"Light on the Stage"

Written By: Impish

Rating: R

Pairings: 1x2x1

Category: AU, Drama/Romance (but not in a "hearts and flowers" way)

Warnings: AU, things teenagers do that they're not supposed to (smoking and drinking, etc.), general reckless behavior. Talk of illegal drug use, Drunk driving (do not try this at home, kids. It will not end well for you.)

Summary: Two messed up kids in a small country town are drawn to each other, and together, form a brand of music from the old.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the songs used to inspire this piece. I will give a shout out to any inspirations found within.

Archives: http://www.gundam-wing-diaries.150m.com/gw/Impish/gwImpish.htm
http://www.freewebs.com/soft-sugar/impishinklingsfiction.htm
Anyone else, all you have to do is ask.
Notes: Apologies, but the next part won't be out for quite a while since I'm going to be out of town for a bit. Extra special thanks and love to Badmomma and NoirAnge for the wonderful beta work.

"Light on the Stage"

CHAPTER 7: Cottonmouth


Though they both stood against the wall in an identical pose, the two boys couldn't have looked more different. Duo leaned into the wall behind him casually, his arms crossed loosely and lazily, his expression relaxed and slightly distracted. Heero stood next to him, arms also crossed, though his were tucked almost possessively to his chest, every muscle in his body tense, his expression fierce. In short, he looked as though the next person to pass him by could quite possibly end up on the ground bleeding if they intruded too closely on his personal space.

Needless to say, Heero was not thrilled that he and Duo had somehow been roped into showing the rich kids a good time in their dinky little town, but he supposed it was the least they could do, since Relena and Quatre were the only reason he and Duo hadn't spent the night in a holding cell.

On a normal day, Heero probably would have just settled with being disinterested in the whole thing and let Duo do all the talking. Unfortunately, it was not a normal day, as he had spent the first half of it trapped in a small, enclosed space with his parents—something that he was well aware reverted him to the state of a petulant pre-teen becoming newly acquainted with his hormones.

His parents had insisted they drive out to Colson with him that morning, and most of the two hour drive had consisted of him sitting in the back seat of the sedan feeling more than a little like a child. Five minutes out and he had the beginnings of a headache and was aching for a smoke. Ten minutes and he began thinking of ways to escape. Twenty, and "escape" had been mentally crossed out and replaced with "kill himself."

Trying to climb out the window at eighty miles per hour seemed a fairly appealing idea, but his father had accidentally knocked the child lock on the windows with his elbow on the way in, and unhappily, Heero was not able to open his from the back. There was the vague hope that his mother's choice in music would cause something in his brain to rupture and make him bleed to death from his ears, but again, no luck. On the drive back, he had given up hope of a freak accident killing them all and resigned himself to counting dead armadillos on the side of the road. Damn, lucky armadillos.

The reason for Heero's growing irritation was that his parents did not believe in divorce. Heero thought this to be rather stupid, since people like his parents were the ones the words "irreconcilable differences" had been invented for. By the time he was back in Current, their "irreconcilable differences" had him thinking up what exactly tomorrow's headlines would read if there was a double murder-suicide, and his expression was angry enough to make a hornet look cuddly. At least, that's what Duo had told him when they met up at the diner to wait for the city kids.

Heero told him to piss off, but Duo had just rolled his eyes, unconcerned, and come to stand next to him. He did not ask where Heero had gone.

The weather was not doing anything to lift his mood. Though it was approaching eight o'clock, the air was still muggy and disgustingly hot. A sizzling drop of sweat trailed down the back of his neck and the hair brushing the nape of his neck was wet and almost cool to his skin. After fifteen painfully hot minutes standing there in utter quiet, his gaze mutilating the pavement, Heero heard Duo sigh forcefully and pull something out of his pocket. Sticking out his hand with a jerk, Duo offered his lighter and last smoke. Heero stared at the hand, then his eyes flicked up to Duo, who was looking away with vague irritation.

Warily, Heero unfolded one forearm to reach up and take the offering. Duo quickly re-crossed his arms as Heero lit up, and they stood in less-angry silence until a sporty little two door Heero had no doubt belonged to one of the kids from Dallas spun into a parking space in front of them. Heero looked mournfully at the half-finished cigarette. He sighed and instead of putting it out, gave it to Duo. A grin broke free on Duo's face as he took the smoke back, even though it was only for one deep drag before stomping it out.

Dorothy got out of the driver's side with a movement that could only be described as a flounce, sunglasses covering most of her face, her white-gold hair under a scarf. Without looking, she tossed the keys at an aggravated Quatre, who had just crawled out of the passenger's side.

"No," He told her, flipping the seat forward to help Relena out of the back. "Until you listen to what I say about a 'Texas Yield' you are absolutely not allowed to drive again in this state."

"Good. Then I don't have to be the designated driver." Dorothy slinked deliberately up to Duo and Heero. "Hello, boys. I wouldn't have been late, but apparently there's some absurd rule around here about yielding to cars coming off the freeway."

"There is a reason for all those crosses you see on the side of the road." Duo told her, one eyebrow raised.

"Hey ya'll." Relena greeted, shrugging her purse onto her shoulder as she stepped forward. "Sorry we kept you waiting in this heat."

"Yeah, well let's get inside before the hens start laying hard-boiled eggs." Duo said, opening the door for her.

Barb was introduced with Duo's usual flare, and with a familiar poke at Duo's boniness, she gave them a round booth in the corner. She left after getting their drink orders to seat another table, and Duo and Heero slid aside their menus without looking. Relena and Quatre didn't take much longer before putting theirs down, but Dorothy seemed fascinated by the choices, her nose almost pressed to the greasy laminate.

"Cornbread, how *quaint!*" she said, "And what on earth is a 'Roy Roger?'"

"What do y'all do for fun around here, anyways?" Quatre asked, ignoring Dorothy and sitting back, stretching an arm out over the back of the booth.

"You mean besides break into random buildings and avoid bored cops?" Duo said, eyes wandering up from his newest sugar packet creation.

"Yeah." Quatre said unhelpfully, nonchalantly flicking his hair out of his eyes.

"Try to get in as much trouble as we can without actually getting *in* trouble." Duo shrugged. "Small towns are messed up. You'd be surprised what we come up with sometimes."

"But maybe not… Why do you think we're hanging out here? Consider it a cultural exchange."

"Okay, then. Here's small town culture in a nutshell: they say there are two main things drilled into you when you grow up in parts like these," Duo said, his head falling into a tilt. "One, Jesus loves you and you're going to burn in hell. And two, sex is filthy and shameful, and you should save it for someone you love."

Relena laughed behind her hand at that, then turned it into a cough and began twisting her necklace between two fingers. "So… ah, what do ya'll plan on doing after high school? I mean, do you plan on staying 'round here, or…?"

Duo looked at Heero with one raised eyebrow, and then smiled lightly at Relena. Shrugging in that hopeless, small-town way, he went back to his sugar packets.

Heero rolled his fork over. "If my father has his way I'll be at Texas Tech. That's his thing."

"I guess the cultures aren't so different after all," Quatre said, "Except that my dad's planning on me being at Rice."

Barb cut in with their drinks and took their orders, and Heero took the opportunity to sit back and drop out of the conversation.

Quatre and Dorothy were the same sort, he thought, as he punched at the ice in his drink with his straw. That rich, bored, dabbling sort that couldn't seem to keep their hands out of other people's lives. Dorothy wasn't as naturally perceptive as Quatre seemed to be, but more amused by human nature and how she could exploit it for her own enjoyment. He couldn't tell if the two of them had something going on, but Dorothy certainly seemed to swing in interesting directions, judging by her attitude towards Relena. His best guess was that that was more for shock value than any real feelings on her part, though.

Christ, Duo was rubbing off on him. He didn’t care about these people and they'd be gone tomorrow, so why was he trying to figure them out?

Heero blinked, slowly, watching a slim droplet of water run down the side of his glass, and blinked again. He was becoming involved. Being involved with Duo was involving him with people… with life.

…Damn it.



After dinner, they had all crammed into Quatre's car and headed downtown to the Stockyards. Duo had absolutely refused to go see the "lame-ass" group playing at Billy Bob's, so they had taken the Dallas kids to a small, packed dancehall nearby that didn't have a live band, but did have good music and better drink specials. Dorothy had taken advantage of said drink specials, and was currently chatting up a tall cowboy by the bar a few feet away from where Quatre was chatting up a cute bartender.

Heero took a swig of his drink and leaned his elbows on the wooden railing that fenced in the dance floor. He was watching Duo and Relena dance, and the way Duo's hand held her waist like it was the stem of a fine glass of wine. Duo's cheek brushed hers as he said something in her ear, and she laughed, exhilarated. He twirled her around and her hair swung out around them. Even on that crowded floor, under those dim, hazy lights, they both looked dazzlingly bright.

Heero supposed he should have been jealous, at least a little bit, but he wasn't. Not at all, because Duo simply didn't touch Relena the way he touched Heero. The hand at her lower back was there to guide her and nothing more and his fingers never lingered with a need that was barely held in check. He never looked at her with eyes so intense they stripped all the layers of her soul away.

No, their dancing didn't bother Heero at all. In fact, he rather enjoyed it. He liked that Duo was dancing with this charming, perfect girl that any guy would kill to go out with, and yet was smiling at Heero over her shoulder. Duo might have complicated things for Heero, but when he smiled at him like that, it really didn't matter. Nothing else mattered.

Heero looked down at his glass and frowned. The bartender had obviously made it far too strong if he was thinking this saccharine drivel.

Quatre suddenly appeared at his side and lifted his fingers in an "outside to smoke?" gesture. Heero nodded, downing the rest of his drink quickly. They pushed their way outside, wandering away from the doors enough that they left the noise mostly behind them. Quatre pulled out a pack, and Heero gave him a disgusted look.

"Marlboro Red?" Heero pulled out a cigarette of his own, but offered Quatre the lighter. "Those are disgusting."

Quatre lit up hurriedly, like someone used to smoking in the short period between classes. "Yeah," he agreed around a mouthful of smoke, handing the lighter back. "Do you party?" he asked, switching the hold on his cigarette in a way that emphasized his meaning.

Heero rolled his shoulders, sucking the flame in through the end of his cigarette as he lit it. He tucked his lighter away and blew the smoke out the corner of his mouth. "Sometimes." Settling back against the wall behind him, he decided it was the alcohol that made him say, "I wouldn't have expected you to ask. Somehow, I thought you rich kids spent all your time doing coke in bathrooms."

Quatre smiled around his cigarette. "Only on special occasions. Coke's not much of a study tool."

"But pot is?"

"Not really. But it's good for stress management. It's the ADD meds that really make their way around. Speed if you're really hardcore about making High Honor Role."

"You deal, then?"

"Sometimes." Quatre pointed a smile at him. "I hook people up, mostly. I'm good at picking the poison."

"How so?"

"Well, you're a pot smoker, no question. Shrooms, if you're feeling particularly adventurous. But I'm guessing you don't like to do anything more than booze if you can help it."

"Why'd you bother asking, then?"

"Just to see if I was right." Quatre tilted his head and took a deep drag, then blew it away quickly. "Your friend Duo, on the other hand, is a painkiller kind of guy. He'd probably stay away from needles but he'd do coke if it were offered. Pot, definitely, but he doesn't buy it himself. Painkillers are easily tradable, though, and he'd probably take them drunk… so if he hasn't overdosed yet, I'd say he definitely will sometime in the future."

"What makes you say that?"

"I can just tell. He's caught between carefree and careless, and when a person's like that it doesn't take much to send him in a bad direction." Quatre took in Heero's frown and said, "Look, I'm just saying, 'cause you guys are friends. Be careful."

Quatre dropped his cigarette on the pavement with a flick of his fingers, not bothering to stomp it out, leaving Heero to stare at his back as he went back inside.

Heero wondered how much of the rich boy persona was real, and how much of it was to hide that Quatre was actually a really decent guy who cared what happened to people.

When Relena stumbled for the third time on the way back to the car, Heero's suspicions that she was really not okay to drive were solidified. He was equally certain none of the others were up for the task, either. Duo was walking next to him, a warm hand on his shoulder, and though he seemed steady enough, Heero knew that he and Quatre had decided to go shot for shot towards the end of the night, thus sending a bottle of Tequila to an early grave. Dorothy wasn't even a consideration, since Duo had introduced her to the Water Moccasin, a drink that could be as deadly as its name.

"Christ, is no one sober enough to drive?" Heero asked as Relena dropped the keys.

Duo blinked at him and looked at the others, the movement of his head loose with drunk. He smirked hopefully at Heero. "You are?"

Heero huffed flatly. "I thought you prep school kids were totally rehearsed at this sort of thing."

"Are you joking? We never have the opportunity to have a designated driver… there's nowhere to drive *to*." Dorothy said, sliding into the back.

Heero decided she had to be the most graceful drunk he'd ever seen.

"We practice getting wasted in a secure, risk free environment," she continued, "Usually, the woods behind the dorms."

"That must be comforting to your parents." Heero said, taking the keys from Relena and helping her in next to Dorothy and Quatre.

"It should be, actually."

"How the hell did you end up in Texas, of all places?" Duo asked her, closing the passenger door behind him. "I mean, why aren't you at one of those boarding schools up in New England?"

"Well, my parents said I had to go to boarding school, and I threw a fit. So they let me pick which one, and I chose the one furthest away from them."

"Logical."

"I thought so."

As Heero pulled out of the parking lot, he had the vague thought that he shouldn't be driving any more than the rest of them. He wasn't *as* wasted, but he was definitely drunk enough to feel it. He rolled the windows down, and warm air swam thickly across his face, helping him focus. It wasn't that far to Sweetstone by the freeway; they'd be fine.

Duo turned on the radio, flicking aimlessly through the stations while Quatre told him a story involving Dorothy, tweezers and a bottle of bleach.

"And *this* one—"

"I have a name, bitch." Dorothy told Quatre flatly.

"I have a name too, and it’s not bitch." He returned slickly.

Whatever Dorothy would have said was cut of by a sudden noise from their right. Heero looked over at the little silver car driving next to them, where the driver was pumping an arm out the window to get their attention.

"Dude, he's trying to get us to race." Duo told him.

"Fucking seriously?" someone said, loudly.

"Do it." Quatre said, leaning forward. "We can take them in this car."

There were speed traps all over this stretch of road, Heero knew, and he was fighting the film of alcohol over his senses as it was. His eyes flicked over to look at the other car again, but caught on Duo instead.

He was smiling. It was small, nothing more than a flash of teeth and an appetite for sin. Heero's foot slammed down on the accelerator.

The car zipped forward forcefully, and the silver car in the next lane jumped up to match them. In the lower edge of his vision, he watched the speed climb at an insane rate. Eighty and ninety lasted for mere heartbeats, and then they were over a hundred. The air rushing through the windows and the noise over the radio, mixing with the sounds of the others in the car, tested Heero's fierce concentration to keep the car steady as they continued to accelerate. The mild curves in the highway now suddenly pulled sharply, but the small, panicked thoughts flying though his head were utterly overwhelmed by the adrenalin whipping through his system. The rush fizzled over his skin, his hair rising on end, and god, it felt good.

Everything was a blur and everything was clearer than he'd ever seen it. The lights outside were streamlined into ribbons and streaks; they were flying. He'd never gone this fast in his life.

He was literally flooring it now, the RPM needle steadily rising towards the red "danger" zone as they hit 140 mph. The other car was trying to keep up, but Heero could feel in the vibration of the pedal, and from the sounds of the others, that they would annihilate it. Without trouble. Letting off just a hair, Heero let the other car draw even for a second, then punched it again to fly ahead. Someone was yelling something in encouragement, and someone else might have muttered a half panicked, half eager, "Oh my god" but Heero couldn't hear properly over the wind and the engine. All he could feel was his palm choking the steering wheel, the muscles in his forearm straining tightly to keep them on the road, and the full, deep pulse of his heart in his chest.

The silver car was long gone behind them, but still, they sped on. Someone's hand—Duo's, he thought—entered his field of vision long enough to flick a button over their heads, opening the sunroof.

"What the FUCK?!" One of the girls screeched, and for a heart-stopping second, Heero thought Duo was actually climbing out the roof. But he just stretched out enough to open his arms wide, like he was embracing the night and the speed, speed that could kill him in a heartbeat. His body curved out of the seat in a graceful arc, his shirt billowing against Heero's face, the heat of his body carried away by the force of the wind. 

All of a sudden, there it was. A flutter in Heero's chest where the steady pounding of adrenaline had been.

Doubt.

A hundred forty miles an hour and Duo was half-out of the sunroof. A hundred and forty miles an hour. Heero's foot softened on the pedal.

The needles drooped slowly downward until the wind wasn't tearing at them with such violence anymore. His breath shuddered, and it was louder to his ears than anything else had been moments before. He couldn't tell what the others were saying— if they were even speaking— anymore. The sound of the engine was muted, and all he could hear were his own short breaths. With every one, his muscles shivered weakly, but he was quite sure his expression hadn't changed.

He drove them quietly back to the diner.



Relena's smile was gently drunk, but sweet all the same. She said goodnight and Dorothy said something inappropriate before stumbling over one of the decorative pots, snickering. Quatre helped her stay upright, and said something that must have been very clever to Duo, but Heero could not focus long enough to know what it might have been.

He and Duo had split from the group at the diner, but followed them back to Sweetstone to make sure they got there in one piece. The others were closing the door to go upstairs and pass out, but Heero hardly noticed. His hands were in his pockets as he faced half-away from the building into the darkness. He was thinking of Duo, the day after they'd met in the alley.

The sun had been severe, and the danger had shone off him. Harsh, like light off a blade. His body had seemed sharp as a knife, and Heero had looked into his face and seen something as violent as a tornado there, beneath the faded tumble of hair, the hard skin, the shadowed smile. It had been there all along, Heero knew.

He looked at Duo now as the door to Sweetstone was shut and the light disappeared, leaving the two alone outside. The darkness was the kind that made no room for grey or color, and Duo was only stark black and the suggestion of bare white against it. Except for his eyes. They glowed, like an underwater light, and Heero could not think.

Suddenly, Duo was kissing him. Heero came back to himself enough to feel the deep pressure of Duo's lips on his. The kiss grew messy and rushed, and the unholy light behind Duo's eyes seemed to flood his body and crackle under his skin, pulsing through his movements. His hands were clutching at the fabric of Heero's shirt, tugging at his hair, body twisting into his.

"That was amazing," Duo said into Heero's mouth with a growl, snatching at his lips. "You held it.”

Held Duo's life in his hands.

Duo had known exactly what he was doing. He'd put his life in Heero's drunken hands entirely on purpose, and not for a crazed second had his trust in Heero to keep it safe faded.

Duo's voice was almost shaking with intensity as he said, "I love being young with you."

Heero's hands moved slowly. They grazed over Duo's shoulders and up his neck, and stopped to frame his face. One thumb traced over the curve of his brow bone and stroked his cheek.

Heero kissed him and tried not to imagine Duo's body, cold on a bathroom floor.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 8

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