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"Logical Progression"Written By: Switchblade003 Disclaimer: Shin Kidousenki New Mobile War Chronicle Gundam Wing is copyright Setsu Agency and Bandai Inc., and is not property of this writer. There are a few subtle references to the film "Meet Joe Black," as well, and I obviously don’t own that. Likewise, Meteora is the explicit property of Linkin Park and Warner Bros. Records. I take no credit for any of the talent that went into their songs, and I thank Mike Shinoda, Chester Bennington, and the rest of you guys for your inspiration. Your lyrics are genius. Pairing(s): 2x4x2, and then who knows?? (What? Switchblade, there’s no Trowa?? Calm, down. This is just the first chapter…) Warning(s): Heh. Dirty office scene. Nothing too graphic, but watch out for the paperclips and staples! O.X Rating: NC-17 Archive: www.wuffie.net Notes: This is something random that I started writing a while ago, misplaced, and stumbled upon today while cleaning my room. Don’t expect updates to be too frequent, guys. "Fight Club" I my top priority, right under finding a job… ::sweatdrop:: Anyway, the chapter titles are names of Linkin Park tracks from the new album Meteora. Now, if you know anything about me at all, you know that, to me, LP is gold. I’ll paste the lyrics to the song at the end of every chapter for your reading pleasure. Check out the LP official site at www.linkinpark.com, and the fansite at www.lpunderground.com. These guys are the greatest. They really keep in touch with their fans, too. Anyway, I thought that the lyrics would be a unique way of getting a perspective on the characters in the story, instead of me supplying you with third-person crap throughout the text; you can form your own opinions. Tell me what you think! +++ Logical Progression Chapter: I—Numb
"My lawyers will meet with your people after the board meeting, then, Mr. Winner." "Wonderful. Thank you for your time." With a weary sigh, Quatre Winner pushed immaculate straw-blonde bangs from his eyes, turning to pack his briefcase for the evening and glancing up at the back of his eight-thirty as the man left. The solid mahogany doors to his office closed audibly, and he was alone for the first time in seven hours. The German youth had a major deal in the works, and if he managed to close it and pass it through his Senior Board it could be the single largest merger of conglomerates in the history of big business. At twenty-two years-old, he was the youngest president and chief executive officer of any company in the Western Hemisphere. Quatre was the only child of European political power and an inherited fortune. The prodigal son of parents married to their work, the blonde had virtually no memory of his family, but he had never gone without. He had been raised in the finest boarding schools in Europe, and at eighteen he had graduated from Princeton. After his father’s death, the young man had taken control of Winner Enterprises, the world’s largest advertising firm. His guileless face and charisma had won him the trust of his Board, and the finesse and persuasive skills he’d acquired at Princeton had gotten him the eye of the people. Now he was buying out his biggest competitor… Or trying to, anyway… Quatre sighed again as his sapphire eyes fell on the enormous stacks of paperwork swamping the conference tables that his secretaries had set up along the walls in his office. All of those forms had to be filled out, checked over, and approved by the attorney team by Tuesday… But it’s Friday night, a little voice in the back of his head chimed in. He pursed his lips in thought, debating on skipping out on the late-night coffee camp that would be taking place down the hall in the main conference room. He’d put out a memo requesting any available temps to stay back tonight to help with last minute details, but all he wanted now was to go home… Before he could arrive at any definite conclusion, however, his phone rang shrilly, echoing in the immense, empty office. "Mr. Winner," came the nasal voice of his receptionist. "Mr. Maxwell is on line one." The blonde scrambled for the receiver, his cheeks flushing furiously. Why in heaven is he calling me at work? He swallowed around his sudden flush of embarrassment and picked up the phone’s handset, adjusting his tie nervously. "Duo?" The sounds of fax machines whirring and humming printers accompanied his lover’s husky tenor, and Quatre arched an eyebrow even as he felt his lips curving into a small smile. "Hey, Mr. Winner," came the smooth voice. "I was sitting around in our disgustingly expensive condo and I thought, ‘Ya know, Duo, you’re layin’ around on your lazy ass, and your gorgeous boyfriend’s bustin’ his balls ta keep a roof over your head…’" Quatre laughed lightly at his companion’s rather characteristically crude language. "So ta sum up a long story, I decided ta walk on down ’ere and ask if ya’d like ta go ta dinner with me." The German’s smile grew. And he closed his eyes as the thickly accented tenor continued to coax him into leaving early for the night. "Okay, Duo—Duo!" he exclaimed, trying to get his lover’s attention. "I’ll be right down." He tossed the handset back onto its base, throwing his coat on and gathering his briefcase. The advertising executive couldn’t help the silly grin plastered on his handsome features. He’d been dating the Australian soccer player for almost an entire year, now, and when they’d first gone public the sports and business media had joined forces to create a romance frenzy in the tabloids. It had taken a great deal longer than Quatre had liked, but Duo had finally conceded his ‘masculinity’ and had moved in with his German counterpart. They were a good pair, despite Quatre’s hectic lifestyle and Duo’s frequent travelling. The blonde exited the frosted glass French doors of his department and gazed down into the dimly-lit sea of unmanned fax machines and computers, paper shredders and scanners silent, glowing on standby. It was what the higher-ups referred to as ‘Temp Land,’ and it was eerie at night. No doubt that the midnight Coffee Cam would be here to bring it back to life at any moment… "Oh, Blondie?" Quatre peered over the sleek techno architecture of the balcony to find his braided companion standing down in the mess of paperwork and machines below, and he sighed, though not in exhaustion. With his usual mischievous smirk, the violet-eyed youth bounded up the steps, his casual wardrobe clashing terribly with the environment around him, and Quatre loved it. Duo was so brash, so rebellious, so not what his father would have wanted, what the Board would approve of that it made his head spin. Duo was his single defiance, the only act of opposition that he would allow himself, and he relished every moment that he had with the talented young man. With a mock-menacing gait, the soccer-star backed his quarry past the frosted doors that he had just exited and back into his office. He closed and locked the heavy wooden doors, then smiled seductively at his lover. "Of course, we could just stay here for a while." The Winner heir blushed an inventive rouge as his Duo-hazed mind finally wrapped around just what the Australian was suggesting, but he allowed himself to be pushed back almost roughly against his desk, his coat falling off his shoulders to hang heavily at his elbows. Quatre’s eyes closed, his head falling back as strong hands trailed up his sides, took his hips in a bruising grip and lifted him onto the edge of the oak bureau, and then Duo’s jagged chestnut bangs were tickling his ear, soft lips caressing his neck, his lover’s hard, well-toned body pressed insistently against his own. "God, ya drive me crazy." The braided youth’s voice was a harsh breath at his ear, and he reached up, wrapping his arms around that slender column of neck and pulling the brunette closer, arching against him. Duo’s skilled hands sought and found the polished brass buckle to his leather belt, and he lost track of time after that. +++ TBC. Okay, lyrics: "Numb" I’m tired of being what you want me to <Caught in the undertow Every step that I take is another mistake <Caught in the undertow I’ve become so numb I’m becoming this Can’t you see that you’re smothering me <Caught in the undertow Every step that I take is another mistake <Caught in the undertow And every second I waste is more than I I’ve become so numb I’m becoming this And I know I may end up failing too But I know you were just like me with I’ve become so numb I’m becoming this I’ve become so numb <I’m tired of being what you want me to I’ve become so numb <I’m tired of being what you want me to |
