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"Agglomeration"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: none Pairings: Heero/Relena (implied), Trowa/Quatre
(implied) Summary: For Heero and Trowa, it’s just another
day on the job. "Occupational Hazzard" Preventer Agents on duty: Lieutenent Heero Yuy and Lieutenent Trowa Barton. July 21st, AC 207, Los Angeles, California. Costco parking lot, 1:32pm, local time.
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Heero pulled the connector away from the tilt switch - careful now, easy does it - and removed the timer attached to the dynamite out of its casing. He held his left hand out, accepting the pair of clippers Trowa placed into his palm, using them to cut the wire that ran a current of electricity into the detonator. When seconds passed and nothing happened, he blew out a soft puff of breath and wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. It didn’t matter how many times they’d done this. It was always a hair-raising game of Russian Roulette. “That should do it,” he said, stuffing the wires back into the casing and closing it up tight. He placed the deactivated bomb into the duffle Trowa held up and watched him zip it closed. “What are you smiling about?” Trowa’s teeth flashed in a brief grin. “Need to change your drawers?” “Please. Child’s play. That idiot doesn’t know the first thing about building a sophisticated explosive. A rookie could have disarmed that thing.” “All’s the better for us. The more dumb criminals there are, the less smart ones we have to worry about.” Heero plopped down onto the concrete and drew his knees up, draping an arm over them. He gazed across the parking lot, squinting through the haze of ninety five degree heat and waved at the gathered spectators who were being held at a safe distance. “You know, I used to think everything would change after the wars, but people still come to watch us disarm bombs in the hopes of witnessing the possibility of one of them blowing us to kingdom come.” Trowa chuckled and unhooked his radio from his belt. “How many do you want to bet have their cell phone cameras rolling right this very moment?” “My money’s on all of them. Damned vultures.” “Morbid fascination is an intrinsic human trait.” “So is common decency.” Trowa radioed Une, giving her the all clear and then he and Heero got up to let the bomb squad take over. From here, the device would be submerged in ice water to take out any remote chance of the thing still going off. Heero watched the dispersing of the crowd and noted a look of obvious disappointment on some of their faces. “If I’d known people were still going to be this shitty…” “What?” Trowa slid his sunglass over his nose and glanced at his partner. “You’d have gone ahead with Operation Meteor?” “Are we really any better? As a species, I mean.” Trowa shrugged. “As long as we’re still alive, we have the potential to be.” Heero shook his head. “I’m glad I have you to talk to about this stuff. Relena would blow a gasket.” “She’ll never understand it and maybe she shouldn’t have to.” “Shouldn’t she?” “What do you think?” “I don’t know. I mean, you have Quatre and he understands. He was in the thick of it just like we were. I used to think Relena should have been protected from -” “Reality? That’s impossible, Heero. Give her some credit. It’s not like she was hiding out in some fancy school during the war like the other rich kids. She put her neck on the line almost as much as we did. She still does.” “I just don’t think she should have to anymore.” “And she probably feels the same way about you,” Trowa told him pointedly. “Do you really think she enjoys knowing what you do all day? Do you think she enjoys knowing that there could come a time when you might not come home?” He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “She’s not a child, Heero. She makes her own decisions.” “I know. I can’t even imagine her reaction if I ever tried to tell her what to do.” He smirked and glanced over at Trowa. “Speaking of stubborn spitfires, how’s Quat doing?” “Kicking corporate ass, as usual.” “His specialty,” Heero said fondly. “He hates it.” “Does he?” Trowa didn’t respond and Heero got the sense there was more. “You want to talk about it?” “He’s…stressed. Hey, you want to get a beer? I think we’ve earned it.” “Sure, why not.” “Irish, or German?” “Now, you know the answer to that.” “Irish it is, then. Thank God you’re not Duo. I will never understand that guy’s obsession with Canadian beer.” Heero threw his head back and guffawed. “Remember that time he got so pissed at Wufei for calling his beloved Labatt’s ‘elk piss’?” “S’not elk piss, eh. It’s beer, eh.” “Yeah, don’t do that, man.” Trowa chuckled. “Sorry. It’s the heat.” “Well, then let’s get some of that Guinness into you before you collapse from thirst. Quat will never forgive me for letting you die on the job.” “Oh, he’s fine with me dying on the job,” Trowa joked. “As long as it’s heroic. Heat stroke would be a very undignified way to go.” “Indeed. Well, if it ever goes down like that, I’ll just tell him you went out in a blaze of glory.” “You’re a good friend, Yuy.”
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