August 14, 2000
we do not own these puppets
we do not own this song (unfortunately...*hiss*)
warnings: Bwahahahahahahahahahahahaha! ฿tis warning enough
for charmy warmy, a student of hentai trailing off
--I'm okay if you get me a good angle--
They can say what they want, laugh if the mood strikes them, but I'm not giving him up. Who are they to ridicule another human being, flawed as they are? It makes me furious, but I know that anger isn't the way to deal with it.
--you're okay in the right sort of light--
I look at him sleeping, his small face peaceful in the dark of his room. They say that I'm a fool for even hoping. I run my hands through my beard, wonder what he would say if he knew that I sneak into his room every night to watch him sleep.
--we don't look like pages from a magazine--
This time, I don't know what I've done differently, but something in the squeak of the door and my old prosthesis wakes him, his dark blue eyes springing open, a gun pointing between my eyes.
"It's you," he says, falling back against the sheets.
It's me. He's asleep again in a matter of seconds, tucking the gun back under his pillow, and my breath catches.
--but that's all right--
"What the hell is this?" he demands, looking at the thing like it'll jump up and bite him on the ass. I want to laugh as he examines it like an old sock. "I'm not wearing these!"
"You got caught in the cockpit when you tried to evacuate when you were wearing those loose pants." I hold up the black biker's spandex, waving them mockingly. "You could have shaved five seconds off your final time if that hadn't happened."
"Fine," he grunts, and yanks off his pants right there, sliding the spandex over skinny legs.
--I crashed your pickup truck--
I watch him from the hidden monitor, smiling as his eyes grow large and expressive with the impending crash. "Shit!" he swears, trying to pull the Gundam up, but while it might have worked in the simulator, that stunt won't pull shit in the real world.
--then I had to drive it back home--
He talks to himself, trying to gain some reassurance that I won't kill him and mop up the blood with his spandex. His face is bathed in the strange red light of the various buttons and blinking lights.
--I was crying I was so scared of what you would do--
He looks worried as I emerge to survey the damage. "Heero!" I boom, letting my chair take me down the ramp to where he stands, penitent like a small child that stands with his favorite toy broken.
"You crashed," I say.
"Yes," he says, not meeting my eyes.
--of what you would say--
"Go back to your room for a few minutes," I say. "I'll be there in a moment." He retreats, still wearing that spandex.
And I close my eyes and savor the warm spot where he stood, his nervousness rolling off him as heat. I wonder if he'll sit on his bed, if he'll stand like a soldier.
--but you just started laughing--
I enter and I can't help but laugh as he bites his lip. "I'm not angry," I say, ruffling his hair. He scowls, but does not pull away, suffering this bit of affection. "You did well for your first time. The cockpit is too large. We'll need to make adjustments." That's for the crew to worry about--I'm not sure why I'm telling him, but I feel a need to fill the silence.
--so I just started laughing along--
He looks shocked, and I laugh again. Then he starts laughing too, and we go back out into the hangar to see what else needs to be done before the Colonies can start their war.
--saying it looks a little rough--
I wince as the head technician swears fluently at my little Japanese boy. "You fused the blah blah blah blah blah..." And I squeeze his hand, letting him know that he shouldn't be ashamed, shouldn't be afraid.
--but it runs okay--
"It's fine," I brush him off, and take Heero to get cleaned up for dinner. I insist on observing proper mealtimes, even if we're not really a proper family.
He stares at me in that way that tells me he thinks I'm crazy, but he doesn't mind so much. "You shouldn't make excuses for me," he sighs, even as I bandage his little cuts and bruises with white gauze.
I've never done it before, and it shows. Soon, he looks like a mummy from one of those archaic picture books. I hold up the mirror.
--we get a little further from perfection--
He just swears, using words he *couldn't* have picked up from me--"OW! FUCKING SHIT!" I stub my toe on the floor and remind myself not to try and lie to my conscience.
--each year on the road--
We look at the people from the top of an abandoned apartment building. It's time for Heero's favorite exercise, and my least favorite. "They look so happy," he says softly, his hair curling around his cheekbones. He's too thin, too young to be pretty, but I know that not many people will consider him a child once he goes out into the world and begins killing people by the dozens.
"Go ahead," I say, and he grins wolfishly, tossing his head back and falling like a wingless angel from the roof, arms outstretched.
--I think that's called character--
My heart squeezes painfully for the minute it takes for him to land gracefully and unharmed as I know he will and ride the elevator up. His face emerges and I hear my sigh echo over the sound of cars roaring below.
--I think that's just the way it goes--
"I'm fine," he says as he notes my erratic breathing. "What, you were worried?" He sounds almost puzzled. "Here, I'll show you, I can do it perfectly--"
He falls again, eyes falling shut as he disappears over the edge.
--better to be dusty than polished--
I meet him on the seventh floor. He looks a bit guilty as the doors open, and I step inside the small box, trapping him in a corner. "No one is perfect," I hiss. "Thinking that you are can get you killed."
He nods, but I know it went in one ear and out the ear.
--like some store window mannequin--
So impassive. My blood heats and I grab him forcefully, shaking him a few times. His head rocks back and forth as his entire body goes limp. "Fight me!" I growl, gripping his face with my old and gnarled fingers. "Don't be so passive!"
And he's still not listening, so I do the only thing my clouded mind will let me do and I kiss him with all the fear and the sorrow he's inspired in me. He whimpers under the force and tries to push me off, but some part of me can't let it go, knows that for once I have his undivided attention.
--touch me where I'm rusty--
Then resistance turns to acceptance and he kisses me back, sliding his mouth open, letting me taste him. We fall to the ground, a tangle of limbs and metal and hands. "Um," he says, running a hand through his hair. "I w--"
He gulps slightly as my arousal presses between his legs, rubbing against his spandex-clad body. I take his hand and I guide it to my erection, letting him feel its fullness. Heat flashes through me as he shakes his wrist free of my hand, watching my face, and unzips my pants. The sound echoes throughout the elevator.
--let me stain your hands--
After, I force him into his clothes and practically drag him back to our hideout. "J...wha--" Silencing him with a kiss, I lay him on his hard bed and wish him sweet dreams.
And hope that he doesn't hate me for what will happen tomorrow.
When he takes off in Wing, his Gundam lighting the sky, I can only imagine what he's thinking. For once, Heero is a mystery to me.
--when you're pretty as a picture--
"Why're you staying with him?" Relena looks slightly disdainful. Heero just laughs at her and shakes his head, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. "I'm serious! I'm not trying to run your life or anything--"
--they pound down your door--
"Because," Heero says, glancing up at the hidden camera in the eye of his Gundam, knowing that I'm watching him. "You wouldn't understand." Then he hugs her quickly and moves back before she can preach at him some more.
--but I've been offered love in two dimensions before--
"Why're you staying with that little twit?" he giggles, his large nose thumbing at his own pilot. "I mean, he's pretty and everything, but you don't see me jumping Duo."
I shrug.
"You wouldn't understand."
--and I know that it's not all that it's made out to be--
I look at Heero as he climbs down slowly, hand over hand, feet dropping down each little metal rod, though I know he could climb faster. "It's over," he says impassively, his helmet tucked under one arm. "No more war."
And it only took sixteen and a half years of his young life.
--let's show them all how it's done--
We move together in perfect motion, two stray flats that sound off key apart, but almost okay together. I pick him up, ignoring his protests, and lay him across my lap, wheeling us both towards his room. He suckles on my ear absently, hands working on the zipper of his flightsuit.
And suddenly, it doesn't really matter how flawed anyone else thinks we are, the earth, Dr. G, the Queen of the World. After all, humans weren't meant to be perfect.
--let's do it all imperfectly--
~owari~
heehee, that was fast! *giggles*
Ariana, Bianca, and Charmstreak
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