Shadows

Shadows

Rounding up enough spirits to drink away their inhibitions had been unexpectedly easy. That field agents of the Preventor organisation might need it every once in a while was no surprise; that they kept the stuff at the office under minimal security was.

Somehow, Noin and Heero Yuy had landed themselves in a Preventor office on the seventeenth floor, abandoned for the night, the only light coming from the desk lamp while a motly mix of multicoloured shadows from the faux holly wreaths lining the building’s hallways shone in through the open door. It was Christmas Eve, a night of celebration and remembrance for children of the new era if there ever was one, and empty rooms devoid of Christmas atmosphere and personal warmth alike awaited the both of them at home.

Heero Yuy was not Zechs.

Zechs used to be able to drink the entire Academy under the table; Heero Yuy looked dazed and fumbled for his glass after only a few shots.

Zechs was a melodramatic drunk, prone to start sniffling and sprout bad poetry; Heero Yuy a sullen one whose scowl deepened with every gulp.

Zechs, for all his prowess on the battlefield, was a gentle man, always careful not to hurt innocents with his battle-hardened heart and bloodstained hands; Heero Yuy was careless, ever disregarding lowly things such as the fragility of the human body and mind in favour of reaching his goals.

Zechs was ever the gentleman, celibate until marriage, mindful of his comrades’ wants and needs, never to indulge in dishonourly behaviour for the mere sake of personal gain; Heero Yuy was as uncivilized as a wolf child, if he knew anything about codes of courtesy or chivalry it only served to put a name to the ones he broke.

No, Heero Yuy was not Zechs.

Heero Yuy would never be Zechs.

But Heero Yuy, like Zechs, was a fool in love and waited too long.

In Heero Yuy’s absence, Miss Relena had wed another, tired of being kept on a string by means of a teddybear once a year and a handful of kind words riddled with empty promises whenever danger struck. And in Zechs’s absence, Lucrezia Noin was slowly losing all hope for a return of her love and the chance to build a life together, started feeling misery and desparation creep up on her.

The alcohol soothed her fears, slurred her objections beyond recognition, blocked out years of combat experience, numbed her fumbling limbs and set her blood boiling when Heero Yuy, equally inebriated, yanked her from her slouched sprawl in his visitor chair, pushed her roughly down onto the desk and tore off her uniform.

It was only Noin herself, though, that spread her legs when Heero Yuy clumsily reached between the dark curls obscuring her nether regions, who bucked her hips and tried to stay his hand when he withdrew from his inspection of her readiness. It was only Noin herself who arched her back to receive him, who wrapped her legs around his waist to bury him deeper inside her, who pulled his head down for a kiss.

But Noin was not Miss Relena, and Heero Yuy was not Zechs.

Zechs would not have pushed her away; Heero Yuy broke the lock she had put on their lips as if burned.

Zechs would not have tried to keep her from doing it again; Heero Yuy snapped a pair of handcuffs around her wrists and looped the metal chain around the handle of his desk drawer, forcing her arms up over her head, bent awkwardly.

Zechs would have been mollified by her gesture; Heero Yuy was enraged by it, pounded into her as if to substitute for striking her.

Her vision was blurred and jerky, but even with the foreign positions they were in and the exotic lighting angle of the desk lamp, Noin could not make Heero Yuy look like Zechs. From the look on his face, disgusted and needy and sorry and desperate all in one, she figured Heero Yuy felt the same. Long blond hair was what they both wanted to see, but couldn’t. It almost felt as if she was being fucked by herself, all tan skin, short, unruly dark hair and bitter need.

It was better once he turned off the light.

Neither could pretend the other was a Peacecraft, but in the multicoloured shadows cast by the Christmas lights, at least they were indiscriminate grey shapes with no names.

When they came, the cramping of her muscles causing him to burst, the two of them imploding into each other with orgasm, he rested his forehead against the desk in the crook of her neck, and his tears mingled with hers.