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"25 Days of Gundam Wing"Written By: The Plotting Housewife Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sotsu
and associated Parties. This work is written for pleasure not profit. Rating: R Warnings: Drama, humor, fluff(ish) kind of…sorta.
Idk, Past underage Pairings: Treize/Wufei (mention of past Wufei/Meiran). Summary: Wufei attends a gathering in the Himalayas to commemorate the lost Long Clan. Treize shows up unexpectedly. Prompt: Coat "25 Days of Gundam Wing " Chapter 9: Coat Four thousand feet up into the mountains, a few hundred people had gathered in memory of what was once the most powerful and prestigious Clan in all of Asia. Very few descendants had survived the exile and subsequent genocide of the Clan’s people. The few that did gathered together with their families on the Tibetan side of the Himalayas once a year, despite the Chinese government’s disdain. Others, though not descendants, also attended the memorial service in solidarity. Wufei stood with his head bowed, remembering the last words his wife had said to him before she was killed. Killed defending their home. Killed protecting him. Weak! You’re weak. You are not fit for the title of heir because you are not willing to fight for what is yours! “You were right, Nataku. I wasn’t strong enough. I hid behind my shield of pacifism. Preaching diplomacy, but in truth, I was frightened. I failed you. I failed everyone,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears that threatened to spill. He had not yet earned the right to cry. "Still in the habit of talking to yourself, I see.” The slow, lazy drawl carried along the cold wind and wrapped around him like a vice. It seeped through his pores and coated his bones in icy dread, though he ignored the flare of heat from within, ignited by emotions and passion he was still unable to find words for even after all these years. He turned, slowly, praying to deities he didn’t even believe in that the voice was only a figment of his imagination. Oh, for fuck’s sake. Am I a glutton for punishment? The tall, regal figure stood only a few feet away. His majestic aura was as strong as ever, both magnetic, and imposing. The other mourners kept a safe distance away, but could not take their eyes off him, though whether it was fear, or fascination, Wufei couldn’t tell. For his part, Treize Khushrenada paid them no heed. He was here for one person, and one person only. The glacier-like eyes pierced through him with an intensity that sparked deeply buried feelings in a way only Treize could achieve and Wufei fought the urge to shuffle his feet and look away. Instead, he raised his chin and glowered at the man, trying to keep his cool facade in place though he knew it was wavering. He cursed his lack of immunity, wishing there was some sort of anti-Treize vaccine he could inject himself with, and demanded, “What are you doing here? How did you even know where to find me?” A forked, yet elegant brow quirked. “Are you kidding? I always know where to find you.” A shiver shot up his spine and spread through his extremities, though he chalked it up to the cold wind whistling through the thin fabric of his Zhiduo. He refused to entertain any thoughts to the contrary. “Do you even hear yourself? Why are you such a creep?” Treize threw his head back and laughed, a loud, booming guffaw. His deep voice echoed off the rocky faces of the mountains and Wufei winced, fearing, and then morosely hoping for an avalanche. The war may have been over, but that didn’t mean there weren’t still grudges simmering beneath the surface of their outward pleasantries, if one could call it that. Plenty of people on this mountain had good reason to fear and loathe the man standing before him. At the moment though, they didn’t appear to be much of a threat and Treize didn’t seem too concerned with any rogue attempts at retribution. Wufei openly observed him, the only man who’d ever been able to reduce him to a pathetic, whimpering mess. The tall, mysterious patrician was notorious for his seduction warfare. He knew how to use the art of passion and desire to lure his prey and he made no bones about it. He was also as cutthroat as a blood-thirsty pirate. He made his victims scream in ecstasy while he bled them dry and thanked him for the honor with their last fading breath. Wufei was duped by him once before, during the war. Treize had roped him in before he’d even realized what was happening. The aristocrat played his body like a fiddle trapped between loving hands and before Wufei could figure out his game, Treize was on his knees before him, pulling at the ties that held his loose pants together, taking him deep into his throat. He cursed himself as his veins flooded with yearning and he glared at the aristocrat who was now smirking at him as if he knew exactly what he was thinking. Come to think of it, he probably did know and that pissed Wufei off even more. Frustratingly, the anger only fueled the heady rush of his blood. He turned away on wobbly legs, trying to act as casual as possible, though he knew Treize had seen right through it. Still, it was worth a token effort. “Go away. You’re not welcome here.” His ears piqued as footsteps crunched in the snow, not away, but towards him. Fabric encased his shoulders, warm from Treize’s body heat, as the man took his coat off and wrapped it around the shivering body of his one time lover. “No, thank you. I do not need your charity. I know full well your "generosity” always comes with a price.“ "Christ, are you ever going to pull that stick out of your ass?” Wufei spun around, face flushed red and an indignant rant on the tip of his tongue. “How da -” The former OZ leader grasped his chin in a gloved hand, tipped his head up, and closed his mouth over Wufei’s in a searing kiss that made his knees weak. Treize’s strong arm wrapped around his back and pulled him into a sturdy chest. Wufei inhaled the man’s musk and keened, his traitorous mind drudging up snippets of long suppressed memories, gone fuzzy with need. And gods damn it. Now he was sweltering inside the blasted coat. Treize pulled away and looked down into the black, glassy eyes, puffing soft, hot breaths against his mouth which smelled like Cuban cigars and expensive Cognac. “I don’t think you really want me to leave.” “Shut up and kiss me again, you smarmy bastard.”
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