Author’s Note: First, this fic is largely based after the events of Gundam Wing: Endless Waltz and contains references to the mangas Blind Target, Gundam Wing: Zero and Battlefield of Pacifists. Of these, Blind Target is the most important, and it is recommended reading for this fanfiction (especially its epilogue, entitled ‘After Story’). You can find it at the following link: manga.animea.net/gundam-wing-blind-target.html
Second, the chapters of this fic are not arranged in chronological order, so expect a lot of skipping through the years back and forth, but the events created here largely fall between A.C. 196-201.
Last, as always, this series does not belong to me; I merely pay homage to it.
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She stared blankly at the beige wall in front of her, the sound of him slipping his black pants and white shirt back on fading into the background.
“Relena?”
She pretended not to hear him.
“Relena?”
She finally turned back to look at him, sitting up in the bed. She reddened a little, drawing the covers over her breasts as she met his curious expression.
“Sorry,” she mumbled her apology, tucking her long bangs sloppily behind her ears as he continued getting dressed again, having already dismissed her momentary lapse in attention.
She held back a small sigh as she glanced down at the floor next to her side of the bed, noticing her various articles of clothing messily collected in a pool of fabric. It seemed to be another indication to her of his superhuman abilities that, by contrast, his clothes always managed to be neatly gathered on a nearby chair—even in the heat of a passionate embrace. The notion nearly made her grin at its ridiculousness.
She caught his eye a moment later, his gaze clearly confused by the fact that she was still in the bed and undressed; she let herself sigh for that one.
I guess he’s not in a cuddly mood today.
He seemed to pick up on her disappointment. “Is something wrong?”
She wanted to sigh again, hearing the seriousness of his tone over her trivial musings; but, seeing the real care and concern that belied his question, she smiled a little, letting go of the sheets as she placed one leg outside the bed, grabbing her panties from the bottom of the pile.
“I’m fine, Heero.”
He stared at her for a moment longer before grunting in understanding, but she noted with some annoyance that his eyes had not drifted even a little downward when she’d let the covers go. However, the idea that she, as a woman, would be irritated by a man not staring at her breasts seemed silly enough to make her let go of the feeling. Plus, she reassured herself, he had paid plenty of attention to them earlier, and she was sure they could go without repeat compliments for the moment.
Nonetheless, as she slipped back into her pants and latched the hooks of her bra into place, she felt awash with a sense of déjà vu—except that, in this case, she knew that the current situation was not just familiar, but occurring all too frequently for her liking. Staring at her white blouse—which would most certainly need to be cleaned and ironed again—bunched up on his black tile floor, a sense of inevitability about her circumstances overwhelmed her.
“Water?”
“Yes, please.”
She knew the query was more a formality than anything else, but she answered anyway, silently wondering if he actually ate or simply lived off water like a plant. She threw on the blouse without bothering to button up the front, strolling up to the kitchen table with her dark red bra comically revealing itself between the two opened flaps of the shirt. Normally she wore so many layers of clothing that it didn’t matter what colour underwear she had on underneath; recently she had taken advantage of that fact when he came to see her at her home or she to his apartment, as was the current case.
His nose crinkled a little at her lazy re-dressing as she sipped the ice water he’d poured for her, ignoring his stare from where he stood by the fridge.
After a minute of this terse staring, however, she gave him a small look of exasperation.
“Yes, Heero?”
He only placed his glass on the kitchen counter, and then took her by surprise as he came to stand before her, his Prussian blue irises linked with her own. His gaze quickly moved down to her open shirt, making her breath hitch in her throat; to her frustration, however, he merely began buttoning the blouse back up again, disregarding her obvious frown at his actions.
When he finally did look at her again, acknowledging her irritation, he explained:
“It was unbuttoned.”
By all rights she should have smacked him for such an obvious and inane answer—in fact, her face seemed to twitch with a number of unspecified emotions as she glared at him, his own expression stoic as usual.
But the more she thought about what he had just done and said, the more she found herself unable to help the little grin of amusement that began to form at the corners of her lips. God, he was so stupid! So idiotically blunt! Who had programmed him that morning to say suchabsurd things? ‘It was unbuttoned’—could there be any other line that encapsulated so well the preposterousness of Heero Yuy’s behaviour?
She burst into peals of laughter at the thought, startling him completely; he was even more surprised in the next moment when she threw her arms around his neck, displaying an affectionateness that had been absent from her just minutes earlier. Sensing his shock, she pulled back briefly only to draw him in for a kiss, smirking against his lips all the while.
He returned her embrace after a moment, but the gesture seemed more obligatory as a way of easing his confusion than one borne of pure regard. She dropped her smirk a little, resting her forehead against his as she closed her eyes, feeling the light quickening of his heart against her chest.
“I love you, Heero.”
This time the pause was short just before his arms tightened around her, drawing her in closer, though he said nothing in reply to the same confession she’d made a dozen times or more before.
Had it been just a few months ago—no, maybe even a few weeks—she probably would have been satisfied with that raw physical response alone. She would have dismissed his silence for his general inability to put his feelings into words, and she would have been thankful for the warmth of his embrace.
But as she felt him against her, his breathing measured and his arms strongly securing her within his hold, she knew that none of what would have been good enough even the day before would suffice then.
She wanted—no, she needed—more.
YOU ARE READING
Slow Burn
Fanfiction[Gundam Wing A/C; a 1xR series of vignettes post-Endless Waltz.] He had always been conscious of the fact that she—Relena Darlian Peacecraft, Queen of the World—loved him, and him alone. And yet that was the problem, since he could never give her wh...
