Title: Without a Doubt, Normal.
Notes: This is a reply to Ad's post, on suggestions for writers. Here is to an attempt at non cliché. I have a feeling I'm going to get throttled for this one. The fic is a lot of description and not much else * shrug * I can't help it.
TnX LIZ!!!!!!! (JAden sends his love, and pieces of others)
Without a doubt, Normal
The restaurant was brightly lit. The sun was shining cheerfully upon the cheap plastic of orange tables, and upon the tiled designs on the separating walls. This restaurant, like all others, spared every expense, while still giving off the feeling of a premanufactured cheeriness, that was available only within the countless and ageless replications of the efficient layout of a true fast food joint. Even the two paper cups, with their waterproof, and waxy seal, had not evolved in centuries past, nor had the paper packaging of the fries, which now bled grease upon the flimsy and slightly translucent, stiff packing paper of the burger. To tell the truth, even the two teenage boys sitting in the commercialized setting, reeked of a poor advertisement. The window that was allowing the light into the place readily allowed the view of one's chiseled face, and the other's rounded cheeks, beneath a sign that advertised a discount in the price of a `deluxe combo'. The lettering seemed to shine in the noon day sun, like the gaudy neon sign it was, with the sparse shrub obscuring an unobstructed view of the two boys.
And really, no matter what anyone says, and no matter what they did, they would still be boys.
Heero was holding his hand against the moist walls of the paper cup. The slightly pink contents hidden away behind the opaque walls of the material, covered once more in more advertisements, each more gaudy then the next. Lightly, he lifted the hand and brought the burger, that was already half gone, to his mouth. He put it back down, replacing his hand on the cup and chewing thoughtfully. Duo regarded the stoic boy in front of him. He knew that Heero had a burn on his left hand, he knew that it was no coincidence that the same hand was the one that leisurely laid against the cooled surface of the cup. They both knew. Not that Heero would admit to being bothered by a burn, and this was not because he was extraordinary, quite the contrary, it was because he was a stubborn male. Therefore, like most males, and for that matter, people in general, he preferred to bear the slightly annoying pain in silence, rather then rant and rave about it. The burn was a slight one, and the annoying itchy hurting feeling was not going away, not unless it was cooled, which was more or less what he was ineffectively doing against the surface of the cup.
Duo chewed his food in silence, regarding Heero, then his hand, then Heero again. He opened the lid to his cup, fished out a sticky and rather sweet ice cube, and laid it against Heero's hand. He then resumed eating. To his credit the only thing that Heero did in response to the piece of ice was look up at Duo.
Then wish that he had not.
Duo had that look on his face again. It was an annoying one. He hated it. Heero knew the hunger behind it, it was not lust, he himself had felt enough lust towards the boy sitting across from him to know what it looked like. The look in Duo's eyes had a hungry calculativness, one that begged to know if he could kill Heero, if maybe, just maybe, Heero lost his arms, or maybe just one, how long would it take to destroy him. Briefly, Heero wondered if Duo had meant to use the burnt finger against him, he realized that this was probably the case, and sighed dejectedly at his discovery.
He WAS allowed to sigh dejectedly, he thought. God knows that he had practiced it enough times in front of the mirror, to realize that he could do it quite well, and so he did. Watching with supreme satisfaction, and superiority as Duo's calculativeness crumbled, and he studied Heero critically. Once more, though, the calculations seemed to realign themselves, and a type of gratified look was thrown over Duo's features. Heero gnawed on the inner skin of his cheek, before laying his forehead down on the table, and hiding his face in his hands.
He really hated normality.
You see, in a fight, or before a fight, or right after a fight, he had the adrenaline to make the aches and pains of his body go away. He had a purpose that defied his simple existence, he had a definition and a goal. Right now, his goal was half assed at best: `defeat Oz, maybe start peace'. The pain in his finger had returned, due to the departure of the ice, into a sticky, if dilute, puddle on the orange, and of course, his forehead was greasy. He hated his forehead. In fact, Heero Yuy hated his complexion. His skin was too shiny and when it became later in the day, especially when it was warm, his face would glow with oil, and of course, oil was a precursor to pimples. Heero hated pimples. Lets face it, he was lusting after the American.
The American had more then outright told him that he was lusting after his person.
And he had an oily forehead. Non of this would have mattered, of course, if there was a fight going on because he could die in a fight, and pimples or no, he would be blown up, and would leave no corpse. Furthermore, who cares about lust in a fight, you are too busy keeping your dick from being chopped off, too wonder what it would feel like to get off. So really, Heero preferred fights. And he was angry, and frustrated, and the whole day had been going wrong, ending only in the unfortunate series of events that had lead him to burn his thumb, eat at a fast food joint, and NOW have an oily forehead.
Heero sat up stiffly, startling Duo, who was once more calculating something, but this time with a gleam that Heero was far more familiar with.
"I'm going to go wash my face." He realized how stupid that sounded, the second it had left his mouth. People who cried washed their faces, nervous people washed their faces, and stupid idiot teenagers washed their faces. Well at least he was one of the three.
"Because my forehead is oily."
Duo nodded, not too stunned, with Heero one was used to the unexpected. So he watched the other boy's ass leave, and attempted to factor an oily forehead into his equation. It was an important equation. You see, he was attempting to figure out how to kill Heero Yuy. So far the sigh of dismay troubled him, he had figured that a sniper's rifle would have been good, but a sigh like that one, could totally destroy the range, and thus the ability to destroy Heero Yuy. Duo sighed, he was in a sorry state indeed.
Wile Duo was trying to figure out Heero's imminent death, Heero, it appears had been worried about his face, not that Duo was stupid enough not to notice. He himself had been the one that had made fun of the oriental boy's complexion. Nevertheless, he had done so because of his dire need to justify his own problems. After all, Duo Maxwell had many a scars from his days in the streets, and no matter how many creams or oils were layered upon that brittle skin, the welts never seemed to disappear, and the dry and rough surfaces were never silky smooth. His skin was forever wracked with some form of dryness or other, which made it look chapped and cracked, or at least in the areas in which it had once been burnt, cut, or skinned. He sighed, pulling the long sleeves of his jacket further down his wrists, hiding the cuts that ran down the skin atop of his forearm, raining the colony white tan, with flecks of red. He looked uncomfortably around, gazing at various people, in silence, attempting to sort their faces within his head, who knows, her might have to identify their bodies later.
Heero finally returned his skin slightly flushed, as one's skin usually was, when one rubbed it with a paper towel. This in no way took any of the charm from the other's persona. Even at 15 Heero Yuy was already showing all the signs of becoming a stunning adult., he would never be one of the most beautiful men on the planet, nor would he be the most handsome, but in-between his wide blue eyes, and his perfect physique, he had all the makings of a superstar, or a teen heartthrob. Not that it mattered, at the moment, his legs were al little too long, and his arms a little too skinny. Even the wiry muscle bunched beneath the skin was yet to mature, and his height was going nowhere fast. This, of course, was of little consequence when brought to the attention of Duo's lust. After all, Duo himself was a teenage boy, and as such, would happily quench his desires upon any willing object. Nevertheless, his favorite would-be-willing object was Heero, and the only problem would be getting him into his bed.
"Do you really hate me that much?"
Duo looked up, staring at Heero who was leaning over the table, and staring intently into his violet eyes.
"Well of course I do."
Heero nodded, not at all surprised.
Really, hatred is like that. We all lust after those that we hate, even to the smallest amount, whether it be the pure lust, where you just want to fuck their ass, or the angry lust, where you want to rape their ass. Because there wasn't anything better on television and lust happened to be the only thing that was `in'. Seeing as it was `en vogue', they had both submitted to it. Not that they were going to engage in such a session now, after all, the place was quite public, and openly gay couples managed to attract enough attention, that they might as well have sold tickets for the commotion they would cause.
Heero sat back down across the table from Duo. He regarded him critically. "It is only a matter of time you understand." The
cryptic statement lacked the mystery and the power that would make it at all extraordinary. Duo nodded.
"Well of course. It is just that "
"Its not like we are going to be falling in love. " Heero said it with the air of someone who had eaten something not to his liking. Although that was impossible because he had eaten little in the past minutes, and surely it could not have been disagreeing with him at so late a point in time. Duo thought about it. He really did. His desires were piled, and pinning for him to go on, and his body too was well on its way to being overjoyed. This was about as much as he had hoped to achieve through his various advances BUT he had never fathomed that he would have achieved the impossible. The he remembered his skin, and frowned.
"Oh will you forget the theatrics and generalizations. My skin looks like shit too, and the only thing that I am worried about with is that I might be allergic to your hair. Now stop thinking you long haired bimbo and fuck me." Heero rasped out, he had a long heart to heart with himself in the bathroom, and had come to the conclusion that he really did not want to wait anymore. This could have been helped by the fact that there was a couple making out quite loudly in one of the stalls.
Duo mulled over this, stood up, grabbed Heero by the crook of his arm, and pulled him from the chair. "I'd hold your hand." He said quietly "but it would gain us unwanted attention."
"Aa. And I would hold your arm, but that would be odd."
"Or you could put your hand in my pocket and I in yours. But that would be gay, and neither of us is gay." Said Duo conversationally, while a wide grin began to form on his pouty lips. "Of course not, but we are both full of bullshit."
With that Duo dragged Heero from the restaurant, and down the street to the motel that served as their temporary residence. And of course, no one knew any better, No one speculated.
They could be glamorized later, immortalized later, and expanded, and made like gods later.
Right there and then, they were so fucked up, that they were normal.
Oh, and Heero IS allergic to Duo's hair.
Bwahahahahaha! Ok, so I am terrible * sweatdrop* eh, it could be worse Heero could have been dancing a jig. *.-