building without the thousand-and-one security checks. She smiled politely and told him she would go do just that. He thanked her.
Heero planned on taking Quatre out to dinner, and hopefully he'd get *something* out of it.
Damn Duo and his being right about the suffering of his love life!
Heero checked the clock again, 7:14. He started calculating: 'Let's see, it takes 45 minutes to drive there, 7.5 minutes to walk get down to the garage and warm up the car and pull out. 5 to 8.5 minutes in parking. 1 minute elevator ride to the top, I should leave at about... 7:59. Or if there's traffic, I should leave at 7:44.' He sighed and looked at the clock. Still 7:14. 'Oh hell with it. I can't stay here another minute.' Heero sighed, grabbed his keys and headed out.
*****
Heero's ears and stomach righted themselves as he got off the elevator immediately. When you've survived deep space and self-destruction, an elevator that climbs only a few measly miles off the ground in under a minute doesn't seem that daunting.
He had been waiting in the car for 20 minutes. There was no traffic. He'd arrived with 45 minutes to waste, and had done some light food shopping, stared at the dogs in a petstore window until they learned to keep their mouths shut, and had been poking and prodding a plastic plant in the lobby until security had asked him to visit the plants on Mr. Winner's floor, which they assured him were much more interesting.
He saw that Quatre's secretary had left for the night, leaving him a note which said to knock before he went in the office, in case the meeting hadn't ended yet. What kind of emergency was it? More importantly, who could he stare down to end it?
He pet the African Violets that Quatre kept outside his office, noting that they were more fun, and furry. Then he stepped over to the big wooden doors, and knocked.
"One moment please!"
Heero listened to the sound of a conversation ending, and then the doors opened, several suits walked past him, chatting idly.
"Are you Heero Yuy?"
"Yes." He answered the timid businessman that was the last one out.
"Mr. Winner will see you now." And he stepped aside. Heero was tempted to give him the standard "Hn," but instead nodded politely.
Well, as polite as he could be to someone who was monopolizing his time with the one he loved.
He entered the room, and it was shut and locked right behind him. He spun around, but seeing no one there, correctly assumed that one of the suits had lingered long enough to do that from the outside.
He turned back towards the desk, surrounded by the window, covering every inch of wall. It was one of the best views of the cityscape that money could buy. The lights twinkled and spun as cars moved, shows beamed their bright lights, and adverts flashed abounds. Office buildings seemed to be adorned with these lights.
A dark leather chair faced the window, and spoke to him.
"Ah, Mr. Yuy, please have a seat."
"Quatre..."
"That's Mr. Winner to you," he spun around to face Heero. Wearing a casual black silk suit, with that burst of crimson shirt, tie sloppily pulled down from the day's wear. He was wearing *those* glasses, the ones that made him look his age, thin circular frames that hid the true brightness of his eyes. He looked like the cunning businessman he was. "Sit." He requested, yet commanded so simply. Heero dropped to the chair provided for him, placed in front of the desk, just so it seemed like Quatre (who was only about a 1/4 of an inch shorter then him, really) loomed over him.
Heero realized only too slowly. He had his game face on.
'Surprise.' Quatre mouthed.
Heero's. Jaw. Dropped.
He closed his mouth quickly and settled into the role he assumed he was playing, tinges of excitement contained with incredible mental focus and control.
However, as an empath, and as his lover, Quatre could *feel* all his emotions; amplified by his own anticipatory excitement of what he had in store for Heero. He planned to use this against him, Heero could hide what he was feeling from anyone *but* him, a fault that they both secretly delighted in. Some days they could communicate mouthfuls with the right glance.
"I'm sure you're wondering why I've called you in here tonight," he licked his lips, Heero swore to himself, "We really do need to nip this little problem in the bud. Before it- grows, into something bigger. We wouldn't want this problem to grow too much, now would we?"
"No Mr. Winner." Heero replied with a scowl.
"Excellent, then we're on the same page." Quatre stood up and pulled his tie apart, letting it drape about his neck haphazardly.
They were both neat to a fault, so it was a particular little quirk they shared, they loved to get messy, little by little, in appearance or in action.
Quatre walked- no, sauntered around the desk like the smug little bastard he was, and took his practiced place in front of Heero.
Well, he practiced on a picture of Heero that he kept on his desk.
"Are you familiar with the works of the classic writer Kurt Vonnegut Mr. Yuy?" He asked, leaning against the lip of the desk, angling himself so that he looked down on Heero.
"Not really Mr. Winner."
"That's too bad," Quatre raised his head and let his eyes slip shut. "Vonnegut wrote a wonderful story, a satire, on the overemphasis of "perfect" equality in society. There was a boy, named Harrison." He opened his eyes to catch Heero's, looking down his glasses, "And Harrison, Harrison Bergeron, was so beautiful, so strong. Such an, exquisite, representation of humanity. He was the modern day Adonis." Quatre's hand unconsciously rose towards Heero's cheek, ghosting it with a touch. "Do you know what they did to him, in his world?"
"What?"
"They made him hide his beauty. They weighed him down so his strength would be stunted. They hid his beauty behind the most hideous of masks. But even then, he was still too much of a distraction." The hand left Heero's cheek. "Like you Mr. Yuy,"
Quatre whipped around and in a matter of moments dropped a folder in his lap. He crossed his arms and looked at Heero as if he was the reprimanding teacher to his student. Heero started to thumb through the papers, but Quatre interrupted him.
"They are all complaint reports *Mister* Yuy. You've been causing quite an uproar in your department. Women want you and men want to be you. One out of eight men want you as well. You're costing this company a lot of money. Do you know how many receptionists spill coffee in their laps when you walk by? That mailroom clerks drop countless packages on their feet? The burnt laps and broken toes alone are draining the medical insurance! Do you know the security guards are all asking to be reassigned? They're intimidated by your mere *presence*! The union is demanding we open a company Gym so that you would be required to wear sporty, fitting attire, and they can see you..." Quatre leaned in closer and smiled, "...Sweat."
Heero didn't know whether he found that flattering, hilarious, or arousing. He settled on a combination of the three. "I'm deeply sorry Mr. Winner." He apologized flatly, leaning upwards so that he could get in Quatre's face as well.
"Well what shall we do Mr. Yuy?" He took Heero's face in his hands. "How could we hide *this* from the world? No, a disguise simply isn't enough. No mask, no bulky clothing, why one could practically *smell* that you are the most attractive man in this office! In this city! What shall we do? Tsk."
Quatre sighed and slid his glasses off, pocketing them. He stood and walked parallel to Heero's right side, clasping his hands behind his back, facing the door while Heero faced the window. "And then I had an idea Mr. Yuy. We have to make you... completely, and utterly unattainable. Are you seeing someone?" He asked putting one hand on Heero's shoulder.
"Yes." He answered, hoping he wasn't breaking character.
"She's lucky."
"He, sir." Quatre smiled.
"Do you love him?" He asked, his stern voice breaking slightly, before returning to his practiced character.
"With all my heart." Heero turned his head to look at Quatre, who looked like he was choking back something. Then he turned to capture Heero's eyes once more, looking less like the businessman, and more like the real Quatre.
"If he has any sense in him at all, then I'm sure he loves you just as much." He said giving Heero's shoulder a squeeze. He switched back quickly. "I thought of that already Mr. Yuy, and that won't stop most people. So long as your partner doesn't pose any risk to their personal or professional lives, they'll crush whomever it may be."
Quatre leaned into Heero's right ear, hands dancing over that sensitive spot at the crook of his neck, teasing. "But if your, lover, was one of the higher ups on this corporation... One who could terminate," Closer, "One who held power," Even closer, "Someone who held complete control," His warm breath against Heero's ear, tickling him and driving him mad, "Someone like... me."
Heero knew the cue as the hand pressed against his shoulder. He crooked his head to the side, allowing him full access, and Heero's eyes slipped shut as Quatre, *feasted* on his neck. Arms wrapping around him, taking off his jacked, and traveling under his shirt. Then, suddenly, it was gone.
"I took the liberty of filling out the proper requisition forms:" Quatre popped back up gleefully, his character slipping more and more. He began to count off forms as he dropped them in Heero's already *full* lap. "Permission to kiss you, permission to grope you (publicly or privately), permission to terminate all employees under proven or assumed plan of wanton theft of you, permission to nail you to any surface I deem fit, permission to go down on you in any unoccupied closet, permission to allow you to go down on me during board meetings, permission to keep you on a leash when I'm feeling kinky, permission to-"
"That's enough!" Heero said standing and letting the papers flutter to the floor. He crossed his arms and scowled. Quatre looked up at Heero, shaken, wondering if he did something wrong. The leash wasn't *that* bad, was it? He certainly didn't mind wearing it when Heero wanted to-
"Mr. Winner, if you don't take me right now: I. QUIT."
"Wh-what?"
Heero leaned in, "I said; if you don't take me right now, I quit." He said simply, and kissed Quatre harshly, suckling his bottom lip for a moment. "This is my two weeks notice." He whispered.
"I-I won't accept your-your, I won't accept it! Your resignation!" Quatre stammered, trying to get back into character after that Kiss (with a capital K!)
"I'll call my union." Heero said, taking off his shirt and starting to unbutton Quatre's.
"You won't get away with this." Quatre said, not bothering to hide the smile he couldn't help.
"Oh will I?" Heero ripped open Quatre's shirt and jacket, tossing them aside, and practically threw him on the desk. "You're not really in a position to argue that, are you? I'm the one who could cry rape here. You came onto me."
"Is that an invitation?"
"A prediction." Heero said moving his hand lower.
"Heero..." Quatre breathed, and plucked his tie off of the sidearm of his chair where it had landed. He turned to his love, the facade of "Mr. Winner", gone. The playful look in his eyes spoke volumes.
"Give me your hands."
*****
And that was all it took to reduce the two boys to comfortable numbness.
"I am not moving. I don't care what you say. I am a stationary object. I am static. I might as well be made of stone, don't give me that look. I am the unmovable rock. This mountain ain't going after Mohammad. However, if *you* don't pull out anytime soon, you're going to be sore, tomorrow-"
"-I'm not doing *that* anytime soon. I'm comfortable."
"Fine, be that way. Last time you couldn't even sit down for the day. But other then that, I am staying here. This chair will be my deathbed. I will conduct business from this chair. I will sire children in this chair. I will attend weddings and funerals in this chair. I want to be entombed and buried in this chair."
"I bought that stuff you like, the cherry flavored, it's in the car."
"Damn you. Okay, we will temporarily relocate and regroup at home. Then I am screwing your brains out again, and crashing. I will be entombed and buried in bed."
"Promises, promises," Heero laughed, gently, as if too much would hurt him. And Quatre kissed him chaste on the lips.
"Ready?"
"Yes. Hands?"
"Oh! Right, sorry," Quatre said as he carefully undid the triple-knot-of-doom he had to make with his necktie.
"So what exactly shall we do at home?" Heero asked rubbing the circulation back into his fingers.
"Oh you know..." Quatre trailed off as he picked up his clothes, and then turned to Heero and waited for him to get that impatient look in his eyes.
"Surprise me."
*****
End! Happy V-Day!
Author's Notes/Ramblings: The story mentioned is "Harrison Bergeron", which is an amazing story that everyone should read sometime in their lives. Kurt Vonnegut isn't a classic writer now, he still does brilliant works and criticisms. But I'm pretending that in the alternate Gundam future universe he is still recognized for the genius that he is.
The "one out eight men" statistic is right, actually. The statistic is that one out of twelve people in rural areas are gay, and one out of eight in major cities. It averages to one out of ten in general. Tra la la la.