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Heero's Week: Quatre's turn, part 1
This technically happens after Wufei's and Trowa's turns, but I didn't finish Trowa's turn yet.
This is the first draft, if you spot grammar mistakes or anything unclear, please tell me so that I can fix it.
+ Wednesday Morning +
(quatre's turn)
Heero woke up early, around six AM. That was usual. What was not, he noticed after a few seconds of bleary blinking at the clock, was that he'd only been supposed to have a two-hours nap from seven to nine PM the day before, then tinker some more with that new trojan virus he was perfecting. He was really quite nonplussed at first, then decided that it wasn't so problematic. It wasn't as if he would have an occasion to use the trojan before at least a month and it was already practically perfect. He only slept six hours a night most of the time and it was fine by him, but he must have needed the rest. He supposed having sex was more taxing than he had believed.
He stretched his arms, then his back, then his legs--oww. Still vaguely sore. Maybe taking a hot shower before doing his morning routine would be a good idea. At this hour, he probably wouldn't have to fight for the bathroom; Wufei would be outside meditating --that or watching the sun rise, or maybe these two occupations were one and the same but that was a bit too spiritual for him-- and of the other three, only Quatre would rise so early, and he was usually quick.
He arrived to the bathroom just in time to see Quatre walking down the stairs. The blond teenager paused as he heard him and smiled, somewhat sleepily.
"G'morning, Heero. I'm going to make some coffee," he informed him between two yawns.
Heero nodded his greetings, vaguely amused that Quatre was still not awake enough to be embarrassed in his presence. Since the start of his week, the blond pilot's fair skin had always been tinted varying shades of pinkish in his presence.
Since he had nothing pressing to do today, he took a long shower--at least fifteen minutes-- and as warm as he could stand it. Some of the towels were new and decadently fluffy. For some reason he indulged himself and did not take an old, scratchy one, then half-heartedly rationalized it by deciding that it was because new towels dry more efficiently. His boxers were clean, so he put them back on, but his tanktop was starting to stink so he dropped it in the laundry basket. He wasn't thinking very fast, but he couldn't have said if that was because of the warm shower or the oversleeping thing. Coffee was needed.
He trudged down the stairs, the white towel around his neck to keep his hair from dropping water all over him, and went to the kitchen. Quatre was still sitting at the table, reviewing stuff on his laptop. It was sleek and black and looked very modern--like still-a-prototype-modern. Heero's laptop may be beaten up and built from scratch, but it was way better and he was not envious. Heero was having childish thoughts. He decided to have his coffee ultra-black.
"Hel--lo, Heero." The brown-haired pilot wondered if Quatre had swallowed one of his biscuits wrong. For a second it had sounded like he was choking.
Ahh, coffee. Bitter and strong enough to dissolve his stomach; just as he liked it. "Morning, Quatre."
"Uhh-- please sit down. I think I made too much toast, do you want some?" the blond asked urbanely. Heero looked up from his coffee mug, wondering why he was sounding like mister manners suddenly.
Winner was staring at his chest. Heero looked down--nothing special there. His skin was still a bit damp and flushed from the bath, but there was no sudden appearance of an eventual third nipple that would--oh. He looked up to Quatre's face to see that the blond one was now looking at his hips. Finger-shaped bruises were showing over the waistline of his boxers.
The pilots decided together to pretend that neither had noticed the other noticing.
"Do you want some butter?" Quatre asked politely as Heero sat down in front of him.
"No thanks."
Heero ate his toast and downed his mug while Quatre sipped at his absently while reading his screen. Then Heero rubbed his hair dry while waiting for his second toast to jump out of the toaster while Quatre stared at his screen, except his eyes weren't moving anymore. Then he slammed the laptop shut decisively and looked up, giving Heero a "businessman" look.
"Heero."
The brown-haired pilot gave him a suspicious look. "... yes?"
"I have a meeting this morning with Ibrahim-- one of the Magnanacs. I'll be back here around two PM. Will you be available?"
With that voice Heero could have thought Quatre wanted to talk about buying his society from him, except he didn't have a society to his name and if he lived old enough to work with WEI, Quatre's hostile takeovers would probably come with less warning.
Heero didn't bother asking for what. It was rather obvious, really. "Fine. I'll try to make sure I'm not busy with someone else."
Quatre's eyes gleamed with a light that reminded him of the ZERO system. Heero noted for himself to keep the sarcasm to a minimum as long as Blondie hadn't gotten laid.
"I would be disappointed if you only tried, Heero," Quatre commented with what Duo had termed his iron-hand-in-velvet-glove voice.
Heero wondered if he'd attack the pilot who committed the mistake of stealing his turn and resolved to hide a few hours before Quatre was due back to make sure that no bloodshed would ensue over him.
"Ryoukai," he replied. The ZERO gleam disappeared.
"Great! Thank you, Heero." He pushed his chair back and got up, giving him a dazzling smile. "I'll see you this afternoon." And with that, he picked up his laptop and strode out.
Heero stared at the coffee mug for a second, then shook his head and went to refill it.
This is the first draft, if you spot grammar mistakes or anything unclear, please tell me so that I can fix it.
+ Wednesday Morning +
(quatre's turn)
Heero woke up early, around six AM. That was usual. What was not, he noticed after a few seconds of bleary blinking at the clock, was that he'd only been supposed to have a two-hours nap from seven to nine PM the day before, then tinker some more with that new trojan virus he was perfecting. He was really quite nonplussed at first, then decided that it wasn't so problematic. It wasn't as if he would have an occasion to use the trojan before at least a month and it was already practically perfect. He only slept six hours a night most of the time and it was fine by him, but he must have needed the rest. He supposed having sex was more taxing than he had believed.
He stretched his arms, then his back, then his legs--oww. Still vaguely sore. Maybe taking a hot shower before doing his morning routine would be a good idea. At this hour, he probably wouldn't have to fight for the bathroom; Wufei would be outside meditating --that or watching the sun rise, or maybe these two occupations were one and the same but that was a bit too spiritual for him-- and of the other three, only Quatre would rise so early, and he was usually quick.
He arrived to the bathroom just in time to see Quatre walking down the stairs. The blond teenager paused as he heard him and smiled, somewhat sleepily.
"G'morning, Heero. I'm going to make some coffee," he informed him between two yawns.
Heero nodded his greetings, vaguely amused that Quatre was still not awake enough to be embarrassed in his presence. Since the start of his week, the blond pilot's fair skin had always been tinted varying shades of pinkish in his presence.
Since he had nothing pressing to do today, he took a long shower--at least fifteen minutes-- and as warm as he could stand it. Some of the towels were new and decadently fluffy. For some reason he indulged himself and did not take an old, scratchy one, then half-heartedly rationalized it by deciding that it was because new towels dry more efficiently. His boxers were clean, so he put them back on, but his tanktop was starting to stink so he dropped it in the laundry basket. He wasn't thinking very fast, but he couldn't have said if that was because of the warm shower or the oversleeping thing. Coffee was needed.
He trudged down the stairs, the white towel around his neck to keep his hair from dropping water all over him, and went to the kitchen. Quatre was still sitting at the table, reviewing stuff on his laptop. It was sleek and black and looked very modern--like still-a-prototype-modern. Heero's laptop may be beaten up and built from scratch, but it was way better and he was not envious. Heero was having childish thoughts. He decided to have his coffee ultra-black.
"Hel--lo, Heero." The brown-haired pilot wondered if Quatre had swallowed one of his biscuits wrong. For a second it had sounded like he was choking.
Ahh, coffee. Bitter and strong enough to dissolve his stomach; just as he liked it. "Morning, Quatre."
"Uhh-- please sit down. I think I made too much toast, do you want some?" the blond asked urbanely. Heero looked up from his coffee mug, wondering why he was sounding like mister manners suddenly.
Winner was staring at his chest. Heero looked down--nothing special there. His skin was still a bit damp and flushed from the bath, but there was no sudden appearance of an eventual third nipple that would--oh. He looked up to Quatre's face to see that the blond one was now looking at his hips. Finger-shaped bruises were showing over the waistline of his boxers.
The pilots decided together to pretend that neither had noticed the other noticing.
"Do you want some butter?" Quatre asked politely as Heero sat down in front of him.
"No thanks."
Heero ate his toast and downed his mug while Quatre sipped at his absently while reading his screen. Then Heero rubbed his hair dry while waiting for his second toast to jump out of the toaster while Quatre stared at his screen, except his eyes weren't moving anymore. Then he slammed the laptop shut decisively and looked up, giving Heero a "businessman" look.
"Heero."
The brown-haired pilot gave him a suspicious look. "... yes?"
"I have a meeting this morning with Ibrahim-- one of the Magnanacs. I'll be back here around two PM. Will you be available?"
With that voice Heero could have thought Quatre wanted to talk about buying his society from him, except he didn't have a society to his name and if he lived old enough to work with WEI, Quatre's hostile takeovers would probably come with less warning.
Heero didn't bother asking for what. It was rather obvious, really. "Fine. I'll try to make sure I'm not busy with someone else."
Quatre's eyes gleamed with a light that reminded him of the ZERO system. Heero noted for himself to keep the sarcasm to a minimum as long as Blondie hadn't gotten laid.
"I would be disappointed if you only tried, Heero," Quatre commented with what Duo had termed his iron-hand-in-velvet-glove voice.
Heero wondered if he'd attack the pilot who committed the mistake of stealing his turn and resolved to hide a few hours before Quatre was due back to make sure that no bloodshed would ensue over him.
"Ryoukai," he replied. The ZERO gleam disappeared.
"Great! Thank you, Heero." He pushed his chair back and got up, giving him a dazzling smile. "I'll see you this afternoon." And with that, he picked up his laptop and strode out.
Heero stared at the coffee mug for a second, then shook his head and went to refill it.
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*shoves you back into the computer chair*
Now, write more! XD
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*typetypes*
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Uhm. Apart from 4x1 sexx0ring you mean? I'm fraid I can't tell you any details. :P
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