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lysapadinOriginally written December 2002.
Title: We're in Hell, Aren't We?
Characters: Duo, Heero
Summary: Distraction is a bad thing.
Notes: Written for the Snogfic Challenge.
We're in Hell, Aren't We?
(On a shuttle heading for Y28888)
Heero was cold, but he’d die an icicle before he’d ever admit it. He clenched his teeth together to keep them from chattering. One of the lights on the shuttle console flared red; he flipped it off and flexed his toes, calculating how much longer he had before frostbite set in.
“Hey, Heero?” Duo’s voice floated into the cockpit, followed by its owner.
“What?” He looked up as Duo eased himself into the copilot’s seat. Heero wondered how Duo could breathe with his braid wrapped around his ears and throat like a scarf.
“I was thinking... Une has *got* to get the Preventers a better budget, or I’m resigning.”
Heero rolled his eyes and tapped a gauge until the needle slipped out of the red warning zone back to the sullen green of the normal range. “Do you want to fly first class on missions, or do you want to get paid?”
“I’m not asking for first class... I’m just asking for a shuttle that isn’t three widgets away from the scrap heap!” Duo retorted. “Or at least a shuttle with a working heater. God, I’m freezing to death here.”
“You couldn’t rig something up?”
Duo shook his head. “Not unless you have a spare heating element and a Gretzi clip in your shorts. The damn thing’s shot to hell. I’ll have to get it into the shop when we get to Y28888.”
An alarm buzzed; Heero slapped it into silence.
Duo looked at his partner. “How can you tell which ones are false alarms?”
“When the shuttle doesn’t explode, I know it’s a false alarm.” Heero cast a sly look at Duo, who was gaping at him. “Gotcha.”
“Bastard.” Duo made a face at him. “All right, you got me, fair and square. Put it on my tab.”
“No credit this time,” Heero said on a whim, reaching across the narrow space between their seats.
Duo grinned and leaned over to kiss Heero. His lips were cool and chapped, but his mouth was hot. Heero wrapped his arms around Duo, and their two chairs creaked in protest as the two tried to find balance without breaking the kiss.
Another alarm squealed at them; without looking, Heero turned it off while Duo did his best to cram his tongue down Heero’s throat.
Approximately twenty seconds later, the shuttle exploded.
Epilogue
(On a fluffy cloud in the afterlife...)
Heero and Duo found themselves sitting on a cloud, both wearing pristine white smocks and holding matching golden harps. Duo’s face twitched as he realized that there was a halo floating a neat three inches about Heero’s mop of hair. Reaching up, he found a smooth circle of metal hovering about his head as well. And were those... wings? Duo twisted around in a circle, trying to get a glimpse of the fluffy protuberances on his back.
Heero made a little choking sound that might have been laughter, but before he could comment, someone floated across the clouds to greet them. Treize Khushrenada, resplendent in a white smock and sporting a truly impressive wingspan, alighted on their cloud. Beaming, he shook their hands, presented Heero with a plaque, invited them to join his bowling team, and then floated away.
“We’re in Hell, aren’t we?” Duo asked Heero, who shrugged and looked at his plaque.
“Duo, what’s a Darwin award?”
“...I hate you.” Duo threw his harp at Heero, beaning him, and stalked off to find a good sulking cloud.
Heero straightened out his halo and picked up Duo’s harp. Juggling the two harps and the plaque, he shrugged again and muttered, “Oops.”
--end
For more information on the Snogs project, go here.
Title: We're in Hell, Aren't We?
Characters: Duo, Heero
Summary: Distraction is a bad thing.
Notes: Written for the Snogfic Challenge.
We're in Hell, Aren't We?
(On a shuttle heading for Y28888)
Heero was cold, but he’d die an icicle before he’d ever admit it. He clenched his teeth together to keep them from chattering. One of the lights on the shuttle console flared red; he flipped it off and flexed his toes, calculating how much longer he had before frostbite set in.
“Hey, Heero?” Duo’s voice floated into the cockpit, followed by its owner.
“What?” He looked up as Duo eased himself into the copilot’s seat. Heero wondered how Duo could breathe with his braid wrapped around his ears and throat like a scarf.
“I was thinking... Une has *got* to get the Preventers a better budget, or I’m resigning.”
Heero rolled his eyes and tapped a gauge until the needle slipped out of the red warning zone back to the sullen green of the normal range. “Do you want to fly first class on missions, or do you want to get paid?”
“I’m not asking for first class... I’m just asking for a shuttle that isn’t three widgets away from the scrap heap!” Duo retorted. “Or at least a shuttle with a working heater. God, I’m freezing to death here.”
“You couldn’t rig something up?”
Duo shook his head. “Not unless you have a spare heating element and a Gretzi clip in your shorts. The damn thing’s shot to hell. I’ll have to get it into the shop when we get to Y28888.”
An alarm buzzed; Heero slapped it into silence.
Duo looked at his partner. “How can you tell which ones are false alarms?”
“When the shuttle doesn’t explode, I know it’s a false alarm.” Heero cast a sly look at Duo, who was gaping at him. “Gotcha.”
“Bastard.” Duo made a face at him. “All right, you got me, fair and square. Put it on my tab.”
“No credit this time,” Heero said on a whim, reaching across the narrow space between their seats.
Duo grinned and leaned over to kiss Heero. His lips were cool and chapped, but his mouth was hot. Heero wrapped his arms around Duo, and their two chairs creaked in protest as the two tried to find balance without breaking the kiss.
Another alarm squealed at them; without looking, Heero turned it off while Duo did his best to cram his tongue down Heero’s throat.
Approximately twenty seconds later, the shuttle exploded.
Epilogue
(On a fluffy cloud in the afterlife...)
Heero and Duo found themselves sitting on a cloud, both wearing pristine white smocks and holding matching golden harps. Duo’s face twitched as he realized that there was a halo floating a neat three inches about Heero’s mop of hair. Reaching up, he found a smooth circle of metal hovering about his head as well. And were those... wings? Duo twisted around in a circle, trying to get a glimpse of the fluffy protuberances on his back.
Heero made a little choking sound that might have been laughter, but before he could comment, someone floated across the clouds to greet them. Treize Khushrenada, resplendent in a white smock and sporting a truly impressive wingspan, alighted on their cloud. Beaming, he shook their hands, presented Heero with a plaque, invited them to join his bowling team, and then floated away.
“We’re in Hell, aren’t we?” Duo asked Heero, who shrugged and looked at his plaque.
“Duo, what’s a Darwin award?”
“...I hate you.” Duo threw his harp at Heero, beaning him, and stalked off to find a good sulking cloud.
Heero straightened out his halo and picked up Duo’s harp. Juggling the two harps and the plaque, he shrugged again and muttered, “Oops.”
--end
For more information on the Snogs project, go here.