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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 4 Some times, living is like dreaming. The most bizarre of things can happen to you while you are awake. Duo took my mother’s playful request to heart and fussed over me for days following her departure. He cooked, he cleaned, and he followed me around with watchful eyes, vigilant for signs of distress. Little did he know that my supposed distress crumbled the moment Conrad’s truck turned the corner, when Duo wrapped himself around my chilled form. Convincing Duo that I was coping well with the changes in my life was a different kind of challenge altogether. He was certain that I was drowning in misery and hiding it from him. It wasn’t until I had him in a headlock position in the frozen foods aisle of a supermarket that he finally let go of the pack of liver clutched in his hand and agreed to just let me be. Being bigger and taller does have its advantages. When the excitement of a new summer simmered down, Duo and I set out looking for summer jobs to help pay for school in the fall. I secretly wished for a summer much like the ones we had when we were kids. Ones spent in each other’s company, uninhibited and without much worries or care. I wanted more of Duo before our lives as we knew it became nothing but memories. And memories have a bad habit of fading. I was apprehensive of the time when I too became nothing but a discolored figure in Duo’s past, reduced to being just a neighbor boy from home. My first wake-up call came when Duo went out on his first date two years back. It happened as naturally as the sun rises in the morning. He met her, he liked her, and he took her to a movie. On their second date, they played miniature golf and on their third, the water park. As Duo explored a new territory, I explored a new inhibition. The tiny voice that grew in the pit of my churning stomach was undoubtedly one of jealousy and jealousy was a harsh mistress to ignore. It was as if he had learned a new secret, one I wasn’t privy to. I felt lonely and betrayed all of a sudden. My face broke out in shades of green the entire time they dated, and a hopeless struggle began taking roots inside me. The good Heero lectured incessantly that I should be excited for Duo and perhaps even cheer him on. The bad Heero sulked and pouted to no end, occasionally he’d let fly a temper tantrum and break several things in my room. I was ashamed yet unremorseful. I resorted to disguising my inner struggle with sheer grouchiness. Even my mother found it hard to be around me. Just when I resigned myself to being a lonely green goblin with a small heart, he stopped seeing her all of a sudden and never dated anyone else after that. I found myself wondering if he had gotten anywhere with her in that short period of time nonetheless. The green pigment however, had sunk under my skin, taking up residence. As curious as I was, I never asked and he never told. He seemed a little different coming out of that whole experience, an air of melancholy radiated from him for a short while before he bounced back to the exuberant Duo I knew. I assumed he was broken hearted, dismissing the thoughtful gaze he sent my way as signs of his unfortunate afflictions. I was contented to have him back, spread out on my bed, braid hanging off the edge, complaining about this colossal boredom that’s swallowing him whole. I knew though, that the door has cracked opened and he could slip through at any time, escaping me altogether. My second wake-up call came when Duo received the college acceptance letter he was waiting anxiously for late in spring of 97. He ran across the street yelling and hooting excitedly, waving the wretched letter in the air. I snatched the letter playfully out of his hand and stood back as Duo and my mother exchanged hugs. Looking down at the letter, I was dumbfounded to see it had a different letterhead from the one I received, the embossed logo seemed to have tripled in size, gleaming triumphantly, mocking my naivete. A wrenching wave of dawning understanding swept over me, Duo will be three hundred miles and three states away from me come summer’s end. I looked up to see Duo and my mother had moved on to the couch, chatting excitedly while flipping through the many brochures and booklets that came with his letter. I moved without making a sound and sat hesitantly across from them, watching the two person I cared about most, just like I had many summers ago. It wasn’t just my imagination but I paled and faded just a little into yesterday. I had unwittingly laced my hopes and dreams with those of his, only to be left behind. Again. Disappointment is the wicked love child of expectation. Two weeks after my mother left, Duo and I both found jobs with a local builder, building dream homes for strangers in places where both of us could only dream of living. We were sent, before the ink dried on our application forms, to work on the Humenick house thirty miles outside of town. The project was huge and the owners impatient. With us being the greenies in a crew of seven, Duo and I naturally ended up with the jobs no one else wanted to do. Working along side Duo calmed my fretful self somehow. My trepidation of fall was dulled by illusions of the never-ending summer. Life was simple when the focal point was the hammer in hand and the skeleton of a half-erected house. Unfortunately, the welcoming calm I felt was short lived. It shattered the first day I was sent to work on the roof with Jose, plunging me into a web of confusion that proved to be most revealing. The rooftop view from the Humenick house was breath taking to say the least. The house itself sits soundly on a hillside, flaked by deep emerald evergreens, the front door opens to a panoramic view of the valley below. A house removed from the mundane living of the valley. I was dutifully following Jose’s instructions, rolling out the felt starter strip and installing it before laying the shingles. We worked in utter silence, speaking only when we needed to. Our only lingering thoughts revolved mostly around the burning heat we felt on our back. It wasn’t long before Jose called for a fifteen minutes break. While I waited for Jose to make his way across the roof and down the ladder I wondered briefly where Duo was and if he too could take a break. Being in the mountains everyday made it easy for us to take short hikes in the surrounding woods. Even though charcoal and sketchpads had long replaced Duo’s camera, his thirst for exploring never quite went away. Scanning the ground from my island of a roof, I finally caught a glance of Duo diligently putting together forms needed for pouring cement. He was a stunning vision. My breath caught and my pace slowed to a halt. I sat on the roof mesmerized. Duo was leaning over a workbench, securing a 2x8 with a G-clamp. His chestnut colored mane, though secured in his custom braid, reflected shades of red and brown under the sun. The waist length braid twitched just a little with his every move. His sweat soaked tank top was ripped from his body; one end of the wet article tugged securely in the waistband of his baggy work shots. Sweat was pouring down his bared back, sun-tinted pink, like tiny crooked rivers. I was lost in the moment, my pulse quickened with every stroke of his hammer and with every stroke of his hammer; his back muscles rippled and quaked. The top of his red and white checkered boxers peeped precariously from the top of his shorts like a playful child. I was awe struck both by Duo’s display and my unexplainable reaction. I lowered my eyes quickly when I caught myself staring, only to look up again, this time fixing my gaze boldly on Duo’s alluring physique, following his move keenly, noticing for the first time his slim waist and broad shoulders, his muscular arms and long legs. I’ve seen Duo in various states of undress countless times since we were children but it felt like I saw him for the first time that very day. Walls of sweltering heat closed in on me fiercely, squeezing the air out, leaving me gasping on the roof like a fish out of water. A rough nudge to my back shook me out of my stupor. I jumped nervously, kicking a hammer by my foot, sending it crashing to the ground. I snapped around just in time to see Jose’s knowing smirk before he went down the ladder to retrieve my flying hammer. Next to me was a bottle of cold water. When I looked down at Duo again, I found him looking up at me, bewildered. He was holding up one hand to block out the glare of the sun and Jose was standing next to him holding my misplaced hammer. I felt my heart dropped to a bottomless pit when they put their heads together and spoke for some time. Jose even pointed in my direction. The empty plastic water bottle in my hands crumbled in my nervous grip. I was too far away to listen in on their conversation but when Duo started laughing, the mangled plastic bottle too fell from my hand and plunged toward the ground. It was a trademark Duo laugh, his body shook with amusement. Tiny rivers of sweat poured down his shoulders, contouring the planes and soft angles of his chest and abs, trickling southward. Some fell on his shorts creeping under the waistband, disappearing into secret places. He looked like a dream. I wondered what it would feel like to press up against him, to touch and caress him. My face then broke out into shades of reds and a dawning revelation descended on me. I reluctantly tear my gaze away, pretending to struggle with the felt strip. The last thing I needed to do was send another tool plummeting to the ground below. I sullenly worked the rest of the afternoon away, intended to bury myself in felt strips and shingles, ignoring even Jose’s attempts for chitchat. I repositioned myself on the roof, this time with my back turned; and every time I stole a glance of Duo over my shoulder, Jose would chuckle. The day was long, as it was hot. Images of Duo glistening from sweat fogged my mind the entire day and continued into the night, haunting and taunting me. I was rendered restless and wanting in my bed until I finally succumbed to the blazing heat. When I reached for myself that night, thoughts of Duo engulfed me like relentless wild fire. I was entering unmapped territory in a way. It wasn't
the first time I explored my own body, teasing and pushing it to points
of no return but it was the first time I thought of Duo while I spread
myself wantonly in bed. Duo’s name fell from my lips over and over again, resonating in the void of my room. My voice harsh and low, sounding foreign even to myself. I climbed higher and higher in a haze of guilty pleasure. My heels dug into the mattress as I fisted a handful of twisted sheets. My back arched slightly while my body jerked to my own frantic pace. And when I couldn’t climb any higher, I fell, plunging through a tunnel of white light and white heat. I was on fire. Turning my face, I screamed into a pillow, feeling utterly exposed even though I was alone. Duo's name left my lips one last time when I finally caught my breath. It was a ghostly whisper unlike the heated moans from just moments ago, almost a pleading that fell, and was lost in the vast distance that sprung overnight between Duo and I. The guilt of using my best friend in my sexual venture crashed into me with full force, bringing tears to my eyes. Sleep took me quickly that night. It was the only escape I had. The next morning was embarrassing to say the least. Duo habitually came over around six, letting himself in through the kitchen door with the spare key my mother hid in one of her flowerpots. He put on a pot of coffee and tiptoed upstairs to wake me. It was a little game we played, or rather, I played. I was always awake when he got in but I would lie in bed, pretending to sleep, waiting for him to come wake me anyway. I relished those brief moments of contact between us, except that I had slept fitfully the night before, struggling against a ghostly figure all night long. Voices and noises threw themselves at me. It wasn’t until almost dawn that I was finally allowed to drift into peaceful slumber. I was asleep that morning, weighted down by guilt. Duo had several "creative" ways of waking me. Some times he would crawl in bed with me, using his body to squeeze me to the edge of the bed, some times he would pinch my nose, and some times he would start tugging at the blanket until the sudden change in temperature shakes me from my "sleep". That morning he opted for tickling. I didn't hear him enter my room and was only vaguely aware of his presence when he snaked his cold hands under the thin blanket. He grabbed hold of one of my feet and started tickling. My reflex kicked in and I reacted with an instant jerk of my foot but Duo didn’t let go until I jumped off the bed. Duo's cheery laughter filled the void in the room, forcing the grayness out. I fixed him a halfhearted glare out of habit and was about to reprimand him for his childish prank when his hearty laugh died abruptly. I was standing before him stark naked, hints of my exploits from the previous night lingered on my naked self for him to see. Evidence of my hasty clean up job: my rolled up, wrinkled and crusty boxers, fell flat between my feet. My bed a mess of misdirected lust and spent desire. Duo let out a sharp gasp when he put the pieces together. His beautiful eyes I saw clouded with lust just the night before widened with surprise. Averting eye contact with me, he mumbled about breakfast and turned quickly away to escape the awkward silence between us but not before tripping over a wayward chair in his haste to flee the room. He barely missed walking into the half-closed door on the way out. The grayness of the morning returned and stayed, clinging on to every surface, filling the empty space within my four walls. I fell back to bed with a disheartened groan, wishing vehemently that God would strike me dead and relieve me of my embarrassment and guilt. But he was having a busy morning that day. I lived through the ordeal and had to face my best friend whom I violated in the secrets of my mind. I couldn’t look Duo in the eyes that day for more than one reason. If Duo’s reaction was any indication, chances were slim to none that he could feel any attraction for me. He had slipped through the door and shut it firmly behind him, escaping from me. TBC AN: A form is a structure, probably made of wooden planks,
that works like a mold. When wet cement is poured into it, the cement
will take on the shape of the form. A 2x8 is a piece of wood measuring…two
by eight! *chuckles~! Yes…learned some stuff when I was on a
construction project…But I am no expert…so if I slipped
or missed something. So sorry!
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