The Great Yuy (challenge fic) (1/?)
Posted: Mon Sep 29, 2003 4:25 pm
Once upon a time, a person known to the fanfic world as Caliborn issued a challenge. After a couple of months (and a lot of agonizing and overagonizing) I've decided to respond to it. It's the explanation to why my signature is what it is, and it may appear in later chapters, as well as many other references to F.Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby. If you've never read this novel, I'd strongly reccomend it, not necessarily to understand this fic (though some symbols and such will not be noticed if you haven't), but because it's a wonderful book and you really should read it. Now that I've said my peace (and added to the disclaimer The Great Gatsby does not belong to me either, though I do have a copy)
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing does not belong to me. Gundam Wing no es mio. Gundam Wing wa watashi no koto ja nai. (This sentence doesn't even belong to me, my friend wrote it.) Did I leave anything out?
The Great Yuy
Chapter 1
"And so with the sunshine and the great burst of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer."
-Nick, The Great Gatsby (F.Scott Fitzgerald)
28 May AC 202
1600 hours
"Heero!" A petite brunette waved at Heero Yuy, her hands flailing wildly as if she were stranded in the middle of the ocean waiting for the Coast Guard. He recognized her from his biology class freshman year. Jamie, her name was. Or was it Janie? A nice girl, he supposed, but way too pushy for my taste. Still, she was persistent, he'd give her that, and one must admire that kind of tenacity, annoying as it was. Reluctantly, he went over to see what she wanted.
She and her friends, a giggly group of girls who vaguely reminded him of Relena's fan club at St. Gabriel's (just as rich, but much weirder) were sitting in the courtyard of their college campus. They all were dressed in multicolored matching flower print slip dresses and wearing more make-up than Trowa's entire circus had in stock. It was almost summer; not that seasons mattered on the colonies. But it meant school would soon be over, and for Heero, (and these young ladies as well) permanently. He was excited, he supposed, if anything, to get away from Them. Their giggles became louder as he drew near, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes.
"What's up?" he asked wearily. Since he'd decided to stop glaring at people (It was cheaper than transferring schools), his classmates had been way too friendly to him for his taste. They mistook his quiet, reserved demeanor to be a sign of a good listener and bogged him down with their trivial problems, and boring life stories. Heero didn't like to judge people, but they really needed to get a life. It was extremely bothersome, though sometimes (rarely) the attention was flattering. Still, he had no intention to make friends with anyone, or do anything else with them, for that matter.
Jamie/Janie grinned and put her head on his shoulder possessively. He grimaced, which she mistook for a smile (He'd long believed she had a serious eye problem). "Oh, nothing. Just wanted to see you close up," she said flirtatiously, which he mistook as desperately (She'd long believed he had a serious hearing problem. Except, he didn?t). Her friends oohed and aahed, and Heero felt he was going to be sick. He shook her off, lest he lose his lunch on her shocking pink dress.
"What's that?" he asked, trying to distract her away from him. He pointed to the newspaper she was holding.
"A paper, duh!" she laughed. "Oh, it's just the social section," she replied more seriously. "Don't they make the most adorable couple?" she gushed. She handed it to him and Heero's stomach churned even more when he saw the photograph that graced the cover: Relena Darlian, arm in arm with a blond guy in a suit. He made a face when he realized who it was, Jonathan Drake, the spoiled brat that had even dared to threaten Heero at St. Gabriel's. Relena's dating HIM? He thought in horror.
The girl swooned. "I wish I had someone like him. Relena's so lucky. Isn't she beautiful, Heero?"
"Yeah," he replied automatically. Her face fell. If she was fishing for a compliment, it didn't work. "Not as beautiful as you, darling,"' she fancied him saying. Ha! Fat chance. The day I say a girl is more beautiful than Relena is the day someone has to put me in a mental hospital, he thought to himself.
Heero flipped through the pages to find the article. He had to stop reading after the first paragraph. His companion may as well have written it. It was sweeter than candy and complete junk. "It won't last," he blurted out.
The girls gaped at him, positively scandalized by his words. "How could you say such an awful thing like that?" one of the braver ones dared to ask.
"He's a wimp," Heero replied. "She'll dump him eventually."
"Heero!" his self-proclaimed girlfriend exclaimed. "That's so mean! Besides, he's not a wimp. He's a fencing champ on Earth. And he's good at other sports too. He has a motorcycle, and probably a couple of nice cars too, and his own yacht, and he's just so handsome!" She squealed with glee. Heero blanched. "Well, I think they're perfect together. Don't you have any sense of romance?" She wriggled herself under his arm, clinging to his shirt like static.
He gulped. "Um, I? have to leave," he said. He jerked away, dropping her flat on her bottom and ran out of the courtyard with a speed that a roadrunner couldn't have matched. Of course, he had a far more dangerous predator, but that wasn't necessarily the cause of his flight.
The girl, whose name was neither Jamie, nor Janie, but Amy snapped her fingers in disgust. "Damn it! Another insensitive jerk. I lose more potential boyfriends because of that then? then?"
"With your personality?" suggested one of her friends, not the most tactful one in the bunch, or the most intelligent for that matter (not that any of them could've gotten into that college without their daddies' trust funds).
She glared at her. "No! He's just not worth my time; that's all. Oh well. C'est la vie." She went back to drooling over the picture.
* * * * * *
28 May AC 202
1700 hours
Heero burst into the one bedroom shack he couldn't even begin to call "home". The paint was peeling, the bricks, eroded and one could never walk on the wooden floors without shoes. It was a stroke of luck that it hadn't been condemned by the Board of Health ages ago. Now that they were living there, Heero and his roommate, the elderly, but indestructible (and ever annoying) Dr. J hadn't made much of an effort to fix up the place, lacking the financial means to do so. Heero worked, of course, he had to, but he kept the money for school supplies and his college tuition. To Dr. J, it was strictly off limits, for, as Heero often reminded him, just because he had to live with him didn't mean he had to trust him. The old man seemed to share the same sentiment, and the only way Heero got even near the man's money was through his own stomach. And even that was in relatively small portions. With those living conditions, and considering they couldn't afford to go anywhere else, one wouldn't think they'd do anything to further demolish the place. And usually, that was the case, excluding a couple of explosions in their dungeon of a basement due to Dr. J's "work" (exactly what the man did nowadays, Heero wasn't sure, but it couldn't have been pleasant), until that day.
He ran into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. It swung off its hinges and crashed to the floor, making a couple cockroaches run for their lives and creating a large cloud of dust. It didn't even have a chance to clear.
With a grunt and a kick, Heero sent it sliding across the hall into the bedroom, where it collided with that door and shattered into small splinters. Heero heard footsteps coming up from the basement. He waited, thinking his old mentor had come to reprimand him, but he never did. Heero shrugged it off as just hearing things (when, in fact, it was more a matter of not hearing things) and continued his task of destroying the house.
Approximately 15 minutes and 50 or so missing tiles later, Heero finally relaxed. He splashed a handful of ice cold water on his face and stared into the mirror, in which five different Heeros stared back at him. His knuckles were covered in blood and his clothes were soaked through with sweat. He nearly laughed at his appearance, but that only sent him into a coughing fit from all the dust. His favorite tank top was torn and there were spots of crusty, dried up blood on his already ripped jeans. His big toe, if he could've seen it through his sneaker, was black and blue, but all he knew was it hurt like hell.
If Relena could see me now, she wouldn't let me hear the end of it, he thought. His heart began to pound violently in his rib cage as the image of the pretty politician floated through his mind. It wasn't the first time it had appeared like that, in five years, but the sensation still felt new each time. At times, he'd imagined that she was thinking about him too at that exact moment. Now the illusion was as shattered as his mirror. He felt as if someone had just run him over with a car and literally tore what heart he had left out. It was a disgusting comparison, but one Heero took with ease, as he normally did when it came to the grotesque. Yet, considering what she might have been doing at those times instead, and whom with, swept a wave of nausea over him like he'd never felt before, even when he killed for the first time so many years ago. He didn't have time before his stomach heaved violently as his lunch that day ended up in the sink.
Once the gruesome task was complete and his face looked gaunt and hollow, like he'd been sick for years and not minutes, Heero turned on the faucet and plopped into the tub, clothes and all. He absentmindedly rubbed some shampoo in his hair and ducked under the water, glad that his outfit was, for the most part, still clean. That at least was a blessing. He didn't have as many of his famous green tank tops and spandex as others thought.
Now that he was less preoccupied, he was able to hear voices inside the house. One was Dr. J, he was certain. He'd recognize the old man's voice anywhere. The other was slightly less distinctive, but familiar never the less. He determined that it was a male's, his age perhaps, though it still was rather high, like it didn't change as his did years ago. Grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his shoulders, he got out of the tub to investigate.
Sure enough, he had known the voice. It belonged to a handsome (though Heero didn't think of him in those terms) blonde in a shocking pink business suit, who looked too rich to even set foot in that house, unless of course, he was evicting the residents. For a brief moment, Heero thought that was what was happening, but that was ridiculous. He wouldn't do that, even if the house did belong to him, which was a possibility. Quatre Raberba Winner. It amazed him that the pretty boy of the business world was once a Gundam pilot, or even stranger, called him a friend. But how did he find me?
Heero's question was answered in a moment. "Trowa's been in contact with Dr. J and the other, that's how I found out you were here," Quatre explained. Heero quirked an eyebrow at him, slightly surprised at himself for letting his puzzlement show, but said nothing. He'd forgotten about Quatre's strange ability to sense emotions. And he didn't like it one bit.
"So, what do you want with me?" Heero asked point blank, with the utmost calmness, to hide his sudden uneasiness.
"Nothing, nothing at all," he replied casually. "Just thought I'd stop by."
Heero narrowed his eyes at him. "I hardly think you came all this was for nothing," he snapped, startling himself with the sharpness of his voice. Immediately, he felt guilty. Quatre had done nothing wrong. Not yet, anyway. He softened his gaze, embarrassed by his treatment of this man, who'd always been so nice to him.
Quatre simply smiled sympathetically, too sympathetically. It was if he knew what Heero had been going through that day, perhaps more somehow, and pitied him for it. Heero glared at him. He didn't want anyone's pity. "Well, nothing but a return visit, anyway."
Heero shook his head automatically. "I have school."
As a soldier Heero had been taught not to underestimate his enemy. Quatre might not have been his enemy, but he'd forgotten how smart the boy was. He hadn't made him their leader for nothing, after all. "Well, then it's a good thing school ends next week, as Dr. J and I were just discussing. And right after that is exactly when I want you." Heero cursed silently to himself and Quatre's smile broadened. "Oh, and I heard you're graduating. Congratulations."
"For such a kind person, you've certainly learned how to manipulate people," Heero commented. But Quatre didn't seem offended by it. In fact, he seemed rather complimented, much to his former comrade's horror. "You've been spending too much time with Dorothy," he mumbled.
Quatre shrugged. "Nah." He ran his fingers through his hair in a casual gesture, but one Heero felt to be very annoying. You haven't won me yet, pretty boy. "So, can I expect your attendance?"
"I'm afraid I'm not quite convinced," Heero replied mildly. He imitated the gesture, realizing too late that he hadn't rinsed and repeated, and, as a result, got shampoo on his hands, He wiped them on his jeans, forgetting the towel he had around his neck.
Quatre didn't chuckle behind his hand as Heero expected he would. Instead, his expression was of pure sobriety. "Is that so? Well, I'm not going to force you; you need not worry about that. But just? think about it, okay? We all really want you to come, and well, I think you need to be there, for your own sake."
Heero looked at him curiously; his blue eyes filled with suspicion, yet an underlying curiosity. "Why?"
The other boy shrugged. "I can't really say. You'll find out, if you come, of course."
Wing's pilot frowned, a crease forming in the middle of his forehead. "You remind me of my high school guidance counselor when we were discussing whether or not I should take SATIIs, because the college I wanted to go to didn't require them. It wasn't required, but it was recommended, which usually means do it. Is that how this is?" Quatre was looking slightly guilty for trying to make him guilty, which he took as a yes. Heero wanted to refuse, but something told him that would be a bad idea (The lost puppy look Quatre was giving him didn't hurt). "Fine, I'll come."
"Terrific!" he exclaimed. Heero stepped back, afraid the sweet boy would jump up and hug him, but Quatre just grinned at him. "See you then. I arranged all your shuttle tickets and everything. Dr. J will fill you in on the details, but I have to go recruit the others now! Thank you!" Aware of his friend's obvious discomfort, he settled for a handshake instead, before Dr. J escorted him to the door (which remarkably was still attached, although it was a bit scratched up).
When he returned, Heero surveyed his mentor warily. "What do you suppose all this is about?" he asked. He had a feeling Dr. J knew a lot more than he did and not just about travel arrangements either.
"I haven't the faintest idea," the old man answered, with a look of complete innocence that Heero was sure was artificial. Heero felt like knocking the halo off of his head and all that was under it. "What have you been doing, by the way?" he sniffed, giving Heero a once over of his own.
Heero had almost forgotten his rather disheveled appearance. "Oh, nothing much," he shrugged, as innocently as his roommate.
Dr. J made a face and plucked at his shirt with his claw. "Get out of these filthy clothes and take a shower. You stink." Heero reluctantly turned to obey, even though he was already sopping wet from his earlier bath. "And you'd better shape up. You look like a bum. You're going to a mansion remember, surrounded by people way out of your league."
"You're so nice to me," the soldier mumbled as he walked away.
"I?m not meant to be nice to you. Don't forget that." Heero turned his head and gave him a dirty look. He would show him. Yes, later he would show all of them, how great and sophisticated Heero Yuy could be. He just had to figure out how to do it.
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing does not belong to me. Gundam Wing no es mio. Gundam Wing wa watashi no koto ja nai. (This sentence doesn't even belong to me, my friend wrote it.) Did I leave anything out?
The Great Yuy
Chapter 1
"And so with the sunshine and the great burst of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer."
-Nick, The Great Gatsby (F.Scott Fitzgerald)
28 May AC 202
1600 hours
"Heero!" A petite brunette waved at Heero Yuy, her hands flailing wildly as if she were stranded in the middle of the ocean waiting for the Coast Guard. He recognized her from his biology class freshman year. Jamie, her name was. Or was it Janie? A nice girl, he supposed, but way too pushy for my taste. Still, she was persistent, he'd give her that, and one must admire that kind of tenacity, annoying as it was. Reluctantly, he went over to see what she wanted.
She and her friends, a giggly group of girls who vaguely reminded him of Relena's fan club at St. Gabriel's (just as rich, but much weirder) were sitting in the courtyard of their college campus. They all were dressed in multicolored matching flower print slip dresses and wearing more make-up than Trowa's entire circus had in stock. It was almost summer; not that seasons mattered on the colonies. But it meant school would soon be over, and for Heero, (and these young ladies as well) permanently. He was excited, he supposed, if anything, to get away from Them. Their giggles became louder as he drew near, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes.
"What's up?" he asked wearily. Since he'd decided to stop glaring at people (It was cheaper than transferring schools), his classmates had been way too friendly to him for his taste. They mistook his quiet, reserved demeanor to be a sign of a good listener and bogged him down with their trivial problems, and boring life stories. Heero didn't like to judge people, but they really needed to get a life. It was extremely bothersome, though sometimes (rarely) the attention was flattering. Still, he had no intention to make friends with anyone, or do anything else with them, for that matter.
Jamie/Janie grinned and put her head on his shoulder possessively. He grimaced, which she mistook for a smile (He'd long believed she had a serious eye problem). "Oh, nothing. Just wanted to see you close up," she said flirtatiously, which he mistook as desperately (She'd long believed he had a serious hearing problem. Except, he didn?t). Her friends oohed and aahed, and Heero felt he was going to be sick. He shook her off, lest he lose his lunch on her shocking pink dress.
"What's that?" he asked, trying to distract her away from him. He pointed to the newspaper she was holding.
"A paper, duh!" she laughed. "Oh, it's just the social section," she replied more seriously. "Don't they make the most adorable couple?" she gushed. She handed it to him and Heero's stomach churned even more when he saw the photograph that graced the cover: Relena Darlian, arm in arm with a blond guy in a suit. He made a face when he realized who it was, Jonathan Drake, the spoiled brat that had even dared to threaten Heero at St. Gabriel's. Relena's dating HIM? He thought in horror.
The girl swooned. "I wish I had someone like him. Relena's so lucky. Isn't she beautiful, Heero?"
"Yeah," he replied automatically. Her face fell. If she was fishing for a compliment, it didn't work. "Not as beautiful as you, darling,"' she fancied him saying. Ha! Fat chance. The day I say a girl is more beautiful than Relena is the day someone has to put me in a mental hospital, he thought to himself.
Heero flipped through the pages to find the article. He had to stop reading after the first paragraph. His companion may as well have written it. It was sweeter than candy and complete junk. "It won't last," he blurted out.
The girls gaped at him, positively scandalized by his words. "How could you say such an awful thing like that?" one of the braver ones dared to ask.
"He's a wimp," Heero replied. "She'll dump him eventually."
"Heero!" his self-proclaimed girlfriend exclaimed. "That's so mean! Besides, he's not a wimp. He's a fencing champ on Earth. And he's good at other sports too. He has a motorcycle, and probably a couple of nice cars too, and his own yacht, and he's just so handsome!" She squealed with glee. Heero blanched. "Well, I think they're perfect together. Don't you have any sense of romance?" She wriggled herself under his arm, clinging to his shirt like static.
He gulped. "Um, I? have to leave," he said. He jerked away, dropping her flat on her bottom and ran out of the courtyard with a speed that a roadrunner couldn't have matched. Of course, he had a far more dangerous predator, but that wasn't necessarily the cause of his flight.
The girl, whose name was neither Jamie, nor Janie, but Amy snapped her fingers in disgust. "Damn it! Another insensitive jerk. I lose more potential boyfriends because of that then? then?"
"With your personality?" suggested one of her friends, not the most tactful one in the bunch, or the most intelligent for that matter (not that any of them could've gotten into that college without their daddies' trust funds).
She glared at her. "No! He's just not worth my time; that's all. Oh well. C'est la vie." She went back to drooling over the picture.
* * * * * *
28 May AC 202
1700 hours
Heero burst into the one bedroom shack he couldn't even begin to call "home". The paint was peeling, the bricks, eroded and one could never walk on the wooden floors without shoes. It was a stroke of luck that it hadn't been condemned by the Board of Health ages ago. Now that they were living there, Heero and his roommate, the elderly, but indestructible (and ever annoying) Dr. J hadn't made much of an effort to fix up the place, lacking the financial means to do so. Heero worked, of course, he had to, but he kept the money for school supplies and his college tuition. To Dr. J, it was strictly off limits, for, as Heero often reminded him, just because he had to live with him didn't mean he had to trust him. The old man seemed to share the same sentiment, and the only way Heero got even near the man's money was through his own stomach. And even that was in relatively small portions. With those living conditions, and considering they couldn't afford to go anywhere else, one wouldn't think they'd do anything to further demolish the place. And usually, that was the case, excluding a couple of explosions in their dungeon of a basement due to Dr. J's "work" (exactly what the man did nowadays, Heero wasn't sure, but it couldn't have been pleasant), until that day.
He ran into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. It swung off its hinges and crashed to the floor, making a couple cockroaches run for their lives and creating a large cloud of dust. It didn't even have a chance to clear.
With a grunt and a kick, Heero sent it sliding across the hall into the bedroom, where it collided with that door and shattered into small splinters. Heero heard footsteps coming up from the basement. He waited, thinking his old mentor had come to reprimand him, but he never did. Heero shrugged it off as just hearing things (when, in fact, it was more a matter of not hearing things) and continued his task of destroying the house.
Approximately 15 minutes and 50 or so missing tiles later, Heero finally relaxed. He splashed a handful of ice cold water on his face and stared into the mirror, in which five different Heeros stared back at him. His knuckles were covered in blood and his clothes were soaked through with sweat. He nearly laughed at his appearance, but that only sent him into a coughing fit from all the dust. His favorite tank top was torn and there were spots of crusty, dried up blood on his already ripped jeans. His big toe, if he could've seen it through his sneaker, was black and blue, but all he knew was it hurt like hell.
If Relena could see me now, she wouldn't let me hear the end of it, he thought. His heart began to pound violently in his rib cage as the image of the pretty politician floated through his mind. It wasn't the first time it had appeared like that, in five years, but the sensation still felt new each time. At times, he'd imagined that she was thinking about him too at that exact moment. Now the illusion was as shattered as his mirror. He felt as if someone had just run him over with a car and literally tore what heart he had left out. It was a disgusting comparison, but one Heero took with ease, as he normally did when it came to the grotesque. Yet, considering what she might have been doing at those times instead, and whom with, swept a wave of nausea over him like he'd never felt before, even when he killed for the first time so many years ago. He didn't have time before his stomach heaved violently as his lunch that day ended up in the sink.
Once the gruesome task was complete and his face looked gaunt and hollow, like he'd been sick for years and not minutes, Heero turned on the faucet and plopped into the tub, clothes and all. He absentmindedly rubbed some shampoo in his hair and ducked under the water, glad that his outfit was, for the most part, still clean. That at least was a blessing. He didn't have as many of his famous green tank tops and spandex as others thought.
Now that he was less preoccupied, he was able to hear voices inside the house. One was Dr. J, he was certain. He'd recognize the old man's voice anywhere. The other was slightly less distinctive, but familiar never the less. He determined that it was a male's, his age perhaps, though it still was rather high, like it didn't change as his did years ago. Grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his shoulders, he got out of the tub to investigate.
Sure enough, he had known the voice. It belonged to a handsome (though Heero didn't think of him in those terms) blonde in a shocking pink business suit, who looked too rich to even set foot in that house, unless of course, he was evicting the residents. For a brief moment, Heero thought that was what was happening, but that was ridiculous. He wouldn't do that, even if the house did belong to him, which was a possibility. Quatre Raberba Winner. It amazed him that the pretty boy of the business world was once a Gundam pilot, or even stranger, called him a friend. But how did he find me?
Heero's question was answered in a moment. "Trowa's been in contact with Dr. J and the other, that's how I found out you were here," Quatre explained. Heero quirked an eyebrow at him, slightly surprised at himself for letting his puzzlement show, but said nothing. He'd forgotten about Quatre's strange ability to sense emotions. And he didn't like it one bit.
"So, what do you want with me?" Heero asked point blank, with the utmost calmness, to hide his sudden uneasiness.
"Nothing, nothing at all," he replied casually. "Just thought I'd stop by."
Heero narrowed his eyes at him. "I hardly think you came all this was for nothing," he snapped, startling himself with the sharpness of his voice. Immediately, he felt guilty. Quatre had done nothing wrong. Not yet, anyway. He softened his gaze, embarrassed by his treatment of this man, who'd always been so nice to him.
Quatre simply smiled sympathetically, too sympathetically. It was if he knew what Heero had been going through that day, perhaps more somehow, and pitied him for it. Heero glared at him. He didn't want anyone's pity. "Well, nothing but a return visit, anyway."
Heero shook his head automatically. "I have school."
As a soldier Heero had been taught not to underestimate his enemy. Quatre might not have been his enemy, but he'd forgotten how smart the boy was. He hadn't made him their leader for nothing, after all. "Well, then it's a good thing school ends next week, as Dr. J and I were just discussing. And right after that is exactly when I want you." Heero cursed silently to himself and Quatre's smile broadened. "Oh, and I heard you're graduating. Congratulations."
"For such a kind person, you've certainly learned how to manipulate people," Heero commented. But Quatre didn't seem offended by it. In fact, he seemed rather complimented, much to his former comrade's horror. "You've been spending too much time with Dorothy," he mumbled.
Quatre shrugged. "Nah." He ran his fingers through his hair in a casual gesture, but one Heero felt to be very annoying. You haven't won me yet, pretty boy. "So, can I expect your attendance?"
"I'm afraid I'm not quite convinced," Heero replied mildly. He imitated the gesture, realizing too late that he hadn't rinsed and repeated, and, as a result, got shampoo on his hands, He wiped them on his jeans, forgetting the towel he had around his neck.
Quatre didn't chuckle behind his hand as Heero expected he would. Instead, his expression was of pure sobriety. "Is that so? Well, I'm not going to force you; you need not worry about that. But just? think about it, okay? We all really want you to come, and well, I think you need to be there, for your own sake."
Heero looked at him curiously; his blue eyes filled with suspicion, yet an underlying curiosity. "Why?"
The other boy shrugged. "I can't really say. You'll find out, if you come, of course."
Wing's pilot frowned, a crease forming in the middle of his forehead. "You remind me of my high school guidance counselor when we were discussing whether or not I should take SATIIs, because the college I wanted to go to didn't require them. It wasn't required, but it was recommended, which usually means do it. Is that how this is?" Quatre was looking slightly guilty for trying to make him guilty, which he took as a yes. Heero wanted to refuse, but something told him that would be a bad idea (The lost puppy look Quatre was giving him didn't hurt). "Fine, I'll come."
"Terrific!" he exclaimed. Heero stepped back, afraid the sweet boy would jump up and hug him, but Quatre just grinned at him. "See you then. I arranged all your shuttle tickets and everything. Dr. J will fill you in on the details, but I have to go recruit the others now! Thank you!" Aware of his friend's obvious discomfort, he settled for a handshake instead, before Dr. J escorted him to the door (which remarkably was still attached, although it was a bit scratched up).
When he returned, Heero surveyed his mentor warily. "What do you suppose all this is about?" he asked. He had a feeling Dr. J knew a lot more than he did and not just about travel arrangements either.
"I haven't the faintest idea," the old man answered, with a look of complete innocence that Heero was sure was artificial. Heero felt like knocking the halo off of his head and all that was under it. "What have you been doing, by the way?" he sniffed, giving Heero a once over of his own.
Heero had almost forgotten his rather disheveled appearance. "Oh, nothing much," he shrugged, as innocently as his roommate.
Dr. J made a face and plucked at his shirt with his claw. "Get out of these filthy clothes and take a shower. You stink." Heero reluctantly turned to obey, even though he was already sopping wet from his earlier bath. "And you'd better shape up. You look like a bum. You're going to a mansion remember, surrounded by people way out of your league."
"You're so nice to me," the soldier mumbled as he walked away.
"I?m not meant to be nice to you. Don't forget that." Heero turned his head and gave him a dirty look. He would show him. Yes, later he would show all of them, how great and sophisticated Heero Yuy could be. He just had to figure out how to do it.
, so funny!!!! i already hate the guy (whatever his name is) thats dating relena, he seems like such a rich snob, she deserves better she deserves tall-dark-&handsome-yuy 
(sigh) i hope they get together at the end!!!
Caliborn, You watch to much Austin Powers.
Elyn Yuy