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"Iron Fists "Written By: ELLE and Miss Murdered Disclaimer: If Gundam Wing was ours, there'd be ONE damned cannon kiss. All for fun, fun for all! :D Rating: NC 17 Warnings: post EW, physical violence, m/m sexual
relations, cursing, you know – the typical angsty stuff! Pairings: 1x2x1, Summary: In the world of illegal cage fighting there are no rules and only the strongest survive. It is a world that Duo has been undercover in for over a year and when the Preventers fear he may have gone rogue unexpected back up arrives... Author's Notes: Miss Murdered mentioned this little
inkling to ELLE one day and several weeks later after ELLE's desire
to get into a fight peeked, ELLE asked if they might team up and write
some delicious, sexy fight scenes. All Duo's chapters are Miss Murdered's,
all Heero's are ELLE's. Enjoy! "Iron Fists "
2. Heero's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he took in the man he hadn't seen for over a year. At least, an outside observer would view it as suspicion, but Duo might know. Might. If he could even remember. Bitterness. Heero reprimanded himself mentally. He hated that feeling of bitterness that wormed its way into his heart and festered away like so many maggots, consuming the dead flesh, leaving the tiny bit of good raw and painful. He studied him for any signs of injury, mental instability, fear. Other than the minute, tale-tail signs of recognition Duo couldn't help but display - indistinguishable to anyone other than Heero, possibly the other three - and muscle, a lot more muscle, Duo appeared to be fine. Perhaps a bit pissed, maybe even nervous, but fine. Hardly worth Une's worry. "He's been out there for over a year," she'd said, the quiver of her disobeying upper lip revealing her concern. Heero wondered why she felt it necessary to tell him that. It wasn't as if he hadn't felt every single one of the 392 days Duo was absent far more acutely than any other person this side of the solar system. "You don't need to worry about him." The response was automatic. Easy. Because god fucking forbid Duo came back hurt. Or dead. Worse if dead. He made sure Duo knew with the certainty that the sun would rise tomorrow and the moon would orbit the Earth that Heero would put a bullet in his own head just to find him, wrangle him from the grip of the devil, and beat the fuck out of his non-corporeal form for leaving him. Duo was always running. Always hiding. But fuck if there was anywhere Heero couldn't follow him. "You've seen his file," Une stated. No, he wasn't supposed to have seen his file but yes, he had seen the clinical descriptions used to describe his lover's ... unique and trying personality. He knew they only let him in so that he wouldn't cause more trouble elsewhere. Knew they thought he was a terrorist at heart and that he was a ticking time bomb and that one day he was going to snap and that they would have to take him down. Heero knew better - knew Duo wouldn't be the one that snapped. Duo had shit he cared about. Children and puppies and rainbows and shit. All that shit could make him smile. Genuinely smile. Heero only had one thing. "He didn't go rouge." It was definite. No room for argument. "Well, if he didn't, then it could be worse." Just come right out and say it, Heero wanted to growl. Why Une pussy-footed around the issue was beyond him. He wasn't the kind of agent that needed coddling and special care. If Duo was hurt, Heero'd make sure Duo felt it. His heart wouldn't shatter into a million tiny slivers and his eyes wouldn't gush the goddamned Niagara Falls at her. That wasn't him. "I told you," he snapped dismissively, "you don't need to worry about him." The bewilderment on Une's face would've made Duo laugh. He could almost hear the laughter, rough and deep and so damned sexy. It was a sound Heero hadn't heard for most of his life - not until he met Duo. Not like that. So unlike his own cruel, maniacal cackle. He was sure Une didn't understand. Shouldn't he be worried? Their relationship wasn't a secret among Preventers HQ, certainly wasn't a secret from Une - she had one of those little consent agreements with his signature practically ripped through the paper somewhere in that filing cabinet behind her. Maybe she thought it was the time apart, that this was the last straw in a string of long-term undercovers and Heero was through, that he was too distanced from Duo to feel anything, anymore. Well sure, Heero was pissed. And sure the distance damn well didn't help their already dysfunctional as fuck relationship - that was a given. But that wasn't it at all. It's just... That wasn't them. If he doubted Duo, doubted his ability, doubted that he was safe - then he sure as hell didn't love him. He never doubted Duo. And he wasn't about to start now just because Une did. But he failed to convince her and she sent him packing as back up. She didn't want to send him. Something about that consent form, his inability to be objective. Heero wondered about that when only moments before she was questioning how he could be so objective. Maybe she didn't see his lack of concern as objectivity. Maybe she did see it for the blind faith it was. But either way it didn't matter. Heero was the only agent besides Wufei with enough knowledge of hand-to-hand combat to hold his own. And Wufei was fast tracking it up the corporate ladder so he couldn't be spared. And that was the story of how he became Duo's knight in shining armour - better know as the thorn in his fucking side. He watched as Duo's jaw clenched and he guessed Duo was figuring out just what he was going to say to Kerrigan. But Heero decided to relieve him of the decision. "I don't need to 'work' with anyone." Fuck if that didn't piss Duo off even more than just seeing him in that office in the first place did. His eyes were flashing hot with anger but buried deep down in there Heero thought he saw worry and he felt the quiet beginnings of his own anger building inside of him. He didn't doubt Duo. Duo didn't doubt him. Duo didn't fucking doubt him. Not after everything they'd been through. Kerrigan was laughing. It sure wasn't a nice laugh. Duo shifted to face his boss. "Where'd ya find this scrawny piece of shit?" His words were harsh. Mean. Only adding to Kerrigan's amusement. "A friend who has my best interests at heart," Kerrigan replied with a wicked smile. Duo crossed his arms over his chest and eyed Heero warily. He didn't know who Kerrigan meant, but Heero knew he meant Millardo - even if he thought the label 'friend' a bit too intimate and presumptuous. It became immediately apparent however that they sent him in too soon. Duo didn't have enough intel. He couldn't extract him yet. Fuck if he wasn't going to have to stay in this shit hole with Duo and try not to compromise him for god knows how long. And fuck if they sent another goddamned person into this mess while they were working this thing he would bring the fucking walls down around Une's head when he got back. "You need to stop dumping this shit on me and let me recruit some worthwhile candidates," Duo grumbled under his breath, jerking his head towards the door. But Heero stayed rooted where he was, cold eyes watching Duo dispassionately. "I don't need to train," Heero reiterated, looking straight at Kerrigan. "Maybe we ought to put him in tonight, if he's so insistent..." Kerrigan mused and Heero paused. They both were looking at him. When Duo spoke, his voice sounded damn near petulant. "I just hadda watch Wade get the shit knocked outta him and now you're gonna fuck up the schedules for this guy's massacre?" He hauled his thumb in Heero's direction. Heero gave no reaction although that fire building within him was pretty intense at this point. He was aware Duo was playing Kerrigan, but the thought that even a tiny piece of Duo doubted him made him want to fight the whole damn board just to prove himself. "I am assured he held his own on Earth," Kerrigan smoothly fought Duo's reluctance. Not that Duo really had any say in the end but obviously Kerrigan had a certain level of respect for him and took his opinion under advisement to some degree. "Earth ain't here," was the last peevish protest he could muster before he accepted his defeat. Kerrigan picked up a tablet and scanned through it a moment. "Maybe we bump LaFlare and put him in." "And pit him against Aziz?" Duo's shock was a bit disconcerting from Heero's perspective. "The Awful A-rab?" He drew the first 'a' out long, like a title. "Ya want your new pet slaughtered?" Okay, that was just about all Heero could take. The tension of not seeing him and finally they were face to face and his damn mouth, running off all the damn time, expecting Heero to just take it when he was the one running off and leaving him - ! The fire within him grew to a fevered pitch and before either of them realized it he had Duo pinned to the wall by his throat, one hand closed over his windpipe uncomfortably tight, the other twisted around his braid, jerking his head upward. One leg was pressed against his, his ankle hooked around Duo's, ready to bring him to the floor in an instant. Duo didn't even bother to bring his hands up to attempt to dislodge Heero's iron grip - even if he could, as soon as he flinched he'd be on the ground. "I'm no one's pet." The warning was clear and simple. He wasn't talking about Kerrigan. Kerrigan's slow clap filled the room and Heero released his captive, keeping himself safe from any retaliation. Knowing he lost, Duo simply scowled. "Well, the bookies won't be bitchin' to me." Kerrigan started tapping on his tablet, clearly dismissing them, and Heero grabbed his duffle and followed Duo out into the crowd. "Don't know what the fuck you're doing here, buddy, but this ain't a real good situation." Duo was muttering so low Heero had to strain to hear over the shouts and jeers of the crowd. "Aziz is a big ass dude. He's got a great win-rate, was favoured for that match. But he's heavy handed, not fast, prefers to stay in one place if he can -" Heero grabbed his wrist and Duo turned to face him, something like desperation on his face. Maybe it was unfair to be so angry with him, at least about that. Maybe Duo just didn't want their reunion after over a year apart to involve another sweaty man with his hands on him. He felt that was probably wishful thinking, but it was an easier pill to swallow than the idea that Duo doubted him. "It's fine." He tried to express something in his eyes - his longing, an apology - but even he knew his eyes were mostly expressionless. Duo just sighed and shook his head, leading him back into a locker room. Duo stood off to the side as he dressed, wearing nothing but spandex shorts and wrist wraps. He preferred to have nothing on that could be grabbed and used against him. Especially if they were fighting dirty. Duo always sparred in baggy shorts - and that damn hair - stupid, unnecessary risks. When Heero glanced back to him to indicate he was ready, Duo lead him through a maze of short halls to a sort of staging area. "He can't change this shit last minute, I don't even know who the fuck this guy is!" The angry shouts were heard before they walked in and now that they were face-to-face Heero was surprised at the short stature of the heavy, flushed and fuming organizer. Duo indicated Heero was to stay back and he walked up to the distraught man. They exchanged some low, heated words but it looked more like they were venting their anger at Kerrigan rather than each other. Heero saw fingers pointing in his direction and the short man threw his hands in the air as if invoking some god and then began furiously tapping on a similar tablet to the one Kerrigan had in his office. Heero took the opportunity to scan some of the other fighters, waiting, restless. He began sizing them up based on the way they held their weight, what they wore, where their weaknesses and strengths lie. He made guesses as to their degree of experience based on the nervous tics, the false bravado, the quiet contemplation. But he didn't see anyone that looked like they deserved the title 'The Awful Arab.' He figured there had to be another ready room somewhere that perhaps the other half of the opponents waited in. But he wasn't left wondering long before Duo came back to him and was leading him to the ring. He spared a confident glance for Duo before he kicked off his shoes and slid into the mesh cage. The rubber was sticky under his feet and smelled vaguely of disinfectant. Bare feet could be a liability on a slick mat, but he tended to use it to his advantage if he needed to slip around a large opponent. Just had to be aware of where the sweat fell. Speaking of sweat, the whole place stank of it and he found the humidity of dense humanity nearly suffocating. Not for the first time did he curse Une to the seventh circle of hell for sending him out here. This was not his element. That's why this was Duo's fucking assignment. And then his opponent walked out. The Awful Arab was a relatively kind title for the ugly man. He had about a foot and a half on Heero and at least a hundred and fifty pounds, probably two hundred. His face was a dark, ugly mash of features, his nose looking as if it had been broken more than a few times. He gave a relatively stupid looking smile that Heero supposed was meant to be intimidating considering the missing teeth. But Heero wasn't intimidated. He noted a slight limp, the way he favoured his right knee just a touch. The slow, deliberate movements. The way his fat, sausage fingers struggled to make a tight fist. Then the bell rang and a cheer went up from the crowd. Heero shifted his weight and circled towards him, just out of range of his hands. Duo said he was heavy handed. Despite Heero's genetically modified strength, he knew taking him down with punches and kicks to the torso or hips wasn't going to work. He was going to have to go for the knees or the face. The knees put him in range of the hands, unless he got close. Real fucking close. The face was out of his range unless he landed a high kick but it was a risky, difficult move that left him open. He didn't feel passionately towards this man or this fight, but he did want to knock the fucker out quick so he didn't have to play through three rounds of this shit. Which meant real fucking close was the best option. He slipped forward quickly to test Aziz's speed. The man was faster than Heero had anticipated, his fist almost colliding with Heero's head before he slid back. Tricky. But he noted the frustration in his opponent's face. He figured he could use this to his advantage. Heero danced in and out of his range for a full minute, frustrating not only Aziz but the crowd as well, though they were easy to ignore. And then he dodged forward and landed four swift punches to Aziz's midsection. As he suspected, the man barely flinched and the muscle was unyielding. Unfortunately the move proved to be a mistake and before he could duck out Aziz grabbed a fistful of his hair and threw him to the ground. Heero saw stars and tasted cooper as his head impacted with the mat but his body automatically used to the momentum of his fall to roll back into a standing position and he managed to block a punch with his forearm, though he slid backward into the mesh with the force of it. His forearm stung painfully and he muttered a curse under his breath. He drew his other arm across his face and he confirmed with little surprise that he must've busted his lips and nose as the amount of blood streaking across his arm was excessive. He had to quickly slide along the mesh on defence and that pissed him off. But it gave him a moment to formulate a plan. Unfortunately that plan included taking another damned hit and it couldn't be up against that fucking mesh. So he ran out the clock, deftly avoiding Aziz for the remainder of the round despite the throbbing pain in his face. Heero felt a bit vindicated to see Aziz panting and they glared at each other across the ring as he spit blood and tried to quench the flow in a towel. A tie, even in the first round, was unpleasant. No one liked it. Not Heero. Not Aziz. Especially not the crowd. They heckled and jeered and cursed Heero for being an elusive 'pansy ass.' Even a ref spit the insult at him. Heero wanted to chuckle at the absurdity. So, he liked to fuck men. His sexual preferences certainly wouldn't interfere with his ability to take this bastard down. When they faced each other again, Heero and Aziz immediately moved towards each other. Heero had prepared himself for the hit, but the punch that drove him to the ground carried enough force to knock him out. Would've knocked him out if he had tensed instead of relaxed. He crumpled on the mat, blood resuming its gush from his face, and then Aziz made his fatal mistake. He moved in close, overconfident - thinking Heero immobilized - to deliver a knockout punch if it were required. But Heero was prepared. As soon as his knees were in range Heero twisted up on his side, one arm planted firmly under him, chambering his right leg before throwing his full weight off the matt and into a kick aimed straight at the Arab's right knee. He heard the snap as the knee bent backwards and Heero recoiled back into a crouched position before slipping his legs behind him and standing almost two feet from his initial position, out of range of Aziz as he fell to the ground. Without a second thought he threw himself forward in front of Aziz's head, collapsing his knees at the same time he curled his arm in front of him, his elbow facing downward and colliding cruelly with Aziz's thick skull. Heero might not have been as strong as him, but he was damn strong, strong enough that a well-placed elbow-to-the-skull would knock any man out. Even a hulking bastard like Aziz. And even though Heero saw his eyes roll back in his skull and he knew he won, he doled out a few more half-hearted punches to that ugly ass face for good measure before the referees pulled him off and drug him back towards the netting. The crowd was fanatical at his display and his eyes swept over them dispassionately, feeling no pride, no remorse, none of the pain of his fucked up nose and none of the fanfare or excitement of the swarming mass of irreverent fucks outside the ring. He only sought out one thing. One pair of eyes. Duo's.
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