Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Beautiful Dawn -- Revised ❯ 2 ( Chapter 3 )

I make no claim to any of the Gundam Wing characters. This story is written for my, and hopefully others' enjoyment and not for monetary profit. A huge thanks to Diane and Anasazi for the beta.

Beautiful Dawn
by Michalyn

Chapter Two

Milliardo squinted against the sunlight. "Come on Treize; don't tell me you can't wait a few minutes."

"Mil, Wufei has been waiting for the past fifteen minutes in Westwit Hall. I'm already more than late!"

"What's the big hurry to get home all of a sudden? The two of you usually leave at three o' clock anyway." Milliardo frowned. "Don't tell me you're blowing off our Wednesday afternoon coffee -- again."

Treize ran a hasty hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, I know this is the second time in a row and I'm not blowing you off...."

Milliardo raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not...," Treize's shoulders slumped. "All right, perhaps I am. It's just --" Milliardo watched as his best friend actually flushed. "It's just that ah..." Treize coughed. "Wufei and I have this thing planned and...." Treize scratched his head and smiled rather sheepishly. "You know...?"

Shaking his head, Milliardo gave a snort of laughter. "Jesus Christ, Khush, don't you two ever give it a rest? You had the whole summer to screw like bunnies, and still you can't spare your best friend a little time on the first day of classes." He smiled, taking the sting out of his words. "I don't know how Wufei manages to keep his grades up with you being such a bad influence."

A smile of relief lit up Treize's handsome features at Milliardo's reassuring tone and he relaxed. "Why am I the bad influence? How do you know this wasn't Wufei's idea?"

"Please Treize," Milliardo rolled his eyes. "Left on his own, Wufei would be going to the library -- like me--" he glared "and not being carried off to bed."

Treize sighed. "That's really unfair, Mil. It's not my fault I happen to have the most desirable man on campus for a boyfriend." His eyes twinkled.

"Idiot," Milliardo shooed him away, "get out of here."

Treize grinned. "Thanks, Mil. Call you to re-schedule?" he asked seriously.

"Yeah," Milliardo hefted his books under his arm. "Next time, you're buying."

"Of course," Treize began sprinting in the direction of the liberal arts buildings. He waved over his shoulder before his bright head disappeared in the crowd of moving students.

It looked like Milliardo was going to be doing a lot more studying today, than he had planned.

The library was a tall gloomy building on the other side of campus and Milliardo headed towards it with a sigh. As he walked, pale sunlight dappled the pavements in front of him and warmed his skin. There was a little coolness in the air, hinting at the coming fall, but it was a crisp, playful breeze that tickled under his shirt and ruffled through the hems of girls' dresses. A pink rosebush had burst into flower near one of the water fountains and Zechs plucked a tender blossom and brought it to his nose. Musky-sweetness wafted from the soft, cool petals and Milliardo smiled wistfully. It really was a beautiful day. He absently tucked the rose into his waistband. No wonder Treize wanted to spend it dallying in the pursuits of love.

Milliardo entered the darkened hall of the library. In search of a particular writing manual, he headed towards the shelves.

"NP .. NQ ... NR ... NY?" Milliardo frowned. "What the devil...?" He scanned the call numbers again. "NP, NQ, NR-- This is pointless." Milliardo checked the scrap of paper in his hand. "NS.5667" He nodded to himself. "I knew I wasn't imagining things." He strolled over to the front desk. "Pardon me."

A full-bosomed girl with bright, copper curls looked up. A wash of pink touched her cheeks as he spotted him and Milliardo shifted nervously. The girl smiled. "Hi, can I help you?" Her gaze roved his figure and her color deepened. She leaned a little forward. "Did you have trouble finding something?"

Please, not again .... Milliardo stifled a groan. Why was it that he only seemed to attract attention from the wrong sex?

"Ah, yes," he slid his scrap of paper over to her. "I can't seem to find this. The author's Donally."

"Hmm, lemme see here..." the girl's shiny red fingernails glinted as she reached over to grab the crumpled sheet. Her fingers brushed over Milliardo's and she blushed prettily. "Hold on a sec, will ya hun?"

Milliardo coughed. "Uh, sure."

There was a rapid tap-tapping of keys as she searched the electronic database. "Donally...." her eyes moved back and forth across the screen. "Found it!" She looked up at him. "Check the stacks over in the far corner. You know the shelves kinda in an ell-shape?" Milliardo nodded. "It should be on the one nearest the wall."

"Thanks."

"No prob." Her lashes lowered. "Call me if you need anything."

"I will -- thanks," Milliardo hurried over to the shelves in question. What was it about him? He scanned one shelf and then the other. Maybe it was the hair. He rounded the corner. Was it time for a change....

"Sweet Mother of--" Milliardo's jaw dropped. He could only stare at the beautiful youth sprawled on the desk before him.

His dark head was pillowed upon his arms as he slept and Milliardo could see his soft cheeks and berried lips in wonderful profile. A flutter of excitement coursed through him. He approached the desk.

His sleeping beauty did not stir, and so Milliardo contented himself with a closer examination. He knelt, bending close to see the thick crescents of the youth's lashes and the dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. A smooth brown curl, was cupping his ear and it took all Milliardo's willpower not to trace the pink, delicate, little shell it framed. Blood rushed hot to his thighs. His eyes closed. Oh, this was torture.

Still, he could not help noting the way the boy's shirt gaped just so at the collar, giving him a tantalizing view of slim, dusky neck and chest. Heat pulsed in his veins. Milliardo craned his neck, trying to find a better vantage point. He glimpsed the velvet-pink of a nipple and Milliardo felt almost in a swoon. He pulled away, gasping.

Breathe, Milliardo, breathe.... He ran a trembling hand through his hair. This was just ridiculous! He had to get control of himself. Knowing his luck the boy would be straight or taken -- or both.

Milliardo looked at the stack of books at the boy's elbow. Whoever he was, he was definitely neat -- and remarkably studious for a boy at his first day of classes. What was more, he couldn't be older than a freshman. Milliardo frowned. Not even Wufei was that dedicated. He must have been exhausted to fall alseep at his work like this.

Milliardo's gaze returned to the boy. He really was very lovely. He looked at his closed eyelids and wondered at his eye color. He knelt again. With his coloring, they were probably brown or hazel.

There very last thing he was expecting was the sudden fluttering of the boy's lashes and a bright blue gaze pinning him in place. Milliardo started. He blurted the topmost thought in his mind:

"My god, you are beautiful."

**

Heero had to admit, that of all the tricks his subconscious played on him, this was really the most creative. He faced no dark images or endless recriminations -- just a golden vision of masculine perfection. So few things were pleasant in Heero's life that he just knew this had to be a dream. For once, it was safe to stay in the corners of his mind and Heero allowed himself to appreciate the little gift he had been given.

He saw the long pale hair, the muscular shoulders and narrow hips and his dormant sexuality stretched and loudly asserted its approval. Easy warmth spread under his skin and Heero knew lust in all its foreign exhilaration. It was like breathing sweet fire. A soft ache settled between his thighs and Heero didn't fight it. He felt full and heavy and flushed with blood and Heero let the sleepy-drunken sensation wash over him in a pleasurable wave. He marvelled at his own body.

The survivor in him argued this was dangerous but this new part of himself trembling into consciousness protested. What could be the harm in savoring something so rare?

An answering flare of heat seemed to blossom in the Adonis' eyes. The urge to touch him was almost too strong to resist but Heero did not give in to it. He was afraid it would dissipate beneath his fingers like the surface of a lake and be destroyed. Instead, he traced with his mind's eye, the aristocratic nose and sensual lips. Heero's gaze dropped to the man's broad chest. His imagination was just about to become bolder when the vision spoke:

"My god, you are beautiful."

Heero froze. Something was very wrong.

He felt the books digging into his elbow and the stranger's warm breath against his cheek and he knew with painful clarity that he was awake. Heero jerked backwards. Hot, bitter shame filled him. He pressed his thighs together.

"Get away from me!"

The man kneeling before him started. He rocked back on his heels and seemed to flounder for a moment. There was dazed, puzzled expression on his face like he too had been startled out of a dream. He groped blindly at the desk.

"Wait."

Heero barely heard it. He remembered how he had been sprawled on the chair as if in offering and his teeth came down hard on his lip. In his mind's eye he saw his sharp, awkward body, flung against the wooden slats of the chair in comic relief. Heat rushed to his cheeks. He was a fool.

An almost physical need rose within him to purify himself of his shame. Heero thought of the nearby gym and began searching for his backpack and books. He would punish his body at the machines until he knew his weakness -- until he could never forget it again.
His backpack was near his feet and he snatched it up. By this time, the tall blond -- whoever he was -- was standing on the other side of the desk. Heero was only concerned with him insofar as he was staying out of his way.

Heero moved to get his books but the man prevented him. His golden arm suddenly intervened and grabbed up the pile instead.

"I know I was out of line, staring like that, but please don't leave. Let me make it up to you." He smiled. "Have some coffee with me."

Heero was not amused. He started forward. "No. Give me my books."

The man held the books a little higher, out of his reach. He shook his head, "Not until you allow me to apologize properly." His light blue eyes shone, "Coffee?"

A rage began to boil within Heero. Was his humiliation not enough? Did the man have to bar him from atonement as well? He clenched his fists. "No."

"Forgive me," the man sighed. "You're right: this is childish." He laughed a little as he started to lower Heero's books. "My friend stood me up for our afternoon drink and when I saw you ... you struck me so strongly...." His lips quirked upward and he shrugged. "I just wanted to get to know you."

I just wanted to get to know you.

The rage abruptly left Heero and he stood uncertain and confused. He stared at the stranger, trying to make sense of what he was saying. His brow furrowed. Wanted to get to know me...? The words hurt him, somehow, but not in the way Heero was used to. He tried to place it, but could not. It made him want to cry. Heero's head jerked and he blinked. He took a half-step forward then shuffled backwards against the shelf. He shook his head. "I...."

"Yes?" the man smiled uncertainly, "You will come?"

His eyes were warm and bright and Heero looked at him for the first time. He was wearing a cotton shirt, tan trousers and supple, brown loafers. For some reason a flower was notched in his belt and the pink petals fanned outwards as if blossoming from his hip. With his yellow hair and his smiling lips, he was to Heero a shining fragment plucked out of the world of brightness that was closed to him. Even with the desk between them, he felt hemmed in on all sides, like the stranger were pressed up too close against him, encroaching on his space. It was unbearable and strangely pleasurable at the same time. Heero wanted to escape....

He was curious....

Heero remembered his shame and he hesitated. "I...."

The man's smile broadened. "Come on, what will it hurt?" He extended his hand. "We can go to the little cafe off Winston Street."

Heero blinked slowly. He slung his backpack over his shoulder with trembling fingers, "All right."