Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Melancholy Drunk ❯ The Dojo ( Chapter 3 )

Ohayo minna!! This is the LAST chapter of MD, and I am *so* happy you wouldn't believe it. I really don't like this fic...I'm drowning in my own SAP!!! Sad, ne? Also, I'm sorry if the last scene is kind of...not good, but I'm not good at romantic scenes...my apologies, really. And I'm really sorry it took so long; I got stuck, and I didn't want to write it, and all this other crap. So, gomen ne. ^_^ It's done now, and I can move on to my new fic, 'Chaos, Panic, and Disorder.' Keep an eye out for it! Um..right.

Disclaimer: I own 3 tootsie rolls, one math test, an old radio, one blue thesaurus, a volleyball sweatshirt, and a few pairs of old socks. Is Gundam Wing mentioned in there? No? Good.

Warnings: Yaoi, language, angst (I guess). Nothing graphic, sorry lemon fans; I just can't write it. It would suck, big time. More than it already does. ^_^

~*Chapter 3*~

I vaguely hear Quatre and Trowa murmuring to each other as I stare into the depths of my coffee (which is odd in itself- how deep can a coffee mug be?), but it's like listening to an air conditioner; you get used to it, and it fades away. I don't know what they're muttering about anyway; it's not like it's any of their business how I got this beautiful purple blotch on my face. Quatre can a major mother hen sometimes, and now he's dragging Trowa into it, too. Oh sure, the guy was always observant before, but now he's doing something about it all the time. It's enough to drive me insane!

They weren't even here this afternoon, though I'm sure they've interrogated 'Fei, who no doubt watched the whole thing. Yeah, he's a stickler for honor, but under his mask of self-righteousness he's only human. I'm just suprised he hasn't set off after Heero yet. Probably knows it would piss me off. Not that I wouldn't love to see Heero get the crap beaten out of him...but that's a bit immature, even for me. Act your age and all that.

I chuckle dryly. Imagine someone telling a Gundam pilot to "act their age." Ha. How's that for cruel irony?

If only.

I sigh and watch the coffee ripple as I tip the mug back and forth. Black coffee- nothing extra to ease the bitterness. Ugh. I couldn't swallow a drop if my life depended on it- I don't even drink coffee. Nope, it's tea for me.[1] But guess who does drink black coffee? Yeah, Mr. Perfect Soldier himself. Fits his personality, you know? Bitter, dark, unsweetened, and- now- cold. Exactly how long have I been sitting here?

Well, Q-man and Trowa are gone, so it must have been a while. I think I'll just throw out this coffee and...I don't know. Take a walk or something.

I follow my feet outside and take a deep breath of the warm summer air. the stars are bright and seem to shine down at me through the clear sky, lifting my spirits enough to bring a small smile to my lips. I stand outside the door for a few minutes just gazing at the stars. They seem so pure and beautiful that I can't help but relax. It's just what I need after today.

Eventually my feet begin moving again, leading me to Quatre's little dojo. Another smirk pulls at my lips. My feet are getting smarter and smarter by the minute. I'll just work out for a while; that's always a good stress-reliever. Sure, it's got nothin' on a hug, but it'll do in a pinch.

I suppose I should think it odd that the person I love is frequently violent toward me. Not that I like it, or think it's okay, or anything; I just don't think it's strange coming from Heero. I don't like to say that I've come to expect it from him; that sounds too negative. When you look at Heero's past and present, though, you shouldn't be suprised when he blows up. The poor kid probably has more repressed anger than a WWF wrestler at a political banquet.

I wince a little and wish that maybe he could put that anger into something positive for once, like interpretive dancing or finger-painting or...or something! Why does he always blow up on me, anyway? Of course no one could hurt Quatre- he's too adorable...I feel guilty just thinking about it- but I don't remember him ever trying to kill 'Fei or Trowa.

Why does he always attack me? I know I can be annoying, but I can't be that bad! If I was, the other guys would have tried to kill me, too. So obviously I'm not the problem.

I growl a little as I push the door to the dojo open. He has no right whatsoever to beat on me, no matter what his past was like. He should have a hell of a lot more control especially because he has so much power. It's called "responsibility," and all soldiers, prefect or not, should have it in bulk.

I storm angrily into the room, seething. And consequently, I don't see the barbell that catches my foot and sends me sprawling to the floor. I lie still for a millisecond, gaping in shock, then jump up screaming obscenities at the offending weight. I give it a kick, then resume my screaming as my toe begins to throb. Giving it one last deathglare, I stalk across the room and violently shove my thin, much-used gloves on, all the while muttering about evil equipment and death wishes.

I irately bounce my way over to our large, I've-seen-so-many-better-days red punching bag and jab at it a couple times to warm up. I stand still for a moment, allowing my anger over the war, Heero, and that stupid barbell to swell up until I can almost feel it pressing up against my throat. I forcibly hold it back until I feel like my head is going to explode; then, with another scream of rage I throw myself at the worn punching bag, beating the innocent thing senseless.

I'm not sure how long I abuse the poor bag, but eventually I calm down enough that my vision clears, and I bounce back a step, still glaring had enough to make my face ache. It's a welcome pain, though.

I prepare to throw myself at the bag again, but as I shift my weight back I catch a glimpse of messy brown hair in the doorway. Unfortunately, this registers as I begin to launch myself forward, turning my jump into something more like a lean-trip-stumble-fall-catch sequence. I glare at Heero as I hang onto the bag for balance, but he merely blinks and crosses his arms. Jerk.

"What the hell do you want?" I snap at him, very deliberately ignoring my semi-embarrassing position.

He shrugs. "I came to say I'm sorry."

Said as if he'd just told me it was night time.

I gape at him for a second, completely doubting my sanity. I push myself off the bag and put my gloved fists on my hips.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, 'I'm sorry.'"

"Bullshit," I state flatly.

His arms come uncrossed and he shifts forward slightly, his face losing all impassiveness. "I don't lie, Duo."

"No!" I yell, storming up to him. "No! I don't lie, Heero. You do anything you damn well please!"

He glares at me, refusing to answer.

"You don't have any control. You don't take any responsibility. You don't have any social skills. You're arrogant, self-centered, uncaring, and...and MEAN!!"

I see a flicker of amusement in his eyes quickly hidden behind his soldier's mask, and I work hard to control my ever-swelling anger. I suppose now he knows that the reason I try not to get into yelling matches is becoming my vocabulary freezes up. That's too bad, too...I have so much of it...

"You're right," he says finally. "I am mean. I'm a complete and utter bastard."

I gape at him for a second. "No, you're a complete and utter nutso!! Who are you and what have you done with the real Heero?"

He snorts and leans back against the doorframe, relaxing. I follow suit, settling my weight comfortably back on my heels.

"I did some thinking." he says awkwardly after I stare at him for a while. "I really can't believe I would hurt you, but I can't make excuses for it either."

I raise an eyebrow, but keep silent as I take in his lowered gaze and mumbling tone. Somebody's nervous.

He takes a slightly shaky breath (not that any normal person would be able to tell) and continues, still staring a hole in his shoes.

"I just...I lashed out because...because you..." He swallows and trails off.

I watch him intently, waiting for him to continue. "I what?" I prompt him.

He looks up at me, and I nearly rock backwards when I see the tears shimmering in his eyes.

"You scrare me."

He seems to cave in on himself and he wraps his arms around his torso, causing him to appear small as a child. I reach out for him, aching, despite my previous anger, for what he had become. I can feel him shaking as I gather him in my arms and cradle him against my chest, lowering us both to a sitting position. I rub his back and make soothing noises at him, saying nothing of importance but doing the only thing I can think of. After a few moments his arms wrap tentatively around my waist, his head still buried in my chest.

"Heero," I whisper, "why do I scare you? You're better than I am. You're the perfect soldier."

He shakes his head emphatically. "That's just it. I'm the perfect soldier; you're the perfect human."

My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline, but he continues before I can interrupt.

"You know how to enjoy things. You know how to make friends. You know how to follow your emotions. You can live."

My mouth works soundlessly and he ducks his head, radiating misery. He tries to pull away, but I tighten my grip on him, despite his struggles. Giving up on words, which seem unsuitable, I bury my head in his hair and refuse to let him move away. Eventually he calms down and we sit in the doorway of the small dojo, holding each other.

"Heero," I say after a moment of silence, "I'm not perfect- far from it. I'm just a street urchin with enough luck to steal a giant piece of metal."

He shakes his head vehemently. "That's not true, Duo. You as good of a pilot as any of us."

I shake my head at him but smile, glad to see him speaking.

He looks up at me, and I realize exactly how close we are. My breath hitches, and I lean in slowly. I'm delighted when he meets me halfway, but from there rational thought seems trivial.

His mouth moves tentatively against mine, and I feel him shudder when I run my tongue along his bottom lip, seeking entrance. When his mouth opens I slip my tongue in, and a few seconds later he begins to participate, causing me to groan into his mouth. I lose myself in the feeling of him against me.

Maybe life isn't so unfair after all.

~*fin*~

AN-

[1] I know, I can't see Duo as a tea drinker either, but I *love* English Breakfast, and Duo deserves the best, right? Coffee's gross. *makes a face*

Well? What did you think? Personally, I thought it was crap, but I'm the author, so that's to be expected, ne? So, unless you want me to drown in my own self-pity as well as the sap, I suggest you review, even if it's just to confirm my suspicions that I can't write. I spent forever on this! You can take a few seconds of your time, right...? Arigatou for reading, minna! I luv ya'll!!