08-Jul-2000
Title: Inferno's Touch ~ Chapter 5
Author: Ravynfyre
Archive: GW Addiction, Darkflame
Category: Angst, Humor, Implied Drunkenness
Pairings: None... um... quite...
Standard Disclaimer: Not mine. Theirs. Too bad, but otherwise, I guess I'd never get anything done >nice 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.
Rating: PG-13
Warning: hmm... raging hormones and my attempt t a little levity. You've been warned.
Spoiler: None
Notes: As always with my miserable little firefighting epics... any terms will be footnoted and defined. If you don't get something, ask, and it shall be defined!
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)
He scowled at the article in the newspaper. A thin veil of rage burbled up from that dark place within him that the fire kept warm. How could he? How could anyone?
He had to try and throttle down the rage. Now wasn't the time. The time would come, but not right now.
But the article just screamed at him, blinding him in stark black and white. Some hotshot businessman, the one who'd plowed his SUV into a concrete abutment yesterday, had confessed in the hospital.
Confessed. As if anyone would forgive him for the unthinkable deed he tried to commit. For the damage he HAD committed.
The woman riding with him hadn't been his wife. She was his mistress. His pregnant mistress.
The woman had threatened to go public, apparently, unless he kept her financially happy. So he'd done the unthinkable, and in a fit of drunken stupidity, tried to kill the woman and her unborn child by slamming all three of them into that fateful wreck.
He'd seen the wreckage. Half the city had; it was a popular intersection. Or at least a well traveled one.
It amazed him that the firemen had been able to pull anyone from that twisted hulk alive, let alone all of them. Although, the woman had gotten an emergency C-section as soon as she got to the hospital. It was touch and go whether the baby would live.
But HE lived. HE was alive, and probably would be out on the street as soon as he was out of the hospital. His lawyers would see to that.
Where was the justice? Where would it be?
Simple. It wouldn't. Not unless someone stepped in and ensured it.
And the woman. She was just as much as fault about this as HE was. After all, SHE was the one who coveted another's husband. SHE knew. SHE had to.
The only one blameless was the child. Children were always blameless. Children deserved justice. They deserved more than they got.
How many homeless children did he see every day on his drive to work? How many did he pass starving on the streets? Who would offer them a home or the love that every child deserved?
Simple. No one. Not unless someone stepped in and helped them take what they deserved.
He could feel it in his heart. The child would die. The filthy bastard had won. And he'd be out on the streets in no time at all. He'd probably even keep his job.
Humanity was so terrible and wicked. Fickle, evil people. They worshiped a false god of greed.
The real God had spoken to him. It still spoke to him. The real God had given him the power, the duty, the obligation to cleanse the world.
He would bring that power to the world. He would save the world from its own greedy self. Somehow.
He'd already started.
He'd already started.
But now HE needed to be cleansed.
HER too. Both of them.
The child would die.
Tears trickled down his face, slowly carving tracks of his lost humanity down the smooth skin.
The child would die. There was nothing anyone could do.
No more children should die.
No more children WOULD die. He'd see to it. Somehow.
But first, he had to cleanse THEM. He would bring the fire to THEM.
He would bring justice to the child.
A mad giggle escaped his lips as he watched the match burn between his fingertips.
He would bring justice to the world!
A loud knocking at his apartment door broke Heero's attention away from his exercise regimen. He paused mid-sit-up and rolled to his feet fluidly, wiping his sweaty palms along the legs of his spandex shorts absently. He almost detoured to the bathroom to grab the shirt he'd discarded several hours before, but a second impatient knock disabused him of that notion.
:Screw ‘em. They can deal with me as-is or not at all. Who the hell could it be, anyway? It's almost ten o'clock...: he thought with irritation as he padded silently to the door and peered out the peephole.
Duo.
What the hell?
"Heero.... I know you're in there. Answer the door..."
With a defeated sigh, Heero yanked open the door, frowning as the chill air of the hallway hit his bare chest. Duo stood there dressed in a form-fitting pair of stylish black jeans, and a skin-tight black Harley Davidson t-shirt. His hair was hanging low down his back in a comfortable braid, and a pair of dark sunglasses sat low on his nose.
"Yo! Whassup?" Duo said cheerfully, a manic grin plastered all over his face.
Heero blinked.
"Ya gonna invite me in, or what, man?"
"What do you want, Duo?"
"Yeah. Nice to see you too, partner. Geeze."
Heero leveled a deadly glare at the braided idiot and refused to move.
"I see you really are always as cheerful as you were at work. Damn. I'd hoped it was first day jitters. Well, that's what I'm here for!" Duo said, grinning.
Heero heaved a sigh, wondering what he was talking about.
"Have you been drinking?"
"Not yet. That's why I'm here," Duo replied, as if that explained everything.
Heero blinked.
"Well, ya gonna get dressed, or what? We don't have all night you know."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Geeze. Do I hafta spell it out for you?" Duo said, casting an exasperated glance towards the ceiling of the hall. Seeing Heero's non-reaction, he nodded to himself.
"Guess I do. The guys, Wufei, Trowa, Quatre, Zechs, and myself are taking you out to Jakes."
"Jakes?"
"Yeah. It's a bar downtown. One of Quatre's buddies owns it. All the firemen in town hang out there. So ya gonna get dressed, or what? They're already there, waitin' for us," Duo replied.
Heero blinked.
"It's real easy. You find a shirt and some pants and throw ‘em on, toss on some socks and some shoes, grab your keys, walk out this door, lock it behind you, and we head outside. You do know what outside is, right? Well... go get a shirt or something. Course, you could always go just like that. I wouldn't care, but I figure you would."
Heero stared at Duo for another few moments before he sighed explosively and spun on his heel. He stalked down the hallway of his apartment, leaving Duo standing alone in the open doorway. Duo took that as an invitation and wandered in, shutting the door behind him.
He made himself at home, wandering throughout the living room and kitchen while Heero busied himself in the bathroom. With a chagrinned sigh, he noted the Confined Space Rescue article from the latest issue of Firehouse magazine spread open on the kitchen table. Duo frowned and started pawing his way through the piles of technical journals and scattering of reference papers from the National Fire Institute that were piled everywhere. Every counter surface and tabletop was covered with some sort of firefighting reference material, from the schematics of Engine 8, to articles on Hydraulic Ventilation, and everything in between.
Duo shook his head and wandered back out into the living room. There, it was all EMS information.
"Man, you got a death wish, or what? I mean, if you don't relax and take a break from all this studying once in a while, yer gonna burn yourself out!" Duo called.
"Hn."
Duo spun around, frightened by the incredibly near proximity of that quiet non-reply.
Heero stood in the doorway to the bedroom clad in nothing more than a towel, watching Duo nose through his ordered study materials like a curious six-year-old.
"Well, that's a step in he right direction. Yer clean. Now all ya hafta do is get some clothes on," Duo said, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I didn't say I was going."
"Heh. You seem to think you have a choice in the matter," Duo chuckled, "Well, ya don't. Your captain is awaiting your presence, Yuy. And if we don't hurry up, he's gonna fry BOTH our asses."
Heero scowled. He turned angrily, whipping the towel off of his hips and stalking into the bedroom in the same fluid motion.
Duo sighed. Damn. That guy was good. All that towel whipping around and not even the barest flash of skin. He shook his head and went back to examining Heero's spartan apartment.
A small desk stood opposite the bedroom door, adorned only with a laptop computer. The couch and table that were liberally covered with EMS journals and papers were the only furnishings in the living room. The kitchen had only held the small table with its load of firefighting information, and a few appliances. Other than all of the magazines, books, and papers scattered around the tables and chairs, everything else was immaculately clean.
"Do you have a life outside the job, man?"
His only answer was silence. Not that he really expected an answer, but it would have been nice. He sighed again, turning to watch the shadowed form of Heero in his bedroom, shrugging into fresh clothing.
After a moment, Heero returned to the living room clad in a comfortably broken in pair of light blue jeans, black bikers boot's, and a white t-shirt.
"Very James Dean. It'll do," Duo said with a mischievous smirk.
Heero shook his head and opened a nearby closet to pull out a black leather jacket.
"Ohyeah! That's what it needed! Okay. Let's go."
With the sigh of a death row inmate, Heero trudged out of the apartment after Duo and followed him to the parking garage below.
"Hop on," Duo instructed, climbing onto a vintage Harley Fat Boy parked in a row of other motorcycles.
Heero shook his head.
"I'll meet you there. I know where it is."
"Yer not driving there in that truck, man. There won't be any place to park it," Duo said, patting the seat behind him, "Hop on."
"No. I'm not driving the truck."
With something that would have been a smirk on a lesser man, Heero turned to a flashy white Kawasaki Ninja motorcycle and climbed on. With a humming roar, the bike leapt to life and peeled out of its slot. Without a backwards glance, Heero sped out of the garage, leaving Duo sitting behind in a cloud of Heero's own tire smoke.
"Well, I'll be damned. Sneaky little bastard," Duo muttered, starting his Harley with a grumbling growl and racing off after the Japanese man.
A loud thump and a muffled groan woke Heero from his restless slumber. He rolled over and pulled on his t-shirt before he quietly slipped out of his bedroom. He paused at the doorway to observe the young man blissfully snoring in his living room.
Duo lay sprawled in a heap on the floor beside the couch, tangled amidst a knot of sheets and blankets. He had an arm thrown over his face, blocking out the morning light, and one leg stuck straight up in the air, draped over one of the cushions that were still on the couch. The rest of the cushions lay in the tangled heap of man, bedding, and clothing. His hair had half come out of its customary braid and fanned out over the floor and pillows. A splash of early morning sunshine peeked through the curtains to bathe the chestnut locks in a pool of gold.
Duo shifted again in his sleep, his arm coming down to curl under his body and cradle his cheek. He snuggled into the nest of blankets he'd collapsed in and smiled sweetly.
Heero felt his chest tighten suddenly.
Without quite knowing how he got there, he found himself kneeling on the floor beside Duo's head, fingers tentatively brushing through the loose strands of Duo's hair. It was so much softer than he'd imagined. Like silk. No. Even better than silk.
He suddenly stood, lurching across the room and staring down at his hand in morbid fascination.
What the hell was going on? Why had he done that?
For that matter, why had he let Duo talk him into going on that disastrous bar trip last night in the first place? The bar trip that led to the Tequila shots... that led to the karaoke incident... that led to the brawl... that led to the off-duty cop drunkenly tossing empty bottles at Duo's head...
Heero's gaze unerringly zoomed into the knot still visible on Duo's forehead from the One That Didn't Miss.
That's why he was sprawled out on Heero's floor, sleeping off his drunk.
Of course that didn't explain why Heero's shorts were suddenly too tight on him, or why he couldn't seem to draw a full breath.
He growled low in his throat and stumbled towards the bathroom.
One very cold shower later found him back in total control. At least of his raging hormones. His mind, however, was another story altogether.
:Unacceptable. That kind of distraction and reaction is totally unacceptable. I must be stronger than that. I cannot afford that kind of weakness:
He exited the bathroom, fully intending to wake Duo up and kick him out to find someplace else to finish sleeping off his drunk.
Duo had managed to throw every one of the blankets off of himself and had curled into a tight little ball on the floor, shivering lightly. His face was pinched painfully, and a soft whimper fluttered up from his throat.
Heero frowned, crossing the distance between the two of them with two brisk strides. He knelt beside Engine 8's driver and laid a hand on Duo's shoulder, trying to shake him lightly awake.
With a keening moan, Duo shuddered away from the contact, pulling into himself even tighter.
"Duo. Duo, wake up... Just a dream, Duo... Wake up," Heero soothed.
At the sound of Heero's voice, Duo sighed softly and relaxed, uncurling from his tight coil. There were deep shadows under his eyes, and the morning light glared across his face, illuminating the ugly deep black and red bruise that had blossomed on his head. While it looked a lot better than it had last night when Heero had cleaned the gash out, it still appeared frighteningly painful. Heero shook his head to himself as he carefully drew the blankets up over the sleeping man once more.
He'd let him sleep until he finished his morning exercises, and then he'd wake the braided baka up and kick him out. Yeah. That would work.
Well, since Duo was sprawled all over his normal work out area, he headed to his bedroom. No sense in tripping over the slumbering madman.
With his typical intense focus, he tuned out the world and concentrated on his exercises.
A screaming lance of pain to the center of his brain was the first indication he got that, yes, he had survived last night. Not that he'd really wanted to, if living with this hangover was his reward, but he didn't have much choice in the matter anymore.
He slowly opened his eyes, wincing as morning sunlight washed over him in a golden flood.
Sunlight? What the hell... He kept his bedroom dark as a tomb. That could only mean one thing.
He wasn't in his bedroom.
If there were a god at all, this would only mean that he'd collapsed in the living room or something. His living room. Oh please let this be his own living room...
He forced his eyes to open long enough to absorb the dull grey carpeting.
Grey? But his carpets were blue. And pile, not Berber.
Shit. There was no god.
Time to take an inventory. Except for his boots, he was still pretty much fully clothed. That was a good sign. He was also wrapped in a cocoon of blankets and cushions. That was also a good sign.
The knot and gash on his head, however, was not a good sign.
What the hell had happened?
He remembered that he was supposed to go to Jakes last night. With the guys. The guys and... someone. Who?
Oh yeah. Heero.
Mr. Perfection. The rookie.
Well, given the pasty taste in his mouth, and the raging headache, he must have made it to the bar. Then what?
The vaguest memory of someone dancing around with one of those plastic promotional beer company buckets on his head floated through his fogged brain. He wanted to giggle at the thought, until he realized that the memory was from the first person perspective.
Aw shit.
Heero saw him dancing to the Macarena with a plastic beer bucket on his head.
There really was NO god at all.
But that still didn't explain the damage to his head. With a hefty sigh, he hauled himself into a sitting position and gently probed the wound with exploratory fingers. Not too large. That was good. Blood had been cleaned off. That was even better. Well, maybe. Maybe not. Who'd done the cleaning? Please don't let it have been...
//"Baka. Trying to get yourself killed?" Heero asked tersely.
"No' m' fault... He didn' hafta get so mad..."
"Duo. You serenaded him with 'You've Lost That Loving Feeling.' How was he supposed to react?" Heero explained with uncharacteristic patience. The deft fingers of one hand were carefully cleaning out the gash, while the other arm busied itself with keeping Duo from slumping over sideways on the couch.//
Duo buried his face in his hands.
Okay. There really was a god. And he had one fucking sadistic sense of humor. The bastard.
How would he ever live this down?
"Guess you got your revenge for the boots, eh?" Duo murmured to himself.
The boots and anything else Duo may have had planned for the next month. How humiliating.
To not only have been out-drunk by a rookie... but to have had that selfsame rookie haul him out of a nasty brawl, and then bring him home and tuck him into bed like some lightweight hippy teenybopper? How utterly mortifying.
Well, if anybody was going to pull that off, it WOULD be Mr. Perfection.
Duo frantically sifted through what he could remember from last night, ordering his thoughts as he searched for one memory in particular. When he didn't find it, he heaved a sigh of relief.
Maybe there really truly was a kind and benevolent god.
:If I'd actually broken down and confessed how sexy he looked last night to his face, I think I'd just have to go jump out that window right now... :
With a fatalistic sigh, he hauled himself to his feet, proud when he wavered only a little bit.
Coffee. Must find coffee. Coffee fix head. Ugh.
Leaving the tumble of blankets behind, he trudged off to the kitchen and started his search. He wasn't terribly surprised when the freezer turned up to be a bust.
Why in the world would Mr. Perfection waste resources on good coffee when just about any supermarket brand would do? Duo hung his head and started poking through the cupboards. He was rewarded a few moments later with a small dented can of some off brand coffee. Real. Not instant. That was one small blessing at least. The day was slowly looking up.
And there was even a battered old coffee maker sitting forlornly on the counter. Okay. Maybe waking up wasnt suc'h a waste after all.
After thoroughly cleaning out the pot, he set up the machine to brew some liquid life, and then trudged back into the living room to set the couch back to rights.
That's when he noticed all of Heero's EMS journals and magazines had been neatly stowed and set aside.
:Wow... I rated above his training stuff? Damn. Either he's not the stone faced jerk I took him for, or- or he's just banking my guilt and I'm NEVER going to live this down...:
:I should just shoot myself now. I'm never gonna live this down,: he thought to himself with an aggrieved sigh.
Returning to the kitchen, he snagged a mug out of the cupboard and, not bothering to wait for the pot to finish brewing, poured himself a cup. The pungent aroma of extra strong coffee accompanied the sizzle/hiss of liquid hitting the coffeemaker's hot plate before Duo could get the pot back in place.
He didn't bother looking for sugar. He was certain he'd never find any here.
Draining half the mug in a single gulp, he sat down and waited for the caffeine to kick in a little. A slight slacking of the headache, and a very faint shiver along his spine were the only signs he got. Well, that was better than nothing. He finished up the first cup and returned for a second.
Now he was ready to really deal with the day.
He looked around, rather surprised that he hadn't been rousted out before now. Where was Heero, anyway? He just didn't seem the "sleeping in on his day off" type.
Mug in hand, Duo stood and tip toed to the door to Heero's bedroom.
Yup. He was right.
Duo was treated to the sight of Heero doing knuckle push ups in nothing more than a pair of incredibly tight black spandex shorts, and that body hugging white t-shirt he'd worn last night.
The drenched-with-sweat-and-damn-near-transparent body hugging white t-shirt.
God had to be a woman. Only a woman could torment someone this cruelly.
Ah well. May as well live it up while he could. After all, once Heero realized that Duo was awake and started laying into him about last night, Duo would have an appointment with an open window from a tall building.
Live fast. Die young. Leave a cute corpse.
Duo leaned against the door, sipped his coffee, and enjoyed the view.
The scent of coffee slowly started to invade his senses, drawing his mind out of the comforting haze of his exertions. He suddenly stopped mid-push-up and glanced towards the doorway.
Duo stood, leaning against the doorjamb with a steaming mug in one hand and a curious, almost bemused, expression on his face.
"Morning. Coffee?" he asked.
Heero shook his head sharply, a frown creasing his brow. Why hadn't he heard Duo get up?
He hopped swiftly to his feet and grabbed a towel from the bed. Draping it over his neck to soak up some of the sweat pooling there, he turned back to face Duo.
"Umm... Thanks. For not leaving me there, I mean," Duo said uncomfortably.
Heero's eyes darted up to the knot on Duo's head before he nodded curtly.
"You didn't have to bring me here. Sorry I intruded. Why didn't you just drop me off at my own place?"
"You were too drunk to tell me where you lived."
Duo winced to himself.
Heero suppressed a smirk. Had Duo been 100%, he might have noticed it. Of course, had Duo been 100%, he wouldn't have been standing in Heero Yuy's apartment in his stocking feet with his hair revolting from its braid, nursing a cup of triple strength coffee and trying to ignore his raging hormones.
Heero pushed past Duo and stalked into his kitchen, leaving the other man to follow in his wake. He grabbed another mug from the cabinet and started to pour a cup of coffee. As the liquid splashed into the cup he paused and stared down into the mug suspiciously.
"What? I didn't poison it. I swear," Duo assured him.
"It's opaque."
"Oh. Yeah. Um... I like it kinda strong first thing in the morning..."
Heero tested it with a tiny sip. His jaw clenched and his eyes grew wide. Swallowing hard, he poured just a little bit more into the mug and then filled it the rest of the way with plain water. He tested it again, took a large swallow, and then refilled the cup with more plain water. He nodded, apparently satisfied, and turned back to Duo.
"So... um... Yeah," Duo said, scuffing one shoeless foot nervously.
Heero shook his head.
"I 'spose I should like call a cab or something and go get my bike..."
"It's downstairs in the parking ramp."
Duo glanced at Heero sharply.
"Where's yours?"
"Downstairs."
"How-"
"I went back to get yours after you collapsed on my couch."
"Oh. Um... Thanks. Thanks for not leaving it there to get trashed... Me too."
Heero shrugged.
"Someone has to drive the rig."
"Oh."
Heero frowned to himself. His eyes zoomed in on Duo's slightly pouting lips as the braided man sighed.
Not good. He couldn't afford to get distracted. He didn't spend all morning trying to wear himself out to get distracted now. He had to get out. Now. Before his body betrayed him.
Heero slammed back the rest of his coffee and set the mug in the sink. Pushing past Duo, he headed back to his bedroom and stripped out of his sweaty shirt. Tossing it into the hamper, he grabbed his green tank top and pulled it on.
"Where ya going?"
"For a run."
Yes. A run. Perfect. It would be the perfect outlet for his tension.
"Want some company? I could use a good jog myself."
Company? Did he want company? Hell no!
Yes.
No.
Yes.
No!
Oh hell.
A run would be a good way to gauge Duo's physical abilities. Heero had to know how much he could count on the other man after all.
Yeah. That was it.
:Oh shut up. You aren't fooling anyone.:
"You aren't exactly dressed for it..." He temporized.
"I've got some spare clothes in the side packs on my bike... It'd only take me a second."
"Think you can handle it? You got pretty smashed last night."
Duo laughed.
"Man, that's WHY I wanna go. Need to get myself moving before I fall over again..."
Heero shrugged.
"Fine."
"Great. I'll be right back," Duo said, setting his coffee down on the table and heading for the door.
"Shoes?"
"Heh. I'll just hafta take em off again to get dressed anyway. Be right back."
The door clicked shut.
Damn.
He gritted his teeth and growled to himself.
Now what was he supposed to do?
~TBC~
~RavynFyre~