Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Midnight Raven ❯ Chapter 8

First, my ode to the reason this is late, in letter format.

Dearest Roommate,

SHI-NE!!!!!!!!!!!! **complete with Fujimiya Glare of Impending Deathâ"¢ and katana**

Second, I'd like to thank Levi for all his help with my explosive questions. Love ya' `Nichan!

And third, disclaimer in haiku:

The setting sun knows

That I don't own these bishies

Please do not sue me.

~Midnight Raven~

Chapter 9

Soft lips nibbled at his neck as strong arms embraced him from behind. Long, thin fingers traced along his side, lower, lower. "Mmmmm, Heero, that feels good," he mumbled. Suddenly the hand at his hip grabbed him roughly, fingers digging into the skin. "Ow! Heero, let go!" He struggled, thrashed, tried to turn to face his attacker. Then he caught sight of the shock of crimson hair. He was pinned to the wall, the redhead groping savagely. His twin nipple rings burned at his shoulder blades. The stench of alcohol was nauseating. But then he saw his eyes. The ice blue eyes seemed to reflect Satan's own hellfire. The flames reached out, singeing Duo's cheek. The heat was unbearable. As the fire consumed him, Duo reached for his cross and murmured a prayer, "St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle; be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the devil. . . ." (1)

Duo woke with a start. Heero was spooned up behind him, still asleep, with his arms harmlessly wrapped around Duo. Somehow, that haphazard placement of limbs felt safe. As the nightmare started to fade away, Duo snuggled in a bit, reveling in the simple rise and fall of Heero's chest against his back.

`But that ain't the only thing rising. Wow, even the Perfect Soldier wakes up with a hard-on.' Duo was tempted to cuddle a bit closer and find out just how perfect Heero was, but before he could come to a decision, Heero woke up.

"What time is it?" Duo asked sleepily.

"Oh nine-hundred and seventeen."

"Stupid mornings," Duo groaned. He buried his head into the pillow and wrapped Heero's arm around him tighter like a blanket.

"Baka," Heero grunted softly. After a moment, he rolled over on his back, one arm still pinned under the braided boy, and sighed.

Curiosity piqued, Duo turned to his other side and cuddled up to Heero's side. "Hey, Heero, what's wrong?"

"What happened last night? What upset you? Will it affect the mission?" he asked earnestly.

Duo rested his head on Heero's chest. "No, the mission goes on as planned. I'm sure I was just overreacting. This guy at the club got a little too friendly. . .he just gave me bad vibes. Like if you looked into his eyes instead of a little boy on a playground, you'd see some kid torturing kittens. . ." he trailed off, convinced that he'd made no sense. "But you start working tonight, so I won't have to deal with him."

Duo felt safe. Genuinely safe. It had been quite a while, what with the war and his childhood. He hadn't felt this secure since before the massacre. It was serene, it was bliss, it was. . .9:30 and he hadn't eaten since 6 yesterday. His stomach protested this mistreatment loudly.

"Come on, baka," Heero said nudging at the grumbly belly.

Duo reluctantly slipped out of bed, and he and Heero went down to eat. Wufei, who was apparently manning the kitchen that morning, set a bowl of rice in front of Heero and an omelet in front of the violet-eyed boy.

As soon as his stomach sent the "much better" signal to his brain, Duo, desperate to tear himself away from the Japanese eye-candy at the table, went upstairs to shower. `Better make that a cold shower,' he thought as he fiddled with the knobs. He let the cold water wash away the tingle where Heero's hands had been, lathering away the blue-eyed boy's scent.

When his body was calmed, the cold started to soak in. A cold knot formed in his stomach, an uneasy feeling came over him, then suddenly the redhead was back in his mind. He turned the water as hot as he could stand and scrubbed harshly at where he still felt those filthy hands.

Someone knocked at the bathroom door. "Duo," Quatre's concerned voice rang out, "you've been in there forever. Are you okay?"

He could have stayed in that spray for a week and still not feel clean. `No, I'm not okay.' "Sure, Quat, just a minute. Why don't you get the guys ready to go to the mall?" he called out, turning off the water and toweling his hair. In mere moments he was dry, dressed to kill, and bounding down the stairs with brush in hand.

"You guys ready?" he asked while his hands went to work sculpting the perfect braid.

Trowa jingled the keys in his face.

They jumped in the car and headed towards a mall in the next county over. No sense in going somewhere close to the target where they'd be so visible. The conversation on the way centered mainly on logistics: who'd be going to the club how may times, how many outfits did they need. They figured Duo would need two more outfits to supplement the ones he still had in his closet. Then they'd need four for Heero, two for Trowa, two for Quatre, and one for Wufei.

They reached the mall and decided to go to a shoe store first. "What's wrong with the shoes I'm wearing, Maxwell?"

Duo looked back and forth between the Chinese pilot's face and sandaled feet. "They're great and all, Wu-man, but they wouldn't fare well on the dance floor." `And they wouldn't go with anything that I'll allow you to wear.'

While Duo and Quatre tried to convince Wufei to try on a pair of black combat boots, Heero and Trowa were browsing. Trowa grabbed a pair of platformed knee-length black vinyl boots with shiny silver laces and held them up to his petite new love. Quatre's eyes lit up when he saw the boots, and he sat to try them on. The vinyl hugged tightly at his muscled calves. He paced the room, a bit uneasy with the clunky shoes, but looking extremely good. Trowa unconsciously licked his lips.

Heero picked up a similar pair and examined the heel. Waving Duo over, he asked in a hushed voice, "How many of us can wear these without being conspicuous?"

"Platforms?" Duo asked. "Um, I think two may be pushing it." Heero's face turned in a thoughtful frown. "Why? What do you need them for?"

"Hollow out the heel and you can hide some C4 in it," he said with the maniacal smirk on his face that always appeared when he spoke about explosives.

They picked out a pair of boots each, except for Duo who of course already had some. Quatre went with the platforms, the others with generic boots. Heero made sure his heels were big enough to hide some blast caps for the C4 in. Then it was off to a clothing store.

Eventually they found a store with random goth/punk/raver/etc. clothing. Wufei did a double take and tried to run away, but was blocked by an angry Japanese boy, grunting quietly about the mission.

Quatre went to the collars. `Well at least somebody is taking the initiative.' Duo dragged the other boys around, randomly shoving things into their arms. When they had all accumulated a fair sized pile, he dragged them toward the dressing room. As they tried on their masses of leather, vinyl, and mesh, Duo looked around at the accessories.

Quatre peeked his head out of the dressing room and waved Duo over. "I'm not so sure about this," the Arab said timidly.

"Quat," he said to his friend, who was still hiding behind the dressing room door, "just come out so I can see."

The blonde opened the door wider, not stepping into public view, but enough for Duo to see. The blonde may not have even remotely resembled Duo's type, but he still couldn't help but lick his lips. The punky plaid bondage pants rode low on his hips. The black shirt, criss-crossed with bondage straps, clung to his muscled chest. A plain black collar completed the ensemble.

Duo caught himself staring agape at his friend and, finding his voice, squeaked, "You'd better not let Tro see you looking like that. We'd get kicked out of the store for lewd behavior."

Quatre blushed brightly.

Duo's statement had been a little louder than he would have liked, and Trowa in the next room overheard it. Suddenly the tall boy, clad in tight hip-hugging pinstripes and a fishnet top, appeared at the door. Apparently, Trowa agreed with Duo's appraisal. `Like pants that tight could hide his approval,' Duo snickered.

"Maxwell!"

`Uh oh. Here comes another justice speech.' To the lovebirds he said, "Try not to get us kicked out," and went to Wufei's dressing room.

As expected, the Chinese boy started off on a long, ranting speech, mostly in Mandarin, with the occasional "baka," "braid," and "injustice" thrown in for good measure. Duo couldn't figure out why he was upset. Having anticipated problems, Duo had chosen a pretty mild get-up for Wufei. The UFO's were in no way revealing. The shirt wasn't too badly shredded, just a few rips in the front. `What's his problem?'

The ranting calmed a bit, and Duo seized the opportunity to politely ask what the hell was wrong.

Duo could have sworn he saw steam come out of the boy's ears. He grabbed Duo by the short hairs at the base of his skull and had the boy on his knees in front of him in seconds.

Duo smirked up at the justice-obsessed pilot and murmured, "Gee, Wu-babe, I'm flattered, but really, you aren't my type."

It took Wufei a few seconds to process the meaning. When he did, he blushed, then forced himself to look angry again and pointed to his stomach, "What is the meaning of this, Maxwell?"

"The meaning of what?"

"Why does this shirt leave my stomach bare?"

Duo fell down laughing. "Wu-man, if you think that's bad, you're in serious trouble. Go check out Quat. He's a walking wet dream." Before the Chinese pilot could respond, Duo was standing and slinking out of the room. (2)

`Hmmm, only one person left to check out in their new duds. Yummy.' Duo knocked on the door to the dressing room Heero had disappeared into. The door opened. Duo found himself gaping open-mouthed yet again. `And I thought Quatre looked good' seemed to be his only coherent thought. Everything else was a jumble of mental moans.

The leather vest was open wide enough to see two dusty-rose colored nipples. The lean abs rippled as he moved. The low waistband drew Duo's eye down the provocative line of his hip. The vinyl pants clung to his thighs, an orange-red flame licking up the side, drawing attention back to those perfect hips.

The next movement made Duo weak in the knees, as Heero unzipped.

"Look, a hidden pocket," Heero pointed at a pocket in the fly of the pants, seemingly unaware of the drooling the braided pilot was doing. "It's perfect for hiding some wires in for the explosives. What's the pocket for anyway?"

Duo had barely registered any of the words. Vaguely aware that he was supposed to answer, he whimpered. That drew Heero's attention. Caught, the braided boy stuttered out an answer. "It's a uh,- it's a condom pocket."

Embarrassed and turning bright red, Duo scampered pell-mell from the room. Taking note of a problem in certain parts of his anatomy, he bought some clothes and a few accessories he had looked at earlier and rushed out of the store to calm down a bit.

(1)Even though I should know this by now, I had to look up the prayer. I found it here: www.smcenter.org/prayers.htm but you can find it lots of places.

(2)Thank you to shinigami angel for helping me with this line. It was driving me insane.

Clothing is inspired by lip-service.com. Lessee, anything else I need to say isn't mine? Um, I can't think of any.