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"Semisweet "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: G Warnings: none Summary: A look into the past. Pairings: 1+2
" Semisweet " II. Twoshot "Chocolate?" Barton eyed the supply list over Chang's shoulder. "Chocolate," he nodded agreement. Chang puzzled over the incongruity. He was holding a paper of reqs hastily compiled by his fellow pilots, representing necessities to be acquired. Since when was chocolate a priority supply item? "Probably for Maxwell," Trowa decided. "It's in Yuy's handwriting." "Yuy is practical. Maxwell is underweight, with an unreliable appetite. He occasionally forgets to eat." The fact was offered with a certain veterinary flare. "Chocolate is palatable and calorie-dense." "Ah." Yuy had specified 'semisweet, baker's bar, brown overwrap, 250 grams dry weight.' Typical of Zero-one to include specs, Chang reflected. Then he wondered if a semisweet baker's bar was more calorie-dense than other available chocolate. And why did the wrapper's color matter? Barton shrugged. Chang shrugged back at him. Zero-three was right. Yuy always was practical. Why debate it? Chocolate. Check. Chang nodded acquiescence. Yuy monitored the exchange from a distance. His hearing was extremely acute. He hadn't bothered to offer justification. It had not occurred to him that Chang might question the requisition. But Barton's reply was adequate. Inaccurate, but adequate. Yuy was pleased that the unforeseen difficulty had been so effortlessly overcome. He did not regret the deception of his collaborators, if it was required to obtain the item. "Damnation!" That was Maxwell's voice. Coming from the bathroom, from behind the partly closed door. A steady stream of curses at a flow rate of approximately 1.381 words per second. "What is it?" "Yuy? Hellfire. Ya just scared the living shit out of me, creeping up like that." Duo stood there, stripped to the waist, black trousers hung low upon his hips. He was attempting to squirm his hand behind him, to reach his own back. An angry red sizzle, oozing like a freshly butchered steak, flared off one pale shoulder and down between his lean scapular prominences. "What happened?" "I was trying to find a short circuit in Deathscythe's proprioception grid. Loose wire. Instead, it found me. When I got the panel cover off, a hot cable shouted 'surprise', jumped out and tapped me right on the shoulder." "This is an electrical burn." "Yurp. Just trying to get some of this stuff on it. But its a fucking awkward reach." Without comment, Yuy seized the tube and applied ointment to the broiled flesh. "This ran close to the heart. Surprising you didn't suffer cardiac arrest from the jolt." Duo translated the sentence before replying. He suspected there might be a lurking accusation of careless stupidity in the phrase somewhere. "Just dumb luck, I guess." "Hn." The tube dropped to the floor abruptly. "It hurts, to touch you." "Naw. Actually it feels better." The silent pause drew Maxwell around, puzzlement teasing his smooth facial features. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately, wondering what the hell Heero meant. Yuy was glaring down at his own hands. Studying his fingertips, as if he detected some horrible contagion lurking upon them. Almost as if he were debating cauterization versus amputation as a cure for the malady. "Hurts to touch me?" "Yes." The glower was gone from Yuy's eyes. His swimmingly blue eyes. Absurdly pretty, rimmed with long black lashes, sheltered like innocent offspring under the fiercely slashed brows. "Hurts you. Hurts you to touch me?" "Yes." The clarification, confirmed, seemed even more confusing than the original muddle. "Where is the pain? In your hands, your fingers?" "Thorax. Left, ventral deep, fourth intercostal space. An acute stabbing sensation." Fortunately for Maxwell's edification, Yuy pointed to the tender spot. The place over his rapidly pounding heart. "It hurts there when you touch me? Only then, when you're touching me?" "No. Sometimes, when I look at you. Or when I hear your voice on the com unit. Sometimes, when you aren't around, but I begin to think about you." "Oh. OH. Aw, shit." Yuy studied Maxwell intently now. There was recognition there. Zero-two was familiar with these symptoms, it appeared. Perhaps he knew of a remedy. Heero raised his eyebrows in anticipation. Duo bit his lip, his expression indecisive, his motivation stalled between two desires, the first to assist, the second to chuckle wryly. "Does it feel better or worse? If I do this." He placed his hand on Heero's shirt front. Fingers slightly spread, palm warm upon underlying flesh, tense, with a tendency to shudder. Yuy's lips parted as he breathed. Deep inhalations, slow exhalations. He studied the hand upon his chest, small, strong, calloused, firm. Friction afforded in slightly circular movements, confident. "Better." "Oh, good." There was amusement in those strange purple eyes. But Yuy didn't mind, since the massage had proven therapeutic. "It appears to be a chronic condition with acute exacerbations." "Come back for more, erm, treatment. Whenever you need it." Duo grinned. Heero nodded somberly. Perhaps when the next delivery of chocolate arrived. ~ * ~ |
