Author/Alias: Tan (nekobotan@aol.com, or silvernyanko@yahoo.com)
Title/Part Number: Rave On
Catagory/Warnings: Shounen ai, dance club X]

Pairings: 1+2/2+1 and some 3x4
Feedback: Naw
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::Warnings:: Hmm.... Some dancin', some sweating, some cuddling, crossdressing and seduction (just a little)-- Shounen Ai stuff, I suppose. PG-whatever. Never any angst, I just can't handle the stuff. A homicidal Heero, and Sailor Moon Air Freshener (beware) No actual place in the GW timeline. Unfortunately.
::Summry:: Duo does something unforgivable, and Heero hunts the boy down, to kill him of course.
You know what? This story has a *lot* of potential... If I could do yaoi/lemon stuff I would, but I can't, so leave me be in my misery of talentlessness...... Is that a word?
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I'm going to kill him.

That's it. I'm going to *kill* *him*. That's my mission.

The silence of another event less night came crashing apart as Heero stepped inside the crumbling, rundown excuse for a hotel. He slammed the door mercilessly, and heard the wood crack. Wufei was lounging on the sofa, watching aerobics. At Heero's stony glare, he clicked the off button on the remote, and blushed.

"It's all that's on, Yuy," he muttered defensively.

Heero ignored him.

"Where's Duo?"

Wufei's face blossomed pink, and he made an odd, strangled noise.

"Maxwell?! I-I-I-I don't know he must have gone out......"

Heero's deep cerculean eyes narrowed, and Wufei bolted up as if shot.

"They're at the High Club on Seventh Street somewhere downtown!!"

Heero blinked in surprise.

"You cracked like an egg, Wufei," he commented softly. Wufei's face couldn't get any more red, so he turned orange, and left the room. Heero watched him go for a second, then trooped into one of two bedrooms of the suite. Duo's bed was a chaotic pile of clothes, magazines and a few pistols, while Heero was able to sit upon a perfectly made bed with crisp linen and precise pillows. He stared at Duo's regular pair of black combat boots on the floor. He wanted to take them up, and just hurl them out the window, watching them fall with the glass, imagining it was Duo's body plummeting down to the earth to splatter and crack against the hard pavement.

But it wasn't Duo's sly little body. It was a pair of black boots, and he'd need them, if he wanted to go to that club.

Damn you, you stupid little American. You'll pay.... You'll just pay and pay and pay and pay

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*Now* I'm nervous.

He shuffled uncomfortably against the wall. The long line of wanna-be-clubbers wasn't moving an inch, though they all were swaying to the half hidden beat of music from inside the High. He'd been standing there for half an hour, and the bouncer at the head of the line didn't seem like he was about to let anyone in, much less a homicidal maniac Gundam pilot who wanted to kill another crazy Gundam pilot that was inside.

Someone behind him grunted slightly, and moved forward, brushing up against the tight leather/skin of Heero's pants. He jumped like a startled rabbit and whirled on the guy.

And yes, it was a guy-- one with a pink wig, a stuffed bra and a four o'clock shadow just beginning to show under his makeup.

They were *all* guys. Some were actually quite handsome, and were well dressed...

I knew about Trowa and Quatre-- I mean, it's so obvious, but Duo? Oh well, he's going to die-- no sense in worrying over his little skeleton-in-the-closet.

The line shifted-- were they letting people in? No, someone had just passed out, and had been pushed away by the other club hopefuls.

I can't wait any longer. He might get away. Heero pushed away from the wall, and stalked past the hissing, glaring line. The bouncer caught sight of him, and glowered.

"Club's full. Get back in line."

Heero didn't pause. He'd use Duo's little trick-- inducing lust, instead of a confrontation.

"Please?" He rumbled to the large, defensive man. Heero stopped inches from brushing skin and skin, and let his normally hardened lips curve upward into what he hoped was a seductive grin. "Just for a minute...." The leather of his pants creaked, and the bouncer's heavy eyes widened.

"I can't--"

Damn. Heero moved closer. He could feel the heat of the bouncer's folded arms through the mesh of Duo's dancing shirt. It was actually a slightly erotic sensation--

"Please........" He breathed, wetting his lips ever so slightly, and running long, slender fingers just over the bouncer's bare shoulder.

With a light click he pulled up the red velvet rope, and Heero smiled smoothly. With the groans and protests of clubbers echoing behind him, the cool eyed pilot beauty strode forward with purpose, and murder in his cool, clear eyes.

They're all insane, he realized. What are they *doing*??

Heero was rooted to the entrance hall in shock. He'd been expecting the assaulting music, and maybe he'd predicted the half clad (male) waiters carrying oddly colored drinks with stupid little umbrellas in them. And dancing-- that was rational, in a club, right?

That is *not* dancing.

It's not.

It's not?

He was watching a sea of bodies clad only in mesh and leather and skin and sweat. And they were sweating a lot. Limbs glistened with perspiration, and glittered to the beat. The room was massive, and he could see no sign of a blonde, a brunette, and a certain lively little braided baka he so desperately needed to kill.

Heero breathed, or tried to. A small tango line shimmied past and he gulped frantically. They waved to him, and went on.

I can do this, I can find them, he chanted. I have excellent tracking skills. I was trained in jungles and deserts and space. I can find them, kill him, and get out unscathed. I never fail in my mission....

Suddenly the music intensified, if at all possible, and the swarm of anatomy lunged closer. Heero panicked, and backed away, feeling the intense need to flee and go back to the hotel to watch aerobics with Wufei. At least there the gyrating bodies couldn't swallow him whole.

But in spite, in completely evil spite he saw a braid. And it wasn't just any braid, it was chestnut with little sun bleached streaks of blonde, in a uniquely messy plait that could slap you in the face if you weren't careful. Heero dove in mindlessly, intent only on that hair, and what was on the other end of it.

It was too late when he realized he'd lost sight of the braid, and was now in the middle of another synchronized push of bodies, the ones connected to the throb of the music by an artery, pumping and grinding their life out all night.

Panic settled into his chest like a cold, sharp knife. Undulations carried him back and forth, forward and back, and just when he was about to leap free he was pulled back by unseen hands and inexplicable energy.

He wanted to scream, but he knew it wouldn't help. The music was too loud, and the sound of fabric, skin, and heavy breathing would have drowned him out anyway.

"Heero?!"

Heero whirled around as best as he could at the sound. Quatre's sweet, shocked face was staring at him from Trowa's arms. Both of their faces were sparkling with sweat and passion. Heero latched on to Trowa's arm, and caught his breath.

"Duo--"

"Heero why are you here?! Are you all right? Trowa, we should get him out--"

"Hm," Trowa muttered. Heero felt his fellow pilots grab either arm, and pull.

How are they doing that? He demanded dully. He felt exhausted, as if the party were running on his energy alone. They broke free of the dance floor, and Heero sucked in the cooler air greedily. Trowa sat him in a chair, and left to get him a drink. Quatre sat rather awkwardly beside him.

"I didn't know you liked clubs, Heero," he mused. Heero raised his head off of the table once to glare, then he laid it back down.

"I don't. I'm here to kill Duo."

A pause. Quatre didn't believe him. They never did. Oh well, they would believe when Duo's corpse was found in the river, his gorgeous indigo eyes eaten out by the fish....... Heero grinned morbidly at the thought.

"Why do you want to kill Duo?" Quatre asked slowly.

Heero's grin faded. The memory made his blood boil-- Damn the Yankee!

"Here." Trowa returned, and sat a bottle of Evian water beside Heero's head. He sat up fluidly, and downed half of it.

"Slow down, you'll get sick," the Latin boy ordered. He scooped Quatre up from his chair, and sat down to cuddle the blonde charm in his lap. Heero glared, but not at them. They were right, somehow. Just right--

"Tell me where Duo is, please."

Trowa turned his head, and surveyed the crowd.

"He was in the center of it all-- right next to us. I'm surprised you didn't bump into him."

Heero's head shot up with a terrifying snap. His eyes darted through gaps of bodies, tears in clothes-- no braided nutcase.

"The center?" He demanded. Trowa nodded, and Heero stood up.

"Whatever Duo did, Heero, he probably didn't mean it..." Quatre spoke up. Heero just looked at him dangerously.

"He *took*, my air freshener! In Wing Zero," He snarled. Without another word he began his hunt in the wild jungle of throbbing, living, glittery corpora...

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Quatre watched Heero vanish into the wide-open confines of the dance floor, then looked questioningly into Trowa's heavenly hazel eyes.

"Air freshener?"

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Five minutes. Five minutes he'd been sitting there, chatting with that greasy haired freak. He wasn't even very good looking-- with a huge nose, and rounded, horse like teeth. His hair was greasy.... My hair is never greasy--

Heero began imagining his Sailor Moon air freshener, hanging innocently on Death Scythe's control panel, sending it's magnificent strawberry scent rushing through the Gundam's cockpit like a breath of fresh air.

He dies tonight, Heero thought grimly. He moved slowly, taking his time to slither across the short expanse between the bar and the dance floor. Duo didn't see him, but he would soon enough...

".... and I was telling him all about my new boyfriend and he hit me! Look, you can still see the bruise!" Duo's friend was saying. He leaned in close to Duo, brushing aside his lank hair to reveal a yellowing bruise on his pale skin. Duo leaned closer, and whistled a little.

"Woo man-- he must have hit you pretty hard, Michel. You're not going back to him tonight, are you?"

Heero watched Michel smile fetchingly.

"I hadn't planned to....."

Heero felt like smacking Michel, too, but didn't. Instead, he walked right up between Duo and poor little Michel, and leaned across their legs onto the bar.

"Vodka, straight up," he ordered.

"Hey!" Michel complained. He moved away from Heero, and glared at his profile. Heero turned to look at him. The guy paled more, and stood up, drink in hand and tail tucked beneath his legs.

"I'll see you around, Duo...." He muttered.

Duo waved over Heero's shoulder. The bartender brought his drink, and he sat down heavily in Michel's vacant stool. He finally met Duo's eyes.

"Hiya Heero!" Duo chirped.

Heero squinted at the cheery youth. He sniffed slightly. The boy didn't reek of liquor. In fact he was drinking a soda. Heero didn't think he took drugs.... He went on talking happily, as if Heero didn't look like he wanted to kill him.

"I knew you'd come. I figured the air freshener was enough to get you here--"

"Why did you take it, Duo?" Heero interrupted angrily. He sat his glass down on the counter, and leaned in close. "I love that air freshener."

"I know," Duo replied simply. "Which was why I took it-- I knew you'd hunt me down to kill me, which would eventually lead you here to my all time favorite club!" He smiled sweetly.

Heero's mind was all ready half burnt out from his experience with the rave crowd-- he didn't need Duo messing with the dying nerves of the last of his wits, too.

"What?? Why would you want to lead me here??" His vision was overrun with purple-- why? Then he noticed Duo's shirt. It was nearly identical to the black one Heero wore, only it had a larger mesh pattern, and was a vibrant violet that brought out purple tones in Duo's eyes. He also had on some shiny, paten leather pants that sucked to his curves like a second skin-- wait a minute-- Duo has curves? And what nice curves they are--

"To have fun, man! You have to admit the dance floor is crazy--"

"I know," Heero breathed. He was still transfixed by the pattern Duo's shirt made on his golden skin. Duo rapped Heero's head once, and he sat up angrily.

"I came here to kill you," he declared.

"C'mon," Duo snickered. "Let's dance!"

Heero pouted tiredly.

"I came here to kill you!" He insisted.

Duo sighed in exasperation and stood up. He tugged on Heero's arm, and bounced up and down impatiently.

"Kill me *after* we dance, okay?"

Heero considered for a moment. He didn't want to go back out onto the dance floor. It was so enclosed, and dangerous. He was a solitary soldier, a lone Gundam pilot (usually). All those bodies.....

"Don't worry," Duo whispered suddenly. His lips were stinging the skin of Heero's ear. "I'll protect you...."

Heero looked at him owlishly, and stood up.

"I don't know how to dance," he began cautiously.

Duo laughed. Heero felt annoyed, then awed as the boy threw his head back, giving Heero a full view of the smile, the lips, the eyes, the emotion. He was moved.

"You think anyone else here does, either?! C'mon, we'll just grind to it!!"

Heero was about to ask what "grind to it" meant, but Duo pulled him away from the bar, and away from his doubts. He was still afraid of the pull of the crowd, but then Duo grabbed his waist, and smiled at him. Everything fell away-- even his insatiable urge to kill kill kill that lovely braided boy that was holding him, and moving just so against him-- fell away. Rave on, Heero mused silently...
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by tan (nekobotan@aol.com)