Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Of Textbooks and Temptations ❯ Coyote Ugly ( Chapter 6 )

Disclaimer: Not mine. Yadda... yadda...

Warnings: mentions of m/m relationships and sex, language, AU, Quatre's POV

A/N: Been awhile since I updated, but here's a new chapter. I'm really enjoying this side of Quatre. I hope you do, too.


Of Textbooks and Temptations
by Solanum Dulcamara

Chapter 6: Coyote Ugly


Oh... my head... How is here light in my room when I have blackout shades? I think I may have attempted to drink all of the vodka in Orlando last night. I roll over to try to block out the imposing daylight, but encounter an obstacle. A large obstacle. A large, human-sized obstacle. A large, human-sized obstacle that is staring at me. "Who the fuck are you?" I grate irritably, hangover making each syllable resound more loudly than necessary.

His utterly average bordering on homely features fall in disappointment at my question. I can't be sure of much at the moment, but I think he's trying to scrape together his dignity. Finally, he answers, "Andy. Don't you remember?"

Why is he asking me difficult questions so early in the morning? Doesn't he realize how incredibly forgettable he is? I close my eyes in annoyance and a few vague memories of the evening previous flitter across my consciousness. I really, really need to improve my standards when drunk.

I meet his gaze as steadily as possible, considering I desperately need a cup of coffee. "Thank you for seeing me home safely. I hope you had a good time last night. Now I'm sure you've got plenty to do today, so you should be on your way."

He looks a bit dumbfounded, then scrambles awkwardly out of my bed, jarring me in a way that would make me kick him out of the bed if he weren't already gone. He appears to be dressing in a hurry, not that I'm watching. The flurry of activity stops and I can feel eyes on me, so I obligingly turn my gaze in his direction. He's chewing on his lower lip, which might be cute on someone else - he apparently has something more he'd like to say.

"Um... should I leave my number or something?"

He can't be serious. I'm not in the right frame of mind to deal with a special needs case. My voice is not it's usual lilting tenor when I finally answer. "Yeah. Sure. You can write it on the nonexistent notepad in my kitchen. Just ask my roommate for the pen with invisible ink." I don't bother to look up as he leaves. That little nonsequiter was perhaps a little bitchy even for me, but it's too early for guilt or diplomacy. I haven't yet had my coffee.

Scraping myself off my mattress, I grope along the floor for the nearest article of clothing and throw it on. A Guns and Roses t-shirt? Who the hell did I fuck that wore this? Ability to give this any real thought: zero (especially considering I'll probably never see him again).

It's way too bright in the living room when I leave my room. Duo really needs to learn to keep the blinds closed in the morning. Speak of the devil, he's peaking around the kitchen wall, "Want some eggs, Quat?"

The thought is actually quite revolting and I tell him so. He just laughs far too loudly and disappears back into the kitchen. I realize with a groan that I'm going to have to brave the scent of cooking to get to coffee. Sacrifices. He doesn't turn around from the stove when I enter, but asks, "So, who was that?"

"Who?"

"The guy that left in a hurry."

"My latest pity fuck. Never say I don't do charity."

"Oh you magnanimous philanthropist, you. Seriously, who was that?"

I want to break something when I realize we're out of coffee, but that would be too loud. I'll have to settle for orange juice. I open the fridge to further disappointment. "Adam? Alex? I can't remember. Duo, damn it. Did you drink my orange juice?"

He laughs again and I have a sudden and very immature urge to shove his braid onto one of our gas burners. Then he turns around with a glass of juice and two advil, and all is absolved. I really do love him.

"Do you have plans today?" he asks, spooning scrambled eggs onto two plates. Christ, he really does expect me to eat. PLans today? Do I? I'm feeling vaguely human again, if a bit cranky; I should be able to remember plans. I think over yesterday before the fiasco of clubbing. Back to school, blah blah blah... Hilde... no. The TA. My appointment. The day is suddenly looking up. "I've got an advising appointment."

"You have an appointment on your day off?" he slides a plate in front of me and I take a bite with Pavlovian reaction more than actual desire to eat. "It must be your allegedly gorgeous music app teacher."

"It is. He is. And I'm going to have him." Fuck the eggs, I just want the toast. My first crunching bite would be more satisfying were it not ringing in my ears. Maybe I won't eat it... but it's smeared with apricot jam. I want the jam. Maybe I can gum it. Shit! Duo's been talking to me this whole time.

"... before or after your appointment, maybe. I just need a few things."

I remember, perhaps, something about the mall. Oh! He wants to go shopping. I laugh, it's a bit restrained out of self-preservation. "So, you need to look gorgeous now that you're wild and free?"

"No. Maybe I just need some new clothes."

"Maybe you just need some clothes that will make the hottie in your philo class notice you."

He throws his crumpled up napkin at me, and being too sluggish to dodge, I get beaned in the forehead. He's lucky it's soft.

"Maybe you're right, though." He's doing the thoughtful-food-stir. I'm totally sure he can see al of the answers in the depths of his breakfast.

"Don't say it like it's a bad thing." I've resorted to dragging my finger across the toast and licking the jam off; a fantastic seduction technique to use on anyone but Duo and definitely not when I'm hungover.

"Yeah, but I don't really want to get involved with anyone right now."

What a lame phrase: 'get involved'. We're technically involved with every person with whom we regularly interact. "How many times must we discuss this? You are not 'getting involved' with him. You are having sex with him. You are absolutely, under no circumstances allowed to entangle yourself."

"But I think we've got a lot in common."

"Great. You'll have more to talk about afterward." I leave the table and dump my plate. "I've gotta take a shower and prettify myself for my appointment. We'll shop this afternoon and buy you something really hot. We can even use Daddy-dearest's platinum card. He said it was for emergencies, after all."

He perks up. Oh fuck. He's lonely and looking for a way to distract himself. I really hope my forever best friend "balls of steel" Duo Maxwell isn't going to turn into a skittish chihuahua just because his first long-term relationship ended. See, this is why long-term relationships are bad. They castrate and steal spines from even the strongest willed people. I mean, the Duo I see right now is three steps from Victorian lady. Time to start the revolution. "Call WuFei. Make him come. I'll get a hold of Rel and the Frigid Wench. We'll make a day of it." An outing - we haven't gone on one of those in awhile. "Queens' day out."

He stands, food half-eaten, "That'll be fun." He dumps his dish in the sink, which doesn't bother me because neither of us is a stickler about empty sinks. We usually just wash dishes when the mood strikes... or when we actually need something.

I see him heading for the bathroom and must intervene, "Me first, Duo. I'm the one with somewhere to be and someone to see."


TBC.