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"The Princess With The Purple Heart"Written By: ExecutiveShrimp Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, it belongs
to Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. Written for pleasure not
profit. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Smut, angst, AU Pairings: 1x2, Summary: Don't ask, don't tell
"The Princess With The Purple Heart" Three Heero is quick to adapt to the military routine again and soon feels at home at the new base. It is a much appreciated upgrade from Camp Delaram and, like all the others, he doesn't think twice about the fact that Sharana is located in a more dangerous part of the country. Camp Sharana is situated in the Pakita province, close to the Duran-line border between Afghanistan and Pakistan. Border conflicts between the Pakistani and Afghani armies are common, which also arouses unrest in the Pashtun tribes. Throwing in a foreign military force from the West doesn't help calm things down. Territorial disputes threaten local villages. Routinely patrols take the units through the nearby settlements where they try to weed out manifestations of the Taliban that likes to recruit in the area. "Never a dull moment at Camp Sharana," is the motto. If they aren't chasing down insurgents on patrol or protecting the perimeter from their perch in the watchtowers, they have their drills and rotating chores. In their down-time the units get competitive playing football in the dirt lot behind the barracks, or shooting hoops in the recreation hall, and everyone gets antsy when it's their turn in the "internet café", from where they can contact their families. Duo loves life on base, in particular now that he has his BSF at his side again. He hates the daily grind of his life at home, which lacks all excitement. He needs the thrill and he needs his brothers; kindred spirits who get him. At home, in spite of his love for barbeque ribs, air-conditioning and his memory foam mattress, he feels misunderstood and restless. Everyone here feels the same and everyone knows it doesn't mean that they love their family any less because they choose to be on the other side of the world, risking their lives for a war that shouldn't even be theirs. Duo is a third generation Marine and still his mother and sister don't understand why he wouldn't rather be home with them – why he was excited to go back on tour and why he skipped his last leave. There was only one thing about life on base that could become too much to handle. Stationed at Camp Sharana were eighty-five men and only seven women and on top of that the anti-fraternization laws prohibited sexual relationships. Exposed to a 24/7 adrenaline high, there was a lot of bottled-up sexual tension that needed a relief when there wasn't one. Somehow, it was less weird jerking off in his top bunk back at Camp Deleram, in the tent that he shared with twenty-three other soldiers, than it was in his private barrack with Heero. And Heero felt the same way. They allotted each other some regular alone-time to solve their recurring, physical problem but it was an imperfect agreement as Duo had trouble falling asleep at night after waking up with a hard-on. One day, while running drills in his full chemical gear, he has a brilliant idea. Duo always has his best ideas whenever he's having a heatstroke… After a short break, they suit up again and take two Humvees and a truck three klicks North, chasing down intel that the Taliban has supplied weapons to villagers to raid a smaller settlement for their stored food. Freak desert floods had ruined most of last year's crops in the area: because the ground is so dry, it doesn't absorb rain water well, so the rare, heavy rainfall creates instant rivers that wash away the seedling plants. They systematically check all the baked mud homes and wooden sheds but come up empty. Follander uses the opportunity to bargain with a villager at the bazaar, exchanging a sleeve of cigarettes for a bottle of vodka that he smuggles back onto base. Alcohol is strictly prohibited on base, but that has never stopped Follander. While everyone considers the mission a bust, the Private couldn't be happier. He won't even drink it himself, instead, he'll trade it for favors, so the way he sees it, he just bought his way out of a month's worth of doing ammo inventory. They pile back into their vehicles and head back to camp, staying off the roads, where insurgents like to plant IED's. It's a bumpy ride and Duo and Heero, seated in the back of the lead Humvee, get thrown around and Duo even bumps his head against the roof of the car a couple of times, making the Corporal laugh. When they park back inside the perimeter of Camp Sharana, Duo takes off his helmet and rubs the top of his head, feeling a bump that is painful to the touch. He makes exaggerated moans and groans, fishing for a little sympathy. He gets smacked on the back of the head instead. "Shut it, Princess," Heero snaps comically. "They don't give out Purple Hearts for booboos." Once they've unloaded their gear and locked everything away in the storage building, their Sergeant dismisses them for the night and they all but run for the showers, elbowing each other out of the way. Duo and Heero pick shower heads next to each other again. The entire unit banters back and forth as they wash the sweat and dust off their bodies. Sand has a way of getting everywhere. Chapple swats Lindsey's soap right out of his hand and everyone's laughter echoes off the tiled walls at the trope and the way Lindsey awkwardly bends down to pick it up, as if he actually doesn't trust them not to molest him. "I wouldn't sweat it, Fidget," Chapple mocks, "I think I speak for all of us when I say we'd rather fuck a hole in the ground than your asshole." "I'm not so sure about Maxwell though," Follander interjects. Duo quirks an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate. "You said thanks-but-no-thanks to your RNR, didn't you? Seven months is a long time and we're only halfway." "Still wouldn't stick my dick up his ass," Duo quips, causing laughter, which only gets louder when he adds: "Might make him suck me off for a bit though." Lindsey grimaces. He is not enjoying always being the butt of these kinds of jokes, but as the Benjamin of the group, the bottom is his assigned place in the hierarchy. But being the youngest has its benefits; if shit hits the fan, all the older boys will fiercely protect him, feeling like it's their responsibility as his big brothers. Everyone retreats to their own barracks. Duo and Heero walk in silence under the starry sky to their sunbaked hut in the back. The smaller barracks are typically reserved for the Sergeants, but since the camp is understaffed, they got lucky. Duo really has to put his weight into it to close the door, which hangs crooked off its hinges. Then he lays down in his cot, on top of his sheets and stares up at the cracked ceiling. He is not yet tired enough to sleep, but it's nice to rest and not talk and just be alone with his thoughts. Heero is reading a book by the single light on the table between their beds. Most soldiers work their way through the collection of DVD's in the TV corner at the Rec Hall, starting with the action flicks that glorify their brand of violence, until they have no choice but to watch the rom-coms as well. Not Heero; he reads. He teaches himself a new language each tour. Last tour it was Chinese, Arabic before that – they didn't know each other then - and he is working on his French right now. Duo cocks his head to the side and watches his friend for the moment. He looks soft and pretty in the orange glow of the light. The shaved sides of his head show off his small, delicate ears and his profile against the dark wall behind him highlights his pointed nose and full lips. That's the kind of shit you start to notice after a seven-month-dry-spell. Duo would be lying if he denied having sexual fantasies about his friend: just brief flashes of images, that he puts an end to as soon as he notices what his filthy brain is doing. He probably should have taken his leave. On a twelve- to fourteen-month tour, the soldiers get a two week leave, but scheduling dictates when they are supposed to take that leave and Duo's time-frame for leave came up early in the tour. They were still stationed at Camp Delaram at the time and everyone thought he was crazy for not taking it. It was right around Christmas time too. But for Duo, war was the perfect excuse to miss out on awkward Christmas dinners with his dad and granddad, who boasted about having been better Marines than him in every sense of the word, because they propelled themselves up the ladder with one promotion after another, while Duo was still "a mere Lance Corporal". Not even the promise of his girlfriend waiting for him could sway him to face his father and grandfather. As much of an issue Duo has with authority figures because of his strained relationship with his dad, the only thing he can imagine being worse than following someone's orders, is being the one giving the orders. He has no ambition of becoming a Sergeant and leading his own unit. He likes the equality that he has within his current unit. The men range from Privates to Corporals, but none of them ever pull rank on each other. Heero was promoted to Corporal at the end of their last tour, meaning the soldier outranks Duo, but it has never affected their friendship. "You're staring," Heero notes. Duo is a little surprised the man noticed; as far as he could tell, his blue gaze never drifted away from the pages of the book that he held closely in front of his nose. "I'm thinking," he amends. "Bout what?" Heero is only half paying attention. "About how I'm gonna deal with being so fucking horny all the time." Heero lowers the book down into his lap and oddly stares at him. "Did the thought of Lindsey sucking your dick get you all riled up or something?" "Nah. I just wanna be able to jerk off whenever I feel like it. Like right now. I wanna jerk off right now, but you're here. Fucking reading." "Jerk off," Heero encourages with a shrug. "I don't care. You think I didn't hear you back in Delaram? Your bed was right on top of mine. Some nights the bunk shook." He lets out a chuckle. "Yeah, but it's weirder now. Now that it's just the two of us in here." "Hn." He raises his book again and teases dryly: "You need a bigger audience or something?" "Not that. There was more anonymity back there. Besides, I've never heard you jerk off. There's an imbalance in the Force." "Quote the Prequels and Medina will kill you," the other retorts offhandedly. It was one of the running gags in the unit. "He'll know somehow." "But you agree that it's weird right? That's why you don't jerk off around me either." "We have a system," Heero points out. "It works just fine." He is not being completely honest, Duo can tell. Heero may be the perfect soldier, but even he is not impervious to waking up with a woody in the middle of the night. "I know what we should do." Duo sits upright in his bed and boldly decides to introduce the plan he came up with while running drills earlier that day. "Exposure therapy." Heero closes the book with a sigh and turns to face him only to amuse him. "This should be good." He knows Duo's mother is a shrink and Duo has a way of bringing up random therapies as a contrived solution to imaged problems. "So, like, in exposure therapy, you engage in the activity that frightens you in the most extreme way, so the lesser variations of it that you encounter in your daily life don't bother you anymore." "And how – pray tell – does that translate to your current predicament?" He challenges with the quirk of an eyebrow. "We should jerk off together," he states point blank and stares at Heero seriously, waiting for a response. It doesn't occur to him that he has said something crazy. The other lets out a short laugh and opens his book again. "No." "No?" "Hell no."
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