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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: Pairings: 1+2
" Semisweet " Threeshot.
"Yes." Maxwell chuckled, a small sough that teased the muss of his hair. "I mean, I knew you were damned good with the mech, of course. But this was my first chance to catch yer style in a brawl, yer know?" "Yes, I know. You should ice that zygomatic arch." "Yeah? Quite a shiner I've got, eh? Gonna be pretty gross to look at me for the next coupla. Lucky I got no main squeeze." "Hn?" "No pretty chicky drooling over my corpus delectable. Not like you with that private-school honey of yours." "Here. Hold this in place." Duo took over pressing the cold compress to his eye. Heero's hand lingered upon the Kid's chin. Then slid reluctantly away from smooth flesh. "Yer want a butterfly on that rip?" "Unnecessary. A shallow laceration from a fingernail. A random, glancing blow." "Right before you broke his arm in three places. I saw." "Hn." "Yer still ought to let me tape it. Lest it scar. Facial scars are easy identifiers, yer know." "All right." Duo grinned. He hadn't been certain Heero would allow him to treat the bleeding gash on his cheek. But he'd have bet, if any persuasive force would work, impairment of his covert soldiering ability would be the only useful argument. Certainly, telling him "I don't want your pretty face spoiled" would have been bootless. Muttering and murmuring over the chore, Duo cleaned and dried the wound, delicately taped it shut, and soothed it with antibiotic cream on a soft cotton swab. Yuy gradually shifted until his shoulder and knee pressed against Maxwell's body. "Hey, Zero-one. Ya got a thing for me?" "I've got two things for you." "Huh?" "Chocolate. And a music disc." "Hey, really? Thanks, buddy." He grinned at the familiar baker's bar of candy that was Yuy's usual offering, then studied the homemade recording. "Apply the cold pack to the contusion. The swelling is already obscuring your vision. I'll put the music on for you." Yuy turned to his laptop, slipped the chip carefully into the player. When the spirited beat sounded, Maxwell started to nod in time to the music. Then abruptly squeaked at the increased pain in his head. "Maybe I'd best just tap my foot, huh?" "Yes." "Terrific clarity. Sounds totally pro." "I've improved the original com system on Wing. Modified it with some inline forensics quality noise reduction hardware. Improves incoming sound message quality during battle, thereby decreasing response time 8.143 percent." "Ah, yeah. Well the music's good too." "Currently the twenty most popular rock bands on L2. One record each of their latest songs." "Sweet. If I didn't have such a killer headache, I'd dance to it." "You could lean on me. Since you find it difficult to keep still while you listen. It would prevent exacerbation of your injury." "Now there's a thought." Duo stood, the one open eye sparkling merrily. He drew near to Heero, then draped his arms over those solid shoulders. With a contented sigh, he settled his uninjured cheek upon stalwart muscle. Gingerly, Yuy reached around to Maxwell's back, and grasped the glossy braid with both hands. "I like this one." The zephyr of Yuy's whisper invoked a quiver in the helix of Duo's ear. "Yurp. I do too." Though it surprised the Kid this piece would appeal to Heero. Earther music. Youthful and rather innocent sounding. They swayed slightly to the beat, rocking along in spirit, clasped comfortably together. "Light the world on fire, burn the matches low; This is every show I have ever loved, Skate the sidewalks scarred, grind the curbs away; This is every show I have ever loved, To have and to hold, Stand outside the crowds, breathe the evening air; This is every show I have ever loved, With the Kid's lips turned away, Yuy scarcely heard him sing the last line. "I'll always stand by you." Heero's arms tightened as if he might be able to draw that craved body inside the shelter of his own. "Yes, please," he agreed, cherishing the sentiment. ~ * ~ |
