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"Baby Series 3"Written By: Karina Rating: PG Spoilers: None Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing or the Characters from the series but the baby is mine. Pairing: Pagan + Milliardo, Pagan + Duo Notes: Challenge 165. Baby Series 3 #270. Takes
place at the same time as Inescapable and God Given Rights. Many thanks to ShenLong for her work betaing
this fic.
Heero Or Villain? "Sir?" He was still shaking, and that was bad. He should have been over it by now, but his guts were still in knots and his hands… well, he was not planning on picking anything up for a while. He desperately wanted… needed… a brandy. But he would not have been able to keep it down if he had been offered one. Pagan stood with his back ramrod straight, facing into the suite. He had sent the King's valet out immediately on returning to the manor. All staff were instructed they should not be disturbed as the King had work to do and, thankfully, two particular young men had wandered off to attend to personal matters before Milliardo had cloistered himself within his suite. Sanc had her hero. Whether the rest of the ESUN determined him to be hero or villain remained to be seen. Earth's Terror was hardly a terror at all bent over the toilet as he was, retching his guts up and shaking like a leaf. "It was well done, young man. Quite well done." He could not have been prouder to watch how the young King had fronted his critics, faced down his detractors and shown his true colours. He was more than merely proud of the young Peacecraft. It would have taken the same degree of courage to front that assemblage as it took to take the first step into the Libra and commit himself to the horror he had known was to come. No one could claim Milliardo Peacecraft did not have courage. A glance behind him at a prolonged pause in the retching revealed the blonde hunched over his drawn up knees, his face pressed into his knees beneath a cascade of wildly mussed pale hair, arms loose, palms flat to the tiled floor. He was still shaking, Pagan noted, but he appeared to be making progress. Moving to the wardrobe Pagan hunted through the man's clothes, selecting casual dress slacks and a loose sleeved tie fronted shirt before he entered the bathroom, turned on and regulated the water in the shower cubicle and knelt beside the huddled man. "You need a long, relaxing soak in the tub, but unfortunately time will not permit. However, I believe a shower will at least warm you and assist you in facing the evening necessities." "How early can we leave tomorrow?" His voice was rough, hoarse from the stress of heaving so violently for what amounted to quite a long time. Pagan was actually surprised he was capable of speech given the stress he had placed his throat under. "As soon as the Princesse's morning appointment is concluded we could make a move to return to Sanc. I can have the arrangements made and we might depart by noon." "Good. I need Stephen." "Indeed, young man, you do. Come." He made no protest to Pagan urging him to stand, though
he leaned against the cool tiled wall and seemed unable to move on
his own. It was Pagan who removed his clothing and who, with a tired
sigh, held his hair out of the way as he succumbed to another bout
of dry heaving before coaxing him into the blessedly hot spray. "How long before dinner?" "I believe the King might be permitted to be fashionably late occasionally. We have as much time as you need." Pagan knew and understood that he did not wish to show himself in this condition to his sister or the official guests to the evening's planned informal dinner. This mini breakdown after the formality and stress of the address was just between them, the old family retainer and the King. No one else needed to know. Watching as hot water cascaded over the broad back, the pale hair darkening with the weight of water, reading the exhaustion in every line of his muscled body, on the handsome face, Pagan absently began to fold the discarded soiled clothing before depositing it in the laundry basket when he realised what he was doing. "It was well done, Sire." His attention was diverted from the King at the sound of soft footsteps in the room beyond. He was quick to put himself in the doorway, careful not to alert the King with his sudden alarm. Hard eyes, ready to kill eyes, glared at the lithe figure standing near the bed. Duo had changed out of his suit and into a much more casual dark blue shirt and slacks. His heavy braid lay over his right shoulder and his fingers were clasped tightly around the handle of what Pagan recognised as the King's hair brush. With a short nod to Hunter, Duo placed a chair to one side of the bed and set himself beside it, blue eyes steady and quietly serious. "I figured it would be just about time to get him ready and he wouldn't want strangers handling him. Fei's gonna be handling the dinner conversation until he's ready." "And you, Mr. Maxwell?" "Pagan, there ain't no bad hair day I can't fix." ~ * ~ |
