18-May-2003
Revised: 26-Sep-2004
Note: Written with the "We Almost Missed Out" timeline in mind, but not necessarily tied to it.
The battle had raged for well over ten minutes; the combatants were slightly winded. Evil, mischievous grins and wary, sparkling eyes were the only signs that it would not be a duel to the death.
A sofa cushion flew with precision but its intended target dodged, bumping into the coffee table for a second time. The large plastic cup, half full of soda, toppled; joining its friend on the floor and spilling its contents. The last remaining victim on the table had been felled.
A body followed the cushion shortly and forced the other to the ground, legs getting tangled in the innocent area rug. "Give it, damnit!"
"No!" The heated answer, given between gasps for breath.
Rumbled half-laughs, grunts and curses echoed through the slightly disheveled room. Two men, boys if you considered their behavior, struggled on the floor for possession of an object. Thrashing around, crawling to or from each other in crab-like fashion. Struggling for control.
The one on the bottom threw the other off, evading him at half a crawl to reach the end of the sofa. The area rug kept him from completely making it to his feet.
"It's mine. This is my apartment. Give it back!" Came the growled protest of the man disengaging himself from the now toppled coffee table. His foot slipped on the other edge of the rug and took him down again.
"So?" Came the taunting.
Both men fully regained their feet and attempted to regain their breath. They took fighting stances; crouching just short of their full stature, bodies poised for flight, arms held slightly away from their bodies for balance. One would feign movement to the right but the other answered by moving to his left. They appeared to be at an impasse.
"Give it back and I won't have to hurt you."
"You mean you'll TRY to hurt me if I don't give it back?"
They stared each other down from opposite sides of the sofa. Well, they tried to stare each other down, but it was kind of hard with one of them trying not to laugh and the other taunting him by tossing the object in question from one hand to the other.
"This isn't funny, you broke my coffee table." He couldn't keep the grin completely from his voice.
"I didn't fall on it. If it broke it's your own fault." He feigned left but the other answered it instantly and they both returned to center.
"How come this only ever happens in my apartment? You know, because of you, I've had to replace two kitchen chairs, a rug and now my coffee table." He advanced half a step toward the sofa but the other stepped back.
"I'll pay you back, I always do. And if you didn't start these fights, we wouldn't be having them." He stood a little straighter and shoved the object down the back of his pants then rubbed his hands together. "Ready?"
"I'll rip your damned shorts off."
"You'll TRY." He extended an open hand toward his opponent, palm up, fingers extended. Then with a quick, upward flick of his fingers he taunted his attacker. 'Come get me' the motion dictated.
The only answer was a battle cry as his opponent hurdled the couch, launching a frontal attack. They both went down in a tangle of limbs and wrestled on the hardwood floor. It truly looked like a battle to the death, if it weren't for the laughing and the absence of any injuring blows.
Seven minutes, thirty-five seconds later one man stood victorious, though neither was standing yet. The darker haired man had pinned the other to the floor, one arm twisted between them, head locked in the crook of his elbow, his opponent's nose against the floor. A classic wrestling take- down.
"Surrender!"
"No frickin' way!"
"I've got you. Admit defeat."
"Bullshit!" He struggled but could not shake the other loose.
"Admit you lost!" He jostled his captive slightly. "You lost and I control the remote until the others get here."
"This is my house damnit, I control the remote!"
"You don't control shit right now. And I'm not watching another damned cooking show. I'll let you go if you promise not to go near that channel again."
"You cheated. Hair pulling is against the rules."
"We never made any rules. Now swear. No more cooking shows!"
"Hair pulling is always against the rules." He mumbled, then continued more loudly, "Fine. Whatever. Just let me up."
"No, not 'whatever'. You don't lie and you don't break promises. Promise me no more cooking shows and I'll let you go."
"But Heero, there's a really good one coming on."
"NO. MORE. COOKING SHOWS!"
"Fine. Fine! No more cooking shows. TODAY!"
Heero gave him one last jostle before releasing his captive, who's body dropped the infinitesimal distance to the floor. Heaving a breath the dark haired man slumped to the right, falling on his side and rolling immediately onto his back.
"Shit!" He was instantly reminded of why he'd been battling his friend in the first place. He retrieved the offending object from the back of his pants, regarding it only briefly before tossing it towards the sofa.
"Hope it leaves a mark." Duo grumbled before huffing out a breath. "Damnit, Heero, this place is a mess again and the cleaning lady was just here. You've gotta help me clean this up before the guys get here cause I don't want another tongue lashing from Wu-flay about being irresponsible and immature and all that." Still lying flat on his stomach he rolled his shoulder, the one attached to the arm he'd had pinned behind him. "Damn that smarts, you need to be a little more gentle when you're beating the shit out of me, man!"
Heero reached out, as a peace offering, but the other flinched. "Hey? I was just gonna rub it for you."
Duo gave him a wary look and pulled the tail of his braid close to his neck, hugging it protectively. "Fine go ahead."
"You're so touchy!" He reached over again and rubbed at the sore shoulder. Sitting up, he repositioned his patient to get a better angle for the massage. They were quiet as he worked the sore joint and muscles.
"Ooh-ooh, yeah, right there. Mmmm, a little to the left, more left. Keep going. Left. Left. Smidgen more."
"Any more to the left and I'll be on your other should shoulder."
He threw a wide grin at his friend. "Why yes, thank you. Thought you'd never ask."
Heero thwapped him lightly on the back of the head, "Sit up, idiot." Once Duo was sitting, he obediently moved to work the muscles on the other side.
"Damn you're good! You really should consider changing your line of work. You could make some big bucks with those hands of yours."
"Ah yes," the Japanese boy replied wistfully, "that's what all the girls say."
At that Duo had to turn around and give Heero a playful shove. "Oh my God, you are SO full of yourself!" He shoved him again and then scooted away, getting to his feet.
"Don't start something you can't finish." Heero threatened, giving the American a look that fell somewhere between a glare and a grin.
Duo raised both hands in a sign of surrender. "Truce" he muttered around a laugh and extended a hand to help his friend up. "Come on, help me clean up this mess. The guys'll be here in" he looked at the clock "holy shit, like now. Hurry."
They both set about straightening up the room. Duo returned wayward cushions to the sofa and either straightened out or returned various other things to their rightful places. Meanwhile Heero attended to what had previously been on the coffee table. He picked up the spilt cups and the little rug that had been under the table. It was soaked through with soda and when he lifted it he found a nice little puddle underneath. Taking off his shirt he tossed it on the puddle to let it soak up the extra moisture, while he carried the rest of the stuff to the kitchen.
"Heero! I do have old towels and stuff we could've used to clean that. You're not supposed to use your shirt, doofus. No wonder Carmen's always complaining when she washes the clothes you leave here."
Duo assumed a pose mimicking the housekeeper as Heero exited the kitchen; wagging a finger in the air, he assumed her accent too. "Oh Meester Duo, Meester Heero's clo-oos is never dees derty huwen I cleen at hees howse."
A bark of laughter escaped Heero before he could help it, he raised a hand to cover the ear to ear grin that followed. "Oh shit, you sound just like her! How'd you do that?"
The American waved it off and continued cleaning. "I just listen, she's always talking."
"She hardly ever says anything to me when she's there. Just hello, you need more bathroom cleaner, I'm done now, and see you next time."
"Lucky you! She never shuts up when she's here. Don't get me wrong she's really nice, I like her and all, but. 'Oh Meester Duo jew haf to eat mor, jew are too skeeny. Oh Meester Duo, gwee haf no mor pai-per tahuels. Meester Duo, is jure faboreet color blahck? Oh Meester Duo, jew haf so moch derty clo-oos dees hweek.' I swear to God, one of these days I'm gonna slip and answer her, 'oh jes Carmen, mai faboreet color ees blahck, how deed jew guess' or something equally horrifying." He chuckled to himself, shaking his head.
"Please don't. She might get mad and stop cleaning for us. Hey, by the way did you talk to her?"
The American stood from his task and stared at his friend. "Was I just talking to the plants? Oh that's right, I don't have any plants!"
Heero stood from his attempt at repairing the coffee table and met Duo's expectant look. "Sorry. I meant if you talked to her about cleaning for us when we move into the new apartment."
"Oh yeah. I gave her the address and told her when we were moving. She said to tell 'Meester Heero' to make her a nice little map like he always does and for 'heem' to call her as soon as we get the keys." He waggled his eyebrows at his friend, "I think she likes you, Heero. You know, li~ikes you, likes you."
"Oh please. Aside from being married, she's old enough to be our mother."
"No way!"
"Um, yes way. She's got a son that's at least four years older than us. I met him the first time - "
The buzzer on the intercom rang. They were both momentarily paralysed before Duo sprang into action. He picked up several out of place objects on his way to the intercom, as it buzzed repeatedly.
"I'm here, I'm here. What is it Ed?" Heero relieved Duo of his burdens and scampered around the room returning things to their proper places.
"What took you so long, son? I've got other things to do, you know. Just buzzed to let you know, the Chinese guy's on his way up. Gotta go."
And with that the connection was severed. Both boys turned frantically at the announcement. Wufei was on his way up. "Shit! We gotta clean up this mess. OK, uh, you get your shirt and the rug from the kitchen. Go soak 'em in the bathtub or something. And put on some clothes for God's sake. I'll clean up the puddle here and- and-"
"Throw the rest of it in the closet, we'll put it away when he leaves."
The door bell rang and they both jumped a foot in the air. Silently they darted around, Duo tossing whatever was closest to him in Heero's direction. A finger to his lips, he ran across the room and tossed something through the bedroom door, motioning Heero to follow suit. He yelled "Coming!" before running back to the kitchen to retrieve the rug.
Heero finished tossing the random out of place things into the bedroom and shut the door, then returned to grab his shirt and mop up as much soda as he could in the process. Duo appeared at his side before too long, paper towels in hand, pushing the rug into the Japanese boy's hands and shooing him away. 'Bathroom' he mouthed and stood, straightening his clothes and walking calmly to the front door. Once Heero was out of sight he opened the door with a flourish.
To find the Fortune House delivery guy with a huge cardboard box, full of food containers. "You havin' a party today, dude? This's more food than you usually order in a month."
He heaved a sigh of relief. "Come on in Harry. Just put it in the kitchen. I'll get my wallet."
"No sweat, dude."
Duo grabbed his wallet from off his dresser and went to the bathroom door. Knocking only once before opening the door, he stuck his head inside. "Hey, coast is clear, man. It was just the Chinese food guy."
"Oh good, I forgot to grab a shirt." Heero stood from the side of the tub and closed the shower curtain to hide the things that were soaking. "Thank God it wasn't Wufei." They both exited the bathroom.
"Right? I can just hear him, 'Maxwell! You are a bad influence on Yuy. And your behavior leaves much to be desired'." They were both laughing at the image of their Chinese friend as they stepped through the doorway leading back into the living room. And stopped dead in their tracks.
"And what undesirable behavior have you been engaging in today? Maxwell, Yuy." Standing in the doorway was none other than Chang Wufei.
One word rang through the apartment. In stereo.
"Shit!"
Owari
(:./bm/snapshots2)
