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"Son Of A Preacher Man "Written By: Jo Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. Have nothing.
I write for the fun of it. Rating: PG (for now) Warnings: AU, shounen-ai, slight OOC(?) Pairings: 1+2 (for now), developing to 1x2 at
the end. Summary: The boys are a little older but still
not old enough to..*cough*..yeah. I am reserving that for the "college
year". Still fixated on Heero's personality so I'm trying to
explain the why's and the how's. This is also the first time I worked
with betas. Thanks so very much to Andie, DMx04 and Ryouga for being
such wonderful betas. I never realized incorporating all the revisions
could be such a challenge! If I missed something..gomen ne! Next time
though I'll do better! I thought of a system now.yeah now. Big cyber
hugs!
Son Of A Preacher Man Chapter 3
The summer came to a startling start when my mother packed her Osprey [1], her sun block and bug spray securely sealed in a ziploc bag, and took off with Conrad, her companion of three years, for an archeological camp in Wyoming. I never could bring myself to call Conrad her "boyfriend". The thought of sharing my mother's affection with another man was straining. I pretended he was just a fellow teacher who visited often on school business. But he was good to her; and he was good for her. In my mother’s room nestled in a simple silver frame on her dresser, behind the jasmine scented talcum powder, the mock antique hairbrush, loose bobby pins, and the carved rosewood jewelry box, was the photograph of my parents on a Harley. She caught many off guard by keeping that picture. She surprised even me. My father’s death had awoken something restless and raw within my mother. Many sleepless nights found my mother nailed to the floor in front of her dresser, staring at the photograph, her features softened with undeniable tenderness and her arms folded tightly across her chest as if holding pieces of herself together. Those were the nights I thought she was coming undone. She never spoke about her fixation, but whenever she immersed herself in her past, an invisible and impenetrable wall stood erect between us. I wondered what she saw when she looked at her own picture. I wondered if she saw the giddy fair-haired girl who married her high school sweetheart in a foolish rush, or if she saw who she has become: a woman of substance and wisdom, my safe harbor for as long as I could remember. My mother’s retreat into herself rendered me helpless months following my father’s death. Even as sadness and regrets fizzled in her eyes with seasons passed, my mother never was the same as before. Her laugh a little hollow, her smile a little forced, and her spirit just a little worn. When Conrad started coming around, I stole into her room and “borrowed” the picture, claiming it as my own. Her smile was returning, I didn’t think she should keep the picture any longer, besides, it was the last thing of my parents I could get my hands on. My mother never asked for it back. It was as if she understood my need for taking it. I stared at the picture a lot in the comforting solitude of my own room, picking up where my mother left off, thinking if that was the look of love, wondering about happiness born out of a freedom only love can provide. I wondered if I’d ever have a picture of my own, I wondered about the person who would ultimately share my picture and perhaps even that illusive happiness. But as much time as I spent thinking about my non-existent picture; I spent more time mulling over Duo’s picture. Growing up Duo and I were inseparable. A concrete support system of two. Whenever one of us needed it, the other was always there to help smooth the wrinkles and ease the pain. Nevertheless, time flows like a river, meandering fast and slow through bends of turning points, changing little by little the landscape it touched. Even Duo and I were not immune. I saw him less and less that year though he was not by any measure scarce. My quiet, somber life was punctuated by the streams of girls and boys who came knocking on his door and the times I caught him crawling out of his bedroom window for a night on the town with friends. It was a tough pill to swallow, admitting to myself that Duo lives in a world different from mine, or that I ceased to exist in that part of his world. Duo never left me wallowing in self-pity for too long though. The weekends would find him stretched out on my bed amidst stacks of books, magazines, and a poster bearing a blurred image of a flying saucer, rambling on and on about anything and nothing at all. Those were the times when smiling felt natural to me. The morning my mother and Conrad packed up his truck with their camping gears was nippy. It was barely bright enough to see the circles under my eyes but they wanted an early start on the drive. Dressed only in my sweatpants and barefooted, shifting from one foot to another to ease the seeping cold from the cement pavement, I kissed my mother goodbye before I reluctantly let her out of my grasp. She was beaming; the childlike excitement rolling off of her was arresting, sending the last of my dejected spirits to rest. A figure cloaked in the grayness of a new dawn bounded from across the street just before the truck took off, waving his one free arm madly while the other clutched a bundle of brown paper bags to his chest. In a spilt second we were assaulted by an exuberant Duo and the sweet smell of freshly baked scones. Duo, unlike me, is well versed in the kitchen. I heard my mother squealed in delight as Duo handed her one of the bags through the open window of the truck. Hopping out in a flash, she pulled Duo into a tight hug, gently stroking his hair while whispering in his ear and nodding in my direction. I was curious but pretended not to notice their suspicious exchange. When my mother and Conrad finally took off for their vacation it was a lot later than they had anticipated. A small price to pay for fresh baked scones, I thought. Duo turned to me with a menacing grin even before the truck turned the corner and handed me the remaining brown paper bag. The fragrance was unmistakable; he had made me some cinnamon raisin scones. While I refused to squeal like a giddy schoolgirl, I couldn’t hide a spontaneous smirk. Duo always teased me about inhaling them instead of eating them properly. I never liked to share either. I reached in to pick out a scone eagerly. It was warm in my hand but before I could take a bite, a warm body slammed into my back while two muscular legs wrapped instantly around my waist, two arms around my neck, flakes of crusty flour shaking off on to my chest. I grunted in surprise. Instead of eating my scones, I spent the next few minutes spinning around trying to get Duo off my back. His laughter rang through the crisp morning but echoing only in my head. We eventually crash-landed on the soft luscious lawn with a soft thud. Our tangled forms were only slightly startling to the paperboy as he missed his aim completely and sent the paper hurtling into a rosebush. Duo and I helped each other off the wet lawn and into the house. I was growling like a brat, while checking to make sure that the scones didn’t get crushed in the process of our horseplay and completely missed Duo’s cheerful chattering about how my mother had left him in charge, of me! I would have grimaced and groaned out loud, but at the same time, I would have been secretly delighted. Nonetheless, I was looking forward to spending the summer with Duo. AN: |
