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"The Wedding Planner"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. Warnings: AU, yaoi, some OOC, angst, potential lemon(s), sickening sappy fluff Pairings: to be announced, or it’d be too easy (but you know who I like) A/N: This idea hit me while I was driving somewhere, and I needed to start it before the inspiration faded. But it will take second place to Boot Camp and the sequel to Boot Camp, so I can’t promise regular or frequent updates. It’s probably totally predictable FLUFF, so you have been warned. And I’m trying out the world of first-person here, with point of view shifting between Heero and Duo (maybe others…not sure yet). Rating: NC 17 Summary: Heero isn't thrilled when Relena hires
someone to plan their wedding, but once he meets the young man, he's
downright unhappy. Duo Maxwell is friendly, good looking, and spending
way too much time with Relena...Heero's jealousy knows no bounds.
"The Wedding Planner" Chapter Three: We Meet Again Heero’s Point of View I was not being unreasonable. The “wedding planner” was not only male, but good-looking. From his deep violet-blue eyes to the wide, sincere smile on his slightly too-feminine lips, he was drop-dead gorgeous…even from my perspective, as another guy. And if that weren’t bad enough, he had thick, chestnut hair in a braid that reached nearly to his thighs. To top it all off, when I walked out onto the veranda, he was sitting with his chair pulled up beside Relena, so close their thighs were touching, and his arm was across the back of her chair, and thus her shoulders. I hated him on sight. It didn’t make it any better that he seemed to realize he’d raised a little specter of jealousy, but didn’t care. In fact, I saw nothing but stubborn defiance in those indigo eyes. The arrogant bastard. I’d like to make it clear; I am not the insanely jealous type. I’d watched Relena dance with everyone from politicians to diplomats to princes and kings at some of the functions we’d attended. And yet, somehow, the young man draped across her shoulders on our veranda drew an immediate, homicidal reaction from me. I consider it a display of amazing self-control that I didn’t kill him on the spot. (I could always get to that later.) Instead, I told Relena, and the usurper, in no uncertain terms that he would not be working for us in any capacity whatsoever. Imagine my surprise to find myself sitting on the veranda the very next afternoon, awaiting his arrival. “This isn’t a good idea, Relena,” I grumbled. “He and Quatre Winner planned Lady Lucrezia’s wedding,” she replied stubbornly, her blue eyes resolute. “I absolutely can’t settle for less!” “But he’s…he’s…” ‘He’s what?’ I asked myself. ‘Too damned handsome to be alone with my fiancée,’ I replied. “Don’t you want a woman to help plan your wedding?” I asked hopefully. “Someone you could do girl-stuff with? Pick out fabrics…color schemes…flowers…?” “Duo can help me pick out all that,” she said firmly. “But he’s a guy!” I blurted. “What self-respecting guy spends his time picking out napkins and wedding favors?” She gave me a prim look. “Does his being male and a wedding planner somehow threaten your idea of the male image?” “Yes!” I glared back, taking a swig of the gin and tonic I’d chosen instead of tea. I had a feeling I’d need the alcohol to take the edge off before the braided wonder showed up. “For God’s sake, a man shouldn’t do a woman’s job.” It was easier to pretend I objected to the notion of a man doing a job I pictured for a woman, than to admit I was jealous of how close he’d been to Relena. “So wedding planning is woman’s work?” “Absolutely.” Relena tsked at me for that. “Sometimes you can be so very old-fashioned, Heero,” she said with a sad shake of her head. “Nowadays men and women can do any job they enjoy, regardless of sex. And it doesn’t make them any less masculine or feminine.” Great. Now she thought I was insulting his masculinity. And worse, she felt compelled to defend it. “So you think a guy who picks out fabrics and decorations for a living is still masculine?” I demanded. “I like to think so,” came a very annoyed-sounding male voice behind me. I turned in my seat, dismayed to see that the butler had ushered in none other than Duo Maxwell, the current thorn in my side. Well, shit. His indigo eyes were narrowed, his arms crossed over his chest in a decidedly challenging manner. “Duo!” Relena stood up at once, walking over to him and extending a hand. I smirked in satisfaction when he had to free one of his hands to take hers, thus spoiling his aggressive stance. “Nice to see you again, Miss Peacecraft,” he said in a voice as rich and smooth as silk, turning on the charm as if throwing a light switch. Damn him! “Call me Relena,” she urged. Goddamnit! She wouldn’t even let the nanny who raised her call her by her first name! “Relena,” he said with an intimate smile, gazing into her eyes and then fucking kissing her hand. I stood up sharply, walking over and taking his hand off hers, giving it a firm shake, and an ever-so slight squeeze of warning. “And call me Mister Yuy,” I said coldly. His grip was surprisingly strong, for an effeminate asshole, and I found myself tensing as my hand was wrung tightly. Relena prevented me from breaking any of his bones when she laid a hand on my forearm. “Don’t be silly, Heero,” she chided. “He’s going to be working very closely with us. He should call you Heero.” He smiled at me, a flash of a triumphant grin. The bastard knew I hated him, and he knew Relena was determined to have him plan our wedding. He was enjoying his little victory. “Nice to meet you, Heero,” he said with a hint of a sarcastic drawl. “Likewise, Duo,” I replied, my tone dripping with forced civility. Still wearing a pleased little smirk, he disentangled his hand from mine, walking over to the table and plunking his briefcase down on it. “Shall we get started then?” he asked, opening the case and pulling out a thick file folder. He suddenly became “all business,” and was taking down information at an alarming rate…everything from the number of guests to the level of formality we wanted for our “event.” I’d never thought of our wedding as an “event,” but it appeared that’s what it was going to be. “Live band or d.j.?” he asked, glancing up from his notebook. I was about to say a d.j. would be fine, when Relena spoke up about a “string orchestra,” and so I bit my tongue and focused my attention on my drink. “Heero?” I looked up to find curious indigo eyes on my face. “What?” I know my tone was surly—defensive, even. But I didn’t care. “How do you feel about live music?” he asked. “What difference does it make?” I said sourly. He flashed me a grin that seemed just a bit mocking. “About five grand,” he replied. “Five thousand dollars?!” I demanded. He sat back in his chair, shrugging slightly. “Live music is expensive…a string orchestra even moreso. Is that what you want?” I looked at Relena’s pleading stare and sighed. “Apparently.” Duo jotted that down in his notebook, and I swear there was a trace of a smug smile on his lips. I could almost hear him thinking “—whipped,” and that galled me immensely. Who was he to suggest I was not in control of the situation? I wanted to reach across that damned table, drag him up by the lapels of his casual suit coat, and scream in his face that I was not pussy-whipped. But I had a feeling he’d just laugh and call me a liar, so I didn’t. I just took another long sip of my drink. I know that rationally speaking, he hadn’t said anything to suggest he thought me less manly for caving to Relena’s whim. But the thought had crossed my mind, so I was almost certain it had crossed his. I wondered if every groom he dealt with was as compliant to the bride as I felt like I was being. “Heero?” came his voice, yet again. I looked up in annoyance. “What now?” I demanded. “Open bar?” he asked with an innocent smirk, glancing at my drink. ‘Fuck you,’ I thought. “Why the hell not?” He jotted that down in his little notebook, and I was tempted to yank it out of his hands to see exactly how he phrased it. Groom is a lush…must have open bar. I know I was being paranoid, but if you’d seen how cozy he and Relena had been the previous day, you’d understand. It seemed like he was there for hours, taking notes and making pointed comments…or what sounded like them to me. I went through two more gin and tonics, while he sipped iced tea with Relena. And then, finally, it was time for him to leave. He stood up, giving me the most patronizing look, and held out his hand. “Good day, Heero.” This time our handshake was less of a power struggle; I felt like enough of a wuss for caving to Relena’s every demand that I couldn’t seem to muster the strength to crush his fingers the way he so richly deserved. He turned to Relena, took her hand and again touched his lips to it. “You’re going to make a lovely bride,” he said warmly, looking into her eyes and giving her a positively loathsome smile. She laughed and fluttered her lashes, blushing adorably, and glancing at me as if looking for reassurance. “He’s right,” I said with a shrug. “You will.” Duo glanced over at me, giving me a teasing wink, and then followed the butler back into the house. Relena sighed, sinking back into her seat. “Thank heavens I was able to talk Mister Winner into sending Duo back out here,” she gushed. “He’s perfect!” Perfect? Now he was “perfect?” I vowed to
make sure Relena was never alone with that—“perfect”
man. I didn’t care if I had to rearrange my entire work schedule.
I wanted to be there for every meeting she had with our newly-hired
wedding planner. tbc...
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