The was a challenge that was never fulfilled, is being reworked, and that I intend to finish. All I wish for is luck and a peaceful summer.
Title: Domestic
Author: Ileana A. (babygray)
Main Pairing: Duo/Heero
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is not mine. This is pure jest.
Notes: This is a 26-part story, made up of noisefics/drabbles/whatever. It's not chronological, but don't worry too much about that. Reworked, but rough and un-beta'ed.
Warning: First-person ramble. And still so bitterly rough.
--Immaturity--
I first met Heero the year my mother died, and I would be the first to admit it wasn't all that spectacular.
We met because of our parents. You, see, his father and my mother had been friends since they were kids back on the colony. According to the stories, they had grown up together on the same mountain, overlooking the same winding highway and the same rural city. But as they got older, she gradually lost touch with the man that had been her best friend. When we would go to visit family on the colony, she would spend a day or two with him, and they would occasionally talk on the phone, but she would get this look that seemed to say it wasn't the same as before.
When, nearly out of the blue, he had written to her, asking her to take care of his son for a while, she was at first unsure as to what to do. It was so sudden, and letter had hinted of some sort of trouble.
In the end, however, she agreed. Either out of pity or understanding, she agreed. It was the least she could do for a man she considered her best friend, she said, if not to me.
Heero came in the summer, after school ended there, and before school started again here. The day we picked him up at the airport, we were forced to wait almost three hours for his flight to arrive due to some problem or another. The way he carried himself when I first saw him, however, it seemed as if the delay had no effect on him whatsoever.
He was weird, but not in a bad way. He could only speak our native tongue and kept mostly to himself as he earned his keep by cleaning and cooking. He would also spend a lot of his time glaring at everything, looking quite fierce at it too, I might add, but he wasn't the kind of guy that would be out of the house at all hours of the night, so we really didn't have much in common, other than the whole 'colonist' thing.
I was never told the reason as to why Heero was sent to live with us. When my mother first mentioned it to me, I immediately thought of gangs and drug-running. Maybe he got a girl pregnant up there on the mountain, but if that was the case, he would have been forced to marry, not shipped off the colony to a woman he barely knew. Every time I asked, he would glare and not answer. After a while, I would just give up.
At the time, I was a real ass to my mother. You probably guessed this already, but yeah, I was one of those ghetto 'hoods out at all hours of the night. I never did anything too illegal, but I was out there, and that was enough.
Mom hated it, and would always be up in my ass about it, saying over and over again that the city was dangerous. It was, I admit, and there were a few times that I've gotten into a fight with some dangerous characters over nothing. But I would never admit she was right, and I hated her for even mentioning it to me. At 18, I thought I was grown. I thought I knew everything, and every time she would bitch at me about how I lived my life, I would storm out of the house.
One night, after a really heavy fight with Mom, I stormed out, my car keys in my hand. Heero ran right after me, a pair of flip-flops barely on his feet, forcing himself into my car.
I snarled at him, "Get the fuck out, Heero."
"I don't know half of what happened in there," he said in our native tongue, the glare in his eyes so dark it made my blood freeze and boil at the same instant, "and I certainly don't know what you just said, but if you're going somewhere tonight, I'm coming with you, asshole, whether you liked it or not."
I stared at him, before returning his glare with one of my own. "Fine," I snapped back, deliberately not using the colonial. "You wanna come? Be my fucking guest." I started the car with such rage that the engine nearly choked. Without waiting for some sort of word of consent, I pulled out and drove.
The drive was quiet. Neither of us turned on the radio, and the anger in my blood was refusing to dissipate as we practically sailed down the highway.
"Something bad is going to happen soon," Heero said, his nasally voice still low with anger and frustration.
"What, your father kicked you out because you're some black-magic fortune teller?" I jeered.
"You're going to get hurt if you kept acting this way, Duo." He frowned at the empty highway. ignoring me. "I don't know what's going to happen, but God help me, if I'm right, I'll make sure I'm here. Whether you deserve it or not."
Glaring at the open road before me and biting my tongue in frustation, I couldn't answer.
In the end, I ended up driving us out to the suburbs. After buying some beer, I drank the six-pack on my own as we sat, parked by the mall. The whole time, Heero just glared at the orange glow of the parking lot lights in the distance, darkly keeping his thoughts to himself.
Heero drove us back that night, despite not having a license or a clear idea as to how to get back. Good thing no cops stopped us, I guess. I certainly didn't need the trouble.
My mother died with me harboring those bad feelings still, nearly a month after that night Heero snarled at me about his premonitions.