Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Letters from Duo ❯ Chapter 15

By: Mel and Christy
Warnings: Fluff!

----------------------

Duo feigned sleep until Heero left the room to go and work on Wing, then tottered over to the desk and retrieved his laptop. Each step jarred his cracked ribs and made his head pound even more. OZ had really worked him over, especially after his cracks to Une about her split personality, and asking her to change may not have been the best idea. Oh, well, in stressful situations, his mouth did tend to run away from his brain.

Wincing at the various aches and pains, he crawled back into bed and pulled up his email program.

----------

FROM: Shinigami@Demon.org
SENT: 16:28 March 22, 196AC
<NO FURTHER MESSAGE DATA>

---message begins---

Une-babe,

Hey, sorry I couldn't stick around so your goons could pound on me some more, but when the Spandex Soldier breaks in to break you out, you just can't say no. Besides, the accomodations sucked, the food beyond sucked, and the 'planned activities' really weren't my cup of tea. I prefer nature walks, picnics and concerts. Now, is there anyway you could arrange, say, a Vivaldi or Mozart concert for my next stay? Or Handel? Maybe Hayden? No opera, though, please. Some of those sopranos make me twitch. I just never could get into opera.

Sorry you took offense at the 'split personality' and 'change' comments. I'm not sorry I said them, because that would be a lie. You really shouldn't be so upset by it, though, and you really didn't have to knock me off the chair like that. You cracked an extra rib there. Lighten up a little, sweet cheeks! Cheer up, get your mental hard drive defragged. It wasn't anything personal. You're probably a pretty nice person under that Psycho Bitch from Hell, Glory to OZ persona. Maybe you need a nice long vacation. I know a few really nice spots, like Bali... sun, warm tropical water, fun activities, gorgeous half naked men. I can send you some brochures, if you want. Or if you're into cold, which I most definitely do NOT like, there's a great ski lodge in western Russia I've heard about. I can make arrangements for you, and I'd promise not to attack the area while you were there. Well, unless I got orders I couldn't delay, of course.

So, not that I'm asking you to go easy on me or anything, but next time I enjoy your hospitality, do you think you can avoid cracking or breaking any of my ribs, please? It makes me whiney, according to Mr. Self-destruct, which annoys him to no end. And you owe me a tiramisu. I was supposed to get one for my birthday, but since it wasn't on the OZ Hilton menu, I didn't get one. Self-destructo Boy refuses to break cover to find me one. I tell you, life just isn't fair.

Oh! And I hope the lingerie is your size, since I was just guessing. I chose those colours to suit you. Don't get the wrong idea here, now. I deserved something out of that awful mission that I'm not giving you details about. I figured I'd get my compensation for my wasted time and picked out appropriate pieces for my favourite women. Hmmm... I certainly hope Noin is the satin teddy type... Oh, and what are the odds you could get me surveillance camera footage of Sexy Zechsy in that g-string I sent him? Pretty please with dancing Deathscythes on top?

Gotta run. Well, sleep, anyway. I think that anal retentive, homicidal maniac Spandex Boy slipped me some sedatives, the cute bastard. He knows I hate them, so I think he does it on purpose. But he forgets... revenge is a dish best served cold. What do you think? Dress his Gundam up in a tu-tu and put the pics on the net?

Sleepy now.

Hugs and kisses and sweet dreams, Une-babe.

Duo Maxwell, AKA Shinigami, AKA God of Death, AKA All Around Fun Lovin' Guy

---message ends---

----------

* * * * *

FROM: Lady.Une@OZ.org
TO: Shinigami@Demon.org
SENT: 17:02 March 22, 196AC
SUBJECT: -no subject-

---message begins---

'Babe'? 'Sweet Cheeks'? Where *do* you get your dialogue, Maxwell, a Three Stooges nostalgia convention?! Do you address all of your female acquaintances in this sexist manner, or am I the only one to be so honoured?

In case you hadn't noticed, you were not at a seaside holiday camp the last time we met. You were a prisoner under interrogation. The standards of accomodation and treatment are significantly different. If you find yourself similarly confined during future visits to OZ custody, just remember: sand, cheerful attendants and varied menus equals resort. Cells, guards, manacles and ration packs equals cell block. Vivaldi is *not* an option, though I may purchase a bad production of Wagner's 'Ring Cycle' for future use as in-cell Muzak. It should have a demoralising effect on *all* our prisoners, not just you.

And NO, I do not need a holiday or a mental 'defrag'.

- Colonel Une

P.S. The lingerie was entirely the wrong size, Maxwell, but since I would never wear anything styled like that anyway, do *not* take that as an invitation to keep trying to guess my measurements. As for your birthday tiramisu, if you want one so badly, I'll make sure you get one... provided you get captured again before the end of the month.

Sleep well. The next time I get my hands on you, I don't want you to start whining that we only got you because you were having a bad day.

---message ends---

----------

< < TRACES DETECTED: 17 > >

< < TRACES DEFEATED: 12 > >

< < TRACES REDIRECTED TO RANDOM OZ ACCOUNTS: 4 > >

< < TRACES REDIRECTED TO SENDER'S ACCOUNT: 1 > >

----------

Lady Une leaned forward eagerly as her computer beeped, signalling the end of the trace, then snorted. "According to this, Maxwell is... me. I don't think so."

*I think it's a good thing we're on opposite sides,* she mused, sitting back again and casting a wry glance sideways at the skimpy blood-red lace incitement to riot sitting in its delivery box. *If not for that, I'd have to recruit him, and then put up with him... or adopt him.*

Back to Letters Main

Back to The Safehouse