Continuity: Figurative Brotherhood
Length: One-shot
Pairings: 1xR
Prompt: "Like powder needs a spark, like lies need the dark, I need your love"
from U2's "Hawkmoon 269."
Teaser: "...You wouldn't be a depressed mess forever. Do me a favor and feed my
dead ego a bit though. Be a depressed mess for about a week or until after I'm
buried and certified worm food. After that, go forget me..."
Link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5227951/8/F ... rotherhood
Disclaimer: GW = not mine.
Author's Note: I'm using the second August prompt from Love Reflection on this installment of FB since it seemed fitting. The prompt is "Like powder needs a spark, like lies need the dark, I need your love" from U2's "Hawkmoon 269."
Figurative Brotherhood
by mistress amethyst une
Independence Days
~Article 37~
A Bro is under no obligation to open a door for anyone. If women insist on having their own professional basketball league, then they can open their own doors. Honestly, they're not that heavy.
--taken from The Bro Code by Barney Stinson with Matt Kuhn, p. 54
Relena liked opening her own doors, and Heero respected that. He respected that just as he respected her right to absentmindedly add eight packets of sugar and three creamers to her fifth espresso for the day. If she made it clear that she wanted to carry a heavy box of files without his assistance, he could respect that without insisting on giving her aid. He respected her...
...and it drove him crazy.
Relena's actions were inefficient. She would be better served by having him help her with certain things. The time it took her to open a door could be shortened by a few milliseconds if he did it for her. He knew that a few fractions of a second didn't mean much to most people but he understood the value of time like no one else. In battle, the difference between dodging your opponent's attack or being critically hit was decided in less than a blink of an eye. Couldn't she see the sense in that?
"No," she replied, ignoring him in favor of her computer screen, not even sparing a glance for his charts and calculations on several time-saving measures. "By the way, could you do me a favor and grab me an espresso from the shop down the street?"
He also took issue with her caffeine addiction, citing time and cost. In most coffee shops, it took forty-five seconds to make a drink. Heero could have performed the task in less than twenty-five. Even with cold drinks, requiring a six second delay to accommodate the viscous nature of cream and syrup drizzle, he would definitely move faster than those snails. They were charging Relena a ridiculous amount of credits for such poor service. Even when she wasn't purchasing coffee from a shop, it took far too long for a pot to brew. He had already told her that Preventer's laboratories had come up with a wide array of stimulants that would do a better job at keeping her awake than coffee. No preparation required. Since the drugs were still in the testing phases, they were also free. A more than acceptable substitute...
"You expect me to give up my coffee and start doing drugs?" she bristled from behind her desk, defensively clutching at the disposable tumbler containing her over-sweetened caffeine fix.
"They come in an assortment of flavors," he reasoned. "I'm sure they can make it taste like coffee."
That didn't work.
Then there was the matter of her insistence on carrying heavy loads...
"Carrying files is not an extreme sport," she insisted, huffing and puffing up the stairs with her fully loaded cardboard box. "Look, if the elevator wasn't offline, this would be cake."
"But it is offline," he reasoned, mildly miffed as he slowly trailed behind her. "We'll get up the stairs faster if I carry those."
"Heero, when we were at St. Gabriel's, do you recall even one time that I gave in to a boy's offer to carry my books?"
"No."
"So what makes you think you're any different?"
"You could pull a muscle, Relena."
"I'm twenty-one, not sixty. I can pull this off."
Heero knew she could pull it off but he really wanted to get back to the office this century. Unable to tolerate their slow ascent any longer, he swept her into his arms, box of files and all, and carried her up the stairs. He cradled her perfectly, holding her as a groom would carry his bride over the threshold. There was nothing mildly romantic about this gesture though...
"What do you think you're doing?!" she shrieked, holding the box tight with one hand as she clung to his shoulder with another.
"If I recall correctly, you've never turned down a boy's offer to carry you," he smirked before breaking into a sprint. "Hold on tight."
If shock and terror hadn't so thoroughly silenced her as they sped up the steps, she would have pointed out to him that no boy had ever been stupid enough to make such an offer.
He was just trying to help.
Aside from serving as her security detail, there really wasn't much he could do for her. Even when it came to protecting her, he was replaceable. Any agent could easily take his place. Sure, they wouldn't do half as good a job but they could pull it off.
All in all, he was having a difficult time working alongside Relena not because she was inefficient but because she had far too few inefficiencies. She didn't really need him and they both knew it. Try as he might, sometimes he just couldn't understand why she loved him. He really didn't have anything to offer her. With Relena, every day brought the challenge of making himself useful. Loving an independent woman had a rather unique pitfall.
Of course, never was this pitfall more apparent than when she stepped onto the political battlefield in her "doom suit." The basic black pantsuit practically screamed "I'm too busy plotting world domination to think of what to wear today so I'm going with what's considered a fashion standard." Not surprisingly, it was a birthday gift from Dorothy. When Relena put that suit on, she meant business. Her mind was completely focused on accomplishing her goal and nothing would get in her way. Besides, pink wasn't exactly an appropriate color to wear on the political battlefield. No, that was reserved for the meetings leading up the massacre, the political gatherings televised to the public where she lulled her opponents into a false sense of security with her innocent smile and feigned ignorance. The woman they watched on television wasn't who Relena Darlian was as a politician. When the time to kill arrived, the bitch wore black.
Today, she was dealing with a room comprised solely of men. They were a hardworking bunch though a bit rough around the edges. During the war, they had been privateers, authorized by the United Earth Sphere Alliance to rob any ship or shuttle they perceived as an enemy of the state. The new Earth Sphere Unified Nations frowned upon this practice, banning privateering shortly after the Second Eve War. With no source of income, these men were essentially forced into piracy. If Relena couldn't talk them into enlisting under the space navy branch of Preventer, these men might very well rot in jail or be sentenced to death. She was in this room on an errand of mercy but that didn't mean she needed to look like an angel. No, these men had no trust for the government and all their false niceties. They wanted someone who would tell it like it was.
Relena was a chameleon in the boardroom, always adapting to her audience. Her voice deepened ever so slightly as she slowed the pace at which words left her mouth. The terms she used were broad and big, appealing to the male preference for a large sense of scale. In essence, she became one of the boys, an equal to all men in the room either friend or foe. She spoke their language, got all her points across efficiently about the perks of joining the space navy and the consequences of persisting in piracy. By the end of the meeting, the former privateers were applauding her, telling her they would convince all their crewmen to enlist. There was a reason ESUN trusted Vice Foreign Minister Relena Darlian even over the current foreign minister. She was a miracle-worker.
"You should be foreign minister," Heero told her as they walked back to her office. "You'd do a far better job than Richter."
"Miss Octavia is doing a fine job," smiled Relena, no trace of her "doom suit" persona manifesting itself even as she was still wore the ensemble. "I'm running for re-election alongside her next year. I quite like playing second fiddle. Not half as much stress. Besides, she's taken the job to heart. Her twin brother, Otto, died during the war. She's serving ESUN in his honor. Unlike some of the other people serving in our government, her intentions for maintaining a peaceful world are pure. She has my respect."
"You may like her but, admittedly, you'd do a better job."
Sheepishly, she nodded. "Well, yes. But my age does nothing to help my credibility. And again, Miss Octavia's still quite good. It's amazing how she's so calm amidst all the unwarranted criticism people throw at her. The woman works herself half to death, and all they see are her mistakes. If you think my schedule's hectic, you should try being on her security detail once. She practically lives in her office, receives death threats left and right thanks to the smear campaign her enemies launched against her. I feel guilty but I'm kind of thankful that campaign wasn't targeted against me."
An awkward silence came upon them as she turned the knob on her office door, admitting them both in.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I wasn't aware of Foreign Minister Richter's-"
"It's all right," she said, taking her place at her desk as Heero took his usual seat before her. "No one else really knows. It's why I'm supporting her."
"But wouldn't that be putting yourself at risk?"
"Miss Octavia lost a brother to the war. She has a husband and two daughters. Still, she risks her life to serve this unified world. Self-preservation is the last thing on my mind."
"Don't act like that."
"Act like what?"
"Like your life isn't worth keeping safe," he replied, triggering a tirade he'd kept bottled up inside for far too long. "You do so many stupid things, and I let you. I just stand there while you open your own doors and drown yourself in coffee. I can't help you carry things because you insist you can handle it. I watch you reason with pirates, afraid I'll have to draw my gun somewhere down the line if you fail to make them see things your way. But, so far, you've always been able to make them see things your way. The day you don't-"
"You'll be there," she interrupted, perturbed at how upset he seemed. "You'll protect me just as you promised. Heero, what's this all about? I worry when you get talkative."
"The time-saving measures."
"Huh?"
"You turned them all down. I can't help you with anything. You don't need me."
She paused, looking thoughtful for a second before giving her reply to him point-blank.
"Well, that's true."
She'd just confirmed his worst fears. Shock didn't even begin to describe the look on his face. Well, what did he expect? A comforting clich? answer? She wasn't the paragon of the oxymoronic honest politician for nothing. She didn't know why but something about the look on his face compelled her to chuckle.
"No need to look like that," she sighed. "You're spoiling my fun. Did you really expect me to come out with something like 'Of course, I need you?' You know I don't like lying to you."
More silence on his end.
"What we have is better than mutual need, Heero. We wouldn't be of much use to anyone if we broke down and shut down every time we're driven apart. I fared quite well while you were gone and you did a satisfactory job on your mission away from me. Truth of the matter is, we don't need each other. To paraphrase and improve upon a stupid saying, you're not my brand of heroin and I'm not yours either. We don't do drugs."
It was his turn to say "Huh?"
All right, Relena. How do you explain your definition of love without sending him running?
"What we have isn't symbiosis. It's more like a binding force that transcends distance. We like being together but we can stand to be apart for extended periods of time, too. Of course, I do think of you when you're away and I like to think that, sometimes, you spare a thought for me. It's rather unique. Most couples can't survive long distance. We've endured so many separations yet we're still going strong, aren't we?"
Slowly, he nodded, beginning to comprehend. They had faith in each other, believed in each other. They didn't need each other so it was even more profound. They were bound together simply because he loved her and she loved him. Nothing else.
"I like the way we are," she beamed at him. "At least, I know your life isn't dependent on mine. If I was gunned down tomorrow, you'd probably be upset for awhile but I'd like to think you'd get over it in time. You'd keep up the peacekeeping effort or avenge me or something. You wouldn't be a depressed mess forever. Do me a favor and feed my dead ego a bit though. Be a depressed mess for about a week or until after I'm buried and certified worm food. After that, go forget me and help society. Last thing this world needs is another unproductive citizen."
"I wouldn't get over you," he blurted.
She laughed. "And what if I ordered you to?"
"The dead can't give orders."
"Touch?. Well, just take my word for it. You'll get over me. Some hot young thing will walk down the street and charm you and you'll forget all about me."
"Relena," he muttered, his tone carrying a warning. "I don't care what you say. I need you."
"And I'm telling you, you don't," she smiled gently, reaching out to stroke his cheek. "I love how you doubt me."
"Regardless of what you think, you're not allowed to die on my watch anyway. I'm not letting you give me the chance to get over you."
"Ordering me around? You know how disobedient I can be. Don't tempt me, Heero."
His hand went up to his face, pinning her hand to his cheek. "You say I don't need you but I still feel like I do."
She smiled once more, feeling the comforting warmth of his skin beneath her fingers and atop the back of her hand. "It's not me you need. It's love. That's something that will be around no matter what separates us. Even long after I'm gone, that won't erase the fact that I loved you in my lifetime. Even if you leave me and I move on, I will still have loved you."
He bowed his head slightly, as if in agreement. "Relena?"
"What?"
"Does this mean I can put my time-saving measures into practice now?"
And he was back to his old self...
"Glad to know you're still you," she chortled. "We'll see. I really don't like accepting help when I can do it myself. The last thing I want is people feeling like they're obligated to help me. I'm a politician. I'm the one who's obligated to help them."
"I don't want to help you out of obligation."
"Why then? Because you love me?"
"No," he stated, stopping to think for a second before giving her his answer.
"Why?" she repeated, eyeing him curiously as a sly smile played upon his lips.
"So you won't be too tired for sex," he smirked.
Relena was silent for only a moment before she burst out laughing. With a huge grin, she nodded her approval to his answer.
"We can compromise," she agreed. "I'll let you open a few doors and carry some boxes but I'm not skimping on my coffee no matter how much time you think I waste buying and brewing."
He smiled, gently moving her palm, sliding it from where it rested on his cheek to land against his lips. As he pressed a kiss on her hand, she decided that this was one of her better acts of diplomacy. It certainly came with the best personal benefits.
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Additional Notes: The coffee shop service times are real. They're taken from a Yahoo! Finance featured article from the Wall Street Journal: "Latest Starbucks Buzzword: 'Lean' Japanese Techniques" by Julie Jargon (August 1, 2009).
Relena's tactics in the boardroom are based on those of a woman identified only as a litigation attorney named "Marsha" and featured in "Chapter 24: Muted Group Theory of Cheris Kramarae" of "A First Look at Communication Theory by Em Griffin, Fourth Edition."
And I apologize to any Twilight fans out there. I couldn't resist making fun of the "You're my brand of heroin" line.
