Blood Part 1 of the Blood, Sweat and Tears trilogy Although this fic can stand alone, it is the sequel to Malt Shoppe and the second installment in my unamed Quatre arc. This is my ffirst time delving into quatre's character so deeply, this story changes as i write. Expect Ansgst, yaoi, voilence, non-con and depressed quatre. I don't own these characters. don't post my story without permission. t he thimeline in this whole arc is somewhat skewed. Keep an open mind. --quicksylver-- written 050503 |
| He couldn't sleep. The sheets were sticky and clung to his half-naked frame as he turned for the nth time in the past hour. This was happening more often, the insomnia. He would lay awake for hours on end, sleep claiming him only for minutes at a time. In the morning he would drag himself into the shower and let the cold water blast away the signs of his fatigue. Caffeine would get him through the rest of the day, the fighting, the running, the work of trying to co-ordinate with four reluctant pilots who didn't seem to want to work together? at least not with him. |
| Damn. He sighed, listening to the water drip from the faucet in the tiny bath. It was steady and grew louder as he focused his mind on the sound. Louder and louder it grew until each drop of water sounded like a heavy weight being pounded against concrete. He pressed his hands against his ears, unable to bear the deafening noise any longer. A cry tore from his throat as he twisted away, falling to the floor in the process. |
| He lay there breathing heavily, his head still ringing as tears squeezed out of his tightly closed lids. What the hell is wrong with me? He pulled himself back unto the small bed with a moan. He was glad that no one was there to witness his 'introversion'. That's what he called it when he freaked out like that. Maybe it had something to do with his Soul of Outer Space and the lack of sleep. |
| He wanted to confide in someone about this, it frightened him. But there was no one he could talk to. The other pilots certainly would not understand, their reaction frightened him even more. They would probably call him a freak and shun him. It certainly would not help their shaky relationship any better. There was Iria, his sister, but she was in space and he didn't want to take the risk of contacting her even if she was a doctor. He would have to deal with this himself. He settled back unto the sheets and willed himself to sleep. It didn't work, as usual. |
| Soon enough his eyes began to grow heavy, signaling the beginning of what he started calling his sleep snatches. It's gotten to the point where I'm naming this stuff... sheesh. He closed his eyes, welcoming the darkness. |
| A soft crash broke him out of it instantly and he was on his feet, gun out of the holster he kept near the bed. He crouched silently as the noise grew closer. Small thumps and the sound of shuffling echoed through the hallway. Easing the safety off and cocking the gun, he crouched behind the bed, ready to fire. His blood rushed, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he fought the fear that rose in his throat. It was always there? the fear. He forced it back down and steadied his hand. The door of the bedroom slung open and he stared at the interloper down the barrel of his gun. |
| Heero. |
| The wing pilot stood in the doorway, illuminated in flashes by neon. He could only stare as Heero moved toward him in slow and halting steps until they faced each other over the bed. |
| "Heero" he breathed as he saw the state of the wing pilot. |
| Blood ... There was blood all over him. Some of it came from several cuts and lacerations all over his lithe frame. Some of it was not his. Most of it was not his. |
| He had no time to follow that train of thought because Heero chose that moment to fall unto the bed like a sack of rocks. Oh shit, he thought as he turned the wing pilot unto his back. He had to help him. He quickly dug into his duffel bag, pulling out the small basic first aid kit he always kept with him. It never hurts to be prepared? I hope this will be enough though. He would be able to tell when all the blood had been cleaned off. |
| "Upsey daisy" he grunted, trying to heft Heero's body off the bed. |
| It proved difficult to maneuver Heero's deadweight so he ended up dragging the wing pilot into the small bathroom, the strap handle of the fist aid kit between his teeth. It was a tight fit as the bathroom was tiny but he managed to get Heero into the shower. He turned on the water, it was cold but what did one expect from such a cheap room. He sighed and shivered as he started running the water along Heero's body, wiping the dried and drying blood off of the unconscious pilot's skin. |
| As the blood drained away, he looked down at the wing pilot's clothes. Those will have to come off. He bit his lip. How many nights he fantasized about undressing Heero, stripping that tank top and spandex off of his muscular frame. He quickly shook that thought away. Pull yourself together? he's hurt and out cold. You can't think about this NOW. He needsyour help. |
| Carefully he tried to pull the soaked tank top off the prone boy; it would not come off. Finally he had to cut it away with a small bandage shears. Heero's chest was a map of scars, old and new. He quelled the urge to run his fingertips along the lines, some years old and some newly scabbing. It was time for the spandex. His breath came heavy as he gently and slowly cut the black material away from Heero's thighs. Carefully he maneuvered the shears up past Heero's hip and pelvis, pulling the black cloth way as he went. |
| The sight of Heero had always left him breathless but the sight of Heero completely naked under running water almost made his heart stop. He cock hardened immediately under his thin boxers, which was also soaking wet from the spray of the shower. |
| Oh God... he trembled, I can't do this. But the had too, Heero needed medical attention. |
| He steeled himself and managed to get the wing pilot unto the bed and dried off. He then proceeded to tend to the wounds inflicted on the wing pilot. There was a knife wound in his thigh and some slashes on his neck, chest and forearms. Apparently he had been trying to protect his eyes and face from the slashing. There was bruising on his knuckles and knees and well as a bruised rib. All in all nothing too bad considering it was Heero Yuy. |
| He had used his spare coverlet to make bandages so he now stood shivering in his wet shorts, as Heero lay naked under his only sheeting. He quickly stripped and was putting on another pair when a sound came from behind him. Heero was moaning, his muscular frame trembling ever so slightly in the cold air. There was no more heat to turn up in the room and the extra cover was now in shreds so he could either let Heero freeze and catch pneumonia or something or he could help him keep warm. |
| He made up his mind with a nod and slid into bed beside the wing pilot. Carefully he wrapped an arm around Heero's chest, repeating to himself that this was only to help Heero and now was not the time to be thinking all the things he could do to Heero if the situation was different. |
| Hmph. He snorted. If the situation was different you would be getting your ass beaten to a pulp be a really really pissed off Heero. He probably would not have accepted your help in the first place, choosing to tend to himselfrather than let you touch him. |
| That settled it. No hentai thoughts allowed at risk of being beaten to death. Ninmu Ryouakai. |
| He chuckled at the choice of words and settled himself closer to the wing pilot. It's going to be a long night. He was drifting into one of his sleep snatches when there was a pressure at his back. He froze as an arm snaked around him, pulling him closer to the body next to his. With trepidation his eyes traveled up the muscular chest, stopping briefly at the junction of the neck and at the mouth before finally looking into a pair of intense blue eyes. Oh fuck. |
| "H...H...Heero." He managed to squeak out and braced for the beating. |