Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Heero Yuy Hates to Fly ❯ Heero Yuy Hates to Fly ( Chapter 1 )

[ A - All Readers ]

AN: Howdy, Kats and Kittens! How's things, eh? Well, I currently spent twenty whole minutes on this fic after pulling an all-nighter, so you'll forgive me if it seems . . . off, neh? So down to business.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. I do not own the characters of Gundam Wing. My dog does not own Gundam Wing and neither does he care much about Gundam Wing, but, hey, he'll have to deal with it since I like it so much. Heh.
Heero Yuy Hates To Fly:
His fingers grip the armrests painfully, his knuckles turning white in an effort to suffocate the cheap, airline plastic. His entire body tenses, not a single muscle left relaxed as his teeth grind to the point of cracking. The vessel shakes, and he momentarily closes his eyes, attempting to steady the ever-increasing rate of his pulse and the hyperventilating breaths being forced upon his lungs.
A shrill bell rings over and over as a sign at the front of the cabin blinks on and off . . . on and off . . . almost mesmerizing until the high-pitched voice of an overly-chipper stewardess grates through the circular speaker above his seat, the muffled tone asking that all passengers buckle their seatbelts. Time for takeoff.
He curses himself as he fumbles with the safety device, admitting the stupidity of his fear and yet still unable to understand it. A born and bred pilot with over one-hundred missions under his belt, destroyer of more than he ever wishes to imagine, recently-promoted commander of The Preventer faction . . . and he is still deathly terrified of setting foot in a shuttle or aircraft of any kind.
The plane shudders as it begins its journey down the landing strip, and it takes all of his strength to keep the contents in his stomach from rising in his throat. Without thinking, he grasps the hand of the young man sitting beside him. The fingers beneath his tense at the strength of his grip but soon curl comfortingly around his own. The other brings the apprehensive man's hand up to brush soft lips against its back before resting the joined hands in his lap, his braid cascading down over his shoulder and tickling their fingertips.
His breathing slows some, his heart rate falling from sky-rocket to speeding-car. He offers the figure beside him an appreciative glance and closes his eyes once more, revelling in the contact between them. The airplane tilts backwards, suddenly, confirming their ascension, but he barely registers it, too immersed in the fact that the other man is rubbing his hand with his thumb soothingly.
Heero Yuy hates to fly; a pure and simple fact . . . but perhaps this time is not as bad as the rest. What ever would he do without Duo Maxwell?
AN: Questions? Comments? Vague disregard to any or all words written and established in the mind of one who has no sanity?
Short and sweet, I know, but that's the way (uh-huh, uh-huh) I like 'em. Hope you enjoyed seeing Heero squirm! Feel free to leave feedback, whether praise, criticism, or somewhere in between. Later!