Author: Karen, The Huntress
Pairing: 1x2
Rating: R
Warning: During the AC195 war, language, angst, shounen-ai, romance.
Summary: Heero and Duo must bide their time while waiting to be retrieved.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or its characters.
Biding Time
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
Repetitive blasts shudder in undulating groundswells through the Alliance warehouse a millisecond before all hell breaks loose.
In a whirlwind of gritty particles fierce tremors stampede over idle machinery, flinging out wrenched spans and ruptured gears in a lethal hale of shrapnel.
Next a great malevolent dragon is spawned. A powerful -- WHOOSH -- belches flames from the beast's fiery belly. In equally vicious fits of rage, phantom claws rip out chunks of concrete and hurl diamond-sharp shards of glass in an all-encompassing deadly discharge.
Seized by the forceful surge, two men are flung like redundant rag dolls through violently unhinged double doors.
Some ten meters outside, in a confusion of withered weeds, jagged gravel, the warehouse's expelled innards and pungent plumes of black smoke, the pair appears as unresponsive as their lifeless surroundings.
A low groan.
The young man swathed in black clothing, tinted gray by dust, stirs. A grubby hand etched with scratches, thin cuts and a deeper wound oozing blood pushes reddish-brown bangs from closed eyes.
In gradual degrees eyelids slide up then squint in protest at the sweltering heat sucked in a chimney effect from the blast's imploded remnants.
With obvious effort Duo Maxwell tugs his frayed braid free then rolls on his side as a shield from the foul elements and to study his colonial co-conspirator.
"Heero?" The name struggles in a questioning tone through Duo's parched throat.
Deathscythe's pilot ignores twinges of pain coursing within his body, pays no heed to lungs ravenous for fresh air or the tender bump on his crown which moving about might encourage to into a full blown headache.
Bracing both hands on the spiky surface, he carefully eases into sitting up. While the rush of vertigo might indicate a concussion and standing could trigger a bout of nausea, he opts to crawl to Heero Yuy.
Sprawled in his back, a veneer of sandy grit is vain camouflage for the gash on Heero's forehead and the swollen welts marring his left cheekbone.
Fixed-gaze blue eyes stare into the sunset blushed sky and, when Duo's insistent shaking fails to rouse 01, panic sets in.
"Shit! Don't do this to me. " is pleaded urgently.
Fingers pressed on Heero's carotid artery confirm a weak pulse, but Duo can't visually verify the metered rise and fall of breathing.
Heero's head is tilted to straighten his airway. Duo's mouth covers pale parted lips.
A hard puff.
Watch.
Listen.
Another forceful exhalation.
A wheeze then an awakening gasp breaks the "zombie hex".
Suddenly animated, the Perfect Soldier comes around fighting.
"Hey!" Duo exclaims as he dodges a wild punch. "Take it easy." he orders harsher than intended.
Only a minute before Heero's strength gives out and he slumps heavily against the self-proclaimed God of Death.
"Anything broken?" Duo inquires.
"Don't think so." A rough swallow. "What happened?" Heero wonders as improved oxygen intake dissolves the mental haze.
Duo shifts his weight to better support his comrade. "Detonators fired too soon."
Eyes more focused, Heero surveys the chaotic scene. "Never believed in fate but..." the remaining words trail off in an inaudible whisper.
As the reality of almost meeting the Grim Reaper sinks in, Duo launches a rant worthy of a justifiably pissed-off Shinigami.
"That's the last time those fuckin' explosive experts mess with my stuff. Incompetent idiots." he hisses through clenched teeth, "Brainless bastards can't build bombs worth a damn."
Heero waits for a lull in the lecture. When none is forthcoming, he interjects. "Duo, I think..."
"Just wait 'til I get back to HQ. I promise ya there's gonna be hell to pay."
"DUO!"
Poised to persist in his tirade, Duo pauses then, with equal volume, snaps, "What?"
"Might I suggest we seek a secure location as I'm certain this destruction," Heero points at the deformed jumble of steel beams, fractured walls and smoldering piles of debris, "will summon unwanted scrutiny."
*********
It's a difficult journey away from the premature explosion's aftermath. Like drunkards tottering home from a whiskey binge, Duo and Heero shored each other up as best they can.
Duo stumbles.
Heero hobbles.
One step forward -- two backwards prolongs their trek to find Heero's elusive refuge.
Finally twilight, faintly backwashed by the sideward smiling crescent moon, ushers the insurgents into an abandoned building Duo supposes is a stable.
Inside the weather-worn wooden structure, stale air mingles with odorous whiffs of dew-damp dirt, moldy straw, aged manure and dry-rotted leather.
Adding to the earthy ambiance, the stench from a deceased, fly infested rat wafts from the first of three horseless stalls.
Hoping no vile creatures such as live rodents or snakes lurk beneath the matted straw carpet, Duo guides Heero to settle down beside a barrel leaching hints of fermented feed.
"Ain't exactly deluxe accommodations." Duo comments with a disapproving snort.
Moonlight filtering through gaps in the plank wall illuminates Heero's face offering glimpses of dried blood and blue bruises.
"You okay?" Duo inquires as he extracts a handheld communicator from his jacket pocket.
Heero nods, yes, even though a dull ache creeps from temple to temple and his sprained right ankle throbs.
Duo activates a preprogrammed Emergency Extraction Code to summon help, preferably from a fellow Gundam pilot.
Static crackles over the open com-link. With optimistic hope Duo manually reenters the letter/number sequence and awaits a response.
"GS05." Chang Wufei, Master of the Dragon Fire Gundam Shenlong, states his ID.
"GD02." Duo confirms, "Receiving my EEC homing beacon?"
"Affirmative. Is 01 with you?"
"Yeah."
"Injuries?"
"Nothing serious."
"Currently in Sector 631. ETA three hours." Wufei informs, "Will contact retrieval unit and relay ground coordinates. The squad's approximate timetable will be an additional hour."
"You can secure the site when you get here."
"Also be advised." 05 issues a warning, "Aerial recon is tracking an OZ squadron due East of your location."
"No problem." Duo replies cockily, "We'll leave the light on for ya."
Static signals the transmission's conclusion.
Duo positions his watch to capture a ghostly ray of moonlight. "Almost 020:00." he announces aloud. "Gonna be at least 023:00 before Chang gets here. Til then we gotta bide our time."
Heero arranges his battered body into a less stressful posture, places the Reflex 42 pistol in his lap, folds his arms across his chest and closes bloodshot eyes. "We'll just have to wait."
Patience not being Duo's best virtue, he proclaims. "I hate waitin."
*********
021:00
The only perceivable noises are buzzing flies, an occasional coo-coo-coo from a pair of doves roosting in the rafters and, lulled by sleep, Heero's steady breathing.
Outside the moon slinks soundlessly westward casting kaleidoscope patterns of light and shadows across the gloomy stable.
The wind is also restless, rattling the tin roof, whining lonesomely amongst the trees and conveying telltale traces of smoke.
Stretching his achy back, Duo focuses on nothing in particular with no regard to the moon's wanderlust or the wind's mischief.
Without warning something foreign to nature disrupts his inattentiveness. On full alert soldierly instincts analyze the sensory data.
Although defying identification, the "whatsit" is definitely on an intercept course. "An engine." Duo mutters as, moment by moment, the distant drone grows louder.
An elbow jab prods 01 from his slumber.
Instantly awake, Heero also engages his senses to solve the mechanized mystery. "That sure as hell is not a Gundam." he declares with certainty.
Headlights pierce the night.
Commotion of footsteps.
Voices fuse in muddled utterances.
"Lieutenant Stewart." is accented with an authoritative tone, "Search this structure but be quick about it, we rendezvous with Squad 15 in twenty-five minutes."
The stable's restricted space offers few hiding places. The single door is an impractical escape route and, minus an interior lock, provides no security.
Like hunted prey the pilots have two choices -- coward further into the limited obscurity or stand their ground against an unknown number of, presumably, OZ troopers.
In this case the most viable option is a hasty dash into the last stall's dim recesses which improves their line of sight and grants extra maneuvering room should the rebels be forced to fight.
Tentacles of light slither along the outer wall groping every crack and crevice then, as if to see inside, the flashlight's bright "eye" peers through a ragged breach in the doorframe.
Rusty hinges complain shrilly as the warped door drags over the dirt floor.
Now unhampered by darkness the illumined Cyclops, with Stewart holding its leash, probes each inch in methodical side to side sweeps.
Aimed in the first stall, the exploratory beam presents a repulsive picture of the rotting rat and its feasting swarm.
"Nasty." is inspired by the horrid sight.
Disturbed by the movement below the doves take flight prompting both the flashlight and a standard issue SR52 Assault Rifle to target the thrashing wings.
Duo snickers in amusement at the startled Ozzie, "Reckon he's trigger happy?" he whispers.
Heero's silver-plated pistol centers on the widest target, Stewart's chest, "We can't afford to be trigger happy." he states the reality of being between the proverbial rock-and-hard-place.
While a single shot is the expedient means to an end, shots make noise, noise attracts attention and he and Duo definitely do not want to invite the entire OZ squadron to dance.
By the same raison d'etre Stewart can't be detained since his failure to report would also spark unwelcome curiosity.
Practical solution -- the nosy Lieutenant must remain ignorant of the enemy's hidey-hole, however, the secreted pilots have no unrealistic expectations that fate will cooperate.
Radiance ripples over the second stall. This time the invasive shaft instigates animation. An alarmed critter much larger than a rat skitters up the rough boards and vanishes in the crossbeam maze of roof joists.
A tactical relocation puts Duo in flanking position. Heero flattens in the far corner.
No more reciprocal glances or unspoken pledges of protection.
Sharing breaths and sweat and heartbeats, with pistols at the ready, the Perfect Soldier and Shinigami narrow their sight and prime their reflexes for what may well be their final battle.
Stewart takes three cautious steps.
With the graceless sway of a slack-string marionette the rifle hovers in its lethal ballet.
Closer.
"Ready?" Heero growls.
Closer.
Duo's finger tightens on the trigger. "Bring it on."
Closer.
So the danse macabre begins.
"Stewart!" an apparitional silhouette summons from the open door.
The OZ Lieutenant pivots in place with a stupefied "Huh?"
"Captain says we're leaving so move your ass."
*********
021:23.
Silence.
Not calm. Not peaceful.
Disquiet as though the wind doesn't dare exhale.
Motionless Heero and Duo mimic statues.
Watchful. Wary.
Are the troopers actually gone or feigning departure to ferret out their prey?
Bravely the moon slips its cloudy veil. One by one fearless crickets unite in a chorus of chirps.
As his adrenaline rush rapidly deteriorates, Duo declares, "Damn!"
Then nervous energy kicks in. "Should've had Deathscythe! Wouldn't be in this shit if Professor G. hadn't requisitioned Hyper-Jammer power circuit refits."
Even though the Perfect Soldier displays remarkable endurance of the déj&agarve; vu tirade, his patience is wearing thin.
Aligning his shoulder with his braided counterpart Heero leans closer. "Duo."
Now gestures underscore 02's outburst and agitation accentuates the question. "What the hell was the old fool thinkin'?"
An intervening touch on Duo's arm halts words and stills motion. Duo's lips part, perhaps to resume, or maybe, blue eyes beholding violet eyes has, at last, rendered him speechless.
"Duo." is repeated softly.
"What?" is whispered back.
"Shut up." Heero orders as hands cup Duo's face.
Lips brush hesitantly.
When there's no resistance, when no rejection is voiced or an enraged fist delivers physical discouragement, Heero Yuy lowers his guard, surrenders his heart and kisses Duo Maxwell.
Unbridled passion triggers lust which demands action. Moans become mantras, hands grope and groins grind together.
As Heero's hand pursues a tingling path up Duo's inner thigh 02 endeavors to think, to apply reason to wits overpowered by very persuasive urges.
It would be so easy to give into the licentious cravings, to forget the war, the daily desperation yet something akin to love tempers the primal desire.
Duo breaks the kiss. Panting, trembling, he leans back to study Heero's flushed face and gaze into breathtakingly beautiful eyes.
"What's wrong?" Heero wonders. Afraid he'd pushed too far "Don't you want me?" is asked with trepidation.
Misty-eyed, Duo confesses, "I've wanted you forever, just been biding my time until you were ready. But our first union shouldn't be in a reeking stable on a filthy straw bed. We should be safe and warm and locked away from the world."
For Heero's sake, Duo makes a concession, "I know we aren't guaranteed tomorrow or even the next minute so if you want me now, I'm yours."
"You're right." Heero agrees, taking Duo's hand, "We should wait. You deserve tenderness, unhurried foreplay and many, many mind-blowing orgasms."
Duo grins. "We both deserve, pardon the pun, a totally raunchy, absolutely amazing roll in the hay." is proclaimed before he solicits another kiss.
OWARI
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