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"Gambit"Written By: Karen The Huntress Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or its
characters Rating: R Warnings: Language, Duo's POV, Heero's POV in
Part Two Pairings: 1+2 Summary: Duo has a plan to get Heero to notice
him. "Gambit " Part 2 Heero's POV:
A brilliant red sunset doesn't mean the sky is on fire. Dragonflies are not mythological winged lizards. Wing Zero is not a futuristic knight made invincible by Gundanium armor. Colonial conflict is a cruel teacher. I learned hard
lessons in stoicism. Don't trust. Don't feel. Absolutely do not allow
useless emotions such as pity, fear or love to cloud instincts. Certified for solo missions, the concept of collaboration was implausible. Additional personnel, no matter how qualified, create complications, most likely, fatal outcomes. Therefore I foster no desire for camaraderie nor a requisite need to bare my soul for consolation or clemency. Seclusion is the only sensible choice for a dedicated warrior. ****** Now concerning the problematic Duo Maxwell, Codename 02. Although there are certain redeeming qualities in inventive subterfuge, Duo is devious, impulsive and cunning. Blatant disregard for protocol is intolerable. Laissez-faire attitude is unprofessional. Erratic mood swings, teetering between manic and serene, makes him a loose cannon. Yet another enigmatic quirk, deciphering a dual personality. How can anyone so undisciplined maintain consistency in battle? It's as though his alter ego, Shinigami, lurks just beneath the deceptively apathetic surface, bidding time until the harbinger of Death is summoned into the fray. Most of all my major complaint is his annoying attempts at familiarity. A prime example occurred this evening in the main staging bay. Duo, like Jacob Marley, the apparitional vexation of Ebenezer Scrooge, materialized on the catwalk. In much the same way "Can I help?" was his rationale for invading my work zone. Also thinly veiled "unintentional" touching was neither appreciated nor encouraged. I will admit despite constant chatter, unsolicited contact and unorthodox mechanical methods, Duo proved invaluable in the timely completion of dismantling and refitting Wing's hip to torso swivel joint connections. ****** 21:38 02 alleges starvation. "Mess Hall is closed." he affirms then suggests a solution, "Got food in my room." Logic dictates taking advantage of obtainable provisions. Despite what may be an illogical decision overruled by hunger, I agree, "All right." I was already aware of Duo's resistance to neatness. I've witnessed firsthand the clutter strewn about Deathscythe's cockpit after an extended mission. Still, there was no realistic means of preparing for the chaotic disarray in his quarters. Equally unprepared for his nutrition deficient stockpile, especially Ready Rations which are categorically repulsive, I state as fact, "That shit will kill you." "Stash ain't that bad." Duo refutes the dietary criticism. While we dine on reconstituted chicken flavored noodles, processed cheese, crackers and bottled water, Duo asks about my latest mission assignment. No particulars, just a general discussion shared by comrades with warfare in common. Finally noodles, dubious cheese products and crumbling crackers are consumed. Bone weary and mind numb, I stretch kinks from my shoulders. As I head for the door, "Thanks." is offered for the considerate hospitality. Duo grabs my arm. Whirls me around. This time a stern reprimand for invading my private space will be forthcoming. Suddenly, face to face, I'm stunned by the predatory gleam in his amethyst eyes. Unpredicted. A kiss underscored with urgency. Seconds last forever. Hiss of breath. Lips part. Duo stands his ground. What the hell just happened? A myriad of conflicting sensations bombard my ability to think. Rare instant of vacillation. *FUCK YOU!* screams inside my mind. Damn Duo Maxwell for his skillful confusion of conformity. Resentment seethes in my gut. Fingers curl into enraged fists. It takes every ounce of self-control not to thrash 02 within an inch of his life. Acidic glare. Direct on target. This gambit of hare and hound ends now! Strangely, amidst the righteous indignation and escalating anger, a faint whisper commands. *Listen to your heart.* "Shut up!" I growl through clenched teeth. The unsolicited counsel utters an absolute directive. *Don't think. Act!* A shift in stance. Duo flinches. No more contemplation. I grab his shoulders roughly then reciprocate with a kiss fueled by so much passion it's frightening. Duo's arms encircle my neck. He hangs on as wobbly legs refuse to buoy him up. Bodies meld. Lips burn from the fierceness. Newly awaken primal urges flood over me. Beset by the swamping tide, I cling to Duo like a drowning man. Pangs of guilt. "I'm sorry for my callous behavior." I beg an unmerited pardon. Duo takes ownership of his complicity in the meddlesome scheme. "My fault. Shouldn't have interfered." he confesses then braces for inevitable rejection. Instead, my wondering aloud, "What happens now?" bolsters hope. Duo takes my hand and proposes an alliance of bodies, minds and hearts. "We figure it out together."
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