Title: Mukizu No Senshi (Flawless Warrior)

Part: one / ?  A Momentary Release

Authour: sushisama (sbolce@esper.com)

Warnings : shounen ai, sap, OOC (?), 1+2/ 2+1, 0x1

Disclaimer : I do not own the Gundam boys, neither would I want to.  It would be no fun writing about my own characters.  Well, not as fun as reading fan fiction from some adoring fan, at least.  But, I’m side tracking here.  ^-^;;; There would be no point to suing me, though I have money, it isn’t much. 

Notes:  This is my first Gundam / yaoi / angst, practically anything fanfic.  Please, be kind but also cruel if you do decide to send me comments. 

            / / = denotes thoughts : [ ] = begins and ends dreaming : ( ) = flashbacks

::*~~*::

            A heavy silence filled the van.  Amethyst eyes turned their gaze to the dark –haired teenager driving the vehicle.

            /Does he even realize he’s bleeding..? / Duo snorted in response to his own question.  / The ‘Perfect Soldier’ probably doesn’t even feel any of the pain. /  He ran his fingers through his bangs, encountering tangles and bits of leaves along the way.  He briefly shut his eyes and sighed.  / Washing my hair tonight is going to be a bitch./  When he opened them again, he looked at Heero, the Wing pilot’s cobalt eyes still fixed on the road.  Duo fidgeted.  Fifteen minutes of –complete- silence.  That just wasn’t right.  Not for the American boy, anyways.

            “Ne, Heero..” he began, realizing he actually didn’t have anything to say.  Prussian coloured eyes flashed momentarily at Duo’s heart-shaped face, only to then return to the road a second later.  The short glance the Deathscythe pilot received was enough to give him something to further the conversation.  “Do you want me to drive for awhile?  You look beat.”

            “I’m fine, Duo,” his reply came coldly.

            “Ne, I really think you should let me drive for a while.  Besides – “ He pointed a finger at Heero’s leg.  “- You really should fix that up.  It might get infected, you know...”

            “Hn,” was Heero’s only response as he twisted the steering wheel,  parking on the shoulder of the deserted country road.  He opened his door and jumped from the driver’s seat to the ground outside.  Duo followed Heero’s movements with his eyes as the Japanese boy came around to the passenger side and opened the door.  Duo was then faced with an emotionless glare from his partner, who looked slightly annoyed as well as tired.

            “Well?” Heero snorted, folding his arms over his chest.  “You said that you wanted to switch.”

            Duo blinked for a few seconds, then, not wanting to be faced with the Wing pilot’s gaze any longer, he fumbled with his seat belt.  Heero stepped out of the way, so that Duo could get out of the van.  While the braided boy was making it around the vehicle, he heard the sound of the passenger door closing.  He hopped into his new seat and shut the door behind him.  He buckled up.

            He put his hands on the key, but before turning it, he peered over at Heero.  Heero looked back at him, soon catching sight of Duo giving him a huge grin.  He reacted by cocking his eyebrow.

            “Remember to buckle up,” Duo teased.

            Heero fastened his seat belt as Duo turned the ignition and started the van, heading towards the two-bed hotel room he and Heero were currently sharing.  After another minute of total silence, Duo reached over and flipped on the radio to some Alternative station.  He hummed and sometimes sang to a Papa Roach song as it filled the van’s cavity.

            Heero rolled his eyes and was soon digging in Duo’s pack for bandages.  The cut on his thigh was six inches long, but not all too deep. Sure, it was still bleeding a little, but nothing all too serious.  The Japanese boy pushed away manga and clothes until he found everything he need.  He at once set out with the task of dressing his wound.

            “What is this called?” Duo snapped from his subconscious singing and looked over at his partner.  Was Heero Yuy initializing conversation?

            “Nani?”

            “This song : what is it called?”

            “Oh, it’s Between Angels and Insects.”

            There was a brief silence.

            “Hn, odd name...”

            There was another pause, this time a long one.  Duo concentrated on the road, wishing he had coffee or something to give him a caffeine boost.

            After about fifteen minutes of Heero’s silence and Duo’s singing to the radio, the American could feel his braid being lifted.  He gave a quick glance at Heero, who was threading his fingers  in and out of the end of his braid.  He raised an eyebrow to his partner’s actions.   /What in the hell is he doing?/

            Heero plucked a leaf from the braid and threw it out his open window to be caught by the wind.  He then began to play with the rubber band that was fastened around the end of the braid, contemplating whether or not to break it.  /Even through a tough mission... his hair is still like silk.../

            The Japanese pilot suddenly snapped to his sense and dropped the mess of hair, withdrawing into his seat, closer to the window.  /Why did I do that?/ Heero could feel the amethyst eyes periodically glancing at his back and then to the road again.  /What was I thinking?  What was so tempting about his hair? To touch it, hold it - /

            “Duo.”

            “What is it, Heero?” Duo replied, not taking his eyes of the road.

            “When we get back.. that is.. I-“ Heero left off nervously.

            “What, Heero?”

            Heero took in a deep breath.  /Why am I asking this?/ “May I... wash your hair?”

            Duo looked over at him with a dumbfounded look plastered on his face.  It soon faded into a smirk.

            “Sure, Heero, just don’t change your mind by the time we get home, okay?”

            The Japanese boy merely nodded.  He turned from the American, and a small, satisfied smile crossed his lips for a fraction of a second.

::*~~*::

            Once inside, Heero dropped his pack near the couch and immediately went into the bathroom and locked the door.

            Duo threw his pack onto his bed, muttering, “Not going to do a mission report?” He smirked as he heard the shower beginning to run.  The American opened his bag and searched for night clothes.  He was taking off his black shirt when he remembered Heero’s offer.  He dropped his shirt carelessly to the floor and jumped onto his bed, putting his hands behind his head, reclining and waiting for Heero to emerge from the shower.  /He probably won’t even acknowledge his promise.  He’ll come back in here and type away.  I know it. /

            Seven minutes late, the bathroom door opened, allowing some steam to escape.  The Japanese boy stepped out, wearing his normal outfit and drying his hair with a towel.  Duo sat up and looked at him, noticing that he looked kind of  cute with ruffles hair.

            “Go ahead and go in,” Heero said flatly.  “I’ve already drawn the bath.  I’ll be in in five minutes. “  With that, the cobalt-eyed boy sat on his bed, pulling out his laptop and beginning the mission report.

            Shinigami blinked for a moment then stood, half-way grinning.  He grabbed the silk shirt and boxers that was his night clothes and walked into the bathroom.  He hung the night clothes upon a hanger on the back of the door.  He shut the door just enough so that there was still a crack there.  He striped from his black pants and cotton boxers, throwing them carelessly aside.

            The American then sank into the filled tub, the water raising with his body weight.  Duo gave out a sigh of comfort, stretching his hands behind his head.

            “Kimochi... Heero got it just the right temperature. “

            Duo relaxed for a moment until he saw the door opening.  He sat up and grinned at the Japanese pilot.  / Is he blushing? / It was a faint blush, but it was still there.  The braided boy’s grin grew even wider as he realized this.

            Heero walked over to the towel rack and grabbed one of the thicker towels.  He approached the tub, setting the towel down and kneeling on it.

            “You always get water on the floor, you know that?” Heero’s voice was still emotionless.  “Why do you think I always try to get the first shower?”

            Duo chuckled.  “Sorry.  I’ll keep that in mind from now on.”

            “Hn, whatever.” Heero reached over Duo and grabbed the bottle of shampoo in one hand, picking up the American’s braid in the other.  He thread his index and thumb between the rubber band and hair and snapped the restraint.  He set the bottle next to him on the floor, using two hands to unbraid the mass and rid it of as much of the leaves and twigs as he could.

            When he was done, he motioned for Duo to lay his head back.  Duo closed his eyes and leaned back.  When the American complied to the request, the Japanese boy instantly set out to dampen the hair as much as he could.  He tilted Duo’s head back so that his bangs were submerged but his mouth was still exposed to the air.

            Heero stopped for a second, to stare at the equally exposed neck.  He licked his lips, but then snapped to reality.  /What... what was that about?/ He shook his head, putting his hand to the back of Shinigami’s neck and tilting him back up.  The American’s eyes were still closed, a small smile across his face.

            Picking up the bottle and opening its lid, Heero dripped some of the soapy substance into his hands.  He rubbed them together, lathering them, and pulled the large mass of chestnut that was floating on top of the water.  He began to massage the shampoo into the hair, as Duo leaned forward a but.  Once the Wing pilot thought he had successfully washed this much of the hair, he dragged into the water, washing off any remnants of the substance.

            He repeated the process, this time washing the hair that was between the middle of back and the end of his neck.  He dipped the American backwards a little in order to rinse.

            When Duo was leaning forwards again, Heero put his hands onto his scalp.  Shinigami let out a small gasp as Heero began to run fingers through his hair.

            /He’s so gentle.../ Duo though.  /The ‘Perfect Soldier’ is being –gentle-... Who would’ve thought?/

            Heero noticed the growing smile on Duo’s face, and the shudder he gave when he had began the scalp massage.  And something about the fact he made the American shudder please him.  He was being gentle on the braided (well, now unbraided) boy because he felt it... necessary. Necessary to treat him gently this one time, if none other.

            The Deathscythe pilot stifled a moan as his massage continued.  After awhile, he just couldn’t help and let out a small moan of pleasure.  He relaxed a little more, leaning closer to Heero and his ‘magic’ fingers.

            Heero extended the massage after hearing Duo’s moan.  The scalp was more than ready to be rinsed, but the Japanese pilot wanted to keep Duo in this state of... pleasure.  He wasn’t solidified until he heard another moan, this one being a fraction louder and more obvious than the last.  He finally tilted Duo’s head back, rinsing it.

            When Heero released Duo so that he could sit up again, one violet eye popped open to look over at Heero, who was reaching across him again.  Now it was time for the conditioner.  Duo closed his eye, an ear-splitting grin across his face.

::*~~*::

            Duo lifted his head after Heero let go of his hair, water dripping from his hair and face back to the water.  He ran fingers through his own chestnut hair, feeling the silk of each strand, still encountering some tangles, but not as many as before.

            /Heero did a good job,/ Duo mused to himself.  He felt the disturbance of water next to him and looked down to Heero’s hands, which he was rinsing off in the cooling water.  He followed the hand to the arms, then to the torso, until his amethyst eyes set on Prussian ones.  Heero’s eyes, normally cruel, where softening around the edges.  Duo gave his partner a meaningful smile.

            The Wing pilot removed his hands and stood, going to the other side of the room to fetch a towel to dry his hands off with.  He looked back at the boy in the tub, who had put his arms over the rim, staring at the Japanese pilot.  He looked as if he was disappointed about something.

            “Doushita no?”

            Duo’s familiar, mocking grin came across his face.  “Not going to stay and help me finish?”  He grabbed a bar of soap and smiled at Heero invitingly.

            “Hn,” Heero muttered, obviously not amused. “You can do it yourself.”  With that he turned and exited, closing the door behind him. Duo stared at the door for a minute.

            /Why did I do that?/  he yelled at himself mentally.  He brought his hand to his brow, shaking his head.  /He probably thing I’m a freak now../

            “I’m such an idiot,” he muttered to no one in particular.

            He was answered by the soft, muffled typing from the other room.

::*~~*::

            Twenty minutes had passed by when Heero heard the sound of running water, gurgling, and spitting as Duo brushed his teeth.  The wet American came out of the bathroom, his hair still loose.   It made a small puddle underneath him as he continued to ruffle his hair with his towel.  Heero folded down his laptop and slid it into the drawer between their beds.   He leaned back, sitting cross-legged on the bed, looking over the boy.  He was wearing his black silk night outfit.

            Duo eyed him curiously.  Heero was sitting on –his- bed instead of his own.  Heero reached to the bed stand once more and plucked Duo’s favourite brush from it.

            “What’s this all about, ne?” The American cross his arms, smirking at his partner.

            The Japanese boy patted the spot in front of him, gesturing for the boy to sit down.  “I thought I might as well brush you hair.”

            Duo walked over to the side of the bed and leaned over Heero, his chestnut hair falling over his shoulders.  “Might as well?  What do you mean by that?”

            Heero’s cobalt eyes, though still a little soft, peered into Duo’s.  Feeling weary under the intense gaze, Duo complied to the Wing pilot’s request and sat in front of him, laying his moistened towel across his lap.  Heero lifted the ends of the mass and began to brush out the tangles.  Duo allowed his eyelids to fall; feeling somewhat drowsy already from the mission, the grooming making it worse.

            /Feels so good../ Duo smiled.  /I could fall asleep./

            Duo felt like he was melting under Heero’s gentle touch.  He was trying to stay awake, trying to make conversation. 

            “Did you finish the report?”  mocked Duo.

            “Ch’. Of course.”

            “Why did you want to wash my hair, Heero?” Duo joked after a moment of uncomfortable silence.  Heero continued to brush his hair, tugging a little.  Another silence fell.  “...Heero?”

            A soft muttering was his reply.

            “What?  You’re going to have to speak up. “

            “I don’t know why, okay?” Heero’s voice sounded somewhat irritated.

            Shinigami could feel his hair being separated as Heero began to rebraid it.  He took a rubber band form around the handle of the brush and fastened it around the end of the braid.  He threw it over Duo’s right shoulder.  “There.”

            He flung his feet over the side of the bed, ready to get up, when two slender arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him backwards a little.

            Duo pressed his cheek against the back of Heero’s right shoulder.  “Arigatou, Heero..”

            “Hn.”  The Japanese pilot made no struggle to get up, though he was somewhat irritated by the show of affection. But he was also enjoying the touch of the American. / What am I thinking?  I must be getting soft.  Damn you, Duo.  How are you doing this...? /

            The Deathscythe pilot could feel the muscles in Heero’s back tighten.  He smiled to himself as he thought of a way to repay the Wing pilot for his unusual kindness.

            Heero gave a slight shiver when he felt Duo’s palms settle on his shoulders and begin to knead at the knots of the muscles.  The attention was most relaxing.  He leaned his head forward, exposing more of his back.

            The Japanese boy felt a little bit disappointed when the warm pals left his back.  He turned his head, his cobalt eyes meeting smiling amethyst ones.

            “Lay down, “ Duo requested, voice soft.  Heero hesitated, wondering if it would be a good idea.  Though he wanted more of the attention, he was unsure of allowing the physical contact.

            /Too late for that.../ With that thought, he laid down, turning his head on the pillow.  Duo smiled at him, almost mischievously, and wrapped his fingers around the tail end of his tank top.  Duo’s fingers trailed lightly over the stiff back of the Wing pilot while pulling the tank top up so that it was rolled up across his shoulders and neck.

            If Heero –was- going to receive a massage, then he didn’t want anything to get in the way.  So, before Duo could lay his hands down, Heero sat up and took the tank top completely off and set it to his side.  He laid back down, head turned to look up at Duo.

            Duo eyed the boy oddly.  With a sigh, he positioned himself onto Heero’s backside, sitting on the lower back and top of the rear.  The braided boy shifted so that the majority of his weight was in his upper body.  He looked down at Heero for any signs of discomfort, but was rewarded with Heero giving a tiny smile, his eyelids fallen over his cobalt eyes.

            Duo put his hands on the Wing pilot’s back, beginning again with his massage.  He closed his eyes, allowing his movements to become subconscious.

            “Duo,” Heero mumbled, as if he were about to fall asleep.  “You don’t have to be so gentle. “

            “Like it rough, ne? “ Duo snickered.  He continued the treatment, putting more strength behind it, for at least forty minutes, when he realized how slowed Heero’s breath had become. 

“Heero...?”

            There was no response.

            Duo smiled as he turned to get a better look at Heero’s face.  Heero was sleeping, a tiny smile upon his lips.

::*~~*::

            [ “Please, enough...  I’m in pain... “ Cobalt eyes closed, tears beginning to leak from the sides.

            A grinning face came closer, pushing the Gundam pilot against the cold wall of the storage room.  He peered at the younger boy through one gray eye, the other one covered by his thick red and black hair.  “Well, yowai, it doesn’t really matter what you want, now does it?” His voice was soft but filled with violence and lust.  He sniffed the air, his grin widening at the scent of the shaking boy’s fear.  “I am superior, so –“ He began to shove the Japanese boy downwards to kneel before him. “-what I want to do with you is my own damn business.”

            His gloved hands unzipped his pants and slid them down to the floor, exposing his erection.  He pushed the dark-haired boy’s head so that he was taken completely into his mouth.  The Japanese boy almost gagged.  His cobalt eyes flashed up to his tormentor, pleading for it to end, staring into the one eye he could.

            Heero could feel his hair being pulled as his head was being pushed back and forth to comply to the erection in his mouth.  He couldn’t stand the humiliation anymore.  He bit down.  Hard.

            “Itai!”

            Heero was kneed in the chest.  He fell backwards, a boot meeting his midsection soon after.  The assault of blows and kicks continued, until he was picked up and thrown across the room.  He crashed into a wooden crate, splinters burying their way into his back.  Soon, the Wing pilot was hunched over, spitting out blood and a lose tooth.

            The man – no, teenager – crossed the room and picked up the broken pilot, not caring for the bruised ribs he went over.   Heero closed his eyes, wincing and crying. 

            The grin returned to the other’s face.  He ripped the shirt and pants that Heero wore, dropping the now shredded clothing to the floor.  He left deep claw marks in his wake. 

            The grin became wicked as he stared at the Japanese boy.  “Now, let’s try this again.”  ]

::*~~*::

            “Kyaa!”

            Heero bolted upright, screaming.  He hid his sweat-covered head in his hands, panting heavily.  After a few second, his breathing slowed, and he peeked out from behind his hands.  He laid his eyes on an arm that was snaked around his waist.

            “Nnn...” He faced the source of the soft, groggy voice.  Duo was laying beside him, eyes still shut, arm tightening around Heero.  “Heero - ?” He began to sit up, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.  When he realized where his other arm was he retracted it immediately.  “Sorry- !”

            Heero stared at the braided boy, his Prussian eyes meeting amethyst, yet not really noticing them.  He said nothing, visions of his dream still in his mind.

            Noticing the look of hatred in Heero’s eyes, Duo thought he was about to be hit, and crawled to the side of the bed, getting ready to stand up.  “Sorry, sorry...” his voice was shaky.  “We’ll just switch beds, ne?  Go back to sleep and –“

            Duo let out a yelp as his braid was tugged on, pulling him back onto the bed.  “Heero -?” The American stared at him as he was pushed into the mattress and pillows.  He noticed the streaks of dried tears on the side of the Wing pilot’s face.  “Heero?  What’s wrong?”

            “Shut up, Duo,” his voice came harshly, but had a hint of need in it.  He buried his face into Duo’s chest, pulling the covers over them both.  He then wrapped his arms around the confused American’s waist, pulling him closer.  “Just shut up...”  Heero grabbed onto the end of Duo’s braid, possessively, tugging a little, making an unspoken threat for the Deathscythe pilot not to leave.

            It took Duo a minute to realize what was going on.  Heero was acting like a child who just had a bad dream and needed comfort.  His eyes softened and a smile crossed his lips.  He wrapped his arms around the dark-haired boy’s back, pulling him even closer.  He smoothed his hands over Heero’s bare back, laying his head atop Heero’s hair.

            /Daijoubu, Heero... I’ll always be here for you comfort... Zutto../

            After a few minutes, Heero’s breathing slowed and he drifted off to sleep once more.  When sure of his slumber, Duo gave the Japanese pilot a soft kiss on his head and then let himself be overcome with sleep.