Author: SkyLark

Pairings: 1x2, 3x4, 5xR, 6x9

Warnings: Swearing, violence, mentions NCS, lemony goodness

Rating: R

Plot Bunny Assistance From: Eos and Tora

Archives: Debs-Dragon - GW Diaries

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, nor its characters. I just love playing with them.

Blood, Sweat and Tears Prologue

The sound of the phone ringing pierced through his unusually pleasant dream and pulled him back, mentally kicking and screaming, back to the world of the living.

Before his eyes even opened, his head was already pounding from a massive hangover earned by his late night of celebrating the end of another season. Having forgotten to close the room's shades before he collapsed onto his bed, the sunlight that was pouring into his penthouse suite was burning his irises behind closed lids.

With a very loud groan, he fought with his comforter that had somehow managed to get tangled around him as he slept. As the phone continued to ring, he reached for the pair of shades beside it. Only after placing the frames on his nose did he dare open his eyes.

Quickly grabbing the receiver, he placed it to his ear. "This had better be a good reason for calling," his rough voice greeted. "I really don't want to have to start my off season by killing someone."

"Duo, it's Quatre," is the voice of his friend-slash-agent replied in a hush.

Hissing, the braided running back pulled the phone from his ear and shouted, "Not so loud, man! I have a bitch of a headache right now." Looking down at himself, he noted that he somehow managed to strip himself down to his boxers before passing out.

There was a deep sigh before Quatre frowned deeply, "I'm speaking normally, Duo. If you hadn't had so much to drink last night, your head would be fine." That concerned tone returned as he said quietly, "Look, I just got word from Noventa that you're being traded."

Chuckling deeply, Duo flopped onto his back and smirked, "Was it my punching his precious Coach Khushrenada in the face on national television at the end of our last game? That son-in-law of his couldn't lead a team to water if he had to. Noventa's not much better, himself." As he pushed his disheveled braid away, he grumbled, "Lousy bastard of a team owner couldn't even wait a couple days before getting rid of me."

A slight hint of amusement filled the agent's voice as he informed, "Actually, I think it was the fact that you carved your name into Noventa's car last night on your way back to your suite. He is making a public announcement about your being traded this afternoon."

Finally feeling safe enough to remove his shades, Duo set them back on the table and stretched. "So, I get to leave sunny San Francisco. Never really liked it much here anyway," he yawned. "Too much smog and traffic. Do we have any idea on who's looking at taking me, then?" Biting his lip, he sat up and asked, "Any word from Green Bay?"

He could practically hear Quatre turning red at the question. "Duo, you've been a professional football player for four years. Not once in those four years have you played with the same team for more than one season. Green Bay, not to mention nearly every big franchise for that matter, sees you as a liability considering your track record.

"Your reputation of partying, looking for fights, flipping off spectators when they boo you and that lovely DUI that you spent a couple nights in prison for proceed you. So no, Green Bay is not even considering signing you on. Damn it, Duo! I've been telling you that you need to start getting your shit together!"

Wow. To get Quatre yelling and swearing meant that a serious line had been crossed.

Sighing deeply, Duo swung his legs over the side of the bed and sighed deeply, "Yea, yea, yea. Well then, someone would have had to have picked me up since you didn't say 'every' franchise is brushing me off."

His agent paused before announcing quietly, "Pittsburgh."

There was no fucking way he heard that right, Duo convinced himself. That headache came on tenfold as he gripped the receiver tightly and shouted, "What!? Pittsburgh!? You know they start the name of that town with the word 'pit' for a reason! And need I remind you that team hasn't even come close to a league championship, let alone the Super Bowl! You're my agent, Quat! You're supposed to at least try and get me on a decent team!"

Much to his shock, the other young man began laughing. "You didn't even ask me the figure they're offering. They want to sign you for one season for five million dollars. That doesn't even include the money that you would be making if you clean your act up enough to be offered endorsements."

Silently grateful that he was already sitting, lest he have been knocked from his feet, Duo's violet eyes widened and he sputtered, "F-five mil? For just one season?"

"You're welcome," Quatre grinned over the line before hanging up.

For a long moment, the running back just stared at the receiver in his hand as the dial tone filled the air. Once he regained his senses, he hung the phone back up and rose from the bed. Looking out to the large windows to the San Diego skyline, he smirked, "Well, I'm sure Pittsburgh can't be all that bad."

*   *   *   *   *   *

"Duo Maxwell!? You signed Duo Maxwell onto the team!?" Heero Yuy shouted as he stormed into his Head Coach's office. Planting his fists on the edge of the tall man's desk, he glared heatedly, "Tell me that the radio announcer just made some kind of mistake when he made the big announcement earlier today."

Sighing deeply, Zechs Merquise folded his arms and leaned back in his leather seat. "Yes," he admitted with a firm nod. "Maxwell is one of the best running back out there and you know that Alex just isn't cutting it in that position. I had to let him go."

His cobalt eyes narrowing further, the Wolverine's star quarterback yelled, "For a guy who broke his Head Coach's nose on national television at the end of their last game! Zechs, our team is one of the most respected because of the way we carry ourselves. Brining on an asshole like that is going to have people questioning our morale."

Slowly lowering his head, the Head Coach sighed deeply once more. As he raised it back up to meet the eyes boring down on him, he frowned deeply, "Heero, if we don't at least make it to the Super Bowl this coming season with a league championship, the team owner is going to let me go."

At that announcement, Heero straightened and instantly lost his edge as his eyes widened in shock. Zechs shook his head and stated, "My back is against the wall. The only problem that our team has is in our running game. Maxwell is the only player good enough out there that can change that."

Much as he hated the thought of working with a loose cannon as a teammate, Heero couldn't imagine playing for anyone other than Zechs. The man had been like a father to him ever since he signed on fresh out of high school almost four years before. He knew that there was talk amongst the bigwigs that coming close to a league championship and falling short just wasn't good enough for them. And now it seemed like they found a scapegoat to take the fall.

Thought of his coach's wife, Noin, and their two children came in a rush and Heero swallowed down the acid that shot into the back of his throat. With a deep sigh, he lowered his head and nodded, "All right. I'll talk to the rest of the team, since I'm sure that they won't be particularly thrilled when they hear the news of the trade."

A sad smile tugged Zech's lips as he replied quietly, "Thank you, Heero. I always knew that I made the right choice in naming you their Captain." Clearing his throat, he folded his long hands over his desk and asked, "I hope that you don't think badly of me for asking this of you, but could you also see Maxwell in with me when he arrives next week? He wants to be well settled here in town before pre-season training starts up again in September."

With a bit of difficulty, Heero suppressed the shudder that ran up his spine. Forcing a smile, he reassured with a curt nod, "Sure thing, Coach." The two young men exchanged their farewells before the quarterback stepped from the office numbly.

Stepping out of the stadium, the Japanese football player sighed deeply, his breath coming out in a puff of smoke in the cold air. Lightly grumbling, Heero pulled his coat tighter and snorted to himself bitterly, "Great way to start the off season."

TBC...

Notes:

The running back's job is just as it sounds, he is handed the ball by the quarterback and runs it as far as he can down the field. He's not usually a tackler since his soul job is to look for an opening to break through to gain some ground.

The quarterback throws the ball to what would be called a receiver that tries to get open further down the field.

 

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