23-Apr-2003
Title: Better Late Than Never
Author: Lasha Lee
Email: anakerie@cinci.rr.com
Disclaimer: I don't own GW.
Warnings: Yes. Just... yes.
Pairings: None
"Well, that's not good."
Heero stared at the flat tire, trying to glare it into repairing itself and reinflating. The tire stared back, totally unconcerned about Heero's wants and needs, and deciding that it was quite content to lay here in its shattered state, thank you very much, and Heero could go to hell.
"I'll kill you!" Heero threatened the tire.
A bit more air escaped, sounding more than a bit like the tire was yawning.
He was going to be late, he realized. He hated being late. He hated being early too. His watch was carefully synched to Government Standard Time, and he made sure that he arrived anywhere he had to be at the exact second it was required of him.
After realizing that the tire wasn't going to obey, he popped the trunk to look for a jack and a spare. At least he assumed such things had to be in the trunk somewhere. Everything else was.
Carefully he unpacked the trunk, laying the contents by the side of the road. Soon he had amassed a great pile of books, magazines, boxes of Girl Scout Cookies (the girl-scout free kind), and various articles of clothing, including for some reason six pairs of adult-sized Purple Pieman pajamas with the feet attached. But no spare tire was anywhere to be found, let alone a jack.
Heero considered changing into the pajamas, curling up in the back of the car with a box of cookies, and finding a good book to read, but finally decided not to. Purple definitely wasn't his color, and the books were all titled things like "Chicken Soup for The Homicidal Young Adults Soul" and "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff, Obliterate It."
Where were Beatrice Small or Joanna Lindsay when he needed them?
Munching on some cookies, he considered his other options. Finally, he decided that he simply had no other choice. To get where he was going he'd have to walk.
He closed the trunk after repacking it neatly, and walked across the street to an attractive, split-level house, and rang the bell.
"Yes, can I help you?" The elderly woman who answered the door asked.
"I'm Heero Yuy. Your order."
"My, my, aren't you a handsome one." The woman beamed. "Come on in, sweetcheeks. Grandma has something special in the oven for you."
Heero followed her into the house, relieved that she hadn't noticed he was late. Sometimes it wasn't easy, but he ended each night knowing that he'd done his job and done it well. And the pay was certainly a lot better than blowing up buildings or working in a junk yard like SOME people he could think of.
He took off his shirt.
The End
(:./lasha/late)
