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"Operation Operative Operation"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: Language Summary: Someone wants to steal Duo's appendix. While its still in him? Pairings: 1 + 2 + 3
"Operation Operative Operation "
Part 5. "I need to seduce Maxwell." Barton weighed the possibility. "Find out what his line is." "That's mean," his cock whined. "I assumed that you, at least, would be enthusiastic about the suggestion," Trowa scowled down at his equipage. But his cock had gone suddenly, surprisingly still. "Okay, maybe not. Let's see. There are three possibilities.
Duo is investigating Elective Surgery fraud. Duo is participating
in Elective Surgery fraud. Or Duo is participating in Elective Surgery.
In which last case, he may be oblivious to the existence of Elective
Surgery fraud. In which case, I should brief him, in the event he
stumbles across some useful information. Oh hell, make Silence from the Southern Hemisphere. "Guess I'm on my own, then." Barton made his way back to his ward room. He found Maxwell's motionless form curled on the mattress vinyl, both clenched fists pressed into his crotch. Eyes closed, mouth open, with his (facial) cheek resting in a small pool of drool. Shaking his head, Trowa went in search of pajamas. The linen cupboard was less than satisfactory. The smaller clothes seemed designed for female patients, the shirts having darts to accommodate a bust line, and the pants lacking a fly. After some deliberation he chose some drawstring pants that were only slightly pink, and could be mistaken for oxblood tan in some lighting. And the smallest short sleeved men's shirt he could find, which featured a more masculine pin stripe. The smaller bathrobes were blatantly rose colored. He grabbed a men's small in plain navy, figuring Duo could roll up the sleeves and pull the belt tight. He stopped at the hall scrub station to run warm water over a wash cloth. Then he returned to awaken his sleeping roommate. "Maxwell. I brought you some jammies. Change out of your uniform, and I'll hang it in the closet for you." "Trow?" Duo sat up in a muddle, blinking. Barton got Maxwell's combat boots off him, then settled next to him on the mattress. After a pause, he unbuttoned Duo's shirt for him, and set it aside. The kid was wearing a tight black tank. "You want to keep your undershirt?" When he received no response, he proceeded to get the pajama top over Maxwell's mussed head and braid, and his arms through the sleeves. Then he tucked the cross and chain back between the two layers of cloth. "Trousers," Barton coached, pulling Duo to a stand, unfastening his belt buckle. Considering Maxwell gave signs of toppling like a felled tree, he went for broke, and simultaneously dragged both pants and boxers down to the floor. "Step out," he urged, grasping Duo by his arms, and then settling his bare ass onto the one chair the room boasted. "Here we go now. Lift up." He worked the bottoms onto Duo's somnolent form and tied the drawstring. Must be the wrong light. The cloth looked pink, not tan, caressing Maxwell's thighs. Duo lifted one eyelid. "Thanks, buddy. Hope I didn't blow your cover too bad." "How'd you figure it?" Barton asked. He began to wipe the slobber off Maxwell's face with the warm wash rag. "Not a lot of dentistry gets done on L2. Not a lot of dentists to do it. Seen a lot of toothache. Your face ain't swollen in the right places. And you didn't flinch when I ran into you. You don't favor your jaw when you talk. Plus you know this place too well. Wisdom tooth extraction, you'da been in and out long since before." Duo grinned. Barton placed his thumb just so. "You know you've got a dimple right here?" He pressed into the soft skin of Duo's face. " 'Course I know. I see it in the mirror every time I brush my teeth, don't I?" "You really here for appendectomy?" " 'Fraid so." "Maybe I'd better ask Dr Denne to have a look at you then." "Naw. Dun wanna be a bother. My official sawbones'll catch up with me soon enough. I'll just take a breather meanwhile. Whazzit all about? Can you tell me anything?" Barton sighed. Maxwell had passed Yuy's dimple test. Or rather, had flunked it, since being sick enough to lose weight couldn't be considered a good thing. And since Heero had been right about that, probably he'd been right about Maxwell being too valuable to risk as an operative on Operation Elective Surgery. Which pretty much led Trowa to conclude that Duo was a patient, here for an appendectomy. He was surprisingly glad that Maxwell didn't seem to be involved in a scam. Though why he would care about his comrade's honesty, he couldn't begin to explain to himself. "There's actually two of us. Me and Heero Yuy." "Yuy's here?" Maxwell's eyes glittered like the evening sky on Fourth of July. Trowa experienced a jab that might have been jealousy. Over whom he wasn't at all certain. "In transit. Soon to arrive. He's answering to Commander Une. And I'm reporting to Commander Po." "Sally, huh? Hey. You fixin' to become a doctor?" "Maybe." "You'll be great at that, Trow. Really," Maxwell nodded vigorously. Barton found himself blushing a little. "Thanks. I mean, if it actually happens. Anyway. Back to the case. We're trying to figure if there's some sort of scam being run through Elective Surgery. Though it beats the hell out of me how anyone can make any dirty money off of hernia repair." "Not narcotic sales?" "Nothing that easy or straight forward." Maxwell looked thoughtful a moment. "You ever read a book called 'Tono Bungay'? Its a classic by H.G. Wells." "Don't think so. Why? Should I?" "I'm not sure. I think it might be relevant. Just a hint of a notion I've got in the bottom of my mind. Maybe if I catch a few more zee's, it'll float to the top." "You want to go check out the cafeteria with me? Lunch is usually edible." "Ah, no, thanks. Even from here, the smell is making me, erm, just a tad queasy." "You need to at least keep up on your fluids. I could bring you back something." "Maybe a cola. Or anything fizzy." "And some soup. Soda crackers might stay down. I assume if they wanted you NPO, they would have informed you." Barton said. "Get into my bed. They probably wont make up the other one until they catch up with your name in the comp." "You sure?" Trowa lifted Duo by the arms and directed him toward the bed. "Last I heard, appendicitis is not contagious." He fluffed the pillow, settled the braid in a more comfortable position for its owner, and pulled the covers up to Maxwell's chin before heading for the cafeteria.
Juloiskoe froze, with his hand outstretched toward the shelf. "I might ask you the same question," he snarled at the other man. It was a young guy, built like a fire plug. Square head on a square frame, minimal neck. A bruiser. But dwarfed by Juloiskoe's height and weight. The square man sneered. "I work here," he tapped the clearance card on his scrub suit front. "You don't." Juloiskoe glanced down at his stolen scrub suit. Then he sneered and shrugged. "I'm still bigger than you." He could smell sleaze at a kilometer's distance. This other clown reeked. "What's your line," he read off the other's ID, "Mr Ampirst?" Ampirst leered. "You first. You're the one caught in the act. What business do you have reading Patient Maxwell's medical file? That stuff's confidential." "Just a little matter of a grudge. Nobody's business but Pretty Boy's and mine." "Pretty Boy? You've got to be kidding me. Duo Maxwell was a gundam pilot." "Bull shit. That little bit of fluff?" "You didn't know? Where the fuck were you during the wars?" "Covering my ass with both hands. Where were you, Mr Purple Heart?" "As far from the front lines as I could get. So, you got a grudge against Maxwell, huh?" "Damn tootin." "Why just get even, when you could make a profit?" "Keep talking." "Not here. I'll meet you on the outside. You know where Cretin's Flop lies?" " 'Course. What'dja take me for?" "See you there in an hour." The two men went their separate ways. The hospital settled back into its restless subliminal night noise again. After an undisturbed minute, another hand reached toward the shelf. Heero Yuy's eyes were fierce, piercing electric blue,
as he rapidly scanned Maxwell's medical chart. ~ * ~ |
