11-Mar-2003
Title: Untitled snogfic Author: Dan Genre: fluff? Fucked if I know. Rating: PG Warnings: None Disclaimer: I don't own GW, and if I did let's just say there would be some rather significant changes. Further Disclaimer: Have a problem with the story? (that isn't related to, you know, bad sentence structure, story flow, that type of concrit) Don't fucking flame me about it, because the problem is yours boy-o, I can't be arsed to care.
A delicate sneer turns the corner of her lip as she watches the scene before her. The shuttle terminal comes closer to resembling Bedlam than it does the highly organized hub of intercolonial travel that it purports itself to be.
She rolls her shoulders to try to ease the tension building there. The feeling of being watched makes them twitch. She wants to turn, and seek out those twilight colored eyes she knows must be tracking her through the crowded halls-have been tracking her throughout the three-day conference-but she will not break her watcher's cover like that.
"Mademoiselle?" An immaculately tailored young man waits at her elbow for her to notice him. "May I help you board?"
She shakes her head. A long time ago she would have allowed him to take her bags and would have been genuinely grateful for it. An even shorter time ago she would have berated him for assuming that she could not handle her own small carry-on bag when he would never make the same assumption for a man. Now she politely declines and carries her own damned bags.
"As madam wishes," the polite young man murmurs and steps out her way. He had been warned against being too persistent.
She gives in for a moment and allows her gaze to roam the sea of people performing the varied rituals of travel. A sudden shift to her far right catches her attention; she turns her head too fast and mentally berates herself for being so obvious.
"Mademoiselle should board the shuttle now," a soft voice whispers in her ear, and she shivers.
Turning carefully, she looks for the speaker, but without success. A soft, irritated sigh escapes her for a moment before she complies with the order.
Relena pretends not to notice as everyone turns to watch her walk down the hallway to the shuttle. Ignores all the little heads bowed together whispering, ever whispering behind her. She could count on the fingers of one hand all of those she can trust to be candid with her.
In the soothing quiet of the shuttle, she closes her eyes, letting the near-silence wash over her, and counts quietly to three.
The sudden, repetitive blows against the ceiling panel above her head do not take her by surprise. The metal trap door swings down, revealing the dark interior reserved for miscellaneous circuitry, and a deceptively diminutive figure crouched in the shadows. Relena arches an eyebrow expectantly.
"Are you going to come down from there?" she asks just a little snidely. "We will be taking off shortly."
An affirmative grunt is the only answer. The diplomat watches in wry amusement as the stowaway swings down gracefully to drop into a vacant seat. Resting her chin on her palm Relena gives her companion an exasperated look.
"You're going to give my security a fit."
"Your security needs more training."
Relena leans forward until her lips, pale and unpainted, nearly touch her stalker's. "I'm never going to get rid of you, am I?"
Her companion smirks at her. "No."
Their kiss isn't sweet or gentle. It isn't delicate and tender. It's a battle for control and dominance. It always is.
"Minister!" Two Preventor agents enter the shuttle with textbook perfect form: one going high, the other low, to sweep the interior.
Relena regards the pair with quiet irritation. Her companion is far less passive.
"Idiots." They flinch at the harsh hiss. "If I had wanted her dead, she would have been, six times over before you got in here."
"No one would ever hide in th-" the polite young man's protest dies on his lips.
"Obviously, someone did."
"Understood." They bow their heads like berated schoolboys. One looks up and gives the pair a wary look. "Would we be interrupting something if we stayed?"
"Yes." The reply is explicit and final. With a last sheepish look the two leave.
"Une is going to have a fit, you know?"
"Because I tormented her bright boys and tossed them out of the shuttle like the idiots that they are?"
"No, because you didn't wear your uniform while on duty, Captain Hilde Schbeiker."
Hilde looks down at her faded, but much beloved camo pants, scuffed combat boots, and military issue tank top. Then she gives Relena a questioning look. "It's regulation."
Relena laughs. "I'm amazed they let you into the shuttle port."
"They didn't." Hilde leans forward until their noses bump. "You talk too much, Your Worship."
"Then you'd better give me something else to do, now hadn't you?"
"I guess I should," her companion replies. And does.
The End
(:./dan/untitled)
