DISCLAIMER: The characters of Gundam Wing do not belong to me or anyone in my family. Though I’ve heard that I was related to the infamous out-law named Johnny Ringo, and I even looked through my family tree to see if it’s true. *brightly* Lots of Johnnys, you know, but this has nothing to do with the fic.
WARNING: Extreme silliness, first lemonish lime thing warning... Language, too. Bad language... I hate pink...
STATUS: Songfic
FAMOUS LAST WORDS: *meekly* Don’t kill me...!
WRITTEN FOR: I blame/dedicate this piece to my I’m-smarter-than-you niece, Chelsey. Umm... She, ah, is smarter than me, actually.
Muses: *nodnod*
Yeah, she can do all these amazing things like list all of the Presidents of the U.S. backwards and forwards, and she can quote the Declaration of Independence and Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address. She can count to one hundred (she was only required to count to twenty to get into kindergarten, no da) in English and twenty in Spanish. But enough subtle praising (Lord only knows I wouldn’t entertain her over-inflated ego in front of her), because this has nothing to do with the fic... Besides the fact she spawned it, the little five-year-old nymph...
SONG: That’s... a secret. *smiles mysteriously* Maybe you know it already... Maybe not. But make a guess...

/blah/ denotes Duo singing
{blah} denotes *gasp!* Heero singing
“blah” either character talking
blah the author interrupting

Hell Painted Pink
(NFA: Shiver in fear, poor souls, this’ll be a _bumpy_ ride...)

The night sky twinkled mysteriously down on the Earth, the moon’s light illuminating one estate in particular. Surrounding the mansion was an endless field of grass that was a bit _too_ green, like the stuff people put over a lawn when they finally get tired of trying to make it grow. Trees, tall and looking to be made of cardboard stood splattered amongst the country side. The mansion itself was tall and ominous under the night sky that looked like black construction paper with small holes poked into it, and tiny cut out stars glued in places.

For, you see, the mansion was pink.

Da, da, daaaaah!

A figure stood on the painted-pink balcony overlooking the too-perfect background made of crayon and glue and the occasional skid of construction paper and cardboard. The figure, short and lithe, wore a daring pink dress with pink nylon hose with pink painted nails and pink lipstick smeared lips. Pink eye-liner lined the under-lid of both violet colored eyes (*gasp* Not pink?! Ah, well, can’t be helped..) while pink eye-shadow accented the figures above eyelids. Pink blush splashed delicate cheeks with color. But wait a minute... Where is the bust?


The figure is not a woman. Indeed, the figure could only be a hot bishonen.

“How’d you guess?” the figure questioned with something akin to sarcasm spread across his heart-shaped face. He tugged unconsciously on his pink nylon fish-net stockings. He glared at a random area above his almost-bare right shoulder.

Two reasons. One: Only a bishonen can make a dress look so good without having the proper body parts. Two: The author shamelessly put him there. Aren’t I evil, or aren’t I evil?

“Did you actually have to wax my legs, too?” the figure whined, rubbing the nylon pink covered legs as if reminding himself of the abuse. “And these tights are itchy!”

Gain a backbone, Duo. I haven’t even STARTED yet. Anyway, your legs are gonna hurt like hell when the hair grows back...

“No kidding. What’s this about, anyway? What’s this story called?”

It’s called...

Somewhere in the distance, even amongst the cloudless sky, thunder roiled as if a warning come too late.

Hell Painted Pink. Wahah!

“This makes me feel so much better...” Duo Maxwell sulked, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall of the balcony. “This sucks. I wanna go home to Hee-koi.” Lo and behold, the sound of a car horn emitted from the grounds below the balcony. Surprised the boy with his hair pulled up in a tight high pony-tail bent over the rail to look. And he looked. And looked.

And looked.

On the ground in front of the pink mansion was a pink convertible with a lighter pink interior. But the hunk in the driver’s seat was anything _but_ pink. Instead he was dressed in tight black leather all over, hugging in just the right places. His moss-green hair was wild as he put one arm lazily over the passenger’s side of the car, eyes of the deepest blue honing in on the usually braided boy.

The author frowns. Heero Yuy’s attire was anything but sad. But he wasn’t in costume. Nor was his hair slicked back liked the author had requested.

Damn. Yuy has taken things in his own hands, as usual.

The rebel Ken-supposed-to-be grinning rakishly, and the author forgot all her protests. Instead she fainted for a second at such a sigh.


“Back off, Kel,” Duo warned, staring lecherously at the rebel. “This experience has actually taught me something.”

The author is surprised. What? But the story... It’s not supposed to have a moral... The author quickly glances through the script, not finding one wit of moral.

“It does now,” Duo giggled, waving down at the rebel Ken-supposed-to-be named Heero Yuy. “Every cloud has a silver lining.”

“Konnichiwa, Duo,” he called up, making the >>insert popular doll name here<< cast-in’s legs shake as his joints were suddenly replaced by jelly.

“Hi, Hee-koi,” Duo breathed out, almost drooling as Heero’s grin turned his world upside down and inside out.

“Do you want to go for a ride?” Heero called up, almost choking back a chuckle when Duo jumped to attention with a 100-watt smile.

“Do I _ever_!”

Soon the two bishonen where cruising away from the pink house in the pink car while the pink-clad boy practically _draped_ himself over the black clad rebel. Not that the author minds that he rebelled in the clothing, though she really wanted to see the pilot of 01 clad in pink for once in her life...

“Drop it,” Heero growled out with a menacing glare over his left shoulder.

Okay, okay! Sheesh, such a hard crowd...

Suddenly, as is in the script, Duo breaks into song. But the song is a LITTLE different from the script. The author frowns. What the hell?...

/I’m a Duo Boy, in my Duo world
Life in Gundam, hot-damn!
You can brush my hair, undress me everywhere/

At this point Duo’s eyes and Heero’s stare connect, and Duo grinned suggestively and dragged one pink-colored finger nail over his koi’s muscular chest.

/Imagination. Death is MY creation/

The author frowns once more. This is SO not in the script...

In Duo’s ear, Heero whispers suggestively,

{Come on, Duo, let’s go party}

Duo laughed, his sounds like thousands of small, ringing bells chimed together in one beautiful harmony. He was really getting into this...

/I’m a braided boy, in my fantasy world
Undress me, make it hard, I’m your koibito/

The author drooled. She didn’t mind this new development one bit, that she did not. In fact, the author began to plead silently that the rest of the fic stay just as lecherous. Droo~wl, Droo~wl...

Heero broke into song again, singing softly but gruffly in his nasal voice:

{You’re my koi, rock it all, feel the glamour and pain
Kiss me here..}

He touched his neck at a certain spot, and Duo followed through with a long suck on that particular hot-spot, causing the wild-haired bishonen to moan silently in pleasure.

{...touch me there...}

Duo did just that, not having to be directed this time. Heero threw his head back and gasped, the pink car swerving suddenly to dodge a... pink cow?

{... hanky-panky?}

Sorry, the author apologizes, but this is supposed to be a comedy.

“Screw comedy,” Duo snarled like he never snarled before, digging his pink-painted talons into Heero’s sensitive flesh as he looked over his right shoulder. He went unnoticed to Heero’s sudden jerk of the wheel at the feeling of talons gripping his half-swollen member. The Japanese bishonen was pretty sure his voice went up two octaves due to Duo’s mistake... “If Heero doesn’t pull over soon, I’m gonna cream!”

Delicious thought...

“I’d rather come with Heero inside me, thanks,” Duo growled roughly as he went back to biting his koi’s earlobe.

Aggressive little sprat, ain’t he?

Duo was back into the role, singing...

/You can touch.../

The car went to a sudden halt in the middle of a country dirt road at this invitation.

/... You can play/

Duo straddled the Japanese pilot like no-one’s business and began the most soul-searching needs-a-room-NOW lip-lock that this author has EVER seen. And she loved every bit of it, ladies and gentlefolk, indeed she did.

/You can say I’m always yours/

Heero’s arm around the usually braided pilot’s waist tightened as he groaned out, Duo having grinded harder against his swollen appendage. “Damn straight...” he muttered to himself, starting up another ‘wowza’ kiss.


/I’m a Duo Boy, in my Duo world
Life in Gundam, hot-damn!
You can brush my hair, undress me everywhere/

Duo wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as Heero ripped the aggravating made of the pink cloth one can dare call a dress, ridding them both of the offending material blocking their personal mission. In a sultry whisper, Duo added...

/Imagination. Death is MY creation/

Heero grunted as Duo grinded against his throbbing member, almost forgetting his next line as he fought the pink nylon fish stockings that he seriously dubbed his enemy. The enemy must be eliminated...

{Come on, Duo, let’s go screw}

One of the Shinigami-pilot’s eyebrows went up at Heero’s add-lib line, then a sizzling grin spread across his pink-painted lips.

/Ah, ah, ah, yeah/
{Come on, Duo, let’s go screw}
/Oo~oh, Oo~oh/

Fiery kisses were dispersed all over Duo’s bare chest and neck, his pink ribbon being pulled from his chestnut locks to let the flowing mane of blonde highlighted brown hair shade his lithe form.

Um... the next part?

“Fuck it!” they both grounded out as the two both went for Heero’s black belt buckle, struggling to unclasp the unwanted metal. Duo gave up, letting Heero work at the metal buckle while he ripped the white shirt clearly under his leather jacket. Pausing only to shuck the jacket, Heero soon had the buckle thrown in the backseat and the two resumed passionate bunny-fucking.

Duo moaned.

/Make me walk, make me talk, do whatever you please
I can act like a star, I can beg on my knees/

Heero nodded jerkily. The author would only stop bothering them if they finished her damn song...

{Come jump in, be my koi, let us do it again
Hear the sound, fool around, let’s go party}

Duo breathed out an annoyed sigh between his teeth as he unzipped Heero, still straddled across his lap in the middle of country Nowheresville with only a ripped pair of nylon pink stockings separating the two lover’s from their ultimate goal of lovemaking.

The lube should be in the glove box.

Duo groaned. And the annoyance called the author.

/You can touch
You can play
You can say I’m always yours/

“Mine,” Heero growled out possessively as he finally took his lover. Duo’s head whipped back, a loud moan exiting from his throat like a deep roar of pleasure.

“Yours,” he whispered.

Much later, as the cardboard cut out of the sun made of orange, yellow, and red paint rose by a string in the background, two relaxed and necked youths snuggled into each other, the wild-haired boy stroking the long-haired boy’s back gently while the long-haired boy purred in completion, words were finally spoken.

“That was fun,” Duo said dreamily, a glazed look in his eyes.

“We’re only getting started,” Heero commented with total seriousness in his cobalt blue eyes as he looked down to his beaming koi.

With a squeal of delight, Duo Maxwell pounced on Heero Yuy, ready for another go in the adventures in passion.


OWARI (Thank God...)


Kel: *winces* Be gentle. This is my very first venture in lemoness that turned more lime than anything else. And I didn’t even MEAN for it to be a lemon.

Duo: *shrugs* It could have been worse.

Sephy: It wasn’t bad. But _I_ wouldn’t post it.

Kel: *blows the muse a raspberry* NYAH! I’m gonna post it anyway, just to see what happens! NYAH! *turns back to the Mlers with a nervous smile* Ahem... C&C welcome? But more C than C, please. I don’t take C very well...