Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ My Shinigami, My Hamburger ❯ Only the Good Die Young ( Chapter 33 )

Chapter 33

"Only the Good Die Young"

Shinigami turned his hand again so that his palm faced away from him, smiling sublimely. His lips curled as though no one was watching him and he wiggled his fingers in a smooth succession, pinky to thumb, in the dappled sunlight draped overhead. He titled his head, still captivated by the simple gold ring on his left hand. He’d been switching it back and forth merrily from hand to hand, finger to finger, until Heero had informed him of the proper mortal place to wear it, and he now could not go for much longer than a few moments before his mind wandered back to it, entranced by the light glinting off it.

Heero lay on his right side, head resting on his shoulder, eyes closed. Their fingers were curled together; Heero was studying his hand just as intently with his own as Shinigami was his other with a contented smile.

They lay beneath a short sakura tree in a tiny green oasis of a park. Only a little ways away lay the bustling noise and neon and sound of full-blooded Tokyo streets, but here there was repose from modern stresses and concrete and steel. The branches hung close to the ground, creating a hideaway where the earth dipped low in a mild sink. The flowers were not yet blooming; the virgin white bulbs were still languishing, only days from fruition. Heero’s side was pressed against Shini’s but the gentle incline of the hill set them at an angle, one facing out onto the winding path past the tree and the other toward the stone, temple-style wall curling around the green. The sunlight drifted down, etching a patchwork of gold and shadow onto them.

Finally, the comfortable silence broke and Shini sighed, still wiggling his fingers childishly, watching the light reflect. "You love me," he said.

Heero smiled and snorted. His eyes remained closed, disheveled hair drifting lazily over his eyelids. "Oh, is that how I feel?"

"I think so," he murmured back. He glanced again over to his shoulder where the mortal lay his head and in vain resisted another display of teeth as his wild shock of dark hair brushed against his chin. It was almost frightening how much more beautiful he was there than Shinigami had ever imagined, leaning over a blurry pool in Limbo, looking through countless crowds to just catch another glimpse. "No," he corrected himself, leaning down to whisper it closer to his ear. "I more than think so."

Heero laughed again, eyes closed. "You sound confident." And his voice—an unimaginable glory until heard.

"That’s because I am."

Heero snorted again, his lips curling silently. From here, Shini could smell the gentle compilation of shampoo and aftershave, two of the more pleasant mortal scents he’d encountered in his lengthy time in existence. "Will I just take your word for it, then? That I love you?"

"It’s just as good as yours, you know, Teishu," Shini purred. "And besides, the string speaks for itself."

His spade-tipped tail curled around his reclining husband and mischievously poked the mortal in the back, causing him to emit a sound of surprise and twitch, opening those blue eyes and smiling inadvertently, shooting a look up at the purple-eyed deity. It only took a moment for his lips to curl back into their familiar smirking state. It always appeared as if he had found some splendid and slightly wicked quip smoldering on the tip of his tongue, but it was much more delicious to just hold it back behind his drawn lips. Shinigami often wondered what it was, that mischievous word, waiting in that mouth.

The Angel of Death simply studied his mortal husband’s face for another leisurely moment, then turned his head to gaze again out on the gently rolling green and colorful shoes visible from their vista. Heero again rested his head on his shoulder, closing his own and letting his body settle against his in a rested sigh.

"What will you do next, Teishu?" he asked.

"Beside politely request that you not call me that?"

Shini tilted his head. "Sure."

"Alright. Fair enough. But what do you mean?" His unwavering tone of voice hesitated as his jaws inadvertently split open in a large, uninhibited yawn. "I was planning on just getting some sleep here for a while. If you could handle sitting still that long." Without another hurried breath, he was preparing to do just that, but felt his husband’s eyes still lingering on him, awaiting the courage to say something unspoken, and Heero opened an eye. He was—and guilt was seeping onto that face, as well. Straightening and sitting up, he turned to look at him, rubbing the other eye open. But damn, a long, serene nap would have hit the spot.

"I mean, what are you going to do now? Mortals work for livings, do they not? You quit your job."

"There’s always more to be had."

The Shinigami was looking more and more distressed. His hand had withdrawn from Heero’s in order to enact a nervous fidgeting with the other, fingering the ring around his finger and constantly twirling it. Heero could not help but notice, and felt his lips pinch together in suspicion.

"What?" he said, smiling gently, after a moment’s consideration. "Don’t you think I can get another one? It’ll be fine. If we need money for anything, I’ll just go and ask your mother."

That distressed look bloomed. "Heero!" Shini rebutted, flushed, as his husband laughed loudly. "I’m being serious!"

"I know you are," he murmured back, still smirking in his subtle but obnoxiously beautiful way. He leaned forward to gently kiss the side of his face, making a little trail to the corner of his mouth when he remained just as determinedly ruffled and unresponsive. "But you’re worrying over nothing. It’ll be fine—I’ve got inheritance funds stored away. But I’ll freelance for a few companies, should money grow tight. Don’t worry, please."

Purposely, he hadn’t bothered to regain space between them, peddling his answer in gentle waves of breath beside his mouth, awaiting that inevitable smile to return. And he felt it and he saw it, the hint of it glowing behind that worried expression, just awaiting its freedom, but Shini grit his teeth to stifle it. His gaze had settled on some distant patch of grass, distanced from his husband’s warm presence. He had something to say, holding him back.

Heero curled a hand around to touch the back of his neck, convincing the Angel of Death to face him. "What’s wrong, Shin?"

And there it was, that guilty, wilting look. Those inhuman violet eyes locked on his and poured it out without hesitation, letting his shoulders droop beneath him. "I made you quit your job, I mean."

That invoked a smile. "I didn’t even like that job."

"But you did, too! You had your own room with no lights and many pictures and cabinets—"

"And an overbearing boss and no creative freedom. I didn’t like it," Heero told him, trying to maintain a kindly smile as he chuckled again. "I liked having you there—that was the only reason I would have enjoyed myself there, with you around." His hand had moved unconsciously, stroking the long, chestnut-colored hair of his divine husband, then holding the side of his face. The Shinigami put his on top of it, clutching, still tormented by a hint of guilt, and the ring caught the sun again, flashing momentarily.

"I swear, Shin," he reassured him again. "Alright?"

"I believe you," came the response, followed by a sigh. "But I still am the reason you quit."

"Unemployment allows me to sit here with you all day, if I so wish. I’m glad you made me quit."

Shini caught him with that guilty gaze, forcing him to smile again. "You swear, hope to die?"

"Let me rot."

Shinigami curled a corner of his mouth at this, and the other shortly mimicked the beautiful action. Finally, the long-awaited, glorious upturned mouth returned, even better now, after the struggle to see its safe arrival, and it sent a blistering jolt of electricity through Heero. It felt just as good to see it now as it had outside the restaurant, only a few days ago. With luck, that feeling would never fade, or—fingers crossed—improve. He could get used to it.

The color in the Shinigami’s eyes had changed now, looking deep into them, and Heero hungered for the kiss they promised him. He was overdue.

But Shini hesitated, still smiling, and reached for the camera slung around his neck. He carefully lifted it over his husband’s head, still deadlocked with his eyes and a flash of mischievous teeth peeking through his crooked grin. The 1920’s style camera was gently placed onto the grass beside them and promptly forgotten, at least for the moment, as Shini leaned forward and closed the distance between their mouths with relish, Heero melting back into it, pressed with not-unpleasant force against the tree trunk.

And only a few minutes later, drawn by the laughter of a loosely gathered crowd of four snickering teenagers and two rather amused adults and one red-faced aging woman, a nearby Japanese policeman had stalked up the grassy hill, looking rather anxious to know what attracted them there. They were scattered in an indiscriminate circle around a Sakura tree, and either grinning or raptly peering beneath the low branches.

His stern look traveled back and forth from each of them, asking silently what was causing this, and the teenagers laughed, clutching at each other’s elbows in suspense, when he bent down to look for himself. He swore and nearly bashed his head on a branch, blistering red, when he caught an eyeful of the two young men kissing eagerly beneath the tree, the one pressed flat on the ground and in the process of clutching at the other’s back as the mouth traveled down to the sensitive skin of his neck. He felt Shinigami then abruptly start sliding his fingers beneath his shirt, effectively distracting him as his teeth closed around his earlobe as well. Heero clamped his mouth shut in the middle of an enjoyable moan at the sound of the policeman swearing, despite himself, in surprise and the roar of the crowd’s laughter building around them.

Shini lifted his head and spun it around, looking more thrilled than surprised at the sudden eruption of noise. Heero bolted up abruptly, hand still clutched to the Angel of Death’s shoulders. And the policeman, effectively conquering his blush, raised his nightstick and yelled at them to vacate the premises immediately—though his choice of language proved more colorful than that.

"Shit," Heero growled, heat running to his face. Shinigami let out a yip of excitement and a peel of laughter as they both stumbled over each other, clawing their way back to their feet and crawling out from underneath the branches into the sun. The policeman clamored furiously after them—still relying on a few choice curses at their display of public indecency—and Heero was the last the clamor out, reaching back to snatch up the camera before bolting out, catching Shini’s exhilarated grin, and running, laughing, for Youkai’s figure, parked on the sidewalk. They left to a healthy round of applause and suggestive whistles from the teenagers, unable to breathe for peals of laughter as they fled on the motorcycle’s thunderous growl and a rush of adrenaline.

A/N: Alright, perhaps a tad short for my taste, but on the perk side, it is purely Heero and Shini interaction--the next chapter again switches to Dabriel and Loki. Sort of appropriate for the coming Valentine week, I'd say. Happy 14th!