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"Moments in Waiting"Written By: Jo Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. Have nothing.
I write for the fun of it. Warnings: sap, romance, mild angst Pairings: 1x2 Summary: Duo lets his feelings for Heero be known
and doesn't get the reaction he'd hoped for.
Moments in Waiting
You wouldn't be able to tell just by looking at the rundown façade, the half broken neon sign, the layer upon layer of entertainment posters overrunning the confinement of the display box, and the yawning doorman, but the minute you step through the door your senses are exposed to full frontal assault of stimulations and excitations, bombarded constantly on an atomic level. At first glance, Fat Daddy's host the usual club scene, the booming soul searing music, the flashing multicolored lights, sweaty bodies gyrating and surrendering to the intoxicating sexual tension rippling in the thick cigarette and alcohol saturated club air. But in actuality, it is a place where the wants meets the needs. Cut and dry, simple as pie. Fat Daddy's the kind of place you go to, to have a good time and to have your every fantasy fulfilled. It is the crowning glory of decadence and indulgence to those in the know. Fat Daddy's is the smuggler's meat market and the fantasy weavers' paradise. Simply put, you can buy anything you want at Fat Daddy's. If what you want is an endangered Komodo Dragon for a pet, you can easily find ten authentic tails being traded at Fat Daddy's instead of the genetically engineered, bred for "easy" money kind. It is a place for dealers and shoppers. There is almost a dazzling charm to the place, you are easily fooled into believing anything can and will happen. Perhaps that's the reason why I picked it as a rendezvous point, I wanted to give wings to the fragile hope that I have been not so secretly harbor. I wanted my fantasy to come true. I pushed my way through the faceless crowd, slowly making my way towards the back stairs without so much as a curt nod in the bar tender's direction. No one here asks question as long as you dish out a handful of credits, your privacy is guaranteed. The proprietor of Fat Daddy's is fully aware that nothing turns patronage away faster than a nosey host and a leaky faucet. The door to the room was painted a shade of green so odd looking that it screams "left-over paint" from my neighbor Bill's paint-your-own-garage project. The room itself is small enough to turn a non-believer claustrophobic with just a tiny window opening out to the rustling and bustling of the street below and a rusty fire escape. At least it is an "out" should I need one. Oz patrol doesn't normally crash the party downstairs but there have been exceptions and there is always exceptional bad luck. Throwing my duffle bag at the foot of the bed, I settled down on the narrow bed to wait and to play a hand of chance with fate. I am and always will be a risk taker. I am Duo Maxwell; pilot of Deathscythe, nothing less is expected of me. Waiting is a wicked game, it just plain is. A scrawny tortoiseshell sneaks into the room through the open window. She seems to know where she is, eyeing me suspiciously before mouthing off to me. Hopping off the bed too narrow for two persons but just right for a couple cuddling in a tight embrace, I pick her up and settle down on the creaking mattress again. Leaning back on the headboard, I can feel the lumps underneath me. I can't help but wonder who has done what on this bed, in this room. I shudder at the thought of the things that a UV light scan would reveal. That very thought makes my skin crawl. You'd think that I have seen worse. Just how does one get use to things like this? The tortoise shell settled down quietly next to me, curled up in a ball. Cats, there are no animals more comfortable in their own skins than cats. The thundering bass of the live band downstairs filters through the floorboard, drumming directly on my heart, my tensed nerves stretching taut and tight. I can almost feel the bed shifting towards the door with every beat. At least one of us has the good sense to want to run away. The tortoiseshell stretches languidly and rolls on to her back, requesting a reassuring belly rub from a stranger. It gives my hands something to do besides clutching into balls, digging my nails into my palms. I needed a distraction from the nauseous feeling bubbling up from my gut. My inner self has long since curled up into a fetal position, frozen and paralyzed by fear and apprehension, unable to move a muscle, unable to think rationally, and unable to see past the present. The clock ticks, the barely visible sliver of a new moon ascends higher and higher into the night sky. Me and my bright ideas. Did I not say waiting is a wicked game? Especially when you are waiting for a person who never promised to show up in the first place. Two weeks ago I was in a safehouse hiding out with the only family I know, the only group of people I came to trust and rely on. Today I am like a death row inmate awaiting a last minute pardon and the clock is ticking down to the point of no return. I never expected Heero to react so violently. We were arguing until we were red in the face, our hoarse voices echoing through the safehouse sending the other pilots to the safety and solace of their respective rooms. It is after all not an unfamiliar scene, Heero and I going head to head over the silliest things. It's like kids in kindergarten, the fiercer you fight, the harder you've fallen. That day it was about my loud music, my junk food addiction, my following him everywhere he goes, my recklessness in battle, and my blatant ignorance for protocol. All that just because I turned back to loan some fire power to Wing during a battle earlier in the day. I was livid because he doesn't recognize my need to see him to safety, he was furious because I broke protocol and endangered the mission. How, in the hell, did I endanger the mission by turning back to help him? We both knew we were actually arguing about me putting myself in danger because of my feelings for him, and his inability to return my affection. My heart and my brain are connected, bite me. We yelled until I went deft. For a moment, all I saw were his moving lips, he was so close I could, and still can, feel the heat radiating from his body. Then it happened. It was like an out of body experience, like watching a black and white movie in slow motion. My mind was aware of what my body was doing but wasn't able to comprehend the rationale behind it all. I watched in horror as I reached out and cupped his face in my hands and I kissed him, hard. The yelling stopped and for a moment I fooled myself into believing that he was responding to me. When we pulled away, we were both panting from the intensity of the kiss. Our first kiss. We stared at each other; neither said a word, neither made any move. I have gone and done the unthinkable, I've brought the very thing that we have been tiptoeing around to the surface. In the dark, it was a ghostly touch here and there, a tiny but knowing smile when no one was looking, a gentleness, a warmth that cradles your whole being but under the sun, it was a big purple elephant with horns, don't know where it begins and where it ends, and certainly don't know how to approach it. I didn't realize the grave mistake I made until his fist connected with my jaw, sending shockwaves through my entire being and my body stumbling backwards into Quatre who ventured out of his room just to make sure we hadn't killed each other. The events that followed were all a blur. I was busy suppressing a rising panic while Quatre busied himself yelling at Heero. And Heero, he just turned and stormed out of the house. I never saw him again. The Perfect Soldier doesn't like surprises and sure as hell doesn't like being bullied into anything. The next morning we were assigned separate missions and went our separate ways. I couldn't leave well enough alone and again did the unthinkable. I contemplated an apology but I wasn't sorry and Duo Maxwell of course never lies. I thought of explaining myself but my feelings were transparent and thus the point is moot. I even, under the urge of my desperation, thought about forcing my way into Wing's cockpit, wrestle with Heero and hold him until he succumbs to me but I value my life. In the end, I sent him a set of coordinates, a date, and a promise. My message was clear, take me as I am or let me vanish without a trace. It sounded very much like an ultimatum, well it was an ultimatum, but I wasn't the one running and hiding for once. Night slowly evaporates and the sliver of new moon dissipates into the brightness of dawn. With a deep sigh and my last ounce of willpower, I lay my hand on the cold metal doorknob. Time to get this one-man show on the road. Just then the hideous green door swings open unexpectedly. The violent force sends me stumbling backwards, stopping only when I land butt first at the foot of the bed. The tortoiseshell, not liking the intrusion, dashes out the door before it is slammed behind her. For once I am rendered speechless, my brain working itself into a frenzy trying to decipher the turn of events. The sound of his hard breathing startles me out of my shock- induced stupor; it almost looks like he had run all the way here. Suddenly I am yanked roughly from the floor, staying upright only under the support of two strong arms. Before I can protest, not that I was planning on protesting, his amazingly soft and voluptuous lips are pressed tentatively on mine and the world around me exploded in sparks of colors. The tentative first contact soon turn into a drizzle of tiny little kisses on my face and it isn't before long that light summer drizzle evolve into a full blown storm of passion and desire. And I let myself drown in him, willingly give up my heart and take in his just as he surrenders his and gives shelter to mine. When I am finally allowed to surface for air, I manage to point out the obvious, "You're late." Strangely the words don't sound as strained as I hear
them in my head. ~ * ~
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