Title: Coffee in the Morning (1/1)
Author: Sailor Seraphim (slrsera @ aol.com)
Archive:
l.e.t.h.a.l.t.h.o.u.g.h.t.s. :: http://www32.brinkster.com/slrseraphim
FanFiction.net :: http://fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=39868
Sweetly Sour :: http://www.sweetlysour.net
All others please ask.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its related characters. If I did, the series would be chock-full of tasty shounen ai goodness. I do, however, own the situations which occur in this fic.
Pairings: very very slight 3+2+3, if you squint your eyes and tilt your head
Warnings: talk of war, smugness, and paint thinner thinly veiled as a beverage
Notes: Don't you hate it when you're trying to study and all that comes out of your head is a fic? Yeah, me too. Damn bunnies. But considering that 3+/x2 is one of my pet pairings, I can let it slide.
Feedback: I take all constructive criticism. No flames, they leave nasty scorch marks on the carpet.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Trowa didn't expect to have a mug of steaming coffee shoved in his face at half past two in the morning.
He'd just come back from a mission, quite weary and he swore his very bones ached from the long, convoluted route he had taken to make sure he and HeavyArms were not followed from what was left of an OZ spaceport. And when he pushed open the door to the safehouse, all Trowa could really think of was how nice it would be to take a warm shower and get some sleep.
If he could get to sleep in the first place, that was.
It was always in the downtime after a mission where Trowa would feel the very weight of his existence bearing down on his shoulders. After all the adrenaline burned away, all that was left was and empty, hollow feeling. Disconcerting. Unpleasant. Trowa slept very little because of it.
But now he was staring at a chipped blue mug, the aroma of coffee wafting up and tickling his nose.
"I'm not holding it out all night, you know."
Trowa took the mug automatically, removing his hand from the holster at the back of his pants and wrapping it around the warm porcelain. Mollified, Duo shut the door behind Trowa and wandered back into the kitchen area of the small safehouse.
Not knowing quite why, Trowa followed him.
The American arched a brow at him. "I put milk and sugar in it, but if you need more, you gotta get it yourself. I'm not your keeper."
Then he spun around, and Trowa realized that Duo was going over some sort of map, tracing the charted and plotted base schematics with what appeared to be satellite photos. Trowa sipped his coffee, enjoying the bitter tang not quite hidden beneath the milk and sugar.
"Mission?"
Duo nodded, his braid sliding across his back. "Yeah. Seems like the higher ups want to make it look like there's more of us than there really are."
Here, Duo snorted in derision and took a long swallow of coffee from a green mug that was perched between the photos, maps, and gun parts.
"Like the Ozzies don't already know there's five of us, but I guess it's supposed to be demoralizing or something to have two OZ bases whacked so close together."
Trowa didn't reply, leaning his weight against the kitchen wall and following the other pilot's preparations from beneath his bangs. After a few minutes and three swallows of coffee, Duo nodded to himself, then reached to the kitchen chair and pulled a battered laptop off it. The green-eyed pilot blinked; he hadn't even noticed the laptop's presence. Duo tapped at the keyboard intently for a minute, still standing in front of the kitchen table, before he nodded again and drained his coffee.
Mug in hand, Duo turned to face Trowa.
"Fuck!" the boy exclaimed, one hand coming to rest on his chest, the other fiercely gripping the mug. "I thought you went to sleep already!"
"I had to finish my coffee," Trowa returned, holding up his now-empty mug.
Duo just looked at him, somewhat incredulously. "You mean you actually polished off the shit I call coffee?"
Trowa shrugged. "It wasn't that bad."
The other boy moved into the kitchen, frowning at the half-full pot before pouring himself another mug. Strangely enough, Trowa felt the urge to hold out his mug as well, his hand dipping a little as Duo topped his drink off.
"You must have a cast iron stomach, Trowa," Duo commented idly as he stirred in a healthy amount of milk and sugar into his mug before passing the condiments to Trowa. "Even Heero can't finish off a mug of this stuff."
"Really," Trowa commented. Then he raised the mug to his lips and took a long swallow, black.
Duo's eyes almost seemed to pop out of his head, and Trowa covered his little smile with the mug. Then Duo shook his head; his violet eyes shining with something like grudging admiration.
"Damn... if you end up getting stomach cancer or puking your guts out, I get to say I told you so."
"It's a deal."
Duo sipped his coffee and made a small grimace crossed his face and he stirred in more sugar. "I don't even know why you're drinkin' this stuff. Shouldn't you be trying to catch some sleep or something?"
Trowa just shrugged. "It will take more than a mug or two of coffee to affect me."
Satisfied that his beverage wouldn't kill him, Duo took a long drink, licking his lips as he turned to Trowa again. "Yeah, I'm like that, too. I can usually polish off a whole pot of this shit before I start going nuts."
"You mean you aren't already?"
Duo blinked at Trowa and then laughed, coffee sloshing around in the green mug. "Man, that's the first time I ever heard you crack a joke."
"I'm not really a funny guy."
"That's a matter of opinion, you know."
The conversation dwindled then, the two boys simply standing in the kitchen and finishing their drinks in companionable silence. A sharp beeping broke the mood, and Duo checked his watch, his expression changing from something content to the set-jaw of determination. He set his mug down in the sink and moved to the table again, the parts of his gun blurring as he snapped the weapon together with precision most soldiers would weep to have.
Then, pulling his black cap low over his head, Duo nodded to Trowa, sliding his pistol into the holster beneath his black overshirt.
"Duo?"
The boy paused at the front door. "Yeah?"
"Why did you give me coffee?"
Duo looked over his shoulder, an expression Trowa couldn't place on his face. "Well, I hate being alone right after a mission. I figured it would be the same for you."
For some reason, as Duo left, Trowa just remained leaning up against the wall, his empty mug of coffee hanging in his hand.
~~~
Duo didn't expect to have a mug of steaming coffee shoved in his face at half past five in the morning.
--- Owari ---
Author: Sailor Seraphim (slrsera @ aol.com)
Archive:
l.e.t.h.a.l.t.h.o.u.g.h.t.s. :: http://www32.brinkster.com/slrseraphim
FanFiction.net :: http://fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=39868
Sweetly Sour :: http://www.sweetlysour.net
All others please ask.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its related characters. If I did, the series would be chock-full of tasty shounen ai goodness. I do, however, own the situations which occur in this fic.
Pairings: very very slight 3+2+3, if you squint your eyes and tilt your head
Warnings: talk of war, smugness, and paint thinner thinly veiled as a beverage
Notes: Don't you hate it when you're trying to study and all that comes out of your head is a fic? Yeah, me too. Damn bunnies. But considering that 3+/x2 is one of my pet pairings, I can let it slide.
Feedback: I take all constructive criticism. No flames, they leave nasty scorch marks on the carpet.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Trowa didn't expect to have a mug of steaming coffee shoved in his face at half past two in the morning.
He'd just come back from a mission, quite weary and he swore his very bones ached from the long, convoluted route he had taken to make sure he and HeavyArms were not followed from what was left of an OZ spaceport. And when he pushed open the door to the safehouse, all Trowa could really think of was how nice it would be to take a warm shower and get some sleep.
If he could get to sleep in the first place, that was.
It was always in the downtime after a mission where Trowa would feel the very weight of his existence bearing down on his shoulders. After all the adrenaline burned away, all that was left was and empty, hollow feeling. Disconcerting. Unpleasant. Trowa slept very little because of it.
But now he was staring at a chipped blue mug, the aroma of coffee wafting up and tickling his nose.
"I'm not holding it out all night, you know."
Trowa took the mug automatically, removing his hand from the holster at the back of his pants and wrapping it around the warm porcelain. Mollified, Duo shut the door behind Trowa and wandered back into the kitchen area of the small safehouse.
Not knowing quite why, Trowa followed him.
The American arched a brow at him. "I put milk and sugar in it, but if you need more, you gotta get it yourself. I'm not your keeper."
Then he spun around, and Trowa realized that Duo was going over some sort of map, tracing the charted and plotted base schematics with what appeared to be satellite photos. Trowa sipped his coffee, enjoying the bitter tang not quite hidden beneath the milk and sugar.
"Mission?"
Duo nodded, his braid sliding across his back. "Yeah. Seems like the higher ups want to make it look like there's more of us than there really are."
Here, Duo snorted in derision and took a long swallow of coffee from a green mug that was perched between the photos, maps, and gun parts.
"Like the Ozzies don't already know there's five of us, but I guess it's supposed to be demoralizing or something to have two OZ bases whacked so close together."
Trowa didn't reply, leaning his weight against the kitchen wall and following the other pilot's preparations from beneath his bangs. After a few minutes and three swallows of coffee, Duo nodded to himself, then reached to the kitchen chair and pulled a battered laptop off it. The green-eyed pilot blinked; he hadn't even noticed the laptop's presence. Duo tapped at the keyboard intently for a minute, still standing in front of the kitchen table, before he nodded again and drained his coffee.
Mug in hand, Duo turned to face Trowa.
"Fuck!" the boy exclaimed, one hand coming to rest on his chest, the other fiercely gripping the mug. "I thought you went to sleep already!"
"I had to finish my coffee," Trowa returned, holding up his now-empty mug.
Duo just looked at him, somewhat incredulously. "You mean you actually polished off the shit I call coffee?"
Trowa shrugged. "It wasn't that bad."
The other boy moved into the kitchen, frowning at the half-full pot before pouring himself another mug. Strangely enough, Trowa felt the urge to hold out his mug as well, his hand dipping a little as Duo topped his drink off.
"You must have a cast iron stomach, Trowa," Duo commented idly as he stirred in a healthy amount of milk and sugar into his mug before passing the condiments to Trowa. "Even Heero can't finish off a mug of this stuff."
"Really," Trowa commented. Then he raised the mug to his lips and took a long swallow, black.
Duo's eyes almost seemed to pop out of his head, and Trowa covered his little smile with the mug. Then Duo shook his head; his violet eyes shining with something like grudging admiration.
"Damn... if you end up getting stomach cancer or puking your guts out, I get to say I told you so."
"It's a deal."
Duo sipped his coffee and made a small grimace crossed his face and he stirred in more sugar. "I don't even know why you're drinkin' this stuff. Shouldn't you be trying to catch some sleep or something?"
Trowa just shrugged. "It will take more than a mug or two of coffee to affect me."
Satisfied that his beverage wouldn't kill him, Duo took a long drink, licking his lips as he turned to Trowa again. "Yeah, I'm like that, too. I can usually polish off a whole pot of this shit before I start going nuts."
"You mean you aren't already?"
Duo blinked at Trowa and then laughed, coffee sloshing around in the green mug. "Man, that's the first time I ever heard you crack a joke."
"I'm not really a funny guy."
"That's a matter of opinion, you know."
The conversation dwindled then, the two boys simply standing in the kitchen and finishing their drinks in companionable silence. A sharp beeping broke the mood, and Duo checked his watch, his expression changing from something content to the set-jaw of determination. He set his mug down in the sink and moved to the table again, the parts of his gun blurring as he snapped the weapon together with precision most soldiers would weep to have.
Then, pulling his black cap low over his head, Duo nodded to Trowa, sliding his pistol into the holster beneath his black overshirt.
"Duo?"
The boy paused at the front door. "Yeah?"
"Why did you give me coffee?"
Duo looked over his shoulder, an expression Trowa couldn't place on his face. "Well, I hate being alone right after a mission. I figured it would be the same for you."
For some reason, as Duo left, Trowa just remained leaning up against the wall, his empty mug of coffee hanging in his hand.
~~~
Duo didn't expect to have a mug of steaming coffee shoved in his face at half past five in the morning.
--- Owari ---