Title : Mukizu No Senshi (Flawless Warrior)

Part :  three /

Part Title : Deceptions and Truths

Authour : ~sushisama~ (sbolce@esper.com)

Warnings : shounen ai, sap, OOC (?), 1+2/ 2+1, 3+4/4+3 (implied), OC (original character)

Disclaimer : I do not own the Gundam boys, neither would I want to.  It would be no fun writing about my own characters.  Well, it would not be 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 : Been a while since I posted something for this fic, ne?  Sorry about that one – school, friends, and – not to mention – inspiration for other fanfics have all been in my way (like the eva fic ‘but in the end’ and my soul reaver series ‘untitled’ (shameless plug, I know)).  I’ll honestly try to get more of this done, but there is no guarantee.  Especially because I decided against the plot I had thought of originally going with, and have to think of a new one.  Damn it all to hell...

Something new! : Do you not like this fic solely because it has yaoi /shounen-ai in it?  Well, instead of sending me a simple flame review, why not send me a whole-blasted form?  Go to http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=499124 and fill it out!  ^_^

/ / = thoughts     [ ] = dreams     ( ) = flashbacks

 

::*~~*::

 

            Wufei peeked into the living room.  He saw the American sprawled across the couch, Heero sitting in a chair next to him.  The Wing pilot was typing on his laptop.  Wufei noticed a hesitation in the pilot’s keying and the Japanese boy turning his attention to the chestnut haired boy at the slight notice of movement.

            The Chinese pilot cleared his throat.  Heero looked up at him, watching the Shenlong pilot cross the room and sit in the chair across from him.  Their eyes met and they kept their gaze for a minute.  Then Heero looked down at his work, beginning to type again.

            “Yuy.”

            Heero looked up again.

            “How do you know Saraka?”  The black-haired boy noticed the wince Heero gave.  The look of apprehension returned.

            “We... were both raised together a little.  Doctor J was mentor to us both.”  Heero saved whatever he was working on and shut down the laptop.  He put it on the coffee table and then turned to look at Wufei.

            “Why haven’t we met him until now?  If he is a Gundam pilot, shouldn’t he have joined us at the beginning?  Or at least we would have heard something about him.”

            “That’s what worries me.”

            “What?”

            Heero leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh.  “He was put away –“

            “ ‘Away’?  What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

            “Saraka is insane, Wufei.  Absolutely insane.”  Wufei winced at the look of sincerity on Heero’s face.  “He has no remorse.  He has no leader.  He follows his own orders.  That of which stands in his way, he destroys, personally.”

            “What do you meant by that?”  Wufei was beginning to worry.  Heero’s look had a hint of fear in it.  When had the Wing pilot ever been afraid?

            “I mean,” his face tightened, “each death he gives is individual.  That is – if he does kill.  He’s a sick person.”  Heero gestured for Wufei to remain silent when the Chinese tried to interrupt him once more.  “Whatever it takes.  I’ve seen him eat – and I mean, ‘quick and make an elegant dinner’ – just because the guy had seen his Gundam.     

            “The insanity, however, is only a drawback to his strengths.  He is like me: meant to be the ‘Perfect Soldier’.  They took a different approach with him, though – they allowed him to keep his human feelings.  He was given a life in Cairo, tried to be a guardian of some fictional Pharaoh before being told about Gundam.  He had many friends.  He was fucking normal.  But the instinct to fight was a main lesson throughout life – bringing out that instinct, I mean.  Probably what led to his ways.  Or maybe... maybe they just wanted him to be this way.  They probably thought they’d control him.  Hn.  Yeah right.”

            The Shenlong pilot fell silent for a moment, soaking up Heero’s words and the fear in his voice.  / He’s afraid of Saraka.  He’s honestly afraid of him.  Can he really be that bad to make Yuy, the stoic ‘Perfect Soldier’, feels fear? /

            “Why did you accept to letting him join us if you’re so afraid of him?”

            Heero shot the Chinese pilot a death gave for saying he was afraid.

            “Sorry. ‘If you dislike him so much,’” Wufei corrected himself.

            “He’s trustworthy, no matter the mental defects.  And he’s the best at what he does.  He would make a useful addition.”

            “And he won’t betray us for OZ?”

            Heero shook his head.

            “So, what are we going to do about it?”

            “Allow him to join us and keep an eye on him.  The only ones he’ll try to hurt is the enemy.  As long as we don’t do anything to get on his bad list – which is extremely hard to do – we’ll be fine.  He’ll follow mission orders as long as they don’t conflict with his own plans.”

            Wufei nodded.  “All right.  I’ll trust your judgment on this one, Yuy.  Goodnight.”  He stood up and walked towards the door.  He then looked back at Duo, still unconscious on the couch.  “Is he going to wake up anytime soon?”

            Heero shrugged.  “Hn.  Whatever the guy did, it was enough to knock him out for about... five hours, now?  He’ll probably wake up relatively soon.  I’ll ask him what happened when he wakes up.”

            Wufei nodded again and then walked out, closing the door behind him.

            Heero let out a long sigh as the door closed.  He then turned his attention to the sleeping Shinigami.  He stood from his chair and moved to the side of the couch, kneeling so he could look directly into Duo’s heart-shaped face.  He brushed his fingers over his cheek.

            He laid his head on the cushion, hair fluttering against the American’s chest.  He closed his eyes and let himself fall asleep.  It had truly been a long day, emotionally and mentally.  He would sleep now and talk to Duo in the morning.  Hopefully he’d be awake by then.

 

::*~~*::

 

[ Duo jumped down from the cockpit of Deathscythe and ran across the field towards the damaged Wing.  He climbed up to the cockpit and nudged in.  He stood over the bleeding pilot in the seat.

            “Heero!”  He put his hands on the Japanese boy’s shoulders and shook him.  “Heero, come on!”

            Cobalt eyes unhide themselves form behind eyelids and stared emotionlessly into the American’s amethyst ones.  He had blood dripping from his brown hair to trail across his face.  Duo, himself, had blood leaking from the side of his mouth.

            Heero took a hold of the American’s shirt and pulled him down so that their noses were touching.  His other hand snuck around to take hold of the braid that hung down Duo’s back.

            “Heero, what are–?”

            “Shut up, Duo,” Heero said coldly, tugging a little on the braid.

            They stayed still for a moment, their warm breathes mixing.  Then Heero gently ran his tongue over the side of Duo’s lips, licking off the blood.  Duo’s eyes widened.

            “Heero–“

            He was cut off by the Wing pilot’s lips crushing against his own in a rather sloppy kiss.  The force was almost bruising.  Duo tried to push Heero away, but the boy was pulled even closer, so he was sitting in the Japanese boy’s lap.  Heero’s hand moved to the back of his neck, still holding onto his braid.

            Heero gently nipped Duo’s bottom lip, opening it so he could slide his tongue into Duo’s hot mouth.  He explored what was inside, running along the sides and teeth, then on top of the American’s own tongue.  Duo let himself relax and started to spar with Heero’s tongue.

            He wrapped his arms around the Wing pilot’s back, adjusting so he was comfortably in the other’s lap.  He closed his violet eyes, allowing himself to fade into Heero’s kiss.

            The dark-haired boy broke the kiss, leaving them both panting.  He leaned next to Duo’s ear, laying a soft kiss on it.  The American shivered at the feel of Heero’s breath against his neck.

            “I want you, Duo Maxwell,” he whispered in a low, husky voice that was not his own.  He moved his head to run kisses down Shinigami’s neck, suckling and licking.

            Duo let out a whimper at the rush of pleasure hitting him.  “Heero...  Please...” ]

 

::*~~*::

 

            Duo opened his eyes slowly.  He had a small headache and a pain in his chest.  He brought his hand to his forehead, rubbing it in a futile attempt to drive the migraine away.

            “Hnn... anyone catch the license on that truck...?” he joked to himself in a whisper.

            His violet eyes trailed around the room he was in.  The safe-house.  He was back at the safe-house.  Wasn’t he just on a mission?  The Gundam...  the new Gundam he had seen...  Then..  He snorted at the blank in his memory.

            Duo moved his hand to his chest, feeling it bare except for the bandages covering it.  Probably why his ribs hurt.

            He ran his fingers through a rough yet soft texture.  He looked down at his discovery, eyes widening.  Heero had his head tucked into Duo’s stomach, sleeping.  His dark brown hair was tickling Duo’s side.

            Shinigami felt a blush come to his face.  The image of his dream popped into his mind.

            Heero kissing him.  Heero touching him.  Heero saying he wanted him.

            / But in reality, he doesn’t want me... / Duo shook his head.  / No, it doesn’t matter if he does or doesn’t.  Because I don’t want him. /

            He ran his fingers through Heero’s hair, causing the Japanese pilot to shiver.

            / ...right? /

            He laid his hand on the other’s cheek.

            / ...wrong, I do.  Damnit!  Why him, of all people!?  He’d...  he’d never accept me. /

            The Wing pilot began to stir.  Duo retracted his hand.

            “Duo...?”  Heero looked up at the long-haired pilot, whose hair was currently drawn around his body.  Heero couldn’t help but pick up a few strands and idly play with it between his fingers.  / Maybe he’ll let me wash his hair again... /

            “Hey, Heero,” Duo chirped, familiar grin in place.  “What happened?”  He eyed the hand stroking his hair then turned to meet Heero’s cobalt eyes.

            “Shouldn’t you tell me that?  Why were you unconscious?”

            Duo put his hand to his brow.  “Well, I can’t really remember...  I saw a Gundam, though, Heero!  God, I didn’t think there were anymore, but I guess Prof. G and them made a new one.  It looked kind of spiffy, though.  I wonder who the pilot is and why he–“

            “The Gundam Amun is older than all of ours, Duo.”

            The American gave a dumbfounded look.  “What?”

            “That Gundam is as old as me, if not older.  And its pilot wasn’t even supposed to be here...”

            “How do you know that, Heero?”  He tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow.

            Heero let out a sigh and shook his head.  “I’ll tell you about it later.  You should go back to sleep.  Are you–“

            “Are you comfortable?” Duo cut him to the chase.  “Sitting like that can’t be good for you back or neck.  I’ll end up giving you another massage in no them, eh?”  Duo winked.

            “I wouldn’t mind,” Heero said carelessly.

            Duo blinked, then grinned.  “I’ll keep that in mind.  But still, you can go back to your room now.  I’ll still be here in the morning.”

            Heero just stared into Duo’s violet eyes and said nothing.  Duo was right: the American probably wouldn’t move off the couch until later the next day.  But he didn’t want to leave.  He wanted to stay as close to Duo as long he could.  / Needing to protect you... that is a weakness.  I shouldn’t stay, it would only make me weaker, but I don’t want to leave you, either.”

            “Hn,” Heero finally grunted, tucking his head back into Duo’s stomach, a lock of hair still in his fingers.  “Go back to sleep, Duo.”  He closed his eyes.

            The Deathscythe pilot let out a tiny sigh.  “–Heero?”

            “Hn?”  His eyes remained closed.

            “As long as you brush my hair.”

            “What?”

            “I’ll give you another massage if you brush my hair in exchange.”

            The Wing pilot gave a smirk.  “Fine.”

 

::*~~*::

 

            Quatre wondered into the kitchen from the room he and Trowa shared.  He rubbed his eyes mindlessly, heading towards the stove to make some tea.

            / I really hope we don’t have any missions soon.  I really don’t feel like it... /  He yawned.

            The blond filled his tea kettle and dropped it onto the stove.  After he turned it on, he looked through half-lidded eyes at the flame of the lit gas.  He leaned back slightly and was caught by a firm torso.

            He smiled.  “Morning, Trowa.”

            A muscled arm sneaked around his neck, covered by leather.  It tightened.

            “Not quite.”

 

            Wufei made his way into the kitchen, ready to make breakfast for himself.  But he stopped short in his steps when he looked into the room.

 

            “What in the hell do you think you’re doing!?”

            Heero rose his head at the sound of Wufei’s voice.  He shrugged it off and laid back down against Duo.  The American was beginning to sit up but winced in pain.  Heero put his hand on Duo’s shoulder and pushed him back down.

            “Don’t worry about it.  He’s probably yelling at Quatre or something.”

            Before the Wing pilot could lay his head back, Duo pushed him slightly.  His amethyst eyes met cobalt ones.  “He sounded worried...”

            “Hn.”

            “Well, I’m hungry anyways, and, from the look of it, you won’t let me get up.  It sounded like it came from the kitchen, so just check it out while you get me some food.  Okay?”  Duo gave him the puppy-eye look.

            Heero sighed.  He wanted to go back to sleep, resting on Duo’s stomach.  He was soft, warm; there was a sense of...

            / Comfort.  Just like the night he held me.  I feel weak, pathetic.  But that’s okay, as long as you’re the only one to see it. /

            “Please, Heero~?”

            / You need to get out of here, anyways.  Before the weakness grows. /

            “Fine,” Heero groaned and stood.  Before he could leave, Duo reached out and grabbed his hand.  Their eyes met and stayed for a moment.

            “Thanks.”  Duo was smiling.

            “For what?” the Wing pilot replied.

            Duo’s fingers tightened around Heero’s hand.  “For staying with me all night.  You neck must be killing.”

            Heero tilted his head to each side, cracking it.  “A little.”

            Duo’s smile turned into a grin.  “My offer still stands.”

            The Japanese pilot nodded and slipped out of the American’s grasp.  He opened the door and walked out, leaving it ajar.  Duo laid back and tried to go back to sleep, wanting to finish the dream he had at the beginning of the night.

 

::*~~*::

 

            Heero walked into the kitchen, prepared to see Wufei with a bleeding nose and Trowa and Quatre holding each other, obviously caught ‘in the act’.  Even Heero wasn’t ignorant of the relationship.  However the two did broadcast it out a little too publicly, it would take a real idiot not to notice it.

            He wasn’t, however, prepared for the actual scene in the kitchen.  Wufei was down in a fighting stance and Quatre was being held by someone from behind.  No, not someone: Saraka.

            “Let go of him,” the Chinese boy growled.

            “A very low security,” Saraka said, grinning.  “I’ve been here for hours.  I guess ‘cause you guys were sleeping could be a good reason, though.”  He chuckled and let go of the Arab, patting him on the shoulder.  “Sorry if I started you.  Just wanted to see if you could sense.  Then again,” he snickered, turning his head towards Heero, “he wouldn’t have, either.  Hey, you all had breakfast yet?  I’m starving.  I’ll cook if you’d like.”

            Quatre turned to the Egyptian.  “Umm... should we not introduce ourselves first?  You are the new Gundam pilot, right?”

            “The oldest one, actually.”  His grin widened.  “My name is Saraka Set Legacy.”

            “Set?”

            “Yes.”  He rolled up his left sleeve to reveal a snake tattoo.  Heero knew it was one of many symbols grafted onto the Egyptian’s body, sporting his inheritance and religion.  “Set, the chaotic snake God of Egypt.”

            “Ohh,” the Arab said thoughtfully.  “What do you mean by ‘oldest’, though?  Were you a Gundam pilot before any of us?”

            “You haven’t introduced yourself yet.”

            Quatre flushed.  “Oh, I’m sorry!  I am Quatre Rareba Winner.”

            The Egyptian gave the boy a reassuring smile.  Then he turned to the other two in the room.  Wufei had relaxed from his fighting stance, but was eyeing Saraka.  Heero eyed him as well, but with a more intense glare.

            “So, where are the other two?”  He moved to the fridge, opened it, and began to take out supplies for a large breakfast.  “And how’s – what did you call him – Duo?”  He came back to the counter, food in both hands, closing the fridge door with his foot.  He dumped the food and then began to look for utensils.

            “You don’t have to–“ Quatre began.

            “But I want to.”

            Wufei turned to Heero, “Well, Yuy? How is Maxwell?”

            “He woke up somewhere around three last night.  He’s asleep right now, though.  Saraka, how long will it take you?”

            The red-head boy put the spatula he was holding to his chin, as if in thought.  “’Bout... thirty minutes?  I’ll call you all in when it’s ready.  Oi, Q-kun, would you mind helping me?  It’ll get done faster that way.”

            “S-sure...”

            “Well?”  Saraka turned his visible eye to the Shenlong and Wing pilot.  “Get the hell out of my kitchen.”  He pointed to the door with his spatula.

            Wufei cocked an eyebrow but left without a word, soon followed by Heero.  On their way out they passed a rather sleepy Trowa who was heading the way they had just come from.

            When Trowa was in, the others could hear his stony voice, “Who are you?”

 

::*~~*::

 

            Heero returned to the living room ten minutes later after a quick show and a change of clothes.  He still had spandex and cotton, but they were now a light shade of blue and grey.

            When he stepped in, he spotted Wufei in a chair across from the sofa, a hand of cards in his fingers.  He looked over at the American who also had a hand.  Duo placed two cards on the table and then picked up two from the pile.  Poker, obviously.

            Duo looked up at the approaching Japanese, and the smile that was already there grew.  “Hey, Heero!  Where you been?  Why don’t you have any food?  I’m hungry.”  He patted the seat next to him, gesturing for Heero to sit down.

            “Hn.”  The Wing pilot didn’t budge but crossed his arms.  “It isn’t ready yet.  It’ll be done soon; whenever Saraka calls us in.”

            “Saraka?  Who’s that?”

            Heero looked at Wufei, glaring.  He had expected him to have told the long-haired fool about the visitor.  But, then again, he could’ve told him last night when the subject came up.

            “Saraka,” Wufei began, putting down three cards and picking up three, “is the sixth Gundam pilot.  We found him at the base yesterday.  He’s decided to join us.”

            “Cool.  I thought he was a pilot.  He’s cooking, right?  I’ll go meet him, then.”  He began to stand up but fell back down.  “Oww... ribs still hurt...”

            “Then don’t move.”  Heero sat down next to Duo, keeping a foot between them.  “He’ll probably come by after breakfast.”

            “Ah, okay.”  He turned to Wufei.  “Show.”

            They both laid their hands down.  The Chinese won by four-of-a-kind; Duo only had two-of-a-kind,  Duo whined at his lose, while Wufei merely grinned.

            The American picked up the cards and began to shuffle them.  Heero started to watch the nimble fingers cutting the deck and then gracefully mix them together.

            “You want to play, Heero?”

            The Japanese youth snapped out of his trance.  Duo still had his attention on shuffling but Wufei was cocking an eyebrow at him.  Heero shook his head.

            “Aw, come.  Have some fun once in a while, Heero!”

            “Hn.  Fine.”

            “Yay!”  Duo quickly put the cards together and then dealt each five cards.  His grin quickly when he saw his hand.

 

            Five games later, Heero had won two and Wufei three.  Duo hadn’t won at all and was starting to pout.  That was around the time they heard Saraka’s sing-song voice summoning them to the kitchen.

            Duo made an effort to get up but was jerked back down by Heero.

            “Stay,” the Wing pilot commanded.

            The American rolled his eyes.  “I’m not a dog, you know.”  Heero pinned him with a glare.  “Fine, fine.  Just bring back a lot, okay?  I’m really hungry.”

            “You’ve already mentioned that, I believe,” Wufei chimed in, standing up.  Heero followed suit and they both left, leaving the American yet again alone to his thoughts.

            Duo sighed and reshuffled the cards.  He then started to deal them out in a game of solitaire.

            When they were out in the hall, Wufei turned his attention to the Wing pilot.  “Yuy.”  Heero looked at him.  “You’re being awfully nice to Maxwell, as I’ve noticed.  It’s only a few bruised ribs, he’ll be–“

            “You know he can’t remember anything of the attack.  As well as being unconscious for longer than he should’ve been,” Heero thought aloud.  He stopped walking; Wufei did as well, giving the Japanese boy a questioning look.

            “What are you suggesting?”

            Heero shook his head.  “Don’t worry about it.  Just let me take care of him for awhile.”

            The black-haired pilot raised an eyebrow.  “Is he going to stay on the couch all the while?”

            “I’ll get him to move later.”  He started to walk towards the kitchen again.  Wufei just sighed and followed.

 

            The table in the kitchen was set for six, a cup for milk and a cup for juice for each.  The table was neat and orderly, unlike their normal rushed breakfasts.

            Trowa and Quatre were already seated at the table next to each other.  Quatre had a cup of tea while Trowa had a mug of coffee.  Saraka was in front of the stove, jacket removed, showing all of his tattoos.  Next to him was a plate full of bacon and sausage links and patties.

            When Wufei and Heero had taken their seats, the Egyptian turned to the newcomers, smiling.  “You guys are late.  I call you five minutes ago!” he said in a mock-scolding voice.

            “Ch’,” both of them muttered at the same time.

            “You guys want some eggs?”

            “Can you do sunny-side up?” Wufei asked.

            “I can do anything.”  Wufei smiled.  “And you, Heero?”

            “None for me,” Heero said flatly.  Saraka shrugged and turned around, picking up eggs to crack and fry.

           

            “That was really go~od!” Quatre complimented.  He rested his head against Trowa’s shoulder.  “You are a great cook, Saraka!  I’m so stuffed that I’m starting to get tired...”

            “Done?” Saraka asked sweetly, standing beside the table.  When all four boys nodded, the Egyptian began to pick-up plates and dumped then into the sink.

            “Saraka.”

            He looked over his shoulder.  “Yeah, Heero?”

            “Make two extra eggs and I’ll bring them to Duo.”

            “Su~re thing, Yowaiko!”  He turned back to the stove, turning it on, and putting the pan back on it.  He started to hum some tune from his home land.

            Trowa excused himself and Quatre, dragging the sleepy Arabian out.  Shortly after, Wufei got up to check on Duo.  Now Heero was left alone with Saraka.  He started to become apprehensive.

            A heavy silence fell between the two youths while Saraka cooked and Heero prepared a tray.  He stopped loading the plate with bacon and turned to the Egyptian.

            “Why?”

            Still looking at the stove, the Amun pilot grinned, ceasing his humming.  “Because he saw my baby,” he replied simply, knowing the entire question before it was finished.

            “Bullshit.  You knew who he was.  You would’ve referenced it.  What was the point to beating him up?”

            Saraka shrugged.  “I honestly didn’t know, Yowaiko.  I referenced past and name, but never got any pictures.  Besides, he’s not severely hurt or anything, right?  No problem, then–“

            “That is no justification!” Heero hissed.  “What the hell did you think you were doing?  No, never mind, I don’t want to know.”  He shook his head.  “But if ever try to hurt him again, I will kill you.”

            Saraka smirked, putting the cooked eggs onto an empty spot on Duo’s plate.  Kill me?  Ch’!  I think I should provoke you more just to see you try.”  He snickered.  “Though, you are being a tad bit protective, you know.  Do you like him or something?”

            Heero gave the Amun pilot the Death Glare.  “No, but he is a comrade,” he snapped back defensively.

            “Saa!”  The Egyptian pilot put his hands behind his head, still holding the spatula.  “Free game then, ne?  He is rather cute, huh?”

            “Don’t you even touch him,” Heero warned in a grave tone.

            Saraka just snickered.  “Stop me, Yowaiko.  And there’s only one way to do that.”  His grin cut his face in half.

            Heero gave him a look of disgust before picking up the tray and heading out the door.  “Burn in hell, Saraka.  And don’t touch him.”

            Saraka snorted with laughter.  “Whatever you say, Yowaiko.”  Once the dark-haired pilot was gone, he whispered to himself, “Oh, this shall be fun, Odin, this shall be fun.”