Prelude
It was the softest sound I had ever heard.
The boy in my arms had been fighting the embrace, almost growling with fury at being held so closely. It was obvious that he'd had precious little human contact prior to this; he didn't seem to know how to function with another person this nearby, except to fight with all his strength to regain the distance he'd lost.
But then, suddenly, he had stopped - given up, actually, and collapsed against me, breathing heavily, his hands clutching the folds of my shirt before moving hesitantly down my chest, his arms coming to rest wrapped tightly around my hips. He had put his forehead against the side of my neck then, his lips just brushing the sensitive hollow underneath. After a minute of silence, he pressed his lips against my skin and gave a soft whimper, full of pain and hunger and need.
It did something to me, that touch, that sound...I felt my heartbeat quicken, my throat clutch, and I wondered for a moment if my legs could hold me or would they collapse , made weak from sheer desire. A desire I didn't understand much at all.
What was he doing to me? This feeling...so strange...but familiar in a way...
He pulled back, moving one hand to cradle the side of my head, deep blue eyes searching mine so intensely I could almost feel the probe, his expression both disbelieving and certain...certain of finding something, ...and terrified of it, too.
"What is it?" I whispered to him. "What do you want from me?"
He looked as if he wanted to speak - wanted it badly. He struggled to find the words, never taking his eyes from mine. But they failed him, those words. His eyes were shining, tears of frustration that just wouldn't fall. He reached around my back and grabbed my braid. I winced as he pulled at it, every tug pressing our bodies together harder. He's started whimpering again, staring down at the braid in his hands, tugging and tugging. Then he stopped, almost frozen in place for a moment.
His hands pulled clumsily at the small leather cord that held my braid together, small sounds of frustration coming from the back of his throat. I reached up and stopped his hands, undtying the cord, and helping him to loosen the strands of my braid.
What was I doing? I never did this. My hair...I don't like it loose around strangers... I don't understand...
He kept pulling at my hair until it was loose around me. His hands were trembling violently as he reached up and buried them in my hair, curling his fists around it, pulling me closer to him, our foreheads touching. He brought his hands up then, and buried his face in the thick strands. The tears were coming fast, now. I could feel them dropping through my hair, onto my arms, still around his waist.
I tried to stop myself, but didn't have the will. My hands moved to his hair, my fingers burying themselves in its dark silkiness...ah, so soft,...nothing, nothing ever softer. He responded instantly, his arms winding around me, clutching me as if I were going to disappear any moment if he didn't hold tight...
My chest, what was happening to my chest...it felt strangely...open...all of me wanting to...open...to him...this feeling, Dear God...anything...anything he wants...just let me stay here...I can't open enough...out of breath from trying, can't see much of anything, anymore...just feel him...oh, God...never before...
Now...he's reaching up to my face, his eyes heavy-lidded, soft moans coming from somewhere deep inside of him. He leans in, brushed my lips with his, whispers my name like I've never heard it said...my breath catches... closer!...closer please!...don't deny me this!...not now...and he doesn't...I can't think anymore as he presses his mouth against mine...heaven...heaven...
...now if only we could get someone to turn off that light...it's too bright...
Glimmer of lights on metal...the feeling of movement, being pulled...pulled away from something I wanted to stay with...something I'd tried so hard to find...
No, no...let me stay...it feels so good, so right...here...with him...
I.
The harsh sound of metal cutting through metal woke Duo Maxwell from sleep, a brief nap that he hadn't planned on taking, given how he was sprawled across the spec sheets that Howard's men were using to make repairs to Shinigami. The pilot of that menacing piece of machinery blinked several times and looked around at the near-empty hangar. He was drenched in sweat, his breath coming in ragged little gasps.
What...what was that? Damn, what's wrong with me? Did I eat something weird? Did one of the workers slip something into that beer they gave me? Hell it was only one...
Duo shook his head and made an effort to stop the trembling in his hands. It had only been a dream, after all. He had some pretty racy ones over the last year. Nothing new there.
Except *he* was in this one. And face it, Maxwell, it's never been quite like *that* now, has it?
I don't have time for this, ya know. Musta been just some freaky hormone glitch..yeah, that had to have been it...
Yawning, he stretched, cat-like, and hopped down from the high stool he been sitting on. Shinigami's repairs were probably close to complete and the extra rest had given him enough energy to be restless; a feeling of being in one place too long was growing in him.
Maybe I can get him to go with me...
What???...What did I just say???
The pilot, baka! The other gundam pilot - you broke him out of that hospital, remember???
Oi, *him*! The one that hasn't said five words to me since I went to the trouble of saving him? Why on earth would I want him to come with me - hah! I can just imagine the wonderful conversations we could have...
So, what did you think of the mission?"
"....."
"Really? I see your point, well-said, but I have to disagree..."
Oh yeah, he'd be a barrel of laughs to work with.
Duo rolled his eyes at the thought, doing his best to put the odd dream behind him. He spotted the lead mechanic up at Shinigami's head.
"Oi! Howz it goin'? Think it'll be done before noon?"
"I just repaired the last circuit," the man called down. He smiled somewhat disbelievingly at the small pilot with the open, cheerful face, standing below him. "Reese finished the work on your scythe while you were getting your beauty sleep. Feel better, sweetheart?," the man chuckled.
"Oh yeah, I feel great," Duo grinned back, "what happened to the guy who was supposed to kiss me and wake me up, though?"
Oh, yeah, you're obviously doing a great job at putting it behind you...
The mechanic shook his head and hid a smile. I don't know about the pilots they pick out for these machines, he thought. Too many little quirks, just like the gundam.
Duo wandered over to the where the huge scythe was standing, waiting for Deathscythe's hand to bring it to life. Reese, the thermal specialist, was eating greasy danishes and leafing through an old copy of Mobile Suit Mechanic. Duo's stomach rumbled and he picked up one of the pastries, trying to ignore the way the thing looked...and smelled.
Reese waved a huge paw, poured the gundam pilot a cup of lukewarm coffee, and gestured with his danish to an oil drum next to him. Duo hopped up and sat, sipping at the tepid, grayish liquid that had the nerve to call itself coffee. He turned his head to wince at the bitter taste - no need to let Reese see the awful truth about his beverage-making skills.
How can a guy who's a master at thermal weaponry have so much trouble just making a decent cup of java?
He looked back at Reese, and grinned. The big man just muttered, "Hnnn," and nodded his head, accepting the boy's unspoken praise for a pot well-brewed.
" 'S done," Reese said, rather cryptically. "Good as new; probably better."
"Thanks, man," Duo replied, "I really appreciate it. By the way," he asked, trying hard to sound casual, where's Mr. Personality?"
Reese looked puzzled. "Who?...," he began.
"The other pilot? The guy with the white gundam who refused to speak to us and wouldn't let any of us come near his precious suit? Where is he?"
The man's puzzled expression cleared and his usual impassive face snapped back into place.
"Oh, him. He left, I think, sometime before first light. Guess he got his mecha repaired on his own. Pretty smart kid."
"Yeah," Duo said slowly, his gaze moving to the hangar bay where the dark-haired pilot had been working on his gundam, last Duo saw of him. "Yeah...", his voice trailed off as he slid off the oil drum and wandered over to the now-deserted bay.
Reese looked at the young pilot's retreating figure and snorted. "Can't say as I'm gonna miss 'im", he muttered, and went back to reading his magazine.
*****
Duo stared up at the work platform for a moment before climbing up and looking around it's dull gray flooring.
What are you looking for, Maxwell? Think he left you a goodbye note or something?
Resting his back against a large toolbox, Duo stared into the distance. He was feeling a bit out of sorts, suddenly, and his naturally optimistic nature found that disturbing. He picked up a small wrench and begain playing with it absent-mindedly while he tried to determine the source of his discomfort. One thing he knew for certain - that dream had nothing to do with any of this...
Sad because he left with no goodbye, then?, a small voice whispered inside of his head. Surely you didn't expect that of him? He's not the type to think of anyone else's feelings.
But I thought, Duo began, I thought ...
He shook his head and stood up.
Geez, what am I thinking? Good riddance to that stoneface. Let's go check the cockpit controls.
He scrambled down the ladder to its midpoint and pulled the manual lever on the cockpit door. Closing it tightly, he sat in his familiar place, surrounded by the heart and brain of Deathscythe, comforted by the familiar environment. He began running a general diagnostic check and jumped when the error message sounded loudly in the small space.
"What??," he muttered, "No way. No...fucking...way!" He tried running the scan over again twice but it always produced the same message. Duo sat for a moment in bewilderment. Several major parts of the gundam's main controls...were gone.
End of Part I
(:./kumiko/2shot7)
