02 contemplates perfection


Notes: Random ficlet bwahaha. Hmm, I guess it sorta started with the overly used word of 'perfect' and then it turned to Duo wondering and ah... yeah.


Everything he does is precise, planned, and well… perfect.

Perfect, perfect, perfect, perfect, perfect.

Ch'. He could've been a simulacrum in a how to be the *perfect* terrorist video.

The way he reties his sneakers, the way he checks the map over again, the way he *walks* - movements tight and controlled - limited waste, maximum efficiency (Heero Yuy in a nutshell) - back straight and unyielding while arms and legs move in unexpected grace.

What do I have to say about this? Of course I have to say *something* bout this. Me? Duo Maxwell? Not having an opinion about something? Heh. Wufei wishes. But (you can start groaning at my pun starting now!), anyway… Perfect my ass. And no, I'm not fishing for compliments - I know my ass is damn near perfect unless you count how bony it is. Butt cheeks aside though Mr. Perfect Soldier's attitude is getting a bit annoying.

All right, Duo Maxwell never lies. It's surpassed 'a bit' and approaching 'I'm ready to smack my partner over the head (several times and for all the good it'll do him), take hold of that spandex material and give him the wedgie of a lifetime - of course this is after the application of several, judiciously applied noogies annoying'. Then I'm prepared to run like the proverbial bat outta hell. Or God of Death outta hell, cause there sure ain't anything proverbial about Shinigami!

Well, it would've been interesting for the last few minutes of my life anyway. I'll remind myself to try it when I'm tired of living in say oh… 60 years or so. The thought of being chased by Old Geezer Yuy waving his cane about like a beam saber is almost enough to get my mind off the current situation.


Then he decides to pause, stare at the floor directory yet *again* despite the map in his oh so incapable hands, and I'm back to fuming.

I growl, "Heero." Yes, I growled. So what if it sounded more like whining? So what if I sounded like a grade school kid instead of the deadly terrorist I really was. Dammit, I was *entitled* what with Heero I'm too perfect and a compass is bred into my genetic code so I don't need to ask for frickin' directions Yuy being my partner.

He turns around, quirks his eyebrow at me like he's part of some sort of secret eye brow clan (What? Don't tell me you noticed too what with that creepy blonde Catalonia chick and Treize Krush the opposition but don't even think about forgetting my bubble bath of the forked eyebrows and rose fetish popping outta the woodworks?), and then he has the *nerve*, the *tenacity* (woohoo! My new word of the day - Some middled aged Marilyn Monroe wanna be yelled it at me when I accidentally ran over her poodle with my bike. Don't ask - short story, mildly maimed dog. Damn.) to smirk at me.


As if the sight of that smirk, blue eyes, and his face was enough to make my bad mood go away. Never mind that I end up smiling goofily back, never mind that I forget what I was mad at him about, never mind….

Ah… What was I talking about again?

Never mind.

Heero starts walking away, this time with the perfectly, evenly creased map out, and I sorta shuffle along behind him. The sight of the map triggers oxygen to my brain (Did I mention I have this little problem of not being able to think coherently when Heero smirks at me?) and I try to talk sense into the guy once more.

Which of course leads to a very relevant question. For the win, Alex, I'll take the guy who jumps off of *buildings* spontaneously when he has a perfectly (that word again!) fine working parachute; attempts to stop bullets, falling concrete, and exploding bombs with his own body; and self destructing just cause the wind blew that day or the cute guy who has a way better fashion sense yet *still* tries to talk sense into the other guy for 1000.

What is 'Who is dumber'. Like it wasn't so obvious.

So there goes one perfect soldier aka pain in the ass (only when we run out of *winkwinknudgenudge*…) and there I go after him. Only this time I grab him by the arm and attempt to at least reason with him. See above for reference and probable success rate.

"Heero… This is the *fifth* time we've passed this stupid sculpture of the naked dead guys. Can we *please* stop and ask someone, anyone, for directions? My feet hurt, my back hurts, my head hurts, and I'm pretty sure my stomach hitched a ride on a passing tourist's backpack for lunch."





"Hn. Asking for directions would mean I failed my mission, Duo." He pulls out a cylindrical doodad from gods above knows where and thumbs it suggestively. Firmly ignoring *both* suggestive gestures, I shrug and slip on a lazy grin.

"Intimidation tactics don't work on Shinigami, Heero. Especially since I know it's just a push pop you're threatening me with. What're you going to do? Bite off a piece of the candy and hope you choke on it? I-mmphrgh!"

He calls my bluff - sorta - and stuffs the candy in my face. I, of course, start happily munching away at it. Oi, don't look at me like that! Free food is free food, 'specially considering that we've been wandering around this mausoleum … oops pardonnez-moi, museum for the last 6 centuries or so (4 hours, 32 minutes, 27 seconds - Heero can't be the only methodical teenager around here can he?). Then he does a sort of looming close up like a vampire wanna be, only its more sexy then it is spooky, and he whispers close (well as whispery as that nasal voice of his can get), "Of course there are other ways get out of a museum."

Run for the hills, women and children and Shinigami first! Heero Yuy has an evil glint in his eye. I'm not talking Zero system evil either, more like the evil glint that got us kicked out of at *least* 30 clothing stores (30 and counting!), 4 amusement parks (4 and counting!), 16 taxis (16 and well… you get the picture), 2 g rated movie (What can I say? Something about all that pastel, fuzzy creatures, and high pitched voices… We were deprived as children.), and a whopping 42.1 shoe stores (The .1 where the manager recognized us and threw us out before we could start anything… But don't worry, his prized sports car was last seen scattered across the back parking lot with instructions to put the whole thing together!).

"Umm… Heero, this is a museum. Respect for the dead? Or at least for the dead people's things? Man, you really get off on exhibitionism don't you? Remind me to thank J later on."

Thanks to the candy in my mouth though, it came our more like. "Umm… H'ro mumble mumble slurp munch mumble mumble swallow… " Well, you get the point. And this was before he got his oh so capable hands on me for those with an insatiable curiosity.

And well... surely you can put 1 and 2 together ne?


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