Ghost Whisper: Honestly, this fic kinda snuck up on me. I was listening to a song that talked about cafes, and saying goodbye to Hiroshima, etc. and couldn't help myself. I think it turned out quite well actually, though it has more meaning if you look for symbolism.
And no, obviously the two pilots aren't in Hiroshima. That's symbolism too. :P
The coffee was good today.
Duo leaned back in his chair, inhaling the steam from his drink, and observing his partner over the rim of his mug. Hair the same color as the coffee he was drinking, its messy spikes waved gently in the wind. His eyes were ten shades darker than the thin strip of ocean that reflected the sun on the horizon.
The other pilot's gaze was constantly shifting, fixing a glare first on the waiter who served them their drinks, then on the group of giggling school girl at the table next to them, then on the business man in his pressed gray suit.
"You know, doctor's have proven that to much glaring is bad for your eye-sight," Duo quipped, taking a long swallow of his coffee. It was bitter, in spite of the copious amounts of cream and sugar he'd added - just like Heero looked.
Heero grunted, a quiet sound in the back of his throat, before turning his eyes to the coffee that sat nearly untouched in front of him. He'd asked for it black. "You're ready for tonight?"
Sighing, the braided pilot slumped in his chair. "I thought we went over this already Heero – this place is for drinking coffee. It's not for planning, or undercover work, or checking out the potential enemies. There is a reason I drag you out here every day, and it's not to prepare for covert operations." He wrinkled his nose, frowning at the other. "And yes, to answer your question, I'm very ready."
After the first time, with Duo sending pleading looks in Heero's direction, and threatening to put a virus in Wing's system; it had become somewhat of a weekly ritual for the two of them to meet at this café. 'To catch up' Duo had said, and 'Make sure we're both still human'. There'd been a joking tone in his voice when he'd said it, but the statement was truer than he liked to remember. They all had their own ways of blocking out their actions, and retreating to live the moment.
Quatre liked to putter around the safe house. It was an amusing habit for the millionaire, and Duo liked to tease him for it. The blond was constantly swiping imaginary dust off the window frames, and straitening the cupboards out, whether it was only himself and Heero in the house (the Japanese pilot having so few possessions that he was inevitably neat) or all five of them (and Duo's tendency to flit from activity to activity always meant there was something left where it shouldn't be).
Trowa, for all of his long silences except when speech was most important, was a profuse writer. Whenever there was no mission to occupy him, the green eyed pilot could be seen staring at the pages of a tiny leather bound journal and fiddling a metallic blue pen that Quatre had given him between his fingers.
Even more surprising to Duo than any of the other's hobbies, was Wufei's. It seemed, that the Chinese pilot was an artist; though Wufei would probably growl and try to smack him if Duo tried to make him admit it. On one of the –rare- occasions he'd woken up early, it had been to find Wufei sitting at the kitchen table sketching a tree outside the window.
And he and Heero? They had their coffee. It wasn't as though it was an odd thing for him to do. Everyone with even a passing familiarity with him knew of his fondness for caffeine. It might have been a little stranger to see Heero in such a place. The Japanese pilot remained ill at ease within the café, though they'd been visiting this place nearly every day for the past week.
Heero had complained about that – he'd said they were making themselves too recognizable.
Duo sighed, pulling himself back to the present – though it didn't seemed Heero had noticed him lost in his thoughts anyway. The two of them never really talked much on these trips. They gained more just from being in the presence of someone with similar experiences – without being in the middle of a battle – then they could through small talk.
"I think I'm going to miss coming here," he said wistfully, drinking in the quiet atmosphere, and the scent of salt on the breeze from the ocean.
"You shouldn't get attached." Heero deadpanned.
The braided pilot snorted. "We've been here long enough for it, but I know already. You don't need to tell me about keeping secrets. I guess it's just been nice to have a place we could relax without having to watch our tails for a while. In any case, today's probably our last day of the good stuff for a while. Next we'll be drinking it holed up in some cheapo motel room." Duo took a quick gulp, and finished the remainder of his coffee, flagging the waitress for the bill as he stood up.
Heero's cup was still full, almost to the brim.
The bill was paid quickly and with no fuss. Duo gave the waitress a generous tip, smiling flirtatiously at her, and shrugging his shoulders at Heero's glare. "The coffee was great today, Miss." He told her before walking out the door.
That night, it was reported that five Gundams stuck a nearby Oz munitions factory, and the mobile suit weapons development center stationed nearby. Everything in a three-block radius suffered fire damage.
Insurance claims included one for the total destruction of a popular café.
End.
Ghost Whisper: Song inspiring the fic: Burning Hearts, by My Favorite.
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