Rating: R (For language)
Archive: If you already have it, sure. If you don't, please ask me first
so I can keep track of where this is.
Feedback: Yes, please!
Summary: Set at the end of Episode 23, just as Duo gets tossed into the
cell with Heero and Wufei
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Gundam Wing, it's characters, settings, Gundams,
etc, do not belong to me, we all know that. I also don't own the song
'Stroke of Luck', which is performed by Garbage.
WARNINGS: For language, mostly. In my mind, Duo is a foul-mouthed little
brat and I'm afraid it's reflected here.
You know, getting the shit
beaten out of me just before I get tossed into an OZ prison cell is getting
to be a really bad habit of mine. Only this time instead of being in prison
by myself, I get to have a couple of roomies.
I get dragged into this little cell, and what's the first thing out of
"So, you botched your mission."
Hello? I'd botched MY mission? Well, isn't that a little ironic, considering
I'm not the only one sitting on my ass in this little room, now am I?
What an asshole.
And to think, I had actually been thinking about him...well, trying not
to think about him anyway, but it's sort of the same thing. Or...well,
hell, something like that. I think I do have a concussion this time. Or
maybe it's just Heero Yuy. Something about him makes my brain feel like
scrambled eggs, with a side of toast.
Forget it. All I want to do is get an hour of uninterrupted sleep before
it all the hap-hap-happiness of interrogation starts up again...and unless
I grew an extra pair of hands when I wasn't looking, someone is feeling
me up. Well, what a day we are having. Here I am, lying half dead, well,
a quarter dead, certainly wounded and Mr. Sensitive is copping a feel.
In front of Chang, even, who knew he was so kinky?
Under different circumstances, I might not mind this; Hell, I might even
ask Chang what his opinion was on the logistics of a daisy chain. But
laying here with the taste of my own blood in my mouth has somehow killed
my sex drive a bit.
Wait a sec, Heero was touching me, but not all that hard, he just seemed
to...aw, dammit. He's checking to see how badly I'm hurt.
Well, fuck. Now I've maligned him in my thoughts, thereby making myself
once again into the asshole where he's concerned. Score is ten for ten
in that little side game.
And did I say my sex drive was down? Yeah, right. I'm telling you, this
is just sad; that having Heero Yuy giving me an impersonal little pat
down would be enough to give me a chubby.
You know, I've only met Wufei a couple of times, and he seemed like an
OK guy, aside from the yardstick he had jammed up his ass. But right now
I could have cheerfully killed him, just to get him out of the way.
Am I actually thinking about sex with Heero, after what happened the last
time? Jesus wept, what the hell am I doing? I have no idea. All I know
is that this isn't a game anymore, not to him...and not to me.
What am I doing? What AM I doing? What am I going to do? The way I'm feeling
I won't be running anywhere anytime soon, and there isn't anyplace to
hide here even if I could. I doubt I could hide well from him anyway.
I'm not even sure I want to.
An old song I remember hearing once is rattling around the back of my
head and I can't seem to shake it.
'...you say that you'll be there to catch me or will you only try to trap
Which is it going to be, Yuy?
I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was his tennis shoes. He was
sitting Indian-style next to me and those nasty butt-ugly yellow sneakers
were just eye-level from my comfy position on the floor. I swear if I
only ever remember one thing about him it'll be those shoes.
And, yeah, I'll admit it; his eyes are pretty damn memorable too.
Right now they were looking right at me, a shade of blue so deep it should
damn well be illegal and...and so fucking open to me. I can almost see
what he's thinking right then, and to hell with anything else, I can't
even look away from him.
So, can't run, can't hide, so much for my personal credo. Only one thing
left now, and a lie of omission is still a lie...
"I slept with Quatre," I said, softly. A little frown line appeared
between his eyebrows. Well, he hasn't killed me, so far, so good.
"I slept with Trowa," he replied.
Huh? Him? Slept with Trowa? As in, -slept- slept?
Well, hell, who knew that once I got into his pants he'd turn into the
slut of the Galaxy? I mean, I wasn't mad, not really, but at least I'd
thought he was dead before I went bumping uglies with someone! And here
I was just getting to think he was a nice guy, I should have stuck with
my first impression of this guy! Grade A asshole, certified by the Earth
Alliance Asshole Commission...
...wait a second, this is Mr. Literal that we're talking to here.
I looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Slept with or had sex with?"
"Does it matter?"
With just that, I decided it really didn't. At this particular little
pinprick in time, I wouldn't have cared if he'd boffed his way through
the entire rank of Gundam pilots, and thrown in the good doctors as a
Carefully, trying not to aggravate any of the bruises that were currently
nesting in various places on my body, I shifted so my head was in his
lap. And he let me, without a word or a twitch or even a glance at Chang
over in the corner. For the first time in a very, very long time, the
game didn't matter to me and I could have stayed happily in his lap until
the day I died.
Which was more than likely going to be sooner than I cared to think about.
A lot of people like my hair, but Heero seems to be borderline obsessed
with it. Couldn't really undo it with his hands cuffed the way they were
but he was petting me like I was a stray puppy or something, and I was
doing a pretty good puppy imitation myself, just letting him stroke me.
'...a stroke of luck or a gift from god? the hand of fate or devil's claws?...'
Guess I'll find out, one way or another.
"Saved again by the spandex ranger," I whispered, not even bothering
to open my eyes. He sighed softly and I wished I had looked, just to see
if he was fighting a smile.
"Go to sleep, Duo."
Sounded like a plan to me.
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