14-Oct-2000
Gomen to everyone since I'm pretty sure this monster is gonna post twice due to the vagrancies of the servers trying to talk to each other from Nan Desu Kan in Colorado and my own account in midwestern Illinois. *gryn* Gomen all... but I figured y'all would want me to try and get this out to y'all...
Title: Inferno's Touch ~ Chapter 11
Author: Ravynfyre
Archive: GW Addiction, Darkflame
Category: Humor, little angst
Pairings: ?
Standard Disclaimer: All parts of Gundam Wing are Not Mine. It's all Theirs. *sigh* Too bad, but otherwise, I guess I'd never get anything done *happy hentai thought*. Anyway, not makin' any money offa this so dun sue me. You'd only get some college debt, a few dogs, and
a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers anyway. Ya know. blood. Turnip. Do the math.
Rating: PG-13
Warning: None. but uh. heh. I won't be responsible if anyone swipes the ideas portrayed here and uses them on unsuspecting friends.
Spoiler: None
Notes: This chapter is dedicated to Kateri Marie, for her tireless efforts in keeping me humble, the occasional application of a stout Clue by Four to the side of my head, and half the ideas contained herein. Kat? You rock. Nuff said.
Feedback: Yes, please. All comments welcome (although flames may be fed to my dogs, who, since they have notoriously gassy intestinal tracts, will be spending the night with the flamer afterwards)
Awareness slowly oozed back into his fuzzy mind. The length of time it was taking for said awareness to return was alarming to the normally active and aware man. Prussian blue eyes blinked sleepily awake, watering painfully as if he'd just been in a fire.
With the slow creep of wakefulness, memory also seeped into being; he HAD just been through a fire. An embarrassed flush crept up his cheeks as he remembered being violently ill at Duo's feet. And that brief moment between vomiting and the blessed oblivion that had overtaken him.
He could only pray that either Duo hadn't actually heard what he'd said, or wouldn't be curious enough to ask about it.
And there was about as much chance of that happening as there was of Heero getting laid in the next two hours: slim, none, and not only improbable, but inconceivable.
A quiet sort of rage stole over the Japanese man. Partly at himself for having been so weak in the first place. He was stronger than that. He HAD to be. There was no other option he would allow himself. Partly at Duo for having been the unfortunate witness to Heero's breakdown.
Heero gritted his teeth, grinding his frustrations out through his clenched jaw. It was easier and more satisfying to be angry at the braided baka than himself. After all, Duo had already proved to be an annoying pain in the ass. Why else would they both have been in this lousy hospital to begin with?
He finally opened his eyes fully, turning his head a little to glance over at his roommate's bed. His roommate's empty bed. Although the blankets were thrown back messily, in typical Duo fashion, and a couple of comic books lay spread atop the disheveled sheets.
Heero sat up, wincing as a lance of pain stabbed through his abused brain momentarily. Once the pain subsided, he swung his legs out of bed and sat, debating giving in to his urge to be up and around. It was seeing Duo's bed, sitting so empty and serene that decided him. That and the nagging memory of the braided man having seen Heero collapse. Of course, the idea that occurred to him as his eyes alit on the full pitcher of water, the box of latex gloves, and the thumbtacks in the bulletin board across the room didn't hurt either.
He hopped gingerly to his feet and padded to the door. Checking both ways to make sure the coast was clear, and would hopefully remain so for the next few minutes, he gave in to the baser urges tickling his brain. Besides, if he could engage the braided driver's mischievous nature, it might curb his insatiable curiosity long enough for him to forget Heero having uttered those incriminating words before he'd passed out.
Slim hope, but hope nonetheless.
It felt good to stretch his legs again. His last walk had been rather disastrously aborted when the fire alarms had started blaring and he'd rushed off to find the fire, only to discover that Heero seemed to have it well under control.
At least until afterwards when his partner had collapsed in the hall and started spewing everything his stomach had even thought it had ingested in the last few days. And then those eyes. Those haunted, tortured, agonized Prussian blue eyes whose mere memory even now sent shivers up Duo's spine. If he never saw that expression on Heero's face again, it would be too soon.
He'd have to find out what was up with that as soon as he could talk again. Heero had some serious demons locked up inside.
With a cheerful wave at the nurse down the hall, Duo ducked back into his room. He paused, blinking in surprise as he realized that the room was empty now. Heero must have woken up and gone for his own walk. Well, that at least meant that his partner was feeling better than last night.
Duo flopped down on his bed, dropping his dry erase board on the table beside it, and collapsing back against his pillow to watch some morning TV.
He froze as his pillow seemed to fold in on itself, and a wave of something very very cold, and very wet, washed over his head, shoulders and back. He lay there, blinking in shock and surprise, for what seemed like an eternity, but since the ice water hadn't had a chance to completely soak into his sheets and bed when he finally reacted, had probably only been a few seconds.
He bit back his banshee wail and leapt from his bed, spinning around to stare at the sodden mess dripping from his now flat pillowcase with a wide-eyed and poleaxed gaze. Ignoring the way the frigid water crept down his spine, Duo spun around, casting his suspicious, and angry, glare throughout the room. Finding it empty, he could come to only one conclusion.
Heero.
Well, if that's the way he wanted to play their hospital stay, two could dance this particular tango.
Taking up the proverbial gauntlet with a malicious grin, Duo dashed off in search of the necessary components for his first masterpiece.
"Mr. Yuy, you should be resting," a thin masculine voice admonished him from behind.
Heero paused, turning to glance back at his doctor who had set down the charts he'd been looking at to approach the Japanese man.
"Hn. When can I go home?"
The doctor smiled cheerfully in answer.
"That's going to get to be a running gag with you, won't it Mr. Yuy? I'm afraid you will be finishing out your week with us. After you collapsed on us last night, I had you sent down for another battery of CT scans. While we didn't find anything abnormal in the tests, I'm still a little concerned with the collapse. I'd like to keep you for the rest of the week, and the fire department agrees."
"I could just walk out of here now, AMA," Heero commented dryly.
"Yes. Yes you could. However, I would recommend that you take that up with your Battalion Chief first. I have the feeling that checking yourself out AMA could cost you your job, Mr. Yuy."
Heero scowled in defeat.
"I'll make you a deal, Mr. Yuy. You promise me to stay until we discharge you, and I'll promise to continue to ignore the fact that you are out of bed and wandering around. How does that sound?"
The look Heero cast at the doctor was comical, both for its wryness, and for its severity. Clearly, the Japanese firefighter doubted the doctor's ability to do anything about said situation, anyway. Privately, the doctor thought that Heero was probably right.
With a nervous chuckle, he bid Heero a good morning, and made his escape.
As Heero approached the doorway to the room he shared with Duo, he stifled a groan. From the spaghetti jumble of wires, and the game console Heero could see from the open doorway, he could only guess that some madman had given Duo access to video games.
With a resigned sigh, Heero trudged into the room.
Duo sat in his bed, the head end elevated, and reclining nonchalantly against his pillow. He had a Playstation controller clutched in his hands and was busy bouncing merrily, and grinning at the images flashing across their TV. Heero spared a glance to see a giant robot machine busily shooting and looting everything in sight, including what appeared to be giant white ants that shot energy flashes from their heads.
Duo noted Heero's scrutiny and paused the game to snatch up his dry-erase board.
Armored Core - giant fighting robots! Wouldn't it be cool??? Duo hastily scrawled.
"Hn."
Heero slid over to his precisely made bed and turned back a corner to climb back in. Duo didn't even look damp. Nor did he look suspicious. The nursing staff must have remade both of their beds before the braided baka had gotten back to find Heero's. `gift'. He'd have to try again later if Duo left.
It was only by sheer force of will that he bit back his startled curse as he slipped between the sheets and blanket. His legs and feet drew up short, hitting a barrier set up halfway down his bed. Flipping up the blanket, Heero peered down at the offending obstacle, growling almost inaudibly as he realized what had happened.
Someone had short-sheeted his bed.
Unerringly, his gaze darted over to the braided baka who was still focused with single-minded determination on the TV screen. Maybe his `gift' had been received.
Heero hopped back out of bed, not batting an eyelash as he stripped it down and remade it with military precision. Duo, for his part, affected not to notice, concentrating instead, by all appearances, on his video game.
By the time Heero was satisfied with the state of his bed, and had surreptitiously checked both the bed itself, and all the bedding, he'd gotten thirsty. He reached over and grabbed the pitcher from Duo's nightstand, only to discover that it was empty. Duo glanced over at him and mouthed an apology, shrugging as he pointed to his throat. Shaking his head, Heero slipped over to their bathroom, intending to fill it back up at their sink.
He snatched his hand back from the doorknob as soon as his hand closed around it, staring at his fingers with disgusted fascination. A snicker from behind him drew his attention away from the gooey mess coating his fingertips. He spun and stabbed a glare at Duo who was even now trying to stifle his laugh in the back of his hand.
"I'm gonna kill you, Duo," Heero growled, hitting the door latch with his elbow and kicking open the bathroom door.
Duo flipped up his message board, apparently having prepared it ahead of time.
Love you too, superstar
With a growl, Heero vanished into the bathroom to wash the disgusting mix of KY, liquid soap, and hand lotion off of his fingers. At least, he hoped that's what that mess had been.
He even remembered to fill the pitcher before he exited the bathroom to wipe down the handle. He paused as he started to return to bed, and vanished back in the bathroom for a moment, returning with a fresh, still wrapped cup, rather than trusting the integrity of the one on his night stand. He tossed a triumphant smirk at Duo's exaggerated pout before he settled back on his bed and unwrapped the fresh cup.
Settling back on the bed, he poured himself a cup of water and slid under his blanket once more.
And once again had to bite back the startled curse of rage that threatened to over take him.
As he set the cup aside and stripped his bedding down again to remake it, he had to admit a grudging sort of perverse respect for the braided driver. Duo must possess an amazing amount of talent to have short-sheeted the bed again in the small amount of time Heero had been in the bathroom.
Across the room, from his own bed, Duo's eyes streamed tears of mirth as he watched the aggrieved Japanese man fix his bed once again. Duo spared a glance at the table where the water-soluble glue he'd applied to hold the bottom of the "fresh" cup intact, started giving way.
Heero turned back to the table, picking up the cup with a violent jerk of his hand and lifting it to take a sip.
Unfortunately, the bottom of the cup stayed behind, and the contents splashed all over the table and floor.
Heero paused, empty cup frozen at his lips, and a perplexed, surprised expression playing across his face.
Duo seized the opportunity to escape, throwing off his blankets and dashing towards the door before his partner could regain his composure.
With his robe and gown flapping in the breeze created by his passage, Duo listened to Heero's enraged growl bursting from the room far behind him, and reflected that this would be a long, if entertaining, week.
He found himself pitying the hospital staff. A lot.
Wufei stepped out of the elevator, shifting the two sacks he was clutching to allow the two nurses waiting impatiently at the doors to dive past him. One of them paused, turning to spear him with an unreadable look. She took in his fire department uniform and his armload of sacks and then shook her head.
"Good luck. You might want to throw some scrubs on before you hit ground zero," she called to him as the doors shut.
He stood there, staring perplexedly for a few moments before he turned on his heel and headed down the hall.
He halted for a moment as he entered the hallway that housed Heero and Duo's room, confused by the sounds of what appeared to be a fierce struggle coming from near the end of the hall. Near the end of the hall by Heero and Duo's room. Right by Heero and Duo's room, in fact.
A muffled Japanese curse drifted from their open doorway, and was followed by a particularly loud THUMP. A small cloud of something suspiciously like thin white smoke erupted from the open doorway, spilling Duo ingloriously out onto the hard linoleum on his rump. He scrambled back to his feet, tossing a small plastic canister back through the door before he turned on his heel and started pelting down the hall for dear life. He spotted Wufei standing a few doors down, and with what looked like an expression of blissful relief, dove for cover behind the Chinese man.
"Maxwell! Get back here!" Heero choked out harshly.
Duo cowered playfully behind Wufei as Heero tumbled out the door, covered from head to toe with talcum powder, while clutching a pair of heavy scissors in one hand, and a crumpled Polaroid picture in the other. There was a murderous look of rage in his blue eyes that not even the humorously thick coating of powder could dispel.
"K'so. What did you do this time, Maxwell?" Wufei muttered as he strode forward to placate Heero.
"Get out of my way, Wufei," Heero growled, brandishing the shears in the direction of Duo's braid.
"What's going on, Yuy?" Wufei demanded, maintaining his position between the foolhardy American and the enraged Japanese.
"This!" Heero hissed, thrusting the Polaroid into Wufei's face angrily as he attempted to dodge around and grab Duo.
Wufei quickly sidestepped, blocking Heero's path as he took the photo and peered at it.
His jaw dropped in shock.
"You really DO have a death wish, don't you, Maxwell?" Wufei sighed after a moment, shaking his head at the picture of Heero's formerly pristine white Kawasaki Ninja motorcycle.
Formerly.
Now, it was the most horrid shade of fluorescent puce, yes, puce, that Wufei had ever seen. It sat forlornly on a tarp in what appeared to be a parking garage, surrounded by buckets and used paintbrushes, splashes of the hideous pinkish color splattered all over the tarp, and streaked badly down the side of the motorcycle.
Not only was it painted a repulsive color now, but it had been horribly painted that repulsive color. Wufei shuddered.
Having been a victim of this particular joke, Wufei knew what the punchline was. With a sigh, he reached out and deftly disarmed Heero while keeping the two separated.
"Come on. Let's go, Yuy. Back to the room," he said, steering the Japanese man back into his hastily abandoned room.
"I'm gonna kill him, Wufei. No one touches Wing. Let me kill him, Wufei," Heero replied in a deadly calm voice.
"I can't let you do that, Heero. Now sit down, calm down, relax." Wufei said soothingly, handing Heero a damp towel to wipe all the powder off with.
Meanwhile Duo had slunk into the room, sneaking past the two Asian men until he had his dry-erase board once more clutched securely in his hands. Snickering, he scribbled something down on it, and then propped it on his bed, and fled the room once more.
Wufei watched the braided man scamper out with a resigned sigh.
"I brought you lunch," Wufei said, fishing cartons out of the sacks he still held as Heero stalked over and snatched up Duo's board.
"DUO! Omae o korosu!"
Wufei walked over, taking the board out of Heero's white- knuckled fingers and replacing it with a pair of chopsticks.
"Eat," he ordered, nodding towards Heero's table where steaming cartons awaited him.
Heero stood his ground for a long moment; his jaw clenched, and hands balled into fists as he stared at Duo's board. Wufei spared it a glance.
Hey. I hear Earl Schieb's got a special going on right now. 1- 800-JOKES-ON-YOU!
"I'm gonna kill him."
"It's water based paint," Wufei replied.
Heero's gaze shot over to meet Wufei's even stare.
"But." he said, pointing to the oil-based house paint cans sitting in the foreground of the Polaroid shot.
"Staged. Not even Maxwell is that demented. Or suicidal," Wufei added as an afterthought.
Heero blinked. He turned thoughtful as he padded over to his bed.
"He did it to me a year ago. It washes off. I promise."
"Hn. Baka," Heero muttered, nodding as he set his chopsticks beside the steaming cartons on his small table.
Carefully scooting his table out of the way, he methodically stripped off his bedding and set about remaking it once more. Wufei peered over his shoulder curiously as Heero pulled off the top blanket.
"Ah. Short-sheeted. Why not just leave it. You know he'll just do it again later," Wufei questioned curiously.
"Aa. But this gives him something to do. If he's busy short- sheeting my bed, he can't be setting off another shaving-cream bomb in my closet."
"Another?"
"Hn."
Wufei stifled a small chuckle on the back of his hand at the resigned tone of Heero's grunt.
"I'll. see about getting you hazard pay for this week. Or at least a bonus of some sort," Wufei deadpanned when Heero had gotten his bed remade.
"Hn."
Wufei shook his head and consulted his watch.
"I have to go. I'm expected back soon. I. uh. trust that you can make sure Maxwell gets his malt?" Wufei asked innocently, nodding towards the last sack sitting on Duo's little table.
Heero turned and met his gaze unflinchingly.
"Hn."
Wufei sighed, turning back at the door to spear Heero with a warning look.
"Don't kill him."
Heero's eyes narrowed dangerously, a small, wicked smirk playing at the corner of his mouth as he nodded.
"Hn."
"Practical joke war?" Zechs asked his lover incredulously as they strode through the doors to the hospital.
"Yes. When last I left them this afternoon, Duo was ahead. I'm fairly sure Heero's evened the score by now."
"Am I the only one who thinks that sounds as dangerous as it does?" Zechs asked, shaking his head at Wufei's quiet acceptance.
"Actually, no. I'd be willing to bet that you could get the hospital staff on your side, too."
"They'll never treat another fireman again, after this, you realize," Zechs said as the two men entered the elevator.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that. After all, they'll be so overjoyed when we finally take those two home, that the entire staff will be our willing slaves," Wufei replied archly.
"Point."
The elevator doors dinged and whooshed open. Surprisingly, there were no nurses waiting anxiously for escape on the other side this time. In fact, as Wufei and Zechs exited the elevator with their burdens of Japanese take-out and ice cream, the nurses waved cheerfully at them from the nurse's station.
"I don't know what it was that you did or said this afternoon, Mr. Chang, but thank you. It's been quiet all day since you left," a nurse called happily as the two bewildered firefighters crept down the hall to "ground zero."
"What did you say?" Zechs whispered out of the corner of his mouth as he returned the cheerful wave with a smile of his own.
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Well, I did tell Yuy not to kill Maxwell."
Both men stopped dead in their tracks and stared at each other.
"He wouldn't disobey a direct order, would he?" Wufei asked quietly.
"We'd better go see."
They quickened their pace and sailed through the door to Heero and Duo's incredibly quiet room with a growing sense of dread.
From his comfortable repose in his own bed, Heero glanced up at the two men with a satisfied look.
Duo, however, was nowhere to be seen.
Even his bed was neatly made, and his personal effects were missing.
Wufei's gaze bounced from Duo's empty bed, to Heero and back again several times, each slightly more horrified than the last.
Heero carefully closed the book he'd been reading and set it on the table beside his bed. Then he met the stunned gazes of his Captain and Wufei evenly.
"You didn't." Zechs murmured, likewise peering around for a clue to the braided driver's whereabouts.
"I didn't what?" Heero asked calmly, "Kill him? No. No, he's alive."
Zechs blinked, confused by the self-satisfied, almost. kittenish look on Heero's face. Duo, he could see acting. kittenish. But Heero? Seeing that expression on Heero's face frankly terrified him.
A strangled groan from the bathroom startled Zechs and Wufei out of their contemplation. As one, they peered at the door, and then back at Heero in query.
Heero smiled. It was an evil, wicked, frightening smirk of a grin, but it was a grin nonetheless. Wufei felt a tingle, like a premonition of doom, race up his spine.
"Intestinal difficulties," Heero answered with dangerous calm, "Lunch must not have agreed with him."
Wufei blinked, holding up the sacks that he was carrying now, having come from the same place as the ones he'd brought in for lunch. Then he turned back to Heero and met the Japanese man's gaze evenly, one eyebrow cocked up in inquiry.
Heero shrugged, stifling another tiny smirk.
"Oh, Duo," Heero called cheerfully, which was in and of itself a frightening sound to behold, "Wufei and Zechs brought us dinner. How's the stomach?"
Silence greeted the question. After a moment, a slip of paper shot out from under the door, covered in Duo's hasty scribble.
Zechs stepped over and picked it up, sighing as he read it to the other two, "I'm gonna get you for this."
Heero's eyes narrowed contemplatively as another of those sadistic little smirks lit up his face.
"Hn. We'll see."
Zechs turned to his lover with a patently resigned expression.
"And the staff here has to live through another five days of this?" he asked quietly.
"Like I said. Willing slaves," Wufei agreed pleasantly.
While Heero was sorting his dinner out of the sacks Wufei had handed him, the bathroom door finally opened. A very pale, very exhausted, very ill looking Duo trudged out, shuffling to his neat bed. The dry erase board clattered to the table dully as Duo flung back the blankets, crawled into bed, and buried himself under the bedding, obviously intending on achieving unconsciousness.
"Aren't you hungry, Duo? Wufei brought you another malt," Heero asked with saccharine sincerity.
Duo's hand shot out of the huddled lump of bedding, flashing Heero a one-fingered salute.
"Tsk. You should eat. You'll only make yourself sicker if you starve yourself like this," Heero replied.
Duo's hand fished blindly along his table, finally encountering an empty cup, which he flung, unerringly at Heero.
Heero picked the hapless cup up, setting it carefully on his own table, before snapping apart his chopsticks and digging into his own dinner.
"If you insist, Duo," he said.
Duo resumed his one-fingered salute before the hand was withdrawn back into his cocoon. The braided man settled into a tight little ball, every inch of his body, and braid, carefully concealed within his shelter of bedding.
Well, Zechs definitely had to award the point on that last match to Heero. A prank that went off so well that the Braided Wonder couldn't instantly retaliate? Now THAT took skill.
Of course, revenge, as Duo often said, was a dish best served cold.
Zechs wondered if Heero truly comprehended exactly how big the tiger who's tail he had just yanked, really was.
Shaking their heads at the banter between the two, and dreading its eventual climax, Zechs and Wufei bid the injured firefighters a good evening and made good on their escape while the getting, as they say, was still good.
"It was just a fluke, wasn't it?" a wary female voice questioned them as they walked past the nurses' station.
Zechs turned, glancing back at the two women standing there.
"I can tell by the look on your face that tomorrow might be a good day to call in sick," one of the nurses said.
Zechs and Wufei both nodded solemnly.
"Hm. Maybe we can talk the doctor into sedating them both for the rest of the week," she replied, turning to address her companion speculatively.
"That might be a very good idea, ladies," Zechs said, "It's bound to get."
"Scary," the nurse finished for him with a small smile, "Yes. I see that. Thanks for the warning," she finished with a wave of farewell.
Zechs and Wufei returned her wave and then headed for the elevator. Not surprisingly, visitations to this particular floor had slackened off considerably over the last 24 hours, so they had the elevator to themselves as they rode to the lobby.
"I hope those two can survive this courtship," Zechs murmured to his partner.
Wufei closed his eyes, visions of screaming six-year-olds running helter skelter through his brain for some odd reason.
"Me too," he agreed as the doors dinged and whooshed open at the lobby, "Me too."
~TBC~
RavynFyre
Please send comments to: ravynfyre@hotmail.com