Author: Gypsie1201

Pairings: 1x2

Warnings: Drinking, Angst, Sap, Language

Rating: R

Archive: A Study in Obsession, Debs-Dragon - GW Diaries, Akira_1x2

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or any of its characters, nor will I make any money from the creation of this story.

Feedback: All is welcome and much appreciated.

Summary: "I didn't do it for the whole world, just my world."

Written for tygrrlyli's request: GW, your pick, but it must include Duo, "I hate myself for loving you", R - NC17

My World

The place is dark, just the way I like it, with only the interspersed wall sconces and the track lighting over the bar providing the dim illumination. And by this time in the morning, it's also pretty much empty. Staring down into the watered down, amber liquid that constitutes my latest drink, I wonder if they all had someone to go home to tonight and if that was why they weren't sharing one of the empty stools that lined the bar beside mine. Or, maybe they just decided to continue their slow spiral into oblivion in the privacy of their own homes. Either way, I'm pretty glad for it. I'm just not in the mood to deal with other people right now, one reason I'd picked this hole in the wall bar to fester my pain in to start with.

Not even bothering to stop the deep sigh that escapes me as my mind unwittingly returns to the reason I'm here, I pick up the glass my hands are cradling and quickly throw the drink back, downing the watery liquid in one swallow. The barkeep, whose name I learned was Mike after my sixth round, waltzes over and tips another health dose of bourbon into my glass without even being asked, before chunking several ice cubes in on top. He learned his lesson after my tenth drink when he'd tried to cut me off for the night. My Preventer's identification, which I'd flashed in his face, had ruffled him for a moment, but it was the name on that ID that really got him flustered and he hasn't questioned me once since then.

Not that I use my name in that way often, or at all for that matter. In truth, I would prefer that no one even know who I am at all. Duo Maxwell, ex-teenage terrorist, current government flunky; yeah, that really makes a person feel good. But the last thing I need tonight is some good-natured person trying to tell me when I've had too much to drink. Especially not when I can still quite easily feel my fingers and toes. And especially not when the only thing I want to do is drink myself into forgetfulness.

Staring down into the fresh contents of my glass, I watch as the ice swirls and clinks against each other and the sides of glass. I don't even remember which round this one numbers any more, a good sign I'm well on my way to that blessed state of non-existence I was craving when I first arrived. Just a few more and I won't even be able to remember my own name, let alone his or the stupid stunt he pulled during our last mission.

"Stubborn, dumb assed, god dammed, fucking, moronic idiot." I hear myself mumble and if I hadn't been absolutely sure it was my lips moving over those words, I probably wouldn't have recognized my own voice. With another sigh, I lift the drink to my lips and take a careful sip, enjoying the way the liquid burns as it slides carelessly down my throat.

"I guess that's one way of looking at it." A voice at my elbow chuckles and I just manage to not reintroduce the just swallowed bourbon to the bar or spill what remains in my glass as I spin in my seat toward the voice.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I demand through my shock, or at least I try to as I can literally feel the words sticking to the roof of my mouth; I could've sworn I wasn't this drunk just a moment ago.

But even as I'm trying to rephrase my oh so eloquent request, Mike the barkeep pipes up in a soft voice and says, "I wasn't sure who to call," answering my question and dragging my glare in his direction. So much for not wanting good-natured people sticking their noses in my business tonight.

"You did the right thing, sir." Heero returns and I'm far too busy trying to keep my feet underneath me as he drags me off the barstool to argue with that statement, something I'm pretty sure I would've done if I hadn't been quite so drunk. "I thank you for calling; I'll make sure he gets home safe."

Then we're moving. Or I should say, Heero's moving, I'm just kind of along for the ride since I absolutely can't figure out how to put one foot in front of the other. Luckily for me, and probably Heero too since by that time he's practically carrying me, the shock of the cool night air manages to bring some sense back to me. Unfortunately, it also gives my mind the chance to remember just why I'd been trying to drown myself in the first place.

"You're a selfish bastard, you know that?" I breathe before gathering my strength and pushing him away, causing me to stumble a few steps before I manage to grab hold of a passing light post. "I mean, why the fuck are you even here? You didn't seem to much care about me when you were trying to get yourself killed today."

"I was doing what I had to do." he tells me in that voice I've come to hate more than anything in this whole world. That voice that says the mission always comes first.

"You know what? Fuck you!" I snarl as I push off from the post and stagger towards him, managing to keep from falling over when I jab my finger into his chest. "You want to go out and die for the world, you go right ahead. But I'm goddamned sick and tired of being the one left behind."

The last thing I expect after a statement like that is for him to gently wrap his arms around me, pulling me into the warmth of his body and refusing to let me go as I try to escape. A punch to the jaw I can see, but not this.

"I didn't do it for the whole world, dumb ass." he breathes into my ear, causing me to shiver despite all the alcohol flowing through my blood. "Just my world."

It's then that I completely collapse into him, all the fight left in me draining away and leaving me helpless in his embrace. In my mind, I once again seen the gun being pointed at my head and I hear his scream just before all hell broke loose and just before he nearly took a bullet that was meant for me. "I'm not that important, 'Ro."

"To me you are, love." he tells me as he once again starts us moving toward home. "To me you're everything."

"Dammit, but I hate myself for loving you some times." I tell him, but my words lack the conviction that their meaning should convey.

"And I love you all the more for it."

OWARI

 

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