Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Agapo ❯ Agapo ( Chapter 1 )

 

Title: Agapo

Pairing: 1+2

Warning: None. Post EW. Not beta'd.

Disclaimer: Do not own. Have nothing. Please don't sue.

Notes: Originally written for the kitana_bradford Misson Pic Contest.

 

If I wasn't raised on pain, I would have rolled over and wished for death. Instead, I tugged at the makeshift bandages and tightened the one around my arm gruffly, all the while biting down on the inside of my right cheek, swallowing the flurry of anguish cursing I could hear so clearly between my ears. Spots of blood seeped through the white fabric and eventually merged into one big blot that looked like a Holtzman inkblot. It was black and surreal in the dark. The lack of color association numbed the pain until I moved. I knew I hated amphibious missions for a reason.

 

Heero was still and silent next to me like the Rock of Gibraltar. He had somehow wormed his way along on this mission, rumored had it, after a late night shouting match in Une's office. The thought of them snarling at each other was quite amusing. I would've invited friends, pulled up chairs, and passed the popcorn around. If only the rumor mill could be trusted, besides, why would Heero go near Une after dusk had fallen?

 

If you asked me, this was a one-man mission. More precisely, a One-Duo mission. Slipping into the base as Quatre and Noin trigger the decoy, find the simulation lab, search and destroy any next generation mobile suit data. How hard could that be? And yet there I was, limping after the Rock like a lame duck because I was too distracted by the same Rock during landing to pay attention to the snipers on the cliff. Yes, I ruled.

 

I stared at him openly knowing that I was cloaked by darkness and he wasn't looking at me. Even with the light and shadows weaving a lattice pattern of the nearby fence on his impassive face, he was still one good-looking man. My gaze skipped along his knotted brows to his firmly pressed-together lips, and ended along his jaw, strong and angular when his teeth were clenched. There was no telltale sign of a vicious bruise and yet I knew exactly where my fist had landed those weeks ago. Action and reaction are like spilling water. There is no turning back on what you did. Suddenly, I felt like a lousy bastard. I'd rather get shot again. I turned my back to him and flattened my body to the wall, resting my weight on just one knee. Guilt was a caustic beast and I just had to look away.

 

My fingers slid along the curve of the gun's trigger when I heard approaching footsteps of the midnight shift-change. Stiff-sole boots hammering a heavy timpani of thuds on the still-warm asphalt, hoarse voices croaked and laughed when one of them told a dirty joke as they changed direction, walking away from our brief hiding place and toward their posts. I smirked and slithered a glance around the corner. With my free hand I signaled behind my back to my partner: three to the left, one to the right, one in the middle, shit.

 

And I knew Heero understood `shit'.

 

The brief excitement from the shift-change wore off quickly as we played the waiting game and a strange silence engulfed us like a thick fog. My free hand came to rest on the wall with my fingers splayed, feeling the many bumps on the rough surface underneath them like a blind man reading in Braille. I was energy constrained; a speeding bullet ready to explode into action when the signal finally came. I was restless, agitated, and I was clawing at the wall without reason.

 

A wave of warmth rolled over my fingertips and they stop fidgeting immediately, frozen in disbelief. They reached minutely toward the heat but never quite touched the source. They were suddenly content, suddenly safe, and suddenly calm like five little cats basking in the heat of the sun. In that split second, I couldn't remember my reason for punching him and I didn't feel the urge for flight.

 

The eastern sky lit up without warning and the earth rocked like a boat in rough waters. It wasn't like Quatre to believe in excessive force but Noin was a bad influence. Sirens shrieked long and shrill breaking the sluggish midnight silence and blinding lights flooded the night. Chaos set in, sending most of the enemy troops east toward the hangars to protect the obvious.

 

Heero was the first to move. His fingers slid along mine in a ghostly touch and then he was gone, dashing out into the light, gun blazing, and running in the opposite direction to where I needed to go while I packed up whatever lingering thoughts I had and made a run for the entrance. Words will be said and fingers will connect when the bads and the uglys are put in their place.

 

I didn't see Heero again until the birds came for us. He was sitting on the ledge of a Merlin with his legs dangling just inches above ground. He looked small in that metal beast with a medic hovering over him. He looked like a child in trouble and couldn't get out of it, not even with his patented glare. I chuckled but the sound turned into a nervous gurgle behind my throat when I saw his suit stained with blood. Close combat rang bells in my mind and set off all kinds of alarms, most of them bad. The things he had to do in the name of peace brought a bitter taste to my mouth.

 

Heero jumped off the bird when he saw me. He ran and I hobbled, and we met almost half way. I took him on gaze for gaze and smirk for smirk. Until I threw my good arm around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Lips met and teeth nipped at each other. There was nothing chaste about this second First Kiss.

 

When we parted, his eyes shone with a light that was part amused and part curious. The rotor of the Merlin whirred and spun in slow motion above our heads, serenading us with this loud whooshing sound. I blinked and caught strands of his hair in my eyes.

 

“What changed your mind?” He finally said quietly, running his thumb along the right side of my jaw, setting off electric sparks on warm, moist skin along the way.

 

I ran my hand through his hair and rubbed gentled circles along the back of his head. With my forehead pressed gently against his, I murmured against his lips, “the Rock of Gibraltar.”

 

And I kissed him again.

 

 

 

 

 

AN: Agapo means `to love' in Greek, Merlin is a chopper, and the Rock of Gibraltar is huge!