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"Over the Top"Written By: Dentelle_noir Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing AC or the
characters. GW belongs to Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. This
is a work of fiction and written for fun, not profit Rating: PG 13 Warnings: AU, Pairings: 1x3 Summary: Drabble! Trowa centric. Hints of 1x3. "Over the Top" The barbed wire was nothing but rust. Rotted to its core by the chlorine, the shrapnel, blood, and the whole goddamn earth screaming at them for unleashing hell upon it. Trowa dug his hands into the rain-softened walls of the trench and hung his head between his arms, trying to shut out the goddamn screaming of the guns. There wasn’t even the pow, boom, Tat tat tat that the movie’s showed. It was just one continual white noise in the background of his head. He could not even think beyond it. He wanted to go over to those bastards right fucking now and storm the trench just a few friggan feet ahead of them, just to do SOMETHING. It seemed like it was weeks with nothing but this white noise, although he was assured that it had only been two or three days of constant barrage. Trowa had just moved to this unit the day before to replenish the dead. They were a very high casualty unit, the others said. He was sentenced to death in the Hundrend and first. That’s where you died. That’s where Trowa requested to be sent. A hand descended on his shoulder and a voice dripping pure disdain said “You’re not crying are you, soldier?” Trowa propped his chin onto his arm to look with a lifted brow at whomever had dared say such a thing. It was their commander. The suicide king himself. “I want to get the fuck over this trench and take a piece of that fucking screaming machine gun with me,” Trowa growled. But he didn’t shrug the hand off. Yuy’s brow lifted, and his hand dropped from the patronizing shoulder to his hip. “People would say those are suicide thoughts.” Trowa looked pointedly at the hand, and then flicked his eyes up to meet the fiery blue right behind him, “I should have died a long time ago. Suicide isn’t too bad, if you ask me.” Yuy smirked, and in his face Trowa saw every demon he danced with daily offering him their hand once more. Above their heads, the white noise stopped. Men poked their heads out of the bunkers looking eager. Trowa’s riffle was already slung ahead of himself and a grenade dangled in his finger by the pin. He looked to Yuy. Yuy looked to him, and together they vaulted the steps out, screaming “OVER THE TOP, BOYS!”
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