Series: Gundam Wing
Archive: Fallen Icons
Pairing: Duo + Heero
Warnings: Foul language, violence, musings on war. Also, this fic is unbeta'd at the moment.
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or any of its characters. They are the property of Bandai and Sunrise. I'm only playing in their sandbox. No profit is intended.
Summary: 'Well, this was a fine fucking kettle of fish.'
Author's Notes: This fic is part of a First Kiss meme that's going around. sharona1x2 wanted me to try and write her a possible first kiss for Duo and Heero; as I love her and the characters, I tried to oblige. I'm going to go ahead and apologize as this is unbeta'd. I'll probably beg amet to go over it later. So any typos I apologize for in advance.
This fic thingie was a tad longer than I'd anticipated. I'll probably combine posts for any of the challenges that end up shorter than this.
A Gundam Wing ficlet
Well, this was a fine, fucking kettle of fish.
Easing back behind the bit of wall he'd managed to claim for his own in this godforsaken place, Duo Maxwell slouched down as another bullet whizzed by, too close this time. Close enough to feel the air shift, able to imagine the heat and the blossom of pain that would follow, his vivid imagination able to supply what it would look like if his face had been just a couple of inches to the left and he grimaced. That was … really not helping. So he turned his attention to other things like who the fuck would put fish in a kettle and for what purpose? Anything that small wasn't worth eating and you couldn't see through any kind of kettle he knew, ruling out any ornamental value.
Duo smiled, a grim little twist of his lips as he shook his head. Sister Helen had been fond of that saying, often chiding him with those exact same words. Minus the swear, of course. Sister Helen have thumped his ears and gotten Father to make him clean the chapel from top to bottom as suitable punishment. She sure as hell wouldn't approve of this particular kettle of fish though he doubted even she could find a punishment suitable and terrible enough for this.
The mission had been a simple one; destroy the newest set of mobile suits just off the OZ factory lines. The convoy had been heavily protected up to the point where it had actually arrived at the Khartoum base, at which time some higher up evidently decided that it was too damn protected. Troops were not added and watches were barely increased, bloated superiority stubbornly denying those rumors that Duo had heard flying from Brazil to Beijing. With OZ having displaced the Alliance and now secure in its position as the dominant force on Earth and in its colonies, he was being forced to fight a new enemy with the same arrogant assumptions as the last, one that included the idea that the people, if not happy, were content living under its rule. On Earth at least but then everyone knew that the Colonials were little better than rabid trash, mindless of what was for their own good and needing a firm hand. They certainly didn't have the wherewithal to coordinate and enact a rebellion. What's more, there wasn't enough money, intelligence, or stomach in them to mount such a thing against Earth rule.
Right. And he might be thinking of painting Deathscythe pink and giving it furry bunny ears. Duo snorted softly, leaning against his shelter, the barrel of his gun tapping against his cheek. Howard would love that; G probably would too, in his own perverse way that sometimes made Duo wonder if Howard weren't sharing some of his "special" cigarettes with him, the sickly sweet stink that told Duo more than enough about what Howard did to relax in his off hours. It would certainly explain why nothing ever 'harshed his mellow' as Howard liked to claim, lazily driving headfirst through firefights that left Duo clinging to the edge of his seat.
Eh, who was he to begrudge the old man his kicks? There were worse things he could do, things Duo had seen on the streets of L2 even if he couldn't put a name to all of them.
Howard wasn't here now though and Duo was grateful for that. He had enough trouble trying to figure out how /he/ was getting out of this shit, let alone trying to drag someone else out with him.
The sound of machine gun blasts were getting closer, most likely alerted by those troops who'd managed to corner him. It'd been stupid to leave Deathscythe behind but he'd been pretty flashy lately with her and the last thing he needed was to find out this was some kind of stupid trap for him to walk into.
"Looks like it's just you and me," Duo muttered, petting his gun just before racking his pistol, listening to another bullet slide into the chamber. "Them too, but they don't count --"
A blur dropped down in front of him, faster than he could take in let alone react properly, a familiar green and black blur, blue eyes unflinching as the barrel of Duo's semi-automatic pressed against his forehead.
He should have reacted, should have flinched up or just done something. Duo knew he sure the hell would have in his shoes, probably babbling his fool head off while trying to come up with a way to get out before Heero splattered his brains all over these fine floors. He should have, oh kicked out or done something cool. Something arrogant and unbelievable and just Heero, the soldier Duo'd been trying to get a fix on since busting him out of that Alliance hospital.
But Heero wasn't doing anything; hadn't really since that nice little OZ trap with the pacifists. Nothing more than trying harder to get himself killed and given that state of mind, Duo Maxwell was probably just as interchangeable as any OZ soldier.
Duo snorted, lifting his gun and easing back against his bit of wall again. "We~ll, if it isn't the mysterious Heero. Nice of you to drop in. As you can see I'm a little busy or really, buddy, I swear I would have cleaned the place up for you."
The thing was...the thing was ... Heero had been trying to kill himself since they met but at least he'd been interacting in the between attempts. Interacting in that way in which he alternately stole from and tried to beat the shit out of Duo but Duo liked to think he could give as good as he could take so it worked out. Now he was just -- a lump. A great lumpy thing that walked and moved, sliding to his feet with practiced efficiency and grace but there was nothing behind those eyes save shadows of pain and the taking of a blame he had no real right to. So he'd fucked up and -- killed the wrong plane full of people. Wasn't like he meant to; they'd been set up and it could just as easily been any one of them. Besides, this was a war and that meant people were going to die. It wasn't pretty and Duo sure the hell didn't like it when non-combatants got involved but like the t-shirt said, shit happens.
Lately, it'd been happening a lot. Hell, this whole mission had gone south from the get go.
OZ had taken more than just the Earth; it had taken something out of Heero, maybe that thing that passed for his heart, whatever passion and purpose he'd had shriveling to ash. He didn't say anything, barely looked at Duo as he stalked forward, looking ready to throw himself in front of a firing squad which given the idiot's tendencies of late was probably exactly what he intended.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Duo grabbed his arm, attempting to yank him backward or at least stop him or something.
Heero couldn't honestly think that Duo was just going to let him walk and throw himself -- Oh hell. Who was he kidding? Of course he did. Fucking Heero. Stupid, suicidal moron. Duo didn't have time for this; he needed to do something, anything, to stall the other pilot long enough to get them both through this firefight so he could properly bash Heero's thick skull in for his awesome timing.
As Heero wasn't giving him a lot of leeway, options, or time and so Duo settled on the first thing that came to mind, letting him go long enough to slap a hand against the scruff of his neck, slamming their mouths together in what more a bite than a kiss -- at least at first.
Heero's lips were warm, burning against his, thin and startled as they parted, Duo's tongue sliding forward before the other boy could get whatever it was he wanted to say out. He caught a glimpse of widening blue, dark and light caught in depths that were as deep as the ocean before Duo had to close his eyes against what he saw. Windows. Sister Helen had said something once about eyes being like windows, letting you see another person's soul if you looked hard enough and Heero...
Heero was in hell. They all were but the one Heero had constructed for himself with bars of blood and shattered innocence, locked by self-loathing was too much even for Duo who knew a thing or two about such things.
Heero's mouth was dry, cracked in places likely from the heat and Duo could taste blood as he pressed forward despite himself, his tongue brushing against Heero's lower lip and then other boy softened, leaning into it, into Duo, a hand resting against Duo's shoulder.
The base was burning, he could taste the smoke in the back of his throat and in Heero's kiss, a timid, inexperienced mashing of lips, the base was burning and OZ had them trapped. Well and fucking trapped without any sort of back up. They were going to die.
They were going to die and Duo wasn't sure until this one moment that either of them had really lived. Quick, desperate fingers juggled his gun, smoothing over Heero's cheek, the callouses finding that skin softer than Duo could have imagined, Heero yanking fitfully at his clothes. The sound of gunfire was getting closer now and part of him just didn't care. It would be worth getting shot for this.
'What the hell am I thinking?' Duo wrenched backward, the faint whimper than followed near inaudible and he wasn't going to figure out which one of them made it. 'Jesus, the crazy is infecting me. It has to be because I sound like that girl.'
Still, that had been one hell of a kiss.
Fisting a handful of Heero's tanktop, Duo gave the stunned boy a shake, hissing, "Now you listen to me, bucko and you listen good. We are getting out of here. We, not just me. I swear to God if you get yourself killed before I figure out what just happened, I'll find a way to bring your sorry ass back to life and kill you myself, got it?"
Duo barely waited for the imperceptible nod Heero managed, hefting his gun and easing his way out from behind his shelter, ready to pick off the next person who came in the room. He felt like laughing, a hysterical knot hardening in his chest that coupled with the rush of adrenaline now pumping through his system made him want to charge down the next unfortunate entering the room.
'I was right, the crazy is infecting me but I think it might be worth it. If we can do that again sometime.'