Cyborg 009 Fan Fiction ❯ A Song for a Bonny Swan ❯ A Song for a Bonny Swan ( Chapter 1 )

Somewhere along the endless clamor of classical music, and amidst the soft tapping of 003's foot against the floor in the next room over, 007 remembered that he was trying to sleep. Having watch duty late at night, for that was the time an attack was most likely to happen, would leave a person rather tired during the daylight hours. He threw the blankets aside in a mix of exasperation and anger, and trudged toward the opposite wall.

He raised his fist, bringing it down sharply, though stopping less than a centimeter before it made contact. Banging on a wall while screaming 'turn that blasted music down' was not the conduct of an English gentleman. Furthermore, it would not impress the lady that it was directed towards. And, of course, to make matters worse, she had recently become the subject of his undying attention and the object of his infatuation.

With the aforementioned to take into consideration, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. 003 obviously enjoyed her music, otherwise, why would she play it so loudly? Then again... He was exhausted, and being in such a condition was not only a danger to himself but to those around him. Their situation was less than pleasant, so it was required that everyone stay in top shape, for there was no telling what the next day, or minute, for that matter, would bring.

Realizing that his fist was still in the air, 007 brought it to his side while lowering his head in the same fashion. He directed himself toward the door, head drooping and shoulders sagging. He was going to confront 003. How something as trivial as the volume of one's music sparked such emotion within him was, by far, beyond his own comprehension. Maybe it was the very thought of speaking to her in a manner that showed some form of annoyance with the way she did things... Either way, he was beginning to realize that this might be an unhealthy obsession.

He walked through the doorframe to find that the length of the hallway had increased. Proverbially speaking, of course. Her room was no more than a few yards away, but at that particular moment, it seemed as though it were the longest distance his mind could fathom.

Oh, how his hands were shaking! He breathed deeply as if he were swallowing his fears to keep them at bay, hidden away within his body. He let out a sigh as though he had changed his mind to release them into the air, where they would scatter, and never bother him again.

It was like having an alternate form of stage fright. And there was, of course, a particular phrase used to cancel out such dismay. Picture them, or her, in this case, in her underwear.

No, wait. That would not be the conduct of an English gentleman, either.

He found that, during his speculating, he had made his way to her door, and he knocked on it without knowing. How was he certain? The soft chiming of her voice was more than sufficient evidence.

"Just a minute."

The music was turned down, and the soft padding of her feet could be heard behind the doorframe.

"Oh, G.B, what can I do for you? Oh... I woke you, didn't I?"

He scratched his head skeptically, wondering how on earth she knew.

"How did you...?"

She stifled a giggle, realizing that he was completely unaware of his outward appearance.

"You're eyes, for one. You look so tired. And you're clothes... Well, they aren't your normal attire."

He gazed down to find himself wearing pajamas. White pajamas with light blue vertical stripes that were beginning to fade in color. He tried to hide his lightly-flushed cheeks, but to no prevail.

"I'll keep the music down, okay?"

She was so kind... So sweet, like a white rose. And here he was, stammering in her presence while she smiled at him. He had to say something to break his tension. Anything to relieve himself of the burning sensation within his chest.

"Thank you, milady. I sadly bid to thee fare-well."

He bowed slightly, lifting her hand within his own, lips puckering to peck her hand ever-so-gently before turning around to leave, his heart racing, pounding within his chest like a bass drum. He breathed deeply for a second time, the action calming his nerves somewhat, at least enough to make it to his room without breaking down.

Once within the safe sanctum of his quarters, he plopped himself down on the bed, his head resting on the pillow, a large, silly grin plastered on his face. He was finally going to sleep... But then, as if fate were slamming her hand upon him, something came to his mind.

What did 003 wear beneath her clothes? Was it plain and simple, black and lacy, or did she color coordinate and wear red, frilly panties?

To say the least, he would be up for hours. To Hell with sleep, he had better things to think about.