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"Thirty One Days "Written By: The Plotting Housewife Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sotsu
and associated Parties. This work is written for pleasure not profit. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: drabbles, Thirty One Days of Drabbles,
Three Paragraph Fics, drabble challenge Pairings: Duo/Heero, Trowa/Quatre Summary: A challenge of three paragraph drabbles
for thirty one days. Tags will be added when new drabbles are posted
and rating may be subject to change. "Thirty One Days " Chapter 22: Booty The maps were strewn around on top of the round, wooden table, their haphazard disarray an inclination that the captain was not pleased. In fact, the whole inside of the cabin was a mess. The few possessions the captain currently owned were either broken, or rolling around on the floor, back and forth with the sway of the stolen ship. The navigator stood inside the main room of the cabin where the table and chairs took up half the space, a few of the chairs knocked over. He righted them as quietly as he could. Within the cabin, another smaller room provided privacy for the sleeping quarters. The navigator rubbed his hands together nervously as he listened to the hoarse cries and groans and the rhythmic thump of the bed against the wall. He was hard-pressed to interrupt the mercurial captain while he was…occupied with his catamite. Men who’d done so in the past were often met with a face full of lead. Unfortunately, it was a risk the navigator would have to take. He lifted a trembling hand and gently rapped on the door, listening as the groaning and thumping abruptly stopped. There was a silent pause, then the captain’s voice barked, “What!” The navigator cleared his throat. “My apologies, Captain. The Catherine has arrived. Captain Barton wishes to meet with you to discuss the terms of your agreement.” The man’s voice grumbled on the other side of the door. There was a shuffling sound and then the door swung open, revealing the captain, clad only in a pair of leather breeches. His long braid had unraveled in the struggle with his catamite. Scratches adorned his bare chest and upper arms. A quick glance over his shoulder and the navigator caught sight of the captain’s bed warmer, still naked as a jay bird and sprawled across the bed. His dark brown hair was tousled, locks of chocolate hanging down over half-lidded blue eyes. He jerked his attention back to his captain when he heard the soft growl and quickly moved out of the way as he pushed through the door. The captain’s face was sour as he slid on a linen shirt. “Damn Barton. That scurvy son of a bitch best not have buggered up me ship.”
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