Title: "The After-Life and Misadventures of Duo Maxwell, First Class Corpse"
Author: Euce. [firstname.lastname@example.org, email@example.com]
Credits: Gundam Wing and all its creators for so graciously turning a blind eye as I bastardize [Bastardization is goooood] their series like the many GW fanfic authors before me.
Rating: For all the chapters I have completed thus far, it's pretty light. I wouldn't say it exceeds PG-13. Alternative Universe, modern setting- could be now, just then, or tomorrow.
Brief Contents/Warnings Listing: Death, Romance, Police Detectives, Angst, Ghosts, Wufei, Vague Comedy, Commissioner Treize, Coroners, Homosexual Themes, and Bisections.
Summary: This is actually a relatively light AU romance / horror / drama / ghost fic that deals with the after-life, the fragility of human emotion and it's ability to break all known boundaries, and other such things. I want to try to use as much of the cast of GW in this fic as possible. Please review me, critique me heavily. Let me know where I've screwed up, or where I need improvement. I think that sums it up.
Additional Author's Notes: Wow. More than 2 paragraphs this time. Hooray!
Several minutes into the drive, Quatre and Trowa were still amiably chatting (well, Quatre was chatting while Trowa listened carefully) while the car zoomed along the outskirts of the city. Detective Winner wasn't sure why, but he had thought taking the scenic route to the beach-side flat he and Trowa shared was a wonderful idea, despite that he'd seen the view at least a million times.
Trowa didn't seem to mind at all for the longer route. It only gave him additional, uninterrupted time to study the profile of his lover's face and body. Quatre was a study in utter kindness and physical perfection. Trowa would know: He saw tons of nude bodies and none could hold a candle to his Quatre. Nevermind that they were dead and couldn't hold much of anything, despite. It made him wonder, though, how someone so sensitive as his fairhaired lover planned to hold a position like Investigative Coroner when he couldn't even bear the sound of the ribs being separated from the breastbone. Quatre's chatter took on a different tone and brought his wandering mind back.
"I can hardly see! What is this stuff mucking up the air?" Quatre's hands were tight on the wheel. He leaned forward until his torso was nearly pressed to the wheel, his eyes squinting. Trowa looked but only saw the same seascape on his left and the jagged lines of buildings on the right.
"What are you talking about, Quatre? Do you feel alright?" Trowa leant towards Quatre, pressing the back of his wrist to the other man's forehead. Quatre's eyes cut towards Trowa briefly and he sighed. He was obviously irritated, and snapped at Trowa, "Yes, I feel fine, damn it." Quatre scooted closer towards the headboard. "It's like - like heatwaves. Only they're right in front of me, not in the distance." Quatre glanced over when Trowa didn't say anything, or even nod in his peripheries. He frowned, squinting back down the road. He'd snapped at Trowa when he wasn't truly angry at him. He promised himself that he would apologize as soon as he could see the road clearly. The heatwaves looked bigger, and closer than before. They seemed to twist and bend, as though they could climb right in the car through the open window! Quatre shivered at the thought, then berated himself for it. Heatwaves on the attack? Perhaps he should consider a bit of professional help. Too much stress, maybe. The heatwaves seemed for a moment to get so close that he couldn't see at all, and then they were gone. He sighed with relief. He was so glad that was over. While he did not dare take his eyes off the road, just in case those wave things started again, he did think he ought to apologize to Trowa as soon as possible.
"Trowa, I'm sorry I snapped at you. I got nervous, I guess, and took it out on you. I know you were just concerned." Quatre arched his neck and hummed in the back of his throat at the feeling of strong fingers kneading into his right shoulder. All of his tension seemed to melt right away. It was just what he needed. Quatre smiled secretively and wantonly at the road as the ministrations began to make him a little bit aroused. He was so lucky to have someone as perceptive as his Trowa.
"Mmmm, Tro, that feels so good. I can't wait until we get home for our date." Trowa blinked incomprehensibly at Quatre, lifting his chin from the fist he had it balanced on. "What feels good, Quatre?" The blonde looked sharply over at Trowa, another irritated and vaguely hurt statement on his face [this time truly intended for the brunette]. He felt, in a detached sense, his mouth drop open in surprise. Trowa wasn't touching him. Someone was still massaging his shoulder. Quatre spun in his seat so quickly to look over his shoulder that he lost control of the wheel. The car made a horrible squealing noise as Quatre stepped on both the gas and the brake simultaneously. His penis shriveled immediately and his scrotum seemed to be trying to crawl up inside him to escape the sound. The Detective's pale neck bent awkwardly as the car bounced off of something on the driver's side. Quatre felt his vision fading. There had been no one there in the backseat, but as his world slowly seeped into blackness, Quatre got the impression of warm, violet eyes and the smell of seawater.
Additional "Additional Author's Notes:"
Chris - Thanks always.
No, this isn't some cheesy ending to this story. More chapters soon. I promise.