Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ A Teenager in Cliche ❯ Part II ( Chapter 2 )

Title: A Teenager in Cliché

Rating: Overall, NC-17, Part II, PG

Paring: 1x2, possible mentions of 3x4 later

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Want to watch some 1x2 action, though.

Summary: As Duo puts it, "So I was just one big, burning ball of cliche back then."

Don't bite me! I've been working on so many other projects... I'm sorry! But hey, it's still alive, right! It's taken a bit of a different turn for me in my mind, so I'm not sure if it's still going to be just 3 parts, or if it'll be more... It's looking like it might end up a little longer than planned... like I said, it was meant to be just one part, but I like updating stuff. ^.^;

Anyways, enjoy!

Part II

 

I didn't have any dreams helping me in my ever going quest to get Heero in bed, but I did have the hangover from hell. My alarm clock almost got a fist-full of Duo rage when I heard a sound that was curiously similar to the sound of puking coming from the direction of the bathroom.

 

I stood, bracing myself as the dizzy sensation took my splitting headache to new heights. If my hangover was this bad, Heero must have been dying. From the sounds still echoing from the bathroom, he was almost dead already.

 

I tossed on a pair of sweatpants, not worrying about a shirt as I headed to the bathroom, my rage temporarily forgotten. I rapped my knuckles gently against the door, not wanting to further escalate the pain in my own throbbing head. "You okay in there buddy?"

 

His answer was a stream of what I imagined to be curses in his native tongue, Japanese, between dangerous bouts of dry-heaving.

 

Yeah, Plan C was going to have to be a hell of a lot better than the one before it.

 

It was nearly five minutes later when he emerged to find me leaning against the door frame. "Feeling better?"

 

"No."

 

"I didn't think so. You're not going to work today, I suppose."

 

"I'm going." He started walking back to his room, his normally olive skin pale, his eyes red and his hair even crazier than usual.

 

I stared at him incredulously. "What? You're crazy! You can't go into work in that condition!"

 

"I don't miss work." He tried to shut his bedroom door, but I was right behind him, and I stuck my foot out just in time to stop it from closing me out.

 

"You do now. The war ended. There are no missions. No one will die if you call in sick. Trust me, with a hangover like that, you won't last an hour anyway."

 

"I'm going," he repeated, adding a full blown 'I'd like to see you stop me' glare.

 

"No, you're not." This is about where Plan C started formulating in my brain. It was similar to Plan B in concept: Get Heero to relax. Only this time, it didn't involve substances that would backfire on me. I'd figure out the details later, but if I could get him to stay home, the plan would be in motion.

 

I grinned softly at him. "Heero, you can't just keep pushing your body like this. It's not good for you. You need to stay home, and if you're going to make me call in sick for you, I will. You're resting today."

 

"I don't need to rest." He growled.

 

"How long have you been working there? Over a year now, right?" He gave me a small nod. "Let me guess, you've never taken any vacation time, you don't take sick days, and you often stay late to complete projects that you took on voluntarily. Am I right?" Silence. "I knew it. Take the day off and spend some time sleeping off the headache. You'll thank me for it later."

 

Those deep blue eyes were calculating everything I said, I could tell. His expression went blank for a moment before he finally said, "Fine," with a resigned sigh.

 

"Good!" I said a little too loud, slapping him on the shoulder. We both winced, me from the sound of my own voice, and him from me throwing his equilibrium off. "Sorry. Well, I have to take a shower. I wish I could stay behind, but I'm used to it, and I'm not that bad off. If I don't show up to my first day of classes, they'll drop me, and that would be a real shame, being I've already moved all my stuff in here." I smirked. "Here, let me give you something for that headache of yours first."

 

I grabbed my secret stash of Motrin out of the top drawer of my nightstand and reappeared before him, grabbing his hand and pouring some across his palm. "The headache is killer, so take four now, then just take two more whenever it gets unbearable again."

 

"Duo?" He was blinking stupidly at me.

 

"What?"

 

"These aren't going to work. Drug therapy, remember?"

 

Shit. I'd almost forgot. His drug therapy was much more intense than mine was. His body reacted differently to medicine. "Well, take eight then, and four at intervals. It's Motrin, the wonder drug. It should at least help a little. But you should eat something with it... I think I brought some instant noodles with me. Ah hell, I have a little extra time. I'll make us some for breakfast. I'm used to taking these things on an empty stomach, but I like to eat in the morning, you know? That and I doubt you could even stand long enough to cook the stuff."

 

So off I went to be the doting best friend that I was, cooking with the worst hangover I'd had in months. I was really hoping he'd understand how very unlike me that was. I don't cook in the morning on good days. I definitely don't attempt it when my head feels like it has a split the size of the Amazon in it. But still, instant noodles aren't exactly the most complex of foods to make, so I managed without too much trouble.

 

I ate at top speed, took my shower and raced out the door with a quick wave and a warning to Heero to get some rest, and I still managed to be ten minutes late to my first class. Luckily enough, most people are still getting accustomed to the school on the first day, so I just pretended to have gotten lost and took a seat in the back of my "The Recent After Colonies Wars" history class, a sure-fire A for one Duo Maxwell, ex-Gundam Pilot.

 

The day went by without a hitch, thanks to the fact that our records were sealed after the wars, us being minors and all at the time. The administration office knew who I was, but they were all under strict orders not to release the information to the students under any circumstances, so none of the unsuspecting kids thought that the loud-mouthed, overly-friendly guy could possibly be the feared Gundam Pilot 02, though all my teachers would find out soon enough. But for the moment, to all who I crossed paths with that day, I was just another kid. It felt kinda nice, really.

 

Heero was dozing lightly on the couch when I came home, which told me just how wiped out he really was. I felt pretty bad about it, to tell you the truth. I just wanted to loosen him up a bit, not give him one of my famous Maxwell Hangovers.

 

He stirred a bit when I tossed a blanket over him, blinking sleepily at me before continuing his little nap, and I moved to my drawing desk, keeping one eye on him while I set my mind to the task at hand. I flipped open my sketch book and mulled over my first art project of the semester. It was something so simple, but I take my art seriously, so I wasn't going to hand in just any sketch. The instructions were so vague - draw something beautiful. Well, that could be just about a million different things, thanks a lot for the specifics, buddy. I was half tempted to hand in a full color sketch of my Gundam, but that would be pushing it just a little, so I was hard up for something unique and intriguing to try my hand at capturing for a grade.

 

I tapped my pencil against the pad in a soft rhythm, watching Heero all the while. It definitely wasn't the first time I'd seen him sleep, but it was the first time I'd seen him sleep since the war. You'd think that no matter what, when a person sleeps, they look the same. That's anything but true, especially when you're talking about the difference of sleep that's always ready for an attacker to rouse it, and contented sleep in a new, peaceful world. And peaceful was a pretty good description of the expression on Heero's face as he slept that afternoon. I really don't know how to describe that look correctly. He just looked so... young. I mean, I know, we are young, but only in age. Heero and I were never truly kids. But right then, dozing off the remnants of the hangover of death, he seemed to obtain that innocence, if only for a little while. It was nothing short of beautiful.

 

I looked down at my empty sketchpad, at Heero, then back to my empty sketchpad. Well, it couldn't hurt... it's not as if I hadn't sketched him before, and it's not like I was getting far on my assignment. So what if I couldn't turn it in? I decided right then and there that it was something worth keeping, if only for myself. Mind made up, I set my pencil to the first blank page in my brand new sketchpad and started to draw.

 

 

 

It was just about dark when I finished my sketch, and not a moment too soon. Heero woke up just moments later, and after flipping the book closed, we went about our night in a normal fashion, without quite so much dripping sex appeal from me. I figured if I wanted to get him to relax, I'd have to work a little slower. I was going to have to approach this from a friendly angle first, get him to relax, and then pull out the sex appeal. It meant I'd have to wait a bit to achieve my goal, and though I might be impatient, it was worth the wait. I'd been waiting roughly 19 years, what would a month or two more hurt? I remembered to grab my sketch and stash it before I holed up in my room for the night.

 

I was crafty enough to arrange all my classes to be on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, so I didn't have class the next day. I really enjoy a day in, a day off, you know? So I stayed up for a bit, quietly playing a few of my favorite albums and looking at that sketch I'd drawn earlier. It made my mind wander back to our war days when a look like that couldn't be afforded even in sleep, and for a couple hours, I just kind of rolled everything about the war around in my skull. You'd think by now I'd know better than to do that before bed.

 

I hadn't thought to warn Heero about the nightmares. So when my personal reel of the dead started to play behind my eyes, I imagine I started squirming. And I have no doubt that when the flames licked their way up the walls of the Church, I started screaming. This was all perfectly natural behavior for me, but apparently, Heero didn't know any better. Strong arms shook me like a rag doll, and my eyes shot open, the tears that I had been crying in my sleep clinging lightly to my face.

 

It took me a minute to come back from the past, to take in the situation and realize what had happened. Heero was just standing over me, clutching my arms and blinking at me. I realized he was probably waiting for me to say something.

 

"S'ry 'Ro, I f'got to warn ya..." My voice was laced with sleep, and my thoughts weren't coming through well. I took a moment to clear my throat and shake my head, clearing the sleep away. "Sorry Heero. I didn't think to warn you about my nightmares. I'm not used to living with anyone else, and it's so normal for me now that I just didn't think of it."

 

"Are you alright?" His normally emotionally void eyes were tinged lightly with concern, and I wondered briefly how loud I had been screaming. I noticed my sheets were strewn half-hazardly across the bed and my comforter was on the floor. I figured I was probably thrashing pretty hard.

 

"Yeah, I'm fine." I rubbed at my face, clearing away the tears I had forgotten were there. My chest hurt and I wanted to bash my head against a wall, but I needed to get Heero back into bed before I started bothering to sort through the mess that was my past. "Go back to bed. I'm sorry I woke you."

 

He let go of me then, but he just stood there for a moment, staring at me. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked softly.

 

The confusion must have been pretty plain on my face because Heero blinked at me a couple times, stepping back in the process. "Uh, no, that's alright. It's the same dream I have all the time. Go back to bed, Heero."

 

He watched me for a moment more, like I'd change my mind and break down right in front of him, and I must admit, I almost did, but it was none of his business and he wouldn't have been able to help me at all anyway. He didn't care about my stupid past. When I didn't spontaneously combust or otherwise self destruct under his gaze, he turned and left, casting me a small glance from the doorway before quietly returning to his room.

 

I waited a few minutes to make sure Heero was settled in before using all the stealth training I've ever had to make my way to the living room. I stood completely still for a while, looking out of the window and up at the stars, where I could just faintly make out the twinkle of L2, lost to days long since past.

 

I don't do well when I have nightmares. My past likes to show up at random times and bite me in the ass, and there's not much I can do about it but just ride it out. But it hurts, you know? So when the tears returned, I cried silently, just staring up that that faint twinkle that had stole everything from me.

 

I had been standing in front of that window for three hours before dawn finally broke, and as light spilled into the room, I made my way over to my drawing desk, pulled open a sketchbook and started to draw.

 

My mind is not always right there with me when I draw. I'm not sure where it goes or how I manage to draw anything without actually concentrating on it, but time just seems to vanish, and suddenly I 'wake up', finished drawing in hand.

 

That morning was one of those times. The simple action of blinking brought me out of... where ever the hell I was, and I focused on my drawing as if I had no idea what it was. When I saw what it was, I damn near screamed.

 

Solo's face stared up from the page, the cold, glossed over eyes of someone who is already dead. He had been sick for a long time, and his eyes were dark and hollow. A smaller version of myself, in the patched up street-rat clothes I belonged in, clutched at Solo's own tattered shirt, tears spilling freely over my young face. In the background, the church was burning, bodies covered with ash and blood laid lifeless on the steps.

 

"Oh Jesus..." I moaned, making to throw the pad across the room, tears moving down my face again. Before I could chuck the thing at the wall in full force, it was plucked from my hand, and I whirled around, horrified to see Heero staring at the picture with an unreadable expression.

 

After a few moments that felt to me more like days, he finally spoke. "Your artistic skills are amazing." His voice held just a trace of awe, and I looked at him dumbfounded. My drawing was obviously disturbed, if it was anything. I mentally noted that this most definitely wasn't something I'd be handing in under the guise of 'something beautiful'.

 

A few minutes of awkward silence passed between us, Heero still clutching my sketchbook with the abomination much like the ones I produce after every nightmare, when he finally looked up at me. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?" His eyes flickered from me back to the sketchpad. "I could stay home from work again, if need be."

 

Oh sweet Jesus, what a large step to move my goals along, but at such a personal cost to me. My past was still just that - mine, and I wasn't sure if I was so ready to throw it out on the line for this little game I was playing. But then, I did say at all costs, and Heero was and probably always will be my best friend.

 

I guess my face was wrought with my inner struggle, nevermind the tears still resting on my cheeks, because I still hadn't come to a decision when Heero said with a tone of finality, "Even if you don't, I'm not going anywhere." He set the sketchpad back on the desk and added, "And don't destroy your work, Duo. It's a part of you," before walking off to call in sick for the second day in a row.

 

Partly baffled and completely ill at ease, I wiped the pathetic water from my face and wondered what in the hell I was going to tell him, if anything. He walked back through the room moments later, switching on the coffee pot for me and putting on a tea kettle for himself. He then proceeded to make us both a nice, hot breakfast while I just sat there dumbfounded. Heero Yuy, skip work for the problems of one Duo Maxwell? What the hell was going on here? He wanted me to talk about my feelings? Who the hell was this guy and what did he do with Heero?

 

Now, I'm not implying that Heero is a poor friend. He just... prioritizes. Work, work, work, a little bit of friends dashed in, work, cook, clean, work, sleep. Notice emotions don't even get a spot on that list, and us friends definitely don't come before work. Hell, fun isn't even on that list. It's just an added bonus to some of his friend encounters. Heero is polite and distant. It's just his nature when it comes to dealing with people. He's either quite and polite, or, if you have the misfortune of being on his bad side, quite and deadly. He used to be quite and rude, so he'd really improved a lot.

 

He snapped me out of my zone and beckoned me to the table to eat with him. I don't think I've ever been as nervous as I was sitting there, eating in pointed silence, ready to flinch at the first thing that came out of his mouth.

 

But nothing came. No words, that is. We ate in complete silence and he didn't press me for anything. Afterwards, he popped in one of my favorite Disney movies, the Emperor's New Groove. We watched it in silence, but this quiet was a little more companionable, broke every so often by the sounds of my laughter at all the classic antics in that movie. I even quoted right in time with the movie at some of my favorite parts, like the plan to turn the Emperor into a flea. Man, I love that part. It's brilliant, brilliant, brilliant!

 

The rest of the morning went very much like that. We just watched funny movies, I'd laugh and quote, and Heero would smirk a little. In the early hours of the afternoon, Heero began preparing lunch. He still hadn't broached the subject, and for our brash and straight to the point soldier-boy, that was quite impressive. I think I was kinda awed by the amount of care he was showing me. Like I said, emotions aren't his strong point, and neither is talking, so when he takes the time to let his actions do the talking for him, it's almost... endearing. That alone had me wanting to spill my guts to him. Couple that with the side of guilt that he's my best friend and I should have already trusted him with it made up my resolve.

 

I mean, I was just going to fill in some blanks for him, right? He wouldn't think less of me, right? He was my best friend, no matter what. So why was I plagued by the sudden insecurities that he'd hate me for who I was? He knew I was a thief and an orphan. He knew people called me street rat. Heero would never hate me. Why was I so afraid he would?

 

We ate in silence again, but this time it was courage building silence. I spent every single moment of that much too short meal digging up every ounce of strength I had. It didn't seem like nearly enough. But when he went to pop in another movie bound to get me laughing, I reluctantly called him back.

 

"'Ro?" I tested out the new nickname on my tongue, the one I'd mumbled when he'd woke me all those long hours earlier. He responded to it though, and somehow, I grew an instant attachment to it. It felt special. I had nicknames for all the pilots except one. And now that I had one for the final pilot, I knew it was right, and that it would probably be connected to all things sensitive and emotional between us. I mean, I couldn't just wear it out, you know?

 

"Duo?" Ah, the sweet sound of his voice sent chills through me. After all, he'd been comforting me all day long, but he hadn't managed to speak one word while doing it. The sound of his voice was like a whole different kind of comfort.

 

"I guess it's time for me to speak up, eh?" I grinned unsteadily, but I was committed now. There was no running away now. So in typical Maxwell fashion, I just started talking, everything and anything just tumbling from my mouth as fast as I could get it from my brain to push it through my lips. Solo, my street life, the Plague, Father Maxwell and Sister Helen, the whole nine yards, and before I knew it, I was crying and Heero had me in a firm embrace.

 

I don't know how long he held me there. I just know he looked like he was in a wet t-shirt contest by the time he pulled away, and I was just starting to come to my senses enough to realize that I-Don't-Like-To-Be-Touched Yuy had just hugged the crap out of me. He'd even rubbed reassuring circles on my back and everything. It was amazingly intimate, yet at the same time, it was so much more than that. I could still smell his wild scent and his touches lingered in a tingly phantom across my skin. It was in that moment where I was still halfway between the emotions of sad and touched that I started to fear what I had set out to do was wrong. I didn't want to use Heero.

 

I knew without a shadow of a doubt that if I succeeded in my ambitions, I would.