25-Jul-2000
i wrote this because of something cutter posted last week, but i don't think it's *exactly* what she had in mind. :-)
Disclaimer: Sunrise, Bandai et al own Gundam Wing, and I own nothing. Suing would be pointless.
Warnings: 2x1, yaoi, OCC, language, (citrus-y in part 2) Just good, old-fashioned fun!
***NOTE- I made up every statistic in this fic. If some of them are true, it's not my fault.***
/=thoughts
*=emphasis
Heero sat at his desk, typing on his laptop. His back was to Duo, who lay sleeping on the bed behind him. Even though the steady rhythym of his typing never faltered, anyone looking at the screen would see that Heero was typing in a series of nonsense words, over and over. He was *really* using the laptop's screen, tilted at a precise angle, to watch his sleeping roommate in its reflection.
/I don't understand the fascination./ Heero thought, continuing to type his mock report. /He's just another pilot, just a soldier, just... beautiful./ Not even noticing how out of place that thought was, Heero let his eyes linger on the braided boy's features.
From the sharp angle of the jaw, across the sculpted cheek, to the lush, red lips, parted slightly in sleep, Heero let his eyes feast greedily. The open mouth seemed to offer him an invitation he longed to accept. /Soon.../ His eyes moved downwards to Duo's chest, now covered only in a loose-fitting t-shirt. In his mind, Heero saw his hands gliding slowly up Duo's sides, nails scraping lightly, thumbs pressing roughly against erect nipples...
Heero jerked his thoughts back to the present moment. He was startled to realize his imagination had so overtaken him that he had completely forgotten his pretense of typing, and was sitting stock-still at his desk, hands motionless over the keyboard.
Clinically, he began a rundown of his symptoms. Rapid heartbeat; breathing quick and shallow, almost panting. Face flushed; a feeling of pressure in the chest. An aching fullness in the groin. /Hn. It must be lust. I feel...lust... for *Duo*./
Heero sighed with impatience. This was an unwelcome annoyance. Moreover, it could be dangerous, distracting him while on a mission. /If I'm thinking about Duo's ass instead of how many mobile suits are facing me... unacceptable./ A little voice floated through his head, 'but it's such a *fine* ass.'
/I can't even control my thoughts. This *must* stop./ Heero considered the different ways he could rid himself of his obsession. /Kill Duo/ No. Duo was a loudmouth and an idiot, but he was also a superlative pilot. /Besides, I don't *want* to kill Duo. I *want* to throw him up against a wall and screw... /
Once again, Heero yanked his thoughts back to the matter at hand. /Ignore Duo./ But he knew this wouldn't work either. /I've been trying to ignore him for *weeks*. These thoughts have not been abating. If anything, they've been *increasing*./
Suddenly, a conversation he had overheard came to mind. Quatre had been talking about jobs he could never have. "And most of all, I could *never* work in a chocolate shop," he had said, "because I'd eat it all the time until I got sick of it, and that would make me *very* sad."
/Hn. Indulgence to the point of oversatiation./ *That* has possibilities. /If I just fuck him until I can't stand it anymore... / But how to go about it?
/I could certainly overpower Duo if I had to./ 'that might be fun' the little voice whispered. /But I don't want to hurt him. I'll have to make sure Duo stays safe. Hm. Safe sex?/ Heero remembered seeing something about that on various computer sites. /I'll need to check that out./
Heero turned back to the computer, and once again began typing, but this time with a purpose. /I'll gather all the pertinent information, screw Duo silly, and get on with my life./ He smiled, very slightly.
/Mission accepted/
Five Days Later
Duo lay on his stomach on the bed, legs kicking idly as he read manga. With the tail of his braid in his hand, he was unconciously brushing it back and forth under his chin, when he felt... someone watching him? He quickly turned his head, and saw Heero standing in the doorway, an almost predatory gleam in his eyes.
"Hey, Heero, what's up?" he asked, feigning a nonchalance he didn't feel. Heero had been acting very... oddly... recently. /He hasn't even threatened to kill me for a couple of days. Gotta be a record. And why is he *staring* at me all the time?/
Heero threw Duo his jacket. "Get up. We're leaving"
"Oh, man, Heero, I just got home, I haven't had dinner yet, I don't want--"
"It's a mission, Duo."
Duo bit back a sigh. There was no *way* Mr.-Anal-Retentive-Spandex-Boy would let him pass up a mission. He sat up and put on his jacket. "How long will we be gone?"
"No more than three days. Probably"
"*Probably*? Don't you *know*? Don't tell me Perfect Soldier Yuy hasn't memorized the mission param--"
"Let's go, Duo. Now." There was a touch of steel in Heero's tone, and Duo got up immediately. After being his partner for so long, Duo knew precisely how far he could push Heero, and he had just passed over the line. He followed Heero down the stairs, and out to the car he had waiting.
That's when things got strange.
After forcing Duo, at gunpoint, to put on his seatbelt-- "I'm Shinigami - I don't *need* a seatbelt"-- Heero became almost... chatty, spouting off statistic after statistic, and then glaring at Duo until he made a response.
"Did you know that almost 80% of fatal accidents occur within five miles of the home?"
"No, really, Heero?"
"Uh huh. And 57% of fatal accident *in* the home happen in the bathroom."
"Imagine that."
"A house with a fireplace is 48% more likely to have a fire with fatalities than a house without one."
"That's *fascinating*." Duo thought at this point he was laying on the sarcasm so thickly, even Heero would have to notice. Apparently not. Duo sighed as Heero continued.
"32% of people who break their arms do so by falling out of bed.
"A house with only one level, while 29% more vulnerable to flooding, is actually 61% less likely to be damaged during an earthquake, and 73% less likely for damage from hurricanes."
"Hurricanes? Heero, we're on a *colony*. It's climate-controlled. There *are* no hurricanes."
Instead of glaring Duo into submission, Heero pulled the car into the driveway of a nondescript, one-storied building. He pointed proudly at the odometer. "Look! 5.*8* miles from the safehouse."
Duo just stared at him. /He's lost his mind. I'm out in the middle of nowhere with a Gundam pilot who's gone crazy./ It was *not* a comforting thought.
Heero gave him a key. "Here. Go inside while I get the supplies."
Duo opened the door, and patted the wall until he found the light switch. /Pleah./ he thought, looking around. /This isn't a house, it's a room. A big, *ugly* room./ Duo walked further in, looking around. /Weird. It doesn't even have windows, furniture, anything. Just that futon on the floor. A futon frame? No! Just a futon. This is too bizarre./ He turned as he heard the door close.
Heero was there, duffle bag at his feet, turning the deadbolts of four seperate locks. Duo watched, amazed, as Heero opened the duffle, pulled out a metal bar, and braced it under the doorknob, further barricading them into the room.
"Uh, Heero, what's the deal with the locks?"
"Of homes broken into, 65% are because the homeowner forgot to lock the door."
Duo rolled his eyes. "I guess we're safe then."
"Yes. We are safe. This is more than just a safehouse, it's a *very* safehouse." Heero began walking towards Duo, the predatory look back in his eyes.
Without really knowing why, Duo began slowly backing away from Heero. "Why no windows?"
"45% of cuts in the home that require stitches come from broken glass."
"Oh, well, good thin--" Duo stopped talking as his back hit the wall. His eyes widened slightly as Heero kept walking towards him, stopping only when their noses were almost touching. He swallowed twice, and licked his suddenly dry lips. "Heero, what's the mission?"
Heero leaned even closer. "The mission?" he whispered, his lips grazing Duo's as he spoke. "The mission is to fuck you raw."
End Part 1
that's it so far. what do you think? (Don't worry! citrus tomorrow!! I promise!)
"There are three types of lies: lies, damned lies, and statistics" - Benjamin Disraeli
(:./hyuy/safe1)
