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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"
Duo’s Point of View I might have felt a little sorry for the guy if he hadn’t been such a jackass. I mean, it was obvious his fiancée was going to call all the shots for the wedding. Can you say “whipped?” Under any other circumstances, I’d have had at least a twinge of sympathy for him. But that stunt with the handshake really irked me. And I told Quatre about it while nursing my bruised fingers over a drink at our favorite bar, The Circus. “Quat, the fucker nearly broke my hand when he shook it. I mean, I’ll admit I pushed him a little, kissing Relena’s hand and all. But did that call for physical violence?” I asked. My blonde friend chuckled, shaking his head. “You bring these things on yourself, Duo. It’s not wise to flirt with the bride-to-be. Especially not in front of the groom.” “He started it with that crack about my masculinity, or lack thereof,” I pointed out. “I might be able to color coordinate ten bridesmaids, their bouquets, and the linens in the reception hall…but that does not make me less of a man, and I resent his assertion that it does! Fuck him anyway.” “I think he’s more concerned that’s what you’d like to do to the bride,” commented the bartender, leaning on the bar and smirking at Quatre and me. Trowa’s one of those tall, slender guys who just look like sex on legs. With deep, forest green eyes, and auburn hair that falls across half his face, he’s too alluring for words. And since Quatre’s inclined towards guys, he’s hopelessly smitten. And I am merciless about teasing him. But at that moment, I was too incensed at the affront to my manhood to go down that road. “I’m not trying to fuck the bride, Tro’. I was just doing my job...being my naturally charming self.” He grinned at me, though his glance slid towards Quatre. (And let me just say here, I can’t believe those two haven’t hooked up yet. What with the little glances and smiles they exchange, they should have been screwing each other for weeks now.) “Maybe you act like you like your job just a little too much,” he suggested. I smirked back. “Maybe you do, too,” I purred, giving Quatre a sidelong glance. They both blushed. Mission accomplished. “To get back to the point, Duo,” Quatre interjected, no doubt trying to change the subject. “You need to restrain yourself a little bit, if Mister Yuy’s as uptight as you claim.” “He is,” I insisted. “But you should have seen the look on his face when I squeezed his hand back just as hard. I don’t go to the gym three times a week for nothing.” “Why do you?” Trowa inquired, wiping down the bar with a damp rag. “Lots of reasons. For one thing, I enjoy the exercise. But it’s also important to the job; appearance is everything in our business,” I said, indicating Quatre and myself. “No one would hire a fat slob to plan the most important day of their life.” And all that aside, it was worth it to see the flicker of surprise in Heero’s glaring blue eyes, especially after the prick had insulted my masculinity. “You two need refills?” Trowa asked. “Yes,” I sighed, eyeing my glass ruefully. “But not of this stuff.” “Duo—.” “I know, Quat,” I muttered, not quite looking at him. Instead I smiled politely at Trowa. “’Nother club soda for me. Please.” Quatre was having some fruity drink with an obscene name; I was staying sober. Don’t get me wrong; I’d like to have had a nice stiff drink to wipe the unpleasant memory of Relena’s asshole of a fiancé from my mind, but I don’t drink. Not any more. You see, after my second fiancé died a week before our wedding, I kind of went off the deep end and did some heavy drinking. Very heavy. Tried to fucking drown myself in a bottle. Damn near succeeded. Quatre was the one who dragged me back up out of the gutter, verbally slapped some sense into me, and helped me get on with my life, making me swear off liquor for good measure. The guy’s a saint—the best friend a man could have. That’s why I had let him send me back to the House of Death Glares—I owed him too much to ever say “no.” Anyhow, that’s a little off the topic. To get back to the matter at hand, after Trowa brought us our refills, I told Quatre how it had been like pulling teeth to get Heero involved in the discussion Relena and I had. And when I did, he invariably acquiesced to her wishes. Damn, he was under her thumb! And the fucker had the unmitigated gall to suggest my job made me less of a man? There’s the pot calling the kettle black. “Maybe he just likes pleasing her,” Quatre suggested. “More likely, she’s the one with all the money in the relationship,” I drawled cynically. Yes, I am a cynic. Most kids who grew up on the streets of L2 are. But it suited me just fine if the jerk was marrying Relena for her money. Not only was he stuck having me plan his wedding, but I got to call him by his first name, and flirt outrageously with his fiancée, and there was nothing he could do about it. He hadn’t even tried to fire me once during the entire interview. Not that he could have with his pretty blue-eyed princess’ heart set on having her wedding planned by Winner Enterprises, and her hand holding the purse strings. He was so whipped! I had wanted to laugh in his face, but settled for a smug grin. And I know he noticed it. Trowa wandered off to take care of other customers, and I gave Quatre a long look. “You gonna grow a pair and ask him out?” I inquired, in a repetition of our usual little ritual. “I have a pair, and no,” Quatre huffed. “I don’t even know if he’s gay, Duo.” “Aw, c’mon…you saw that brunette all over him the last time we were here,” I pointed out. Speaking of brunettes, I’d noticed a very attractive one at the opposite end of the bar, and thought I might go strike up a conversation. “It could’ve been his brother.” I snorted at that. “Right, and I’m his fucking uncle,” I teased. “C’mon, Quat! You’re right. He’s hot. So are you. Go for it!” Aquamarine eyes glared hard enough at me to melt a hole in my forehead. “If and when I ‘go for it,’ Duo, it won’t be because you pushed me into it. I have to decide on my own when the time is right.” “Psh…yeah…when you’re old and grey,” I said with a shrug, standing and stretching. I picked my jacket up off the back of the chair I’d been sitting in. “Want me to ask him for you?” “No!” “I could slip him a note.” “Duo—.” I laughed, forgetting all about Mister “Death Glare” Yuy and his pretty pink princess, as I made my way over to introduce myself to the aforementioned brunette.
He shook his head patiently, quite immune to any pleading looks. “You know I’m overbooked. I’ve got the Tsubarov wedding, Catalonia’s, and the rescheduling of my sister’s.” “Which sister?” I asked, as if it mattered. Quatre had twenty-nine of them, and it seemed like half were of age to marry. Their patronage alone could have kept us in business for years. “Iria,” he replied. “Don’t you remember? The sand storm wiped out the chapel three months ago? We had to change the location of the wedding, which meant changing the date, and therefore everything else.” He sighed, running a hand back through his silky blonde hair and turning his kind aquamarine eyes my way. “You’re the best, Duo. I really need for you to handle the Peacecraft wedding. It’ll be a huge load off me.” “But Yuy’s a fucking asshole,” I protested. “He thinks that just because I’m a wedding planner, I’m less—male.” Quatre’s gaze traveled the length of my braid, but he held back a smirk. Good thing, too, since he’s even “prettier” than I am…long hair notwithstanding. “You’re not that insecure, are you, to let what he said bother you?” “No! I just don’t like dealing with narrow-minded morons.” “Perhaps once you get to know him better—.” I gritted my teeth and nodded, quite certain I didn’t want to know Heero Yuy any better than was necessary to do my job. “I’ll do it for you, Quat. But don’t ask me to enjoy it.” “I won’t,” he sighed. “Just do me a favor and call Miss Peacecraft; set up some appointments for visiting chapels, reception halls…the usual.” “I’ll get right on it,” I sighed. Sometimes
I hate my life.
tbc... |
