|
"Diary of a Protected Witness"Written By: Snowdragonct Disclaimer: Don’t own any part of Gundam
Wing or the characters, more’s the pity. This is for fun...no
profit involved. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots), some OOC
(probably), violence, drugs, sex, Pairings: 1X2X1, 3X4, 5XC, (past 2X3X2, 6X2) Summary: Ever wonder what was running through Duo's mind at certain points in"Witness Protection?" Here are snippets of his point of view...a companionfic, that will not rehash the entire plot, but offer a new perspective ofcertain events. A/N: This fits with chapter sixty nine of Witness.
Sadly, my computer died, and I had to resort to the laptop. So, all
my notes for this chapter are stuck on that other hard drive until
I can recover them. I hope I hit all the main points I’d intended
in this. And yes, it is the end of Diary. However, I am not above
doing the occasional one-shot...maybe when they get that dog, or spend
their first anniversary together... " Diary of a Protected Witness"
Well, Diary, things are winding down after a truly wonderful Thanksgiving weekend. Yep, the guys (and Cathy) stayed the whole four-day holiday weekend. In fact, they just left a couple of hours ago, and ‘Ro and I spent the time relaxing and talking about how great it was having everyone here. Uhm, well we did that right after we fucked like bunnies in the hot tub to make up for lost time. Y’see, we couldn’t really let go and be wild and crazy with guests in the house, now could we? Any lovemaking we snuck in during the weekend was kind of quiet and tender—rather than reckless and noisy. We had a little catching up to do. And then we talked about how much we had enjoyed the company. It was pretty awesome to actually see everyone again. And I think they felt the same about me. Even Chang was a lot warmer and fuzzier than before—though I wasn’t sure if that was joy at seeing me, or Cathy’s mellowing influence. (And speaking of fuzzy…the hair on my legs had finally grown out to normal length again. I’d thought it never would…not when it got to that “itchy” stage. Never again!) Anyhow, our reunion was a wonderful event. There was a lot to catch up on. Now, I suppose I could write about Alexander’s latest exploits, or that police captain chick…or even what became of the blonde bitch and psycho-Une. But those details faded into the background, importance-wise. What really mattered was what my friends had going on in their lives. Of course, Cathy and Wufei’s engagement was a prime topic of conversation. I countered their smart-assed suggestion that I go as a bridesmaid with an offer to entertain at Cathy’s bachelorette party. That sort of evened the score, at least in my estimation. I also invited them to tie the knot right here in Euphoria, when the time comes. It’s a wonderful place…perfect for making plans, seeing them through, or living out dreams. It really has the ideal name, doncha think? My next hot topic was Trowa’s future. Man, he was talkin’ about being a counselor—working with kids—and I just knew right away he’d be great at it. Hell, he was great at anything he put his mind to; you only had to see him on the high wire once to know that. But after he’d whipped me into shape, I knew firsthand how good a listener he was, and how skilled at giving sound advice. He’d be the best friend those kids could have. I was glad to hear he and Quatre were talking about moving in together. It reassured me their relationship was still solid—still moving forward and becoming deeper and more permanent. They both deserved the kind of happiness ‘Ro and I had found, and I hoped they’d discover it together, if they hadn’t already. I managed to snag a moment alone with Tro’ during the first evening, to thank him for all he’d done for me through the years. He’s a modest bastard, y’know…doesn’t seem to realize how fuckin’ special he is. But between me an’ Quat, I think we’re gettin’ the message across. I got a little one-on-one time with Wufei as well, a moment to thank him for looking after Heero while I was “dead.” I knew how hard those weeks had been on my lover, and he’d told me how his partner dragged him back into the land of the living—kicking and screaming. I was eternally grateful to Chang for sticking to the promise he’d made to be there for ‘Ro—not that I ever doubted him. Like I’d said earlier, the man had a sense of honor and duty that rivaled Father Maxwell’s—or vice versa. But I needed ‘Fei to know his loyalty hadn’t gone unnoticed—that I understood how he’d come through for me, and would never forget it. I got a chance to tell him so, as well as let him know how happy I was for him and Cathy. I was a bit surprised when he took me up on the single room, knowing how old-fashioned he was. But considering how careful I was not to tease or be suggestive about it, I think he knew I wanted him to feel safe in the knowledge that none of us would ever presume anything improper between him and the lady he loved—nor would we judge or make a big deal about it. They had every right to whatever sleeping accommodations they chose, without feeling self-conscious or embarrassed. I mean, shit—after putting up with ‘Ro and me, and all our mushiness and flirting and making out—Wufei and Cathy certainly deserved our support and discretion. Ah, let’s see—in other news, Tro’ brought me my old priest’s outfit from The Jungle. And what a lot of memories it brought back! That was the first costume I designed on my own, specifically for the act. It was awhile after Trowa got me started dancing that we heard the song “Personal Jesus,” by Depeche Mode, and I pointed out how much potential it had. Trowa kinda laughed at the idea. While he admitted the “reach out—touch faith” line had a definite “come-on” feel to it, he wasn’t sure about the whole concept bein’ a little too, well, blasphemous. I mean, yeah, ya could get a bunch of drunk guys all worked up over “Closer,” with its extremely explicit lyrics. But bring the name “Jesus” into the mix, and it sorta struck too close to home as far as pointing out that they were indulging their baser instincts. But Tro’ suggested I go for it anyway—work up an outfit and dance to fit the music, and try it out on him. If he liked it, he’d recommend to Noin that I perform it solo the next night we worked. I spent hours on that act—the clothes and the moves—and the whole time, I wasn’t at all sure I could pull it off. It was pretty fuckin’ irreverent! And in all honesty, I could almost feel Father Maxwell’s disapproval, as I made up the costume and the routine. It would’ve shocked the shit out of the poor, virtuous man! But when I first performed the act for Trowa, I thought he’d swallow his tongue, he got so worked up! The guy fuckin’ raved about it—and me—and how creative and hot I was. He said he was gonna make me pick all the music from then on, and that we’d choreograph the routines together. He told me I was too talented to just tag along doing the same old stuff. Like I keep sayin’, Trowa just didn’t know how much he’d done for me. Every word of praise just reinforced the notion that I could make something of myself off the streets. He really helped my confidence and my belief in my own skills. And yet, he claimed I’d done the same for him. I guess that’s what friends are really for, eh? Anyhow, while I have no intention of going back to stripping for a living, I sure am willing to do it for Heero. I kinda wonder if he’d appreciate a little private show, maybe for his birthday, or Christmas or something. Yeah, I could make him a gourmet dinner—with myself as dessert. Yummy. And since I know he isn’t too hung up on religion, I feel pretty confident in not offending him. As if I could! To get back to my main topic of thought/conversation/obsession…Heero just continues to be everything to me. Our guests hadn’t been gone an hour before he reminded me how addicted I am to his body as well as his mind. I can’t even describe the way I feel—it’s so—intense. I just know that even with our ups and downs, we’re gonna make it together. I trust him on a level I’ve never trusted anyone before, except maybe Trowa. I mean, the way Heero was willing to chuck everything—his job and apartment—his whole fuckin’ life—to come live with me in Euphoria (or wherever I’d ended up, according to him)—it just cemented my belief that he loved me more than anything. And he continues to prove it, day after day, in the little things he does—like bringing me coffee in bed, or listening to my off-the-wall rambling about whatever crazy topic comes up. He’s the soul of patience with me, most of the time. And even when he gets exasperated or annoyed, he does it with a tiny smirk and a gleam of adoration in his eyes that just never goes away. His love is just—all-encompassing, and unconditional, and freakin’ everlasting! Like mine. I’ve said it before, an’ I’ll say it again—I’d do anything for him. If he asked me tomorrow to pull up stakes and follow him to the North Pole, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I might bitch and moan the whole time, and in general be a whining pain in the ass—but I’d do it. I think he knows it, too. He has to have noticed I’m getting better at saying “I love you,” that’s for sure! He freakin’ glows every time I say it. It took awhile, but it’s finally begun to roll off my tongue almost effortlessly. I no longer flinch and watch for a meteor to fall from the sky and obliterate him just because I dare to say the words. (I do, however, make sure to remind him to look both ways crossing the street if I say it as he’s headed out. Never hurts to be thorough, y’know.) And the small effort is worth it. He needs to hear those words; they are my way of proving I’m his without reservation. I know he understands, because sometimes, when he doesn’t think I’m paying attention, I can see the way he looks at me. It’s as if he knows my heart and soul are his, and he’s a little awed by the knowledge. I dunno why. I mean, honestly, I’m just a street kid. And yeah, maybe I’ve made something of myself, and I’ve got some skills and talents. But compared to him—? I wish he knew how undeserving I feel now an’ then. I do. I feel like he’s so damned special I don’t deserve him. But don’t try to take him away, cuz sure as shit, I’d kill anyone who made the attempt! And I am totally not exaggerating! Well, time t’sign off. I’m pretty wiped out after four days of company and our afternoon sex marathon…not that I couldn’t muster up a little enthusiasm for another round or two when ‘Ro finishes locking up and comes to bed… How did he say it back in that House of Horrors—“any time, any place?” Yeah. My sentiments exactly! G’night! P.S. Duo’s adorable when he sleeps—his arm flung carelessly across his forehead and the blankets all bunched around his long, lean, naked legs. (drool) I meant to get up here sooner, knowing he was pretty exhausted from our busy weekend. But securing our perimeter takes time—and Duo’s safety is too important for me to take shortcuts. Of course, when I got up here, I noticed this journal lying wide open on the nightstand, and I couldn’t resist a quick peek into the inner workings of the mind I love so much. You know, once a detective, always a detective. At any rate, assuming Duo ever looks back and realizes I made a footnote, I hope he can forgive my prying. But I have to say, for the record, he should never feel undeserving—especially of me! He apparently doesn’t realize that he brought my heart to life when he stole it. Before that, I merely existed. Meeting Duo was like rediscovering life! Falling for him was like waking up from the dead! He practically breathed animation into me! But he’s a modest little shit, and doesn’t take compliments very well. (And after he said much the same about Trowa! Go figure.) So all I can do to convince him of his worth is to adore him, cherish him, relish every moment we have, and say “I love you” as often as my Angel needs to hear it—the same things he does for me. Amen.
|
