Archive: Lady DarkAngel's Gundam Wing Fanfiction Library www.geocities.com/ladydarkangel_1/index.html, Darkflame's (if she'll take it....) and anywhere else is fine, just ask me first
Category: Sap, POV
Pairing(s): 1x2
Disclaimers: Gundam Wing or Shinkidousenki Gundam Wing is copyrighted and trademarked by Sunrise, Bandai, Sotsu Agency and associated parties with all rights and privileges. The characters were used without permission for the purposes of entertainment only. This is not meant for sale of profit. Any characters not created by those listed above are mine and hereby considered the sole property and copyright of the author.
Anyway, I'm just a poor college student. So can I play with them? I promise I won't break them......much.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Duo's POV. Written when I was in a shoujo mood. You have been warned.
Feedback: Kami-sama, YES!!! Ladydarkangel_1@yahoo.com; any and all comments are welcome like the sweet ego-sustainers they are.

Weak in the Knees
by Lady DarkAngel

I dunno. Maybe it's the fact that he's the sexiest damn thing on the face of the planet. And in all outer space too. Humanity's finest specimen of perfect beauty and grace. See how he moves, see how he looks, see me *drool* all over myself...... I dare you to find somebody that's sweeter on the eyes then the pilot of Wing, somebody who makes your body tingle like you just grabbed a live wire, somebody that makes thinking and breathing irrelevant and obeying the sudden urge to leave or display to everyone in the room evidence (probably sticky) of just what you're fantasizing about a necessity. You can't. He is the ultimate in...... well, everything. He's made a LOT of people swoon in his day, guys and girls alike. I am no exception.

Or maybe it's the fact that he loves me.

Go figure.

I know he does. As puzzling as it is to me, he loves me. Loves, as in with a capital "L". Maybe the whole damn word is in caps. The kind where you give up your soul, your life and half your closet space without a peep of protest. The type where you are incomplete without the other and can't even contemplate getting up in the morning if they're not there with you. The type that comes along so rarely in life that it is preserved forever in art so that all might recognize it if they are fortunate enough to come across it. The variety of love that is referred to by those in the know as "True Love."

And you know what? I love him right back.

I love the way he looks at me. There's such a variety! The dark glares when he's angry with me when I do something stupid, because they let me know that he has important standards he holds me to and that I have violated them. That he's disappointed in me but it won't be forever because he knows I can do better. That it matters to him that I be the best person I can possibly be and not suffer because of my stupidity. The knowing and laughing smirks, that tell me he *knows* something I don't and I'm not gonna get it out of him. I always do but that's not the point. It's the fact that he, the Great and Renowned Silent Perfect Solider Himself Heero Yuy, wants to tell me something. And is willing to tease me about it when I act like a puppy begging for attention. The heated looks of passion I get when we're locked together in bed. They scream what he may not be able to say, what air cannot carry to my ears. The tender glances he passes my way when I'm not looking. Or at least, he thinks I'm not looking. They are so full of caring, concern...... *love*. Honest to God love. He watches me out of the corner of his eye, always checking on me to be sure I'm safe. And scooping an eyeful in the process.

I love the way he touches me. He's never hurt me. And he never will. His touch is gentle, soft, soothing. Oh, occasionally he decides rough is more fun and hey, I'm not about to complain here, but normally he treats me like I'm made of the most expensive material mankind has ever known. I'm something to be treasured. Not handled like I'm gonna break and need to be shelved somewhere, but as something whose value is in its use and if handled properly, is a marvel in and of itself. Well, that's what he said when I asked him about it. Personally, I think he's slightly afraid of hurting me. After all, he *is* stronger then me by quite a bit. But that doesn't frighten me; it makes me feel safe. I swear, my boy has the golden touch. When I fall asleep in those arms and know that nothing can hurt me with them around me...... No nightmare can reach me, no sorrow can grasp me. I don't fear Heero Yuy. Never did and never will. It makes me feel warm inside that he cares enough to restrain himself for fear of injuring me. That he feels this intense need to protect me even though he knows damn well I can do fine by myself. Makes me feel all warm and tingly inside. That is, till I get the urge for him to sweep me off my feet and haul to our room so we can get down and dirty. Gentle is good, but sometimes rough is better......

I love the way he talks to me. So forthright and frank. Although he calls me baka, he has never insulted my intelligence by using less then technical description and tactical terminology. He knows I had a limited education, that I never got to learn in a formal environment. But he's never talked down to me or played me for a fool. And while his phrasings need work, he's never said anything to hurt me deliberately. He just doesn't know how to talk to people. He's brusque and rude and totally *honest*. Like when he told me my ass looked big in those red pleather pants. He suggested real leather instead. I'm sure it was not his intention to drive me to anger and near-tears; he probably just thought I might like to know. But I absolutely love it when he's trying to be sweet. He stutters and hesitates and mumbles in that sexy voice of his and sounds just like the teenager in love that he's supposed to be. He doesn't really understand the power words hold but he's getting there. Why, only yesterday he said that if anyone ever had a face and beauty that could be captured right on film, it's me. Needless to say, I melted right into his conveniently placed arms. And while 'ai shiteru' is still a rare utterance, it just makes it all the sweeter when I hear it......

I love the way he relates to me. He treats me like an equal. More then as a pilot, more then as a fellow teenager, more then as a friend and more then as a lover. I am his other half. I am allowed to see what no other can claim to witness: the miracle that is the *real* Heero Yuy. Every smile, every laugh, every tear, every despairing sigh...... only I am so privileged. I am willing to bet my braid that he's never kidded around with anyone like he does with me. And I know that when he calls me baka that it is not an insult, but a loving reminder of what I am to him. I am his idiot, the wise fool who knows but acts as if he doesn't. He gives me the courtesy of not pretending around me. I can see past the mask and bask in the presence of the soul underneath. He doesn't hide from me. He lets me know when he's angry, sad, scared, worried, happy, lustful, depressed, overworked and lonely, among other things. I will never have to worry about what he is thinking or feeling because it's right there in front of me. He and I are one, different parts of the same unit, and united in the fact that we are incomplete without the other.

But most of all, I love the way he kisses me. Which is what is currently making my knees turn into water. You see, Heero just walked into the room, strode right up to me, pushed me against the wall and went for my tonsils. *Damn*, but the boy can kiss. He has one hand under my jaw holding my head up and the other is buried in my hair. He's leaning against me, leg pushing between mine, trying to pull me close to feel me against him. I can only clutch feebly at his shirtsleeves because I'm washed away by sensation and emotion. I'm helpless in his grip and in the face of his love. I'm falling, down to the floor and in the recesses of my mind, and I don't care. Heero's holding me. That's his touch on my skin, his lips on mine, his soul making contact with the fluttering spirit within me. All the desire, hope, concerns, and love comes rushing out of him in this beautiful act of passion. That's all that matters. If this embrace ends a second from now, that's Ok. There will be another. Another and another and another until we die because that's how long he will stay. That's how long he will love me.

I can feel the grip he has on me, not too tight but enough to make sure I can't leave him even if I wanted to. I can feel each finger as it caresses whatever it can reach, soothing and exciting at the same time. I can feel his chest heaving against mine, lungs desperate for air because we've been at this for quite some time. I can feel his arms and legs trembling, but whether it's because he's so emotional or aroused or because they're about to give out, I can't be sure. I can feel his lips moving in a rhythm as old as time against mine, dancing to the sound of our heartbeats.

I can feel EVERYTHING.

I can feel his need.

I can feel his love.

It's beautiful. It's total. It's complete. It's overwhelming.

And I don't think my poor knees can take it anymore.