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"Bananas in Space "Written By: Asymphototropic
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam wing. Author: Asymphototropic (attracted toward the
light, but never quite arrives there) Email: asymphototropic@aol.com Pairings: 1+2+3 (Preventers) Rating: NC 17 Summary: Duo's banana doesn't have a tattoo. What's
a guy to do? Warnings to date: sequels are never as good as
the original story
"Bananas in Space " Part 2. "Graimes. Put Mr Maxwell down now. On his feet if you please." "Colonel, sir. He just walked in as if he owned the joint," Graimes complained. For such a huge fellow, he had a remarkably high pitched whine. Radiation-induced testicular atrophy, Duo hypothesized. He felt breasts pressed against his shoulder, though the goon was plainly male. "Ours is a public place of business," Sharpsten chided smoothly. "Mr Maxwell may walk in if he so chooses." "Ah, awright," Graimes conceded, dropping Duo onto his posterior in spite of instructions to the contrary. "Ooof," Duo said. He stood, rubbing his buns ruefully, eying the office full of massive thugs, with one blatantly sleazy lawyer tossed into the mix for variety's sake. Maxwell nodded greetings to the man seated behind the desk "Duo Maxwell, former gundam pilot, colonial war hero. The famous L2 Kid. To what do we owe this honor?" Sharpsten leaned comfortably back in his chair, but his hands continued hidden under his desk. "I was looking into the matter of fruit baskets." Maxwell took one step toward the grand mahogany desk. Graimes quickly took two steps toward Duo. Sharpsten languidly gestured the guard away with one hand. The other remained obscured under his desk. "And what, pray tell, is the matter with the matter of fruit baskets?" Sharpsten questioned in richly purring tones. "I just wondered why your bananas dun have import tattoos. Tha's all," Maxwell stated. "Thought I'd ask an expert on ther subject." The legal fellow piped up instantly. "Perfectly legitimate. L2 legislative code, measure 4503, article 12, subsection 305." "Shut up," Sharpsten hissed, and the other voice fell instantly silent. There came a heavy pause in which the guards shifted uneasily, staring at the lawyer, who studied the highly polished toes of his own shoes. "Well, well, Mr Maxwell," Sharpsten began again, jovially. "You came to the right place. I'd be happy to take you on a small informational tour of the establishment." Suddenly he raised both hands. He displaced the object from his lap to his desk. It was a glittering, transparent maze of highly complex artistic design. Shaped all in flawless polymer, a three dimensional sculpture, intricate of conception. Within its convolutions crept a velvety dark tarantula. At some distance, sealed within the corridors, sat a baby mouse. A fluffy, pale pup, innocently grooming its face with tiny pink paws. Sharpsten ran his tongue over suddenly bared teeth. "Black and white. Predator and prey. Life's contrasts. An ancient rite of survival and death, eternally reenacted." The tall man stood abruptly. He was dressed to perfection in a charcoal silk business suit. It covered yet revealed a sculpted physique that bespoke a sweat-free workplace, and a personal trainer at a private gym during leisure hours. Maxwell's attention shifted from the cruel maze on the desk to Sharpsten's juxtaposed crotch, where an erection marred the tailored drape of the man's trousers. "Brachypelma colonensis," Duo stated succinctly. "Male of the species, judging by the inferior size of its abdominal attributes," he added, a sneer forming blatantly on his lips. He watched as evidence of Sharpsten's boner rapidly drooped, the lofted fabric deflating like a pricked balloon. Maxwell smirked up at the man's scowl. Sharpsten was instantly around his desk, one fist on Maxwell's braid, the other at his throat. "Are you a fancier then?" he asked. The snarl, evanescent, vanished, replaced with polite patrician boredom. One moment, Duo was restrained, deathly threatened. Then there passed an infinitesimal space where throat and braid were caressed. In the next blink of his eyes, Maxwell found himself released, and somewhat doubting the assault had occurred. Except he felt the torn tingle of nerves at scalp and neck. "Breeding the creatures fer keeps, yer mean? Nurp. I think they should be free to go about their lives, same as the rest of us." "Sentimentality over an arachnid's rights. How very peculiar. Tsk, tut, Mr Maxwell. Even the meek mouse has more emotions than a spider." "Hey, the spider was born here. He belongs. Which is more than some can claim," Duo challenged. On the street, this rudity would have resulted in a duel to the death. In society circles, sneering at someone's planetary origins was considered an overt insult. He felt the ring of thugs tighten a step inward, encircling him. "Let us stroll the premises together," Sharpsten suggested. "While we discuss the ins and outs of the bananas business." His cultured voice was coolly courteous as his eyes roamed avidly over the Kid's slight form. Only as he turned to lead the way did his expression change. Maxwell caught a glimpse of Sharpsten that was pure poison. The gleaming lobby of Sharpsten Shipping Enterprises was frozen in tableau. A dozen silent soldiers stood in plain sight, staring at the entrance to the establishment. Just inside the polished brass and glass doors stood Heero Yuy and Trowa Barton. Barton had his fists thrust into the pockets of his Preventers' uniform jacket, which just prior to leaving their apartment he had hastily fastened over his hospital scrub suit shirt. He had taken the time to shed the drawstring pants and jump into his uniform trousers. On the exterior, he looked presentable. Underneath, he felt extremely grimy. The feel of this place was dirty too, in strange contrast to its glittering appearance. Maxwell's rooms, ancient and shabby though they were, had such a wholesome feeling to them, compared to this building. He supposed it was the occupants that made the place reek of filth. He glanced away from his enemies a moment, to take comfort in Heero's presence. He was a rock in a hard place. Solid strength, calmly assessing. Barton let his perceptions latch onto Yuy, a life line tied to an anchor. Trowa felt he would be lost without that allegiance. Having allies in combat was the one security he remembered from childhood. For a moment, he wondered where Heero, used to working alone and lonely, found his phenomenal determination. Now the sound of voices echoing down the corridor startled him. He had to restrain himself from palming a weapon in anticipation of violence. Certainly the gathering of soldiers seemed ready to start something if given the least opportunity. Yuy, however, looked unchanged, only the direction of his eyes indicating acknowledgment of the new presence. Maxwell appeared at the opposite side of the foyer, his small form shadowed by two tall men. The one immediately at the Kid's side seemed impossibly slick, like someone in the movies or on a magazine cover, a fictional character, in no ways real. In contrast, the huge fellow in the rear, threatening Duo like an avalanche about to crush him, looked like a freak freed from a carnival sideshow. Yuy's fingers twitched, catching Barton's attention. It seemed to Trowa that he wasn't the only one here who wanted to grab Maxwell and run like hell. The thought occurred to him that the slick one had to be Sharpsten. And the weirdness rearing on its hind legs was his bodyguard. Barton cringed at Sharpsten's possessive grip surrounding Duo's arm. "Mr Maxwell. Why didn't you tell me you had friends waiting for you? I could have ordered tea." "Did'n' know," Duo scowled at his roommates. "They're just leaving," he added emphatically. "Well, I hope we have come to a wonderful understanding," Sharpsten abruptly pulled Maxwell around to face him, both hands gripping his slender shoulders. Barton saw Yuy's twitching fingers clench into a fist. "Got what I came for, yurp," Maxwell grinned and nodded. "Understanding, yeah. You betcha." With a sudden twist, the Kid sprang free, and darted away. The bearded lady goon took a step forward in pursuit. "Graimes," the boss hissed. "Not now. Not yet. Later. You'll have plenty of opportunity when the time is ripe." "Guys," Maxwell called as he strode briskly through the exit. The characteristic smell of ozone, human sweat, and acid core solder that was the L2 colony's atmosphere never seemed sweeter than at that moment. Barton inhaled gratefully. "You just walked in and confronted him, huh?" "Yurp." Duo's grin was ridiculous in proportion to his small snub nose. It seemed like his wide smile could jar his ears loose. "Breakfast. I'm buying," Yuy declared. "Suh-weet!" Maxwell bounced up and down on his toes. "Damn. Hold still a moment," Barton exclaimed. "Whassa matter?" "Duo, hold still," Yuy coaxed. Barton breathed in and out once. "Duo. Right now you have one hellatiously big spider crawling over your shoulder." ~ * ~
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