|
"Bedraggled "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 Rating: R Warnings: Post EW, language, violence, yaoi Summary: Zechs discovers a pest in his mansion. After careful consideration, he decides against calling the exterminator Pairings: 6x2
"Bedraggled " Part 2. Merquise thought he just might have made a mistake. He looked down at the youngster, motionless on the floor of the guard box. Tumbled there, unarmed, clad merely in underwear, looking very harmless and pale. Puzzled, Zechs shook his head. He hadn't lost track of his mark, he felt certain. This was the same man he had been following. The one who had betrayed such dangerous skill as he slipped across the grounds. So still, lying there. Gods. Merquise swallowed hard. Now he was certain he had made a mistake, because he felt a weapon pressed into the center of his spinal column. "Hold it right there. Don't move," a nasty voice behind him snarled. "Do as you're told and maybe you won't get hurt. Drop the gun." Zechs braced himself. He absolutely refused to disarm for this enemy. He would far rather go down fighting. Determined on a violent culmination, he counted his racing heartbeats until they slowed to a steadier flow of strong adrenaline. Firming for the counter attack, hoping against a preemptive enemy move, he waited for the right moment. Just as he was about to pivot and shoot, he blinked and saw purple. A whole meadow dancing with springtime heliotrope. Gemstones, glittering amethyst in the jeweler's case. Distant spectral stars, fiery violet, glowing in unimagined new galaxies. A set of perse eyes, calculating chaos. Delighted at the opportunity. The daft laughing eyes of the assassin. "Don't shoot," Zechs pleaded, his faked terror sounding amateurish to his own ears. He smirked down at his unforeseen ally and dropped the gun into the kid's hands. Then he backed out of the guard box, blocking the view with his body, forcing their enemy backwards with a carefully clumsy motion. "Please don't hurt me. Oh, please." Don't quit your day job, he derided himself. Then flung his body recklessly sideways as the kid rose to his knees, pointed and fired in one slick draw. The corpse tumbled to the tarmac, splattering visceral fragments as it fell. Maybe that caliber weapon was a bit excessive for the task at hand, Merquise reflected ruefully, receiving the rain of blood upon his previously pristine shirt front. Heaven and hell seemed ready to meet and greet. Sirens sounded suddenly. Lights flashed. Guns exploded. Tires of escape vehicles screeched upon the pavement. Then metal crunched and glass splintered over violent collisions. Apparently the kid triggered a silent alarm when he broke into the guard box. The local constabulary had arrived in time. Good for them. Merquise retrieved his weapon from the kid's trembling fingers. "Nice shot," Zechs said. xXxXx "Excuse me?" "Didn' know missy had a boyfriend." "Who?" "That hussy Nereid chick." The coarse street rat accent jarred incongruously over ancient mythology. "Yer look like a Greek gawd, too. Some kinda Ares Apollo hybrid. Done all in marble." "Are you all right?" "Sure, sure. Jus' great, tha's me. I'm ohhh-kay." The kid fingered his chin gingerly. "Don't rub it. You'll make it worse." "Whatever." "You should have gone with the paramedics." "Hell no." "Then perhaps we should withdraw back into the house." "Sounds good. Jes lemme grab the paper." "Are your priorities always so bizarre?" "Reckon they may be." The kid grasped the newspaper in both shuddering hands. Zechs reached a steadying arm around the boy, ready to support him if he fell. "Whoa," the kid chuckled drunkenly. "Careful. Yer'll make missy jealous." "What are you on?" Zechs asked suspiciously. "Antibiotic for secondary strep throat. One shot to the buns. Painful but effective. Antiviral for the sneaky damned bitch of a primary bug. Intravenous molecular revision therapy for the atypical lymphocytosis, administered weekly for three months. Steroidals for hyperacute lymphadenopathy. So's I could breathe better, ya know?" Merquise raised his elegant platinum eyebrows in a supremely skeptical expression. "Yer the one tha's stoned. Get it? Marble statue. Stoned. Ha. Miss Nereid's stony cold lover. Kiss da fishy, bishy." The kid staggered. Zechs lifted him in his powerful grip. He shook his head, and began carrying the boy back to the house. Duo clung to the newspaper. Successfully fetching it constituted his one great triumph for the day. Calling the cops down on the bad guys had been totally accidental, due to his clumsy breaking and entering job at the guard box. So that didn't count, he figured. Getting cold-cocked and captured by this Greek gawd-statue had been a major fuck-up. He felt perfect muscles stretch and flex as the man's arms surrounded his body protectively. Hmmm. Maybe he might revise that assessment. He stared up into glacier blue eyes. "Milliardo Peacecraft," Duo muttered. "The Martian gawd." Mr Marble looked quite annoyed at being recognized. Sheesh. With such a gorgeous and famous mug, what else? Plus platinum silk for hair, the ermine tips brushing sinfully across Duo's flesh. Mmmm. "Lemme guess. This place belongs to you. And yer pissed off yer gots an unexpected rat on the premises." The gorgeous gawd grimaced. "Erm. Jez lemme gather m' goods, call a taxi, and I'm gone. You can forget this morning ever happened. 'Kay?" "I'm afraid that will be unacceptable. I do not wish my presence here to be announced." "What? How about that brouhaha 'cross the road? Somethin like that's not gonna stay quiet fer long." "The local chief of constables is a personal acquaintance. The police will leave me temporarily anonymous in their reports, until I give them the green light." "Ya trying to tell me I'm yer prisoner?" The boy's eyes gleamed wickedly from under sweeping lashes. "There is no call for undue melodrama. Let us just declare your status as 'held temporarily incommunicado'." "Maybe you can say that, buddy. Me, I dun think I can even pronounce it in my currently semi-stupefied condition." "Liar. You can pronounce anything you like. You can drop that plebeian lingo whenever you choose, I'm certain." "Who ya callin' a liar? Duo Maxwell dun lie, buddy." "Maxwell?" Merquise suddenly squeezed hard enough to induce a squeak from the kid. "Ow. Watchit, would ya?" So Peacecraft hadn't recognized him before? Ha. Not used to seeing Shinigami in his unmentionables. "Pilot 02. What the devil are you doing in my house?" "Hey! News flash. The war's over fer months now." Merquise scowled dangerously. He kicked the side door open, strode inside and dropped the boy onto the nearest chair. "Unless yer want another stiff for the coroner's slab, ya need to ease up on the harsh handling, Mil. I'm grounded for splenomegaly. Rough me up, and my spleen bursts open, I bleed to death in mere minutes. Savvy?" Zechs eyed the pale form lounging back wickedly on his couch. "What exactly is the nature of your medical complaint?" he demanded. "Ever hear-tell of infectious mono?" "Certainly. We've all been immunized against the viruses." "Oh well, yeah. Tha's true enough. But I'm stationed on L2. Preventers agent, by the bye, so dun try to pull anything funny, else I'll arrest ya. Ha, ha. Anyways. L2, the human cesspool of the universe. We gots us some lovely weird viral mutations in the bad, bad back alleys. Antigenic drift, ya know? Lucky me, I succumbed to one of those rare nasty variant viruses, as the good doctor likes to say. Vaccination be damned, see?" Despite himself, Merquise backed off a couple of paces. The boy chuckled deep in his throat, a hot, husky noise. "Dun worry. I'm on every pharmaceutical known to modern medicine. No longer infectious, and all that rot. Yer precious princely hide is safe with me, buddy." "And you are lurking about my private establishment, why, exactly?" "I'm not trespassing, if tha's what ya figure. I've got a bona fide invitation. Queeny insisted, in fact. Said you weren't using the joint, and I could stay til I was better. Hey, Rel dun realize yer here, does she?" Maxwell's look suddenly shifted. In an instant, it went from warm and chatty to pure poison. "Why all the secrecy? What are you up to?" he asked suspiciously. Abruptly, the kid stood, his posture defensive. Zechs took a threatening step forward. His mind speedily clicked over possibilities, all distasteful. This boy knew how to fight. And he was, absurd as it seemed, an officer of the law. Assault was illegal. And dangerous. Zechs might be injured before he could take out this small but lethal combatant. Much worse consideration, though, was the kid's health status. Ill, easily injured. If Merquise did any permanent damage to Maxwell, retribution certainly would be visited upon the assailant, i.e., his regal self. Zechs had hoped to keep a low profile until he was ready to pounce on the legislative assembly with his demands. A domestic disturbance here, in addition to the prior police action next door, certainly would gain unavoidable media attention of the most lurid sort. He was going to have to handle Duo with kid gloves. No pun intended. Handle, hmmm? "Sit down, Mr Maxwell. Please, before you fall upon your nose. Have you breakfasted yet?" Duo grinned, sensing the other's change in attitude. "Nurp." "Surely your medical practitioner has specified dietary intake," Merquise scrutinized the slight, scarcely clad body before him. In a flash of cerebral light, the thought suddenly came home to Duo Maxwell. He was in his underpants. His braid was a sweaty mess. This tall, handsome, godlike creature had just been holding him close to his muscular chest. Duo blushed furiously, mumbled something like "shower", turned and fled. Cursing eloquently, Zechs Merquise followed after his
resident nemesis.
~ * ~ |
