----Red----

Disclaimer: G-Gundam is not mine.

Rating: T

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When Domon thought back about that night, he concluded that the drinking contest with Chibodee was what had started it all.

The King of France had decided to host a ball in honor of the Shuffle Alliance a few months after the 13th Gundam Fight, which Domon had been obligated to attend. He personally thought that the ball was a poor excuse for the French elite to spend unnecessary amounts of money to party their asses off, but he kept that opinion to himself. If he had said it aloud, Rain might hear about it later on. Besides the fact that he hated it when she disapproved of something he did or said, he also hated it when he had to sleep on the couch.

Just after the Neo-Japan couple arrived, Rain immediately and unconsciously began mingling with the other guests--that was the way she was. Domon leaned against the wall and watched her, one corner of his mouth raised in amusement.

She was wearing a cerulean dress that brought out her eyes; it flowed when she walked and accentuated her already well-shaped curves effortlessly. And best of all, she was happy. It didn't take long for Domon to realize that he wasn't the only one who was watching her, that dozens of male eyes lingered on her although, luckily for them, none of them gathered the courage to approach her.

Suddenly an arm swung over his shoulders and he heard a familiar chuckle to his left. Domon turned and found himself face-to-face with the already tipsy Neo-American. "I was wondering when you'd get here, Neo-Japan! How've you been?"

Domon raised his eyebrows and grinned. "Already drunk, Chibodee? It's a bit early, even for you."

Chibodee laughed. "Well it's not like I wanted to attend some stuffy French ball in the first place." He stole a glance at Rain, who was laughing at something Maria Louise had said. Domon didn't miss the look in Chibodee's eyes when he looked at the brunette beauty. "So how have you and Rain been getting along? I'm surprised you two aren't married yet."

Domon flushed. "It's too early for that. Besides, we want to take it slow after what's happened with the Devil Gundam."

Chibodee cocked an eyebrow skeptically. "Oh really, Domon Kasshu? 'Cause word on the street is, you two are living together."

"H-how do you know that? What do you mean by word on the street?" Domon sputtered. Then he realized. "It's the press, isn't it?" Why can't they just keep my personal life, well . . . personal?

The Neo-American laughed at Domon's surprise. "You won the 13th Gundam Fight, Domon. How can you expect anything other than celebrity status?" He changed the subject. "But let's stop wasting time on pleasantries. The real reason why I came here is to challenge you."

"You--what?"

"That's right." Chibodee smirked. "I challenge you to a drinking contest!"

(End cheesy dramatic music.)

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After the tenth round or so, Domon looked up to inspect his opponent. Chibodee's cheeks were pink from the alcohol, and he slumped against the table. His eyes were dead, he looked just about ready to give in. But then again, Domon wasn't faring much better either.

Chibodee had ushered Domon into a farely well-sequestered side-room of the giant French palace, where the two "duked it out" to the cheers of a fair number of onlookers. It was then that Rain Mikamura rushed into the room, immediately putting a stop to the contest and dispersing the spectators. It took all her effort to drag the Neo-Japan Gundam fighter to his feet as she said, "I've been looking for you everywhere, Domon!"

She turned her head to Chibodee, still sprawled in his chair and looking at the two of them dazedly. "You started this, didn't you, Chibodee?" she accused.

Chibodee didn't answer but merely waved. "Hey Rain! Can you help me up too?"

Rain sighed exasperatedly and grumbled as she obliged. But as soon as she got Chibodee to his feet, he slumped against her--she hadn't realized he was -that- drunk--and brushed her butt with his hand. "Oh whoops," he giggled drunkenly. "Sorry 'bout that."

That set Domon off.

He yelled for Rain to get out of the way and heaved the table over, barely missing Chibodee. The twenty-or-so glasses on the table crashed onto the floor, spilling across their contents.

"Domon!" Rain shouted. "Control yourself!"

By now a crowd of people had gathered in the room, drawn in by crash of the table. Domon glared daggers at them, mumbling four-lettered words under his breath. He couldn't sort things out here. He stepped past the still-dazed Chibodee and grabbed Rain's hand. "Domon, where are we--"

"Shhh!" he hissed, cutting her off. "Just come with me." We need to talk.

But Rain was in heels and struggled to keep up with Domon. "Domon, slow down!"

Impatient, Domon picked her up, one arm beneath her knees, the other hand gripping her thigh. He tried to ignore the feel of her arms around his neck, which sent shivers up and down his spine, as she held on.

Rain grimaced. Sometimes, Domon just didn't know his own strength. "Domon . . . you're hurting me," she murmured, her breath tickling his ear.

He relaxed his hold on her hip. "I-I didn't know." Rain smiled against him; she could hear the apology in his voice, even if he rarely said sorry out loud.

Domon found an empty guest room, far away from the noise of the ball. He deposited Rain on the bed and walked over to the door. As soon as she untangled herself from her dress, Rain got up from the bed. "Domon, why did you do that to Chibodee?"

Domon was having trouble with the lock. "Damn, why do the French have to be so fancy all the time!" he murmured.

"It could be because you're drunk. Chibodee was too, you know."

"He shouldn't have touched you."

"It was an accident."

"I'm not so sure about that."

"Domon, you're paranoid. You've always been paranoid."

He had finally figured out the lock. He didn't even want to bother with switching on the lights; the darkness suited him just fine. He turned to Rain.

The next thing she knew, she was pinned against the wall with his body pressed tightly against hers. "No I'm not. Not this time," he answered confidently, his brown eyes burning into hers in the pale moonlight.

"Dom--" He cut her off with a kiss, drunk and savage and possessive. Rain's senses reeled--he always did that to her when he kissed her. She dug her nails into his back and moaned into his mouth and felt him smirk against her lips. His hand at the small of her back pushed her closer against him and his other hand stroked her hair tenderly.

He was such a contradiction at times, so savage and yet so gentle.

Rain normally hated the taste of alcohol, but she loved the taste of it on his lips. So she didn't mind at all when his tongue entered her mouth, intoxicating her even further. His hand moved from her hair to her cheek and his mouth moved from her lips to her neck. His heart pounded, and he felt unbelievably light headed--and not just from the alcohol. He loved the feel of her body against his, her lips against his, her against him . . . why did she have to make him so weak?

Domon's hands found her hips and then he remembered. Gently breaking away he bent down and lifted her dress.

"D-Domon! What are you doing!" Rain protested, blushing furiously although she should have gotten used to Domon undressing her by now. "Now's not the time for this!" she hissed.

Domon laughed, his brown eyes teasing her. He lifted her dress to the waist and pulled her panties down just slightly. Sensing that Rain was about to move away, he grabbed her by the calves and tried to not get too distracted by her long, shapely legs. It didn't take long for him to detect the growing bruise on her hip, the one that he was responsible for. He leaned over and kissed it.

He found it absolutely adorable the way her cheeks turned bright red. "You're really drunk," she said.

"And you're way too tempting for you own good," he retaliated in a harsh half-whisper before pulling her against him and kissing her again.

This time the kiss lasted even longer. She burned at his touch and he pressed her tight between the wall and his aching body. He wanted her, and he knew it. He wanted her furiously. Almost as if by their own accord, his hands fidgeted with the straps of of her dress and began to pull them down from her slender shoulders. He succeeded. The dress collapsed in a puddle of cerulean silk at her ankles.

Oh, Domon . . . she mentally sighed. Then she felt the gust of wind that blew in from the open window, and she remembered the room around her, only one of many in the palace of the King of France. . . . no. No. No no no no--

"No!" She pushed him away, surprising them both. "Not here!" She bent down and began to gather the dress around herself.

Slowly and painfully Domon overcame his initial shock. "Rain I--"

"I said no, Domon, and I meant no. I'm not your property to do whatever you want with."

I'm not yours... Her words reverberated throughout the intoxicated caverns of his mind. Domon was easy to anger.

"Then whose are you, then? Don't pretend you didn't like all those men staring at you out there!" he shouted.

"W-what? What are you talking about?" Her eyes registered genuine confusion, but Domon was too angry to think clearly.

"You know what I'm talking about. You didn't even mind that Chibodee touched you."

Rain actually swore. "Dammit, of course I was uncomfortable! But he was inebriated, Domon. It was an accident! How explicit can I be?" Now fully dressed, she stood up and glared at him.

"He was looking at you, Rain. And I don't know where George is, but if he were here I'm pretty sure he'd be looking at you too!"

She threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. I don't believe this, she thought. "So what're you going to do? Lock me up and chain me? Besides, I don't think it's like that with them at all. They're just my friends. And, may I remind you, they're your friends too."

Domon sighed and ran a hand through his unruly black hair. She was right, and he knew it.

Taking advantage of his silence, Rain quickly closed the distance between them. It only took her index finger on his chest to push him back a few steps and to sit on the edge of the bed. Sighing and smiling sadly, she slowly walked to him and rested her forehead against hers. Her hands were on his knees. She caught his gaze with her eyes and murmured softly, "I thought we were supposed to come in here to talk."

Domon flushed and laughed bitterly. "That was the original intention, believe it or not. Other things just kind of, um, got in the way."

Rain scowled. "Domon, you know I love you, but sometimes you just need to respect my . . . space."

He looked at her, confused. "What's that supposed to mean?" Realization dawned on him. "Rain, are you breaking up with me?"

She raised her eyebrows, surprised, and broke into a little laugh as she shook her head. "No, of course it's not that. I just . . . need some time to sort through some thoughts. I think it'll be good for you too."

"Crap--does this mean I'm sleeping on the couch then?"

She laughed and nodded. "Unfortunately, yes."

"Rain, I--" he reached for her hand but she had already turned around and was heading for the door. "I guess I'll see you at home then, okay? I--I love you."

She closed the door behind her, but not before turning and smiling at him, her eyes dancing with warmth. "I love you too," he murmured to the empty dark. He felt . . . weird. Not exactly dejected or devastated but something akin to the two, a feeling which he already detested. He already missed her.

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a/n: So after watching a couple of G-Gundam episodes, it turns out that Domon isn't angry ALL the time, which is perfectly fine with me. So I wrote something that popped into my head to express another facet of him--I'm not too sure which facet, but it's different at any rate.

I guess maybe I should dedicate this story to different interpretations of the personalities of Domon and/or Rain and the situations that may follow. It's not going to be chronological (because chronology is hella overrated) and it may not make sense all of the time. (When it doesn't make sense, it's going to be on purpose, hopefully.) So for all I know this could turn out to be one big jumbled mess. Kind of like modern art.

But come on, anything can be modern art. I took a picture of my shoe once. That could be modern art. I have no idea where I'm going with this modern art shpeal...laaaaaaaaaa