14-Dec-2000
Title: Inferno's Touch ~ Chapter 14
Author: Ravynfyre
Archive: GW Addiction, Darkflame
Category: Humor, hints of sap
Pairings: none in this chapter... although 3+4 and 5+6 for the series so far
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 at worst
Warning: Hints of male/male attraction. If it squicks you, leave now. Not
responsible if you dun like yaoi and you read this anyway.
Spoiler: None
Notes: This chapter dedicated to two individuals... Kitsune, you know what
part is for you. Hope I worked it in good. *gryn* *blatantly swiping quote
from Katsu* "Can't sleep. The con will eat me."
Second dedication... This one's for you, sis. You know who you are. Be safe,
damnit. Be safe and come back to me.
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)
"That's the last form, Mr. Maxwell. After you sign that, you'll be free as a bird," Dr. Sorenson said pleasantly as he handed Duo the last piece of paperwork.
The braided driver crowed excitedly as he completed his signature with a flourish. Heero shook his head and sighed as he watched his partner's antics.
"As if they need another excuse to refuse us treatment next time you try and get us killed," he muttered.
"You're just still pissed off about that short-sheeting thing," Duo retorted, sticking his tongue out childishly as he handed the form back to the doctor.
"I'm not even going to ask," the doctor said, eyeing them both with a mixture of relief and amusement, "Now remember what I said about getting hurt again. I hear Mercy got their petition signed and passed by the board of directors, so you may want to send them something nice for Christmas to get back into their good graces."
"Is there a gift in the world expensive enough and tasteful enough for these two to bribe their way into a hospital again?" Zechs' voice piped up from behind the doctor.
Heero glanced up and met his Captain's amused gaze for a moment before pointing an offending finger at Duo.
"To take him? Doubt it."
"Speak for yourself Yuy. I wasn't the one with the head injury, so I'm pretty sure I'm correct in remembering that you were right there beside me for a week, hanging out on a glorified table in a dress with no ass. And that was a petition against the BOTH of us. I saw it."
"How did I miss seeing Maxwell in drag?" Wufei asked, popping up beside Zechs with a curious smirk.
"It could probably be arranged again," Zechs replied, "Oh wait. I forget. Jakes has buckets. Not dresses. Even the assless variety."
"Yeah. Laugh it up, everyone. Just you wait. Next chili day, you'd better bring your Tums and your Preparation H. I'm gonna make that batch so hot that none of ya will be able to sit for a week. Then you'll all be wishing for a dress with no ass," Duo retorted, crossing his arms over his chest with a mock-scowl.
"You couldn't make it that hot," Heero replied evenly.
Everyone turned to face the Japanese man with faint looks of surprise.
"That almost sounded like a challenge, Yuy," Duo said, his nostrils flaring like a hound scenting the coon gone to tree in the woods.
"Make of it what you will."
An evil smile lit upon the braided man's features, transforming his normally slightly demented cherubic expression to one of demonic glee. Zechs could smell the doom in the air.
"You know, 24 hours is an awful long time to spend with a pissed off Captain," Wufei advised them both dryly.
Duo threw up his hands in appeal.
"I'll make it a sidecar.[1] I won't ruin the whole batch for you. That way I can just torture Heero."
"You don't even know the meaning of the word," Heero replied, his voice hovering between a laugh and a snarl, "We're free to go?" he queried the doctor. At Dr. Sorenson's nod, Heero pushed past the group and stalked off.
"PMS much, Yuy?" Duo muttered, trailing in his partner's wake.
"Thank you, Doctor," Zechs said, accepting the paperwork for the department before he and Wufei strolled off after the other two Engine 8 fire fighters.
"Yo, Heero. Need a ride home?" Duo called, catching up with his partner and falling into step beside him.
"I was going to walk," Heero answered with a shrug.
"Man, that's like all the way across town! Quatre brought my car out yesterday. Why doncha let me give you a lift?"
Heero's stride hesitated for a moment as he glanced at Duo from the corner of his eyes.
"What? You trust me in a firetruck, otherwise known as a 20 ton tool box with questionable road response and enough inertia to trample an elephant, who's only redeeming feature is a set of lights and sirens to warn the world to get out of our way because we can't get out of theirs. yet you won't trust me in the finest engineered piece of high-performance American steel, with better handling than a senior on a prom date and more horsepower than the whole state of Kentucky?" Duo asked incredulously, his wide-eyed expression all wounded innocence.
"What the hell. I can only die once."
"That's the spirit!" Duo crowed, clapping Heero on the back before skipping ahead of him to literally dance out the door to the parking lot.
Out of reflex, Heero reached behind him to check his back, and was unsurprised when his groping fingers encountered a piece of paper taped between his shoulderblades. Although, he did find himself wondering when Duo had managed to draw up this "Why are all the sheep afraid of me?" sign.
"What the hell did I just agree to?" he muttered, following much more sedately behind the cavorting driver to the parking lot.
"I believe the term is commonly called 'suicide'," Wufei said from a few feet away as he and Zechs slipped out the doors towards their own vehicle.
"Good luck," Zechs agreed fatalistically.
"Is his pension vested?[2]" Heero asked before the pair could get out of earshot.
"No. Next year," Zechs replied.
Before Heero could nod in relief, Wufei tossed him a quick rejoinder.
"But remember, he also doesn't have any family, so there'd be no one for him to leave it to, even if he was vested."
"K'so."
"Come on, Yuy! Live fast, die young, leave a cute corpse!" Duo called from beside his Camaro.
"See you in a couple of days, if you survive this," Zechs said, smirking.
Heero deigned not to answer as he strolled over to where Duo danced impatiently beside his cherished muscle car. Satisfied that Heero was finally on his way over, Duo turned his attention to inspecting every inch of his beloved racy black car. Heero watched, almost amused, as the braided man meticulously checked every inch of the glossy black machine, from bumper to bumper, before dropping a loving kiss atop the roof. Then he buffed the lip marks off the wax job with the cuff of his shirt.
"And how do you spell 'obsessed'? Oh yes, 'C-A-M-A-R-O'," Heero remarked as he approached.
Duo glanced at him sharply, his eyebrows vanishing into his bangs as he peered at Heero sardonically.
"Pot? Kettle? Black?"
Heero's eyes narrowed dangerously as he leaned up against the Camaro.
"I could get myself a bucket of pink paint too," he warned darkly.
"Don't even think about it, Yuy. Deathscythe gets painted, and I'll blow that crappy ass bike of your up. Besides, Wufei already told me he spoiled the joke."
"Why doesn't the thought of you with explosives frighten me? Oh yes, probably because you'd blow your head off trying," Heero scoffed.
Duo grinned evilly from across the roof of the car as he unlocked his door.
"Don't be too sure about that, man. I have talents I haven't even hinted at yet," the braided driver said with a wink as he dropped into the seat and leaned over to unlock the other door.
"If you even knew the difference between Amfo and C-4, I'd let you drag me out drinking every night off for a month," Heero muttered as he popped open the door and slipped into the car.
"I'll remember you said that," Duo answered wickedly.
Something about the look in his partner's eyes sent a chill up Heero's spine. Maybe that hadn't been such a smart thing to say.
His thoughts trailed off as the car roared to life with a well-tuned rumble. Duo grinned again, a cackle somewhere between true laughter, and maniacal glee sang a counterpoint to the deep purr of the engine, and Duo's eyes sparkled in a fascinating way that Heero hadn't seen for the last week. He frowned as he caught himself staring at the braided man as Duo fiddled with the buttons and knobs of his stereo. Why did seeing Duo honestly happy have to be so distracting?
Duo finished fiddling with the various knobs and buttons of his stereo, cueing up a CD from the changer that was mounted in the trunk. With another sinister chuckle, he slipped the car into gear and backed out of the space as the opening strains of Metallica's "I Disappear" blared from the array of speakers. Heero clicked his seatbelt on as Duo laid down a strip of rubber peeling out of the lot on his way to the interstate to cross town.
Heero flipped over, tossing a morose glare at the clock across the room. The crimson numbers stared unflinchingly back at him, daring him to dispute them. Only five minutes had passed since the last time he glanced over, but that had been half an hour ago, right? He flipped back over and grabbed the phone, dialing up Time and Temperature to check how far off his own clock was.
As the too-moderate electronic female voice drifted over the connection to him, a scowl etched itself onto his face. For the sixth time in half an hour, Time and Temperature had corroborated the infernal timepiece. The phone dropped dully back into its cradle, the clatter of plastic on plastic loud in the abnormally quiet apartment.
Ten thirty P.M. How could it be only ten-thirty? He'd been trying to sleep now for half an hour and was no closer to unconsciousness now than when he'd started at ten. Further from it, in fact. The silence of the apartment was crashing in his ears, driving him to madness and distraction. He'd never had this kind of trouble falling asleep before, except when Duo had attempted to keep him up with his idle chatter in the hospital. Even then, however, Heero had managed to tune out the lively drone of the braided man's voice.
He didn't understand it. After Duo had dropped him off at home that afternoon, Heero had gone straight to the gym. He'd spent all afternoon, and most of early evening, undoing the damages of a week of enforced idleness. He'd gone to all the trouble to wear himself out more than usual, only to be rewarded with insomnia.
For what seemed like the hundredth time since he'd tumbled into bed, his gaze drifted towards his bedroom door, his senses extended to catch even the faintest disturbance at his front door. Any moment now, Duo would arrive, his knuckles sounding against the hollow core fiberglass with a sharp staccato rap. His annoyingly cheerful voice would demand Heero's attendance to yet another soon-to-be-disastrous bar fiasco. With a bounce in his step and a grin on his face, he would drag Heero unwillingly off for a night of inebriation and celebration, happy simply to be out of the hospital.
The silence roared in his ears. The hallway outside Heero's apartment remained still and vacant.
Ten thirty-one.
Heero growled and threw off the thin blanket covering him as he flung himself from bed. Running one tense hand through his bedraggled bangs, he stalked into his living room, glancing around him for some sort of center, a sense of balance. Something to throw off the rising sense of wrongness in his life. When had the world become so quiet? Even the building's air handling system seemed to be muffled and muted. When had his comfortable little bolthole of an apartment become a cage to entrap him? Why did the walls seem so close and tight, yet so open and empty? It was like standing in the center of an abandoned plane hanger, and being wrapped tight as a mummy, all at once.
At ten thirty-three, he realized he was pacing. Living room, kitchen, hall, bedroom, turn. Hall, kitchen, living room, turn. Repeat. Even as he became aware of it, he couldn't seem to stop himself from continuing on his tiny little migration. For a change, he detoured into the bathroom to glance at himself in the medicine cabinet mirror. As the light flipped on, a startled Japanese man confronted him. It took his racing mind a moment to realize that the Asian interloper with the deer-like gaze was himself. His tongue darted out, moistening his upper lip as he blinked hazily at his reflection. With a shake of his head, he retreated back to his bedroom.
Ten thirty-four.
Swift footsteps brought him to his refrigerator, which he yanked open in search of a beer to calm his nerves. Four slices of individually wrapped processed cheese food, a tube of wasabi, and a half-gallon of spoiled milk stared back at him mockingly. One hand once again flipped unconsciously through his mussed bangs as he blinked at the near empty fridge. Now what?
The door swung shut with a muffled slap, the kitchen once again plunging into darkness. Heero slipped back into his bedroom and dropped onto the bed, his arms dangling between his knees as he tried to ignore his raging unease.
Still ten thirty-four.
Heero surged to his feet once more and stomped to his closet to dig out a fresh T-shirt and jeans. Once again fully clothed, he snagged his leather jacket and the keys to Wing on his way out the door.
By ten thirty-six, man and machine zipped out of the mouth of the apartment building's parking garage with a squeal of tortured rubber and the keening whine of a high performance engine pushed to its max. Heero threw himself into the night, willing the restlessness away as he bent low over the motorcycle. The darkness flowed around him like a silken river, parting before him and closing after him in a slipstream of shadows. He spared half his concentration to wonder at the tangibility of the evening, its near physical presence as he flew down the paved streets randomly.
The night had given birth to a phantasmal child, and its name was. what was its name? What label could he give to this sudden discontent? What label could he bestow upon his dissatisfaction?
He felt the motorcycle respond to his sudden stiffening as a word floated into his slightly preoccupied brain. With a growl, he focused his attention wholly on the road once more, shoving his thoughts away as he violently gunned the accelerator. The engine screamed and the back tire kicked slightly sideways as the throttle obligingly opened up. Instinctively shifting his weight to keep the machine fully balanced below him, Heero flattened himself against the gas tank and fled his thoughts. The pre-midnight gloom ripped the unwilling word from his lips, shredding it upon the wind of his own passage. The faintest whisper of sound, the barest wisp of breath from his throat, vanished into the roar of his flight, but the echoes clattered in his brain, crashing through the hollows of his thoughts.
Emptiness.
And for the first time in his life, even the latest in a long string of self-appointed missions couldn't offer him cold comfort against the void.
It was the stars that finally called him back. Their soft twinkling illuminated a path back to his own awareness as he sat astride Wing and peered out over the city. Actually, he mused to himself, it was more likely their tenacity that reawoke him. That such tiny pinpricks, like a scattering of embers, could find the strength to punch through the artificial glare of the deep city and gently shimmer against the curtained backdrop of the night sky, shamed him. Their light both warmed and chilled him at the same time. Something about the intangible proof of their existence comforted him. Even when a blanket of clouds hid them from him, he could count on their presence within the vacuum of space, demanding nothing, expecting nothing, asking nothing. They existed purely to exist.
If something so powerful as a star could find meaning in existing for no other reason than to exist, how could he not? Especially when he had a purpose. He had a mission. Such tiny sparks against the curtain of night had the power to make him feel so tiny and insignificant.
Strangely, that comforted him, as well. Just another mote in a sea of embers. He felt the pressure of needing purpose lifted from him as he peered up into the shimmering night.
Turning Wing away from the edge of the building, he started the big bike up once again, and started navigating his way back down the parking ramp to the street. He was three blocks away from that parking ramp, stopped at a red light, when the calm focus he'd found in the stars came crashing down as he glanced absently through a window and met a pair of beckoning amethyst eyes.
Duo blinked in surprise before an amazingly sunny grin broke over his face and he waved excitedly at Heero. The Japanese man spared a glance up at the sign above the door to the bar he was stopped in front of.
Jakes. Of course.
"Hey Heero!" Duo called, leaning out the door with a set of darts in one hand, and a beer in the other, "Whatcha doin' out there? Come on! We're starting a new game!"
He waggled the darts challengingly in Heero's direction before tossing him a saucy grin and ducking back into the bar.
The light changed to green.
Heero glanced at the empty street ahead of him, and then the crowded gathering beyond the heavy wooden doors to the bar. Wing's engine purred enticingly below him, almost leaning into the empty road. A tap on the big window along the front wall of Jakes reminded Heero of the braided maniac within.
"'And I chose the road less traveled'," he sighed softly to himself as he gunned Wing's engine.
Heero rounded the corner and pulled his bike up alongside a familiar looking black Harley. With another resigned sigh, he climbed off of the white machine, rocked it back onto its kickstand, and then trudged off to his fate.
For several long minutes, Heero lay quietly, listening to the strange rumble of a central air unit humming through unfamiliar walls. The blanket tucked up under his chin was too soft, and the surface he was sprawled across was too yielding. The faintest scent of hazelnut and vanilla, overlaid with the stronger scent of coffee ghosted silently past his hyperactive olfactory system.
"Coffee?" Duo's uncharacteristically soft voice queried from nearby.
Heero's eyes popped open and he stared up at the braided man standing in what appeared to be a living room doorway. He was clad in nothing more than a baggy pair of sweatpants, with a damp towel draped over his shoulders collecting the water from his equally wet unbound hair. He held a dark colored mug out in Heero's direction as he leaned against the doorframe and sipped at another mug.
"How did you know I was awake?" Heero asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"Because I was. Call me crazy, but somehow I just can't picture you sleeping through someone walkin' into the same room yer in, 'specially if it 's unfamiliar territory," Duo replied with a slight shrug.
Heero pulled himself into a sitting position as Duo crossed the room and set the extra mug on the table beside the couch Heero had apparently spent the night on.
"Sorry you had to cart me home again last night," Duo said sheepishly, "Guess I got kinda carried away again."
"Maxwell, why is it that every time I end up in a bar with you that you end up shit-faced drunk?" Heero asked, swinging his legs down to the floor before snagging the steaming cup off the coffee table.
"Um. Just lucky?" Duo replied, dropping into the recliner beside the couch with a solid thump.
"Hn."
"What the hell did you do to yourself yesterday, anyway? Man, I thought you were gonna pass out asleep on my front doorstep when you dropped me off."
Heero shrugged as he knocked back half the cup in a single gulp.
Duo kicked back into the recliner, sprawling across it sideways with his legs dangling over one arm. The towel slipped off his shoulders as he reached down blindly and set his own mug on the floor beside his chair. A cacophony of snaps, pops, and cracks sounded from Duo's spine as he arched himself bonelessly over the opposite arm of the recliner.
Heero found his gaze raking over the lithe lines of Duo's exposed chest and abdomen.
"Man, it sure feels nice to be home again," Duo groaned, breaking into Heero's thoughts as he kicked his legs out and finished stretching. He glanced up at Heero and the careful swath of blankets neatly stretched along the length of the couch. Another sheepish grin broke over his features.
"Sorry you ended up having to baby-sit me again last night. Otherwise, you pro'lly would have been able to sleep in your own bed."
Heero shrugged, sipping at the contents of his mug, suddenly loathe to finish it off.
"Speaking of which, you play a pretty wicked game of darts. Those guys from Engine 6 never knew what hit 'em," Duo said with a chuckle as he pulled himself into a half-upright slouch in the recliner, one leg absently kicking out against the floor until the chair started rocking gently.
"Hand eye coordination," Heero replied with another shrug.
"Figures," Duo snorted.
Heero tore his gaze away from the sprawling driver and stared down into the dark liquid pooled in the bottom of the mug clutched in his hands. The silence stretched on for a long moment, prompting Heero to glance back up and meet Duo's speculative glance.
"Is there anything yer not good at, Heero?" Duo asked almost wistfully.
Heero blinked and glanced away.
"Are you always this contemplative when you're hung over?" Heero asked quietly.
"Touché."
Heero returned his pensive gaze to the dregs of his cooling coffee.
"Relating to people, I guess," Heero finally admitted as he took a sip from his mug.
Surprisingly, there was no retort from the longhaired man a few feet away. He finally glanced up and met Duo's softly amused stare. Heero's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"What? You expected me to mock you or something?" Duo snorted, "I'm not always a mercurial ass, ya know."
"I didn't. say that you were."
"No. But you were thinking it. It's okay," Duo replied with a shrug, "I prefer it that way."
"Why?" Heero asked quietly, cocking his head as he peered at the oddly subdued driver.
Duo's glance grew distant for a moment as he contemplated his answer, an air of quiet companionship settling over the warm room. As he focused on his guest once again, the comfortable manic grin settled over his face once more, his eyes twinkling mirthfully.
There were Heero's stars to guide him again.
"It keeps people on their toes," Duo said with a wicked chuckle as he bounced himself back to his feet.
He stooped and snatched up his empty coffee cup, glancing over at Heero as he headed back towards the doorway.
"Want a top off?" he asked, nodding to Heero's own mostly empty cup, "Bet yours is cold too."
For some unfathomable reason, Heero felt disappointment well up within him as he met Duo's cheerfully grinning façade. He felt his own well-worn personae slip into place as he stood and offered his cup to Duo.
"Hn. It's late. I had plans," he lied.
"Oh. Well. One of the guys brought my bike home for me last night since you were to tired to make it out of here. Yours is in my garage. I guess I' ll... uh... see you at work tomorrow then, huh?"
"Hn. Try to be sober."
"You oughtta know me better than that by now, Yuy," Duo sighed with exasperation as he took Heero's proffered cup.
The Japanese man deigned not to reply as he followed Duo out of the living room to a small foyer. Heero saw his boots waiting patiently by the door beside Duo's. He cocked his head and contemplated the scene for a brief moment, surprised at the surreal air of rightness about it. Shaking his head to banish the odd feeling, Heero knelt down to slip into the comfortable leather boots, lacing them up tight. Once finished, he followed Duo through the small house to the kitchen and the door leading to the garage.
Duo paused long enough to deposit the empty mugs in the sink before he padded barefoot out into the garage and palmed the opener. Heero followed as the large door ratcheted open with a rumbling clack. Duo's cherished Camaro sat proudly closest to the door into the house, gleaming even in the dull shadows of the garage. Beyond the black muscle car, Wing awaited, sitting dormant beside the familiar Harley. Heero had to squelch another surge of that odd perfect déjà vu as he saw the bikes sitting side by side.
Duo paused beside the Camaro, watching as Heero inspected Wing carefully before backing it out onto the short driveway.
"See ya tomorrow, Heero," Duo called, tossing off a wave and a grin.
Heero turned back, his expression unreadable as he met Duo's laughing violet eyes.
"Thank you for letting me crash on your couch, Duo."
"What are friends for?" Duo replied with an impudent shrug.
"Hn."
"Whatever, Heero. Hope I didn't muck up your plans for today too much."
Heero occupied himself with swinging onto the pristine white bike.
"Don't worry about it," he murmured as he fired up Wing with a mechanical cough and a roar. Without waiting to see if Duo chose to respond, Heero goosed the throttle, turned the bike, and escaped down the drive and onto the street.
It was only by the sheerest exertion of will that he managed to not glance at his mirrors to see if Duo watched him vanish from sight.
~TBC~
Notes:
[1] sidecar - a pot of what I usually call "hell fire" off to the side which
usually consists of heavy doses of various kinds of peppers and hot sauces.
Only the brave or foolish would add too much of this to their chili to spice
it up. Guess which one Duo is.
[2] vested - for those youngsters out there who haven't started thinking
about retirement programs and such. if you get a pension, or a retirement
program, from your job, typically, you have to work for a particular
company, firm, or organization for a period of time before you are actually
guaranteed any benefits. Up until that time, if you get hurt, quit, or
killed, the company doesn't owe you anything other than maybe some workman's
comp and perhaps a death benefit. (And trust me, workman's comp ain't all it
's cracked up to be) The process of getting in the amount of time you need
is called "vesting". Once you have your time in, you become "vested', and
thereby can actually look forward to getting some sort of pension someday.
Pensions, for those of you who are t young to know this yes, are very very
very good things. Start planning for retirement now when you're young and
you still know everything. *hopping down off soapbox*
RavynFyre
Please send comments to: ravynfyre@hotmail.com