Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ My Shinigami, My Hamburger ❯ The Three Day Anniversary ( Chapter 30 )

Chapter 30

"The Three Day Anniversary"

The neighborhood was blissfully unaware that in the old, silent blue house there was something out of the ordinary, a touch of the divine in an otherwise customarily mundane mortal world. They had, however, been quick to notice the arrival of someone new in the Yuy household, long known to be the home to their orphaned and reclusive son. There were not many nosy neighbors in this particular Tokyo suburb, but the rest did not lack eyes. So when a longhaired and bright-eyed, foreign-looking young man was seen on the front step one particular morning just before they commuted to work, curiosities peaked. From their respective vantage points, a number of them watched him simply sit there, looking up at the sky.

He wore an old set of Heero’s clothes, one noticed, but wore no shoes. Instead his bare toes curled happily at the concrete, tapping as if to some unheard melody. The door was shut behind him, with no lights on in the windows. Odin Lowe’s old motorcycle, newly re-dubbed Youkai, sat in the garage, still asleep. He contently rested his chin in his palms, elbows on his knees, oddly colored eyes turned faithfully skyward, as if it were going to fall at any moment and he didn’t want to miss the spectacle. He remained there, not moving, for some time, just smiling patiently to himself. This eventually turned the eyes watching away him as they hurried to finish their breakfast, knot their ties, and went off to their morning commutes.

The Thirteenth Son of Shinigami sat out on the front step, happily humming to himself an ancient tune, eyes trained on the sky overhead. He looked over his shoulder once at the house to see if anything had stirred, and then down at his hand at the red string attached to his pinky finger for signs of movement. Invisible to all eyes but his and his husband’s, it ran, supernatural and glowing red, through the door, through the corridor past the quietly sleeping kitchen and living room, up the stairs and into the bedroom from where he had emerged a few minutes ago, leaving a snoring mortal beneath the blankets.

Shini suppressed a grin as he suddenly turned his head toward the sky again, jumping to his bare feet on the walk. He put a hand over his eyes and stood on his toes as he squinted up into the clouds, painted orange and red by the morning and began walking. Slow at first, gently walking down the cement with his eyes turned upward, then he began to pick up the pace as some distant dark dot began growing larger in the sky as it fell closer and closer to Earth. Racing across his husband’s front yard, Shini suddenly took off at a full sprint toward the sleeping street, watching the brightly wrapped bundle hurtling down.

He took a deep breath and then disappeared into thin air as if he’d never been there at all. A split second later he was falling through the air in the middle of the street, clenching his eyes shut tight and wrapping his arms around the plummeting object, being yanked down by gravity. Only a moment before he would have collided with the pavement, again he vanished without a sound, only to surface in reality on Heero Yuy’s lawn, dashing for the door and laughing as he clutched the vivid lime green and magenta box. As if to scoff at the mortal laws of physics once more for good measure, the mysterious young man simply dashed through the locked front door, giggling uncontrollably to himself as he went slipping and sliding down the polished hallway floor in his hurry.

Heero sleepily lifted his head from the pillow to squint, grimacing tiredly, around the room only moments before the God of Death came bursting through his door and leapt onto his bed, causing the mattress to jump beneath him. He grunted unhappily at the disturbance and pulled the pillow over his disheveled head as Shinigami crawled up beside him and sat on his knees, grinning eagerly. From underneath the fabric, the mortal could be heard groaning. "Hnnn," he mumbled tiredly. "What, Shini?"

"Oh, nothing, Teishu," he answered quickly, unable to control his mouth from widening. He shifted again, bouncing the bed and further irritating the poor mortal as he tried to bury himself in sleep again. "But promise you’ll keep your eyes closed for just a minute, okay?"

Heero didn’t move an inch, still buried underneath the blankets and his pillow clutched loosely over his head. "Sure."

"Good!" Shini said excitedly, tail whipping as he buried his face past the pillow to give the half-conscious Heero a firm kiss on the side of the mouth before again disappearing into thin air as if he’d never existed at all, sporting a smile wide enough to split his head cleanly in half.

After a few moments of odd silence, Heero groaned and sleepily pushed himself into half-upright position, squinting in the morning light flooding the room. He glanced around with a mildly confused look and muttered to himself, "What’s with all this jumping around like a maniac?" before flopping back onto the bed without the slightest intention of moving for several more hours. It seemed now that he was unemployed, his lack of sleep had come hurtling back at him, hell-bent on extracting compensation for all those neglected hours. His disheveled head of chocolate brown hair remained motionless, a softly snoring lump, until another noise roused him to squint and lift his head again. Shinigami came hurtling back onto the bed, causing the mattress once again to make a mighty leap, disturbing the poor mortal to grimace and twist to sit half-way up.

"What the hell are you doing, Shini?" he asked, voice thick with gravel.

"You’re not covering your eyes!" came the smiling accusation as the Angel of Death took a pillow and quickly smothered Heero’s head with it, forcing him to sigh in defeat and clamp his hands over his eyes as his husband commanded. Once Heero was sitting up, hunched sleepily, with both palms securely obscuring his eyes, bunches of tousled hair clumped erratically on his head, Shinigami again grinned and then took Heero by the face and enthusiastically planted another eager kiss on his lips. He crawled hastily off the bed again and slipped through the ajar door.

Heero moved one finger out of sheer morbid curiosity as to why Shinigami was acting even more neurotic than usual, but quickly covered his eyes when his returning footsteps sounded and he nudged the door open, holding a tray of food. He peered inside to confirm that Heero was still covering his eyes, then eagerly shut it behind him with a flick of his tail. The mattress again sunk as Shini crawled up, opposite the mortal, and placed the breakfast tray over his knees He grinned proudly and then hid a hand behind his back. An unobtrusive puff of black smoke rose as something secretly appeared there. "Okay, open ‘em!"

Heero did, brushing his wild bangs as he removed his hands, and felt a crooked smile overcoming him as he gazed down at the tray of food. A cereal bowl full of orange juice and cereal, a glass full of milk, and the blackest pile of toast Heero had ever seen drowning in great wads of butter looked back at him. What appeared to be a bundle of flowers from the neighbor’s garden sat in the corner as decoration. He cautiously lifted his head to gaze over at Shinigami, who promptly smiled brilliantly at him. "Well, don’t just sit there. Eat up!"

"Thanks," he said, unable to resist a twitch of the mouth himself. He picked up a piece of the charred bread and looked at it sympathetically. He bit into it good-naturedly as he watched, wiping off the glob of butter smeared on his lip because of it. "This is quite the breakfast-in-bed, Shini. What’s the occasion?"

Shini tilted his head and frowned at him, making Heero quickly straighten up. "You don’t remember?"

"Of course I do," Heero answered immediately. If he could remember it before Shinigami asked him anything more, then it couldn’t really be considered lying, but his mind remained just as fruitful and he stared at Shini, oblivious, with charred toast in hand. The Angel of Death blinked at him innocently for one moment in silence, making Heero tense, preparing for an accusation of lying—the furthest knowledge he had of the day was that it was a Saturday, three days since their reunion at the café—but it didn’t come. Without another moment’s hesitation, Shinigami split open a grin and then gestured toward his plate.

"Well, I said eat up, now! Don’t let it get cold, " he said happily, contentedly sitting across from Heero and just watching.

It didn’t seem to assuage the anxiety Heero felt—what the hell was he forgetting to remember? And as he good-naturedly shoveled the food into his mouth, voraciously hungry but not necessarily fond of his citrus juice cavorting with his cereal, he secretly was trying to figure that out. Coaching his face as he ate to display neither dislike nor panic, the mortal crunched through orange-flavored grains and scanned every possible nook and cranny of his mind for an answer. He glanced up every now and again for the dual purpose of smiling at Shinigami and simultaneously assessing his reaction. It was inevitable that he would get caught—it would just be his luck—and he did not like his chances against a scorned God of Death and his overprotective mother should he forget something vital. So he put down his spoon, letting the orange juice drip out, and looked at Shinigami in the eye.

"Shini, um—"

He simply gazed back, smiling happily, appearing amused enough just to watch him and awaiting the rest of his words. He’d been in such an elated state for the past three days, walking on air more than usual and inevitably infecting Heero with a few smiles, ever since they’d resolved their fight and Heero had found himself safely in possession of his title as husband to the most troublesome thing in the seven circles of Hell—wait, that had to be it! A three-day anniversary of their reunion in the heart of Tokyo. Now that he felt he’d safely figured it out, the anxiety had not quite left him, as his husband was staring at him now, expecting that he would finish his words.

He hesitated, then picked up his spoon again. "This is really good," he grit out, trying to put sincerity behind it while still picturing the taste in his mouth.

Shini lit up again, as he would whenever Heero would walk in the room, or speak up after a span of silence and draw his eyes to meet, though that was a rare occurrence, seeing as Shinigami refused to let Heero too far from his sight. "Thanks, Teishu," he purred. "I’ve got something else for you, too."

The low tone in which this was spoken made Heero lift an eyebrow and lean back a fraction of an inch. "Like what?"

He smirked back, shaking his head. "A present, silly."

Heero looked rather surprised at this and swallowed the bit of orange juice and cereal in his mouth. "But it’s only been three days." When the Angel of Death didn’t respond immediately, he filled the silence himself, trying to be inconspicuous. Shinigami was more insightful than he let on, and he was apparently very enthused about this anniversary. Hurting his feelings had never been a fruitful endeavor in past experiences. "Right?"

"What’s three days to me, Heero?" Shinigami purred back, still eagerly waiting to present him with this mystery gift. With one arm still twisted behind his back, he leaned forward, entertaining a devilish glint in his eye. And through his subtle supernatural trickery, the hapless mortal found himself again underneath the Shinigami’s spell, sitting upon a pile of pillows and silk rather than a old mattress, hidden from the softly thrumming outside world of faint music and darkness by a thin veil. But all of this was momentarily lost upon Heero, as Shini looked him in the eye and smirked. "You and I are going to live forever, you know," he drawled softly, purposely lowering his voice so that Heero would sway ever so slightly forward to hear it, spellbound.

Then he sat back, whipping his arm out from behind him, and the impossible illusion vanished with the blink of a mortal eye—leaving the two on his spring-box mattress in his room. Heero found himself instead focusing tenderly on a blazing lime green box with a purple ribbon tied about it being presented happily to him with two hands. Dazed more by the loud colors rather than the abrupt shift of reality, he hesitated, staring into his husband’s bright violet eyes.

Shini tilted his head at him, unable to resist a smile. "It’s for you, Heero," he said, nudging the gift box toward him. "It does not bite, you know. I made sure."

He then eagerly scampered over the blankets to sit beside him as he finally accepted it, trying to make his eyes adjust to the blaring neon tones this suddenly after awaking. As the Angel of Death huddled close to him, laying his head on his shoulder in old, paint-splattered clothes, Heero straightened up, setting the box in his lap and looking cautiously down at the ridiculous purple ribbon around it. Like the violet silk might just leap up and bite him.

He looked at Shini abruptly, leaving the gift intact. A bit of guilt seeped into his expression and he hesitated to speak. "I didn’t get you anything," he admitted.

"You didn’t?" came the immediate surprised response. When Heero’s face twisted up horribly, Shini let out a laugh and nudged his shoulder, leaning his head against his and giggling. "Only joking, Teishu. S’okay. I don’t need a present from you, I’m happy. Besides, Okasan has given me more presents than I ever want. Don’t worry about it."

"But—"

"Just open it, Heero!" he exclaimed, nudging him more sharply this time. "You must be a strange mortal, indeed. Not even immortals leave a gift intact this long. Come on, see what’s inside."

Finally, he did so, and Shinigami excitedly huddled up next to him, biting the tip of his tongue with a grin as he eagerly waited and watched over Heero’s shoulder. The glossy, neon green paper fell in crumpled little piles as he tore it open, revealing a plain white box underneath, taped close. In a moment he had freed the top and lifted it away, staring inside with silent and rapt attention. A hand moved aside the cushioning mass of tissue paper and his mouth opened without permission as he lifted the gift hidden inside out and into the light, its brand-new surface gleaming in the morning light seeping in.

"Wow."

Shini smirked. "You’re welcome."

Heero stared at the polished black camera he held in his hands as if it could disappear at any moment, and managed to croak out another sound of wonder as he cautiously turned it over in his hands, watching the light gleam and dart around the facets. He touched it delicately, like he might break it, then shook his head and smiled in disbelief. It was a very expensive-looking, professional camera, and the metallic surface of the 1920’s style flash caught flittered and danced, iridescent. Written beside the lens in white, it read, ‘Oculus Deus 3000.’

Heero turned his head to look at Shini, too pleasantly surprised to anything but gape, unable to say anything substantial just yet. He felt an inevitable stir in his chest when the Angel of Death smiled at him brightly and kissed him again, laughing. "Come on," he said, "say something."

Heero didn’t. Rather, he reached up with another hand and pulled Shinigami’s lips back against his own, thanking him in the only way he could manage at the moment. Without a sound of complaint, he pressed into it and wrapped an arm around Heero’s neck, the corner of his mouth still turned up in amusement. He finally broke it apart, noticing when he felt weight subtly nudging him back towards the mattress that Heero seemed more eager on thanking him than actually attending to his new toy.

"Now, now, Teishu," Shinigami purred as he pulled away—he’d learned that he could sneak in a few pet names in a good mood and a sleep-drowsed Heero was much more willing to be called Teishu, or even Kirei or Blue-eyes, as Shini had found. He took the camera into his hands and used it to keep the mortal’s amorous mouth restrained for the moment, sitting up. "You should not be paying attention to me right now, you know. How about the present I got you?"

Heero remained motionless, gazing solidly at Shini. "Thank you," he said in all seriousness.

The God of Death nudged him again. "I will take it for myself if you don’t want it," he warned impishly, prompting Heero quickly take it back and grasp it with both hands, making him laugh.

Shini shuffled closer again and began gladly explaining, his entire body swelling with joy to see Heero so pleased with his gift.

"It’s a gift from Okasan and me, but you can thank me for her. It’s different from mortal cameras. It takes as many pictures as you want, no film, nothing! With this you can see demons, imps, even gods. Now we can take some together!"

"Really?" Heero had remembered the sinking disappointment when he had developed the pictures from his workday with Shinigami in the basement only to find that his husband’s contemplative figure almost completely obscured by the blurred black aura surrounding him.

"Come on, let me show you something," he said eagerly.

Pealing himself away from his husband’s side, Shini crawled back to sit opposite of Heero and reached over for the expensive-looking gift, which Heero readily handed him over the breakfast tray sitting across his knees, looking quite awake now. Shinigami lifted the lens to his eye, but not before winking at the mortal, who couldn’t but laugh when Shini accidentally flashed himself in the face and dropped the camera in surprise, blinking dizzily from the immense flash of light.

Heero laughed so hard Shini shot him a disgruntled look, pouting and whining, "It’s not that funny, Heero."

"Yes, it is," he choked out, still smiling.

A moment later a full-color print came buzzing out of the front of the camera, spitting out the ink image of Shinigami peering unknowingly into the lens, the squinting iris visible turned vibrant lavender by the flashbulb. He turned it around quickly and took a picture of his husband sitting in bed, breakfast tray over his knees, and laughed when Heero squinted and cursed at him.

"I change my mind. I agree, it is very funny," he teased, raising the camera again just as Heero reached up to snatch it from him, shielding his eyes. The bright light flashed again, spitting out the previous picture onto the bed, and Shini giggled devilishly and snapped another just to make him wince. Heero reached out, but Shinigami crawled out of reach. His knees knocked the tray, causing the orange juice in his bowl to spill over the edge, and he cursed and moved it out of the way to chase down the Angel of Death grinning wickedly opposite him.

"C’mere," he growled, smirking, "gimme that! That’s mine, if I’m not mistaken."

"Nuh-uh! You’re not gonna get your way just like that," came the reply.

Heero lifted his head, for Shini had suddenly appeared on the headboard behind him, perched like a bird and tail curling impishly at his feet. Another bright burst of white assaulted the poor mortal as he turned his head, and he lunged, squinting, at his feet, trying to grab a hold of him, but he appeared now in the doorway.

Heero scowled at him. "Cheater. You’re just using your divinity to your advantage."

Shini smiled back, smug and more than ready to exploit that advantage. "Can’t help who I am. And you neglected to say anything about rules, Teishu," he purred, lifting the camera again tauntingly.

"Well, then that’ll be the first one—no more popping here and there like a damned Cheshire cat! And second, don’t call me that!"

"What—Teishu?" he answered, purposely trying to look innocent. A loud laugh of surprise escaped him and bolted out the door when Heero scrambled off the bed, hell-bent on catching him. Following a few minutes of heated chase and peals of laughter echoing off the once-lonely walls and a terrific thud when Heero finally managed his capture, they lay on the kitchen floor, the Japanese man pinning his wily quarry down with his mouth, and the camera sat in Shini’s hand momentarily forgotten. As the divine stopped to catch his breath, smiling up at the mortal, he reached up and began stroking the side of his face. His tail was skittering across the floorboards as he lazily wagged it back and forth.

Lying there, like a pair of newlyweds about to "christen" their new kitchen, Shini’s mind began to wander on him. He looked up into those mortal blue eyes and remembered how close he’d come to loosing him, how painful it had felt to be rejected, only to be filled with rapture knowing he was truly welcome this time. After a few moments, it registered that Heero was gazing down at him with a saddening expression, still pressed on top of him while Shini tried futilely to push the messy bangs away from his eyes.

"Hmm? Something wrong?" he asked, wrapping an arm around his back, as if to anchor him from his thoughts.

"I was just thinking I should buy you some ice cream for our anniversary, since you got me something so nice," he said quietly, glancing over at the camera still clenched in Shini’s hand, rather neglected yet. The corner of his mouth turned up ruefully. "But I can’t."

"That’s right," Shini said softly. "No more ice cream."

Heero didn’t look cheered. "I want to get you something, though."

"Oh, no, no. You don’t have to." He leaned up and planted a kiss gently on his cheek, but it only further elongated that sad smile. He paused to breathe his response in his ear, if only to blow that stray chocolate lock of hair and tickle the side of his face. "Come on, just lie here with me for a while. This is the traditional way of celebrating your gifts where I come from, you know." When Heero’s mouth betrayed his sad face, twitching in amusement despite himself, Shini beamed. "I thought we were having so much fun, or was that just me?"

"What do you want?" he asked. "Really, Shinigami. Anything. I want to give you something in return. I just won’t feel right."

"Well, if it bothers you that much…" came the purr preceding the knee between Heero’s legs, rubbing gently against the inside of his thigh and causing the unsuspecting mortal to reflexively groan and lean into the motion, despite himself. Shini smugly leaned up into him in response, uniting the planes of their body from chest to knee.

"It can’t be that hard to figure out something, I suppose," he said, smiling against Heero’s lips, which had fallen open in a soundless gasp. His open mouth fascinated the Angel of Death and he took it, unable to act the saint and resist anymore.

When Heero finally caught his breath again, and it took more than one attempt, he sat up in a bolt, disengaging himself from his husband. Lying on the floorboards with his hair loose and ruffled, the Shinigami calmly opened one violet eye, smiling in a spine-tingling, subversive way. His body language was only inviting Heero back, and he lay there patiently, grinning. "I can go slower," he murmured.

"No, Shin, it’s not—I—" He sucked in a deep breath and tried to stand.

Finally, the other eye opened, now colored by growing concern at the flustered, nervous grimace on his husband’s face. He sat up and put that arm back around his waist, eyes flickering over his face. Heero cautiously let himself be drawn back, though he looked spooked. "Hey, hey," he said softly, "what is it?"

It was a gentler tone than he’d ever heard from Shini, and he sat back down opposite him and looked him in the eye, he seemed to settle. Shini put a hand to his neck and gently massaged where it met his shoulder.

"Heero? Did I do something?"

He turned his head, letting out a puff of air. "Did you do something?" he breathed incredulously. "Well, yes, you did something, but—"

The Angel of Death lifted an eyebrow. "But what?"

Heero remained silently, cautiously fixing his gaze on Shini, using his impossibly blue eyes to try and communicate his problem in that excruciatingly handsome way. He had nervously begun rubbing his thumb over Shini’s other hand, which he had snatched up while being momentarily indisposed and was now clutching tightly. He glanced down at it when Shini’s eyes led him there, and loosened his grip and apologized.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and glanced away. "It’s not that I don’t like you, Shini, or anything like that. It’s not, I swear. I mean," he stumbled out, looking imploringly into the eyes of the God of Death who patiently listened, "you’re beautiful, and I want you here, with me, and I love you, Shini, but—"

"Ah, it was so wonderful to hear, until that ‘but,’ " Shini drawled playfully. The insert of humor did not soothe Heero’s firing nerves though, and he looked even more distressed, if it were possible, as he stared back. He gulped dryly and Shinigami nudged him closer to comfort him. "Listen, Teishu," he said, pecking him on the mouth, "I understand."

"You do?" He blinked.

"Of course I do." Now Heero looked a fraction relieved, but still his worried mouth held control, spilling his concerns without permission. Shini had noticed his habit of explaining himself desperately when he felt he’d done something meriting punishment or scorn, smiling as the image of an exhausted Heero standing, stammering, in front of him, trying to apologize for throwing him out.

"I’m just not—I’m not ready for this. I mean, it’s been a while since I’ve done anything and it’s not like I’ve ever…"

Shini smiled. "Had sex?" he filled in, making color rise in his husband’s face. He seemed a little uneasy hearing the word and it made him grin—he had been raised by a respectable Japanese woman after all, and Shinigami didn’t expect he’d really been allowed to utter a syllable of a curse without catching hell for it. The same principle just simply did not apply when you were raised by Shinigami’s mother.

"Well, not with someone like you," Heero finished.

"What, someone attractive?"

"No," the Japanese man said, though Shini felt he’d struck a particular nerve when the color deepened in his face, "someone... not human."

His laugh echoed throughout the house. "You make it sound so bad, Heero. Oh, but, don’t worry," he reassured him, nudging closer, the purr rolling off his tongue as he leaned in, "it’ll work out just fine."

Cautiously the mortal ran his eyes over the Shinigami’s expression, hunting for signs of unhappiness in the youthful looking face that had seen thousands years more than he, Heero still felt the guilt turning in his stomach when he didn’t find any. "So," he drawled carefully, kneading his thumb against the inside of Shini’s palm as no concealed show of nerves, "you’re not upset with me? That I won't...?"

He fell reverently quiet when his husband leaned forward, seemingly to give his answer physically, his mouth just fractions from intersecting his, and felt the puff of air when he chuckled. "No, I’m not," he drawled slyly, "but when we do get to have our fun, I’m not going to let you off so easily, Heero Yuy."

He then, as innocently as Heero had ever seen him, abruptly smiled and stood up, declaring they should go out for a ride, and pulling the somewhat dazed mortal to his feet with the sound of his voice still ringing in his head.

A/N: Ah, finally back! Arc II begins! I'm really excited, but I'm all typed out, I'm afraid, so I'll make this short and sweet. It's actually a fair-sized chapter (almost 5,000 words), and I'm happy with it to begin the second part of the story. Hopefully, this will be shorter than the first installment. I'll just be waiting to hear what you guys think about the new chapter--and what you notice about Shinigami, because he's definitely going to... uh, "grow". :) Not saying anymore, so, ciao! And thank you everybody who ever reviewed this story, because I've been working on it for over two years now. Oh, and here's that URL for the MSMH fanart I never managed to get up (just cut and paste).

http://www.deviantart.com/view/18444924/