Fuckin' A
folder
Gundam Wing/AC › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
1,231
Reviews:
15
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Gundam Wing/AC › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
1,231
Reviews:
15
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Gundam Wing/AC, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
VI
Fuckin\' A VI
Quatre reserved a few moments to breathe at the door of his destination.
He was chilled, he was wet, he was grimy, he was injured (again), and he was not happy.
\"Time to put on the good face,\" he encouraged himself and mustered a smile. He had only just managed to pull it on when it fell right back off. It had been the first pants-ing of his young life, and he found it more mortifying than he could swallow all in one sitting. \"Chances are, you\'ll never see him again,\" he coached himself feebly.
Butterflies swelled up in his stomach, and he felt that he would swoon from the terrible nausea. He sat down in the second floor apartment hallway and waited for the world to stop spinning.
He felt feverish, and he suspected that it wasn\'t all due to Mr. Chang\'s glorious handsomeness (though, not to his discredit).
The world about him grew oppressive and dim with colors dripping here and there - like oils. He pressed a palm to his forehead and went out like a light.
++
The first things that he noticed were warm sheets.
The next things, that nothing around him belonged in his apartment.
And the last thing, that the apartment was not his.
He opened his mouth to speak but was immediately repulsed by the filmy taste that seemed to have coated his tongue and lips. He wiped away the taste from his mouth with one hand while using the other to prop himself up.
The room was mostly plain except for an alarm clock set on a dresser pressed up against the opposite wall. He was in a double-sized bed with a tea green comforter and cream colored sheets that he was loathe to leave.
There was a pressure behind this eyes that wasn\'t quite a headache and a tickle in his throat that wasn\'t yet a cough. As soon as he got himself vertical, a heavy nausea set in that nearly beat him to the floor.
He grasped feebly for the door when it suddenly opened up before him as if it had read his muddled mind. Wreathed in a gentle light in the door frame, a lovely lady regarded him with some surprise.
\"Jeebies!\" she exclaimed in a kindly tone. \"You look terrible!\"
She set the glass that she had been carrying down on the closest available surface and ushered Quatre back to bed. \"You shouldn\'t be up walking around like that,\" she admonished him while fishing a thermometer out of her waist apron. \"What\'s your name, dear?\" she inquired as she fitted a plastic cover to the tongue of the thermometer.
\"Quatre,\" a croaking voice answered, surprising the speaker.
\"Good gravy! You\'re the guy!\" she said excitedly, and stuck the thermometer under his tongue before he could respond. \"You ought not to have come being as sick as you are! You scared my brother and me half to death all splayed out on out doorstep like that! All this for a silly dog-\"
The thermometer beeped.
\"Well, you\'re down to one \'o one, which is a far cry better than you were yesterday.\" She peeled the plastic from the instrument and replaced it to her pocket while throwing the useless bit in a wastebasket next to the bed. \"But, geez, do you ever look awful!\" She retrieved the glass and handed it off to Quatre, \"You should want to try for some water, right?\"
Quatre nodded and lifted the glass to his lips.
The taste was stale and metallic at first but grew nearly unbearably sweet towards the end of the cup.
Quatre drank greedily even though it repulsed him.
\"I should go home,\" he said after he had drained the last drop.
\"I think you ought to stay in bed,\" the lady countered in a motherly fashion.
The edges of Quatre\'s eyes burned, but he fought to keep them open, \"Stabler, he, my dog, I need to take care of him. He...he\'s all alone...\" A drowse was beginning to take him, which depressed him immensely because he had only just woken up and, besides which, had important matters to attend to.
\"My brother went to go check on your affairs only about thirty minutes ago. He\'s a very responsible guy,\" the lady assured Quatre. \"It\'s not very nice being in a stranger\'s house, I know, but it sure beats being alone with an ill of the sort you\'ve got.\" She eased him into a more comfortable repose and arranged the coverlet snug below his chin, \"Now, get some more rest.\"
Quatre would have nodded if he hadn\'t already fallen asleep.
++
It was hours later when Quatre woke again.
His fingers tingled by his sides and his legs felt stiff, but he had to get up. He battled his way out of the tangle of sheets he\'d managed to wrap himself up into that stuck to his clammy moist skin like snake shedding. Finally, when the last of it was off, he stumbled to the door. He could have sworn that he felt his brain swish around in his head, but did not heed it presently. He had a goal from which he was not likely to be deterred: the bathroom.
He checked every door along the open hall of the rather large apartment until at last he came upon the right one and tread gravely inside.
After relieving himself, he took a good long look at himself in the mirror.
He did look quite terrible.
His hair was askew and without luster, his skin appeared thin and pale; nearly of a transluscent quality with the exception of darkened pink rings about his eyes, fading bruises, and chapped shell pink lips, and his eyes were nearly lifeless partially hidden beneath the half-mast lids that didn\'t seem to want to budge any further than three-quarters from its comfort zone of \'almost awake.\'
\"Terrible,\" he muttered to himself.
A stickler for cleanliness, he used the handsoap by the sink to wash his face and hair and a handtowel from a nearby cabinet to dry himself. Not knowing what to do with the towel once he\'d finished with it, he folded it up neatly and carried it with him out of the bathroom and into the greater rooms of the apartment, which, like his temporary lodgings, were mostly unadorned.
The lady seemed to have stepped out for a bit, which suited Quatre just fine. He didn\'t know rightly whether it was alright for him to wander around uninvited, but he swore to the spirit of his makeshift caretaker not to snoop.
He felt more awake and fit for walking, though he wasn\'t very much improved from earlier. Wasting away in bed didn\'t appeal to him nearly as much as wasting away in walking.
The pictures on the wall, of which there were few, were serene and depicted wild landscapes in various parts of the world.
The articles of furniture about consisted of two fairly comfortable looking couches and a squat coffee table wooden and square within the encircling folds of the larger furniture. Pressed against the walls were roughly four bookshelves double-stacked with books, and a smaller chest upon which a modestly sized television roosted.
Hither thither on the floor rested various pots and vases containing plants, primarily fauna with the occasional exceptional blossom. They appeared to be well-looked after.
Cut off from the living space by a counter was the kitchen. There was nothing particularly noteworthy about it, a refrigerator, a gas-range stovetop with a stainless steel teapot resting on the back burner, an oven, a coffee maker, and a toaster.
The spartan nature of the living space appealed greatly to Quatre whose meagre belongings sprawled in an organized chaos about his otherwise empty apartment.
It was a little overwhelming for Quatre, after so long of barely surviving on his own, to be faced with such a splendid home. He felt it presumptuous to take a seat on the couches, to borrow a cup for water from the tap, and he even felt a tinge of shame at using the soap and handtowel earlier to wash-up. Knots began to form in his stomach, and he shuffled back to the bathroom to sip from the tap, there.
Then, he returned to the room that had been temporarily designated as his and made the bed before crawling under the covers again, the handtowel placed carefully beside his head.
TBC...
note(s):
1. mwhahaha...Tiny delays YET again...
2. if you guys were wondering why the lady was surprised to find out who Quatre was, she didn\'t ask her brother about Kat\'s personal info. she\'s a more personable lady that prefers being talkative to being sneaky
3. Quatre\'s ill because he\'s perpetually stressed, and because he\'s perpetually stressed, he didn\'t notice that he was becoming ill in the previous chapter(s)
4. I\'m busy studing for IB stuff, so, it might be a while before more stuff pops up.
5. PLEASE R&R
NOTE: I forgot to post this chapter in May because IB was stressing me out. I just found out that this chappie wasn\'t on this site
Quatre reserved a few moments to breathe at the door of his destination.
He was chilled, he was wet, he was grimy, he was injured (again), and he was not happy.
\"Time to put on the good face,\" he encouraged himself and mustered a smile. He had only just managed to pull it on when it fell right back off. It had been the first pants-ing of his young life, and he found it more mortifying than he could swallow all in one sitting. \"Chances are, you\'ll never see him again,\" he coached himself feebly.
Butterflies swelled up in his stomach, and he felt that he would swoon from the terrible nausea. He sat down in the second floor apartment hallway and waited for the world to stop spinning.
He felt feverish, and he suspected that it wasn\'t all due to Mr. Chang\'s glorious handsomeness (though, not to his discredit).
The world about him grew oppressive and dim with colors dripping here and there - like oils. He pressed a palm to his forehead and went out like a light.
++
The first things that he noticed were warm sheets.
The next things, that nothing around him belonged in his apartment.
And the last thing, that the apartment was not his.
He opened his mouth to speak but was immediately repulsed by the filmy taste that seemed to have coated his tongue and lips. He wiped away the taste from his mouth with one hand while using the other to prop himself up.
The room was mostly plain except for an alarm clock set on a dresser pressed up against the opposite wall. He was in a double-sized bed with a tea green comforter and cream colored sheets that he was loathe to leave.
There was a pressure behind this eyes that wasn\'t quite a headache and a tickle in his throat that wasn\'t yet a cough. As soon as he got himself vertical, a heavy nausea set in that nearly beat him to the floor.
He grasped feebly for the door when it suddenly opened up before him as if it had read his muddled mind. Wreathed in a gentle light in the door frame, a lovely lady regarded him with some surprise.
\"Jeebies!\" she exclaimed in a kindly tone. \"You look terrible!\"
She set the glass that she had been carrying down on the closest available surface and ushered Quatre back to bed. \"You shouldn\'t be up walking around like that,\" she admonished him while fishing a thermometer out of her waist apron. \"What\'s your name, dear?\" she inquired as she fitted a plastic cover to the tongue of the thermometer.
\"Quatre,\" a croaking voice answered, surprising the speaker.
\"Good gravy! You\'re the guy!\" she said excitedly, and stuck the thermometer under his tongue before he could respond. \"You ought not to have come being as sick as you are! You scared my brother and me half to death all splayed out on out doorstep like that! All this for a silly dog-\"
The thermometer beeped.
\"Well, you\'re down to one \'o one, which is a far cry better than you were yesterday.\" She peeled the plastic from the instrument and replaced it to her pocket while throwing the useless bit in a wastebasket next to the bed. \"But, geez, do you ever look awful!\" She retrieved the glass and handed it off to Quatre, \"You should want to try for some water, right?\"
Quatre nodded and lifted the glass to his lips.
The taste was stale and metallic at first but grew nearly unbearably sweet towards the end of the cup.
Quatre drank greedily even though it repulsed him.
\"I should go home,\" he said after he had drained the last drop.
\"I think you ought to stay in bed,\" the lady countered in a motherly fashion.
The edges of Quatre\'s eyes burned, but he fought to keep them open, \"Stabler, he, my dog, I need to take care of him. He...he\'s all alone...\" A drowse was beginning to take him, which depressed him immensely because he had only just woken up and, besides which, had important matters to attend to.
\"My brother went to go check on your affairs only about thirty minutes ago. He\'s a very responsible guy,\" the lady assured Quatre. \"It\'s not very nice being in a stranger\'s house, I know, but it sure beats being alone with an ill of the sort you\'ve got.\" She eased him into a more comfortable repose and arranged the coverlet snug below his chin, \"Now, get some more rest.\"
Quatre would have nodded if he hadn\'t already fallen asleep.
++
It was hours later when Quatre woke again.
His fingers tingled by his sides and his legs felt stiff, but he had to get up. He battled his way out of the tangle of sheets he\'d managed to wrap himself up into that stuck to his clammy moist skin like snake shedding. Finally, when the last of it was off, he stumbled to the door. He could have sworn that he felt his brain swish around in his head, but did not heed it presently. He had a goal from which he was not likely to be deterred: the bathroom.
He checked every door along the open hall of the rather large apartment until at last he came upon the right one and tread gravely inside.
After relieving himself, he took a good long look at himself in the mirror.
He did look quite terrible.
His hair was askew and without luster, his skin appeared thin and pale; nearly of a transluscent quality with the exception of darkened pink rings about his eyes, fading bruises, and chapped shell pink lips, and his eyes were nearly lifeless partially hidden beneath the half-mast lids that didn\'t seem to want to budge any further than three-quarters from its comfort zone of \'almost awake.\'
\"Terrible,\" he muttered to himself.
A stickler for cleanliness, he used the handsoap by the sink to wash his face and hair and a handtowel from a nearby cabinet to dry himself. Not knowing what to do with the towel once he\'d finished with it, he folded it up neatly and carried it with him out of the bathroom and into the greater rooms of the apartment, which, like his temporary lodgings, were mostly unadorned.
The lady seemed to have stepped out for a bit, which suited Quatre just fine. He didn\'t know rightly whether it was alright for him to wander around uninvited, but he swore to the spirit of his makeshift caretaker not to snoop.
He felt more awake and fit for walking, though he wasn\'t very much improved from earlier. Wasting away in bed didn\'t appeal to him nearly as much as wasting away in walking.
The pictures on the wall, of which there were few, were serene and depicted wild landscapes in various parts of the world.
The articles of furniture about consisted of two fairly comfortable looking couches and a squat coffee table wooden and square within the encircling folds of the larger furniture. Pressed against the walls were roughly four bookshelves double-stacked with books, and a smaller chest upon which a modestly sized television roosted.
Hither thither on the floor rested various pots and vases containing plants, primarily fauna with the occasional exceptional blossom. They appeared to be well-looked after.
Cut off from the living space by a counter was the kitchen. There was nothing particularly noteworthy about it, a refrigerator, a gas-range stovetop with a stainless steel teapot resting on the back burner, an oven, a coffee maker, and a toaster.
The spartan nature of the living space appealed greatly to Quatre whose meagre belongings sprawled in an organized chaos about his otherwise empty apartment.
It was a little overwhelming for Quatre, after so long of barely surviving on his own, to be faced with such a splendid home. He felt it presumptuous to take a seat on the couches, to borrow a cup for water from the tap, and he even felt a tinge of shame at using the soap and handtowel earlier to wash-up. Knots began to form in his stomach, and he shuffled back to the bathroom to sip from the tap, there.
Then, he returned to the room that had been temporarily designated as his and made the bed before crawling under the covers again, the handtowel placed carefully beside his head.
TBC...
note(s):
1. mwhahaha...Tiny delays YET again...
2. if you guys were wondering why the lady was surprised to find out who Quatre was, she didn\'t ask her brother about Kat\'s personal info. she\'s a more personable lady that prefers being talkative to being sneaky
3. Quatre\'s ill because he\'s perpetually stressed, and because he\'s perpetually stressed, he didn\'t notice that he was becoming ill in the previous chapter(s)
4. I\'m busy studing for IB stuff, so, it might be a while before more stuff pops up.
5. PLEASE R&R
NOTE: I forgot to post this chapter in May because IB was stressing me out. I just found out that this chappie wasn\'t on this site