[GW] - [FIC] [WIP] untitled
haven't been ficcing/drawing much due to the Christmas goodies sale, but spontaneously came up with a mini plot (a tired, hackneyed plot, to be sure) for a sort of supernatural/dark comedy ficlet. heero's dead at the beginning... but don't be alarmed. ^_~ here's posting the first bitty bit.
pairing: 1+2+1
genre: supernatural, get together, sort of fluffy
warnings: death, language
I shouldn’t have been so surprised to see Heero sitting on my bed when I came out of my bathroom, after all he was my flatmate, but it was rather odd that I hadn’t heard him come in, wasn’t it? Granted I had been, um, “using the facilities”… Still…
We stood there, frozen, staring at each other for more than a minute.
“Heero…” I spoke slowly, as if testing a word in a new language. Something didn’t quite feel right to me. Was it colder than normal in my room?
He looked at me with a startled expression on his face.
Did he think I couldn’t see him? He was sitting right--
Oh.
“Shit, man, you’re dead, aren’t you?”
Heero nodded morosely.
“You can talk to me, you know. I can hear you as well as see you.”
“Really?” Heero peered at me. “Duo, if you can hear me, bark like a dog.”
“I’m not going to bark, you dumbshit, but yes, I really can hear you.”
Back in the wars, when we were just kids piloting big robots, I told everyone that I was Shinigami, the God of Death. It wasn’t true, but it wasn’t a lie either. Call it what you want, but I had a bit of an affinity for the recently deceased. I wouldn’t label it a gift or a curse, but I’d always found it pretty damn funny to see the ghosts of OZ soldiers sitting on nothing in the space where their demolished MS’ had been and trying to pilot thin air.
“Stop sniggering to yourself, Duo.”
Only Heero could be dead and still order me around.
pairing: 1+2+1
genre: supernatural, get together, sort of fluffy
warnings: death, language
I shouldn’t have been so surprised to see Heero sitting on my bed when I came out of my bathroom, after all he was my flatmate, but it was rather odd that I hadn’t heard him come in, wasn’t it? Granted I had been, um, “using the facilities”… Still…
We stood there, frozen, staring at each other for more than a minute.
“Heero…” I spoke slowly, as if testing a word in a new language. Something didn’t quite feel right to me. Was it colder than normal in my room?
He looked at me with a startled expression on his face.
Did he think I couldn’t see him? He was sitting right--
Oh.
“Shit, man, you’re dead, aren’t you?”
Heero nodded morosely.
“You can talk to me, you know. I can hear you as well as see you.”
“Really?” Heero peered at me. “Duo, if you can hear me, bark like a dog.”
“I’m not going to bark, you dumbshit, but yes, I really can hear you.”
Back in the wars, when we were just kids piloting big robots, I told everyone that I was Shinigami, the God of Death. It wasn’t true, but it wasn’t a lie either. Call it what you want, but I had a bit of an affinity for the recently deceased. I wouldn’t label it a gift or a curse, but I’d always found it pretty damn funny to see the ghosts of OZ soldiers sitting on nothing in the space where their demolished MS’ had been and trying to pilot thin air.
“Stop sniggering to yourself, Duo.”
Only Heero could be dead and still order me around.