Author: Chauni

E-mail: ChauniMaxwell@mechpilot.com

Website: http://www.oocities.org/asukalangley2nd/

Warnings: Shonen ai, Heero POV, Sap...oddly enough.

Disclaimer: Guess what?! I STILL don't own Gundam Wing. I know you're all surprised, but it's true. So, I'm going to go cry now.

Notes: Boredom at work is a dangerous thing; it forces me to turn out things that aren't as good as I would like them to be. I'm not a holiday writer, and definitely NOT a sap writer, but I was bored and did this anyway. Hope you like it... I'm going to go hide in my bucket now.



Tangible Faith




I can't explain how truly pathetic I felt as I was caught so utterly and completely off guard, and not even being basked with this knowledge until I felt the frigid drops of warmth that melted in my hair and slid down the back of my shirt.

I didn't have to guess who the culprit was; it just took the slow turning and the hint of a caramel-colored plait in the dead sea of pure white to know what eager smirk and violet eyes had just thrown a snowball at my head.

That should teach me that I'm not even safe at the safehouse; how ironic. I quickly debated my next move, calculated each action and possible reaction, and deciding that yelling would get me nowhere, dropped down and felt the dead touch of unspoiled snow seep into the knees of my jeans and into my hands as I constructed a perfectly round snowball.

Just as I was finishing, I was yet again pelted in the head with more damn snow.

"It's not about perfection, Solider Boy! What's the use o' making it perfect if it's just splattering on your face two seconds later!"

I found his words logical, oddly enough, but then again, I never really thought him stupid; foolish, perhaps, but stupid never. Putting one palm down onto the snow and marring the illusion of smoothness, I pushed up and took off running after him, trying to even out my weight through my body so not to slip on the ice underneath.

He made some odd noise that sounded strangely like "meep" before trying to duck behind this ageless pine tree, seeking some bit of refuge there. Of course, I always warned him that the damn braid would kill him, and as soon as I was close, I clutched it tightly in a frosty right hand. I could feel the strands between my long digits, slightly damp from playing in the snow most of the day, which was evident by the bright scarlet flecked across his nose and china boned cheeks.

He was jerked back, midstep, with one foot swinging almost comically up while a small indignant squeak broke free from his chapped lips like a shotgun burst. One of my hands, bright red from the snow, latched onto his shoulder and whirled him around so cheerfully frightened violet eyes gazed up at me and the warm smoke of his breath baptized my face. My foot snaked out under him, brushing up a glittering shower of pearl-like snow and dropping him onto his back.

He stared up at me, while he sunk down, yelping confused protests and giggles as he writhed against the snow that began to seep into the legs of his customary colorless pants. I watched his breath quicken, eying the symbols that hung like weights in the air, and slowly moved down to my knees, straddling him, hissing quietly as the snow chilled the shafts of my bones.

The eyes were expecting something, but not even they seemed to know truly what. I wanted to smirk, honestly I did, but I knew such a movement would give something of myself away and bit my tongue to hide it all down deep. The "soldier's mask" was comfortable, formfitted to my face after an eternity of training, and I let it ride there, prominent, for now.

"You thought...it was funny to throw snowballs at me, hm?" I growled, watching as soaked and slowly freezing strands of dark hair dipped into my view; it wasn't difficult to ignore them.

There always was a certain childlike quality about him that I could never deny nor hate, for it's truly difficult to despise an innocence that is clung to like a saving angel. "You have to admit, it was!" he laughed. He was fast, faster than I had ever thought, as he grabbed another makeshift handful of cold weather bliss and slid it under my blue shirt, smearing it onto my stomach. If it had been a bit more serious, a bit more life or death, I probably wouldn't have yelped like I did, shattering the metal facade into the translucent glass it always had been.

His laughter rang through my ears, through the yard of the small house he and I were sharing. I tried to glare, managed it a bit in fact, though it fell short of the powerful ones I am known to throw out to those play violin with my nerves.

And staring down, down at those plum eyes that glistened above bright crimson cheeks, shimmering from the way the sun hung pregnant far from our heads and created countless prisms with the snow, I lost myself. I was never one to believe in "The Christmas Spirit", even as I had studied famous holidays in part of my training. It was simple why, too.

I never saw it.

I know it's not a tangible thing, but in a world full of murder and torn apart in a war where life has lost any and all meaning, especially my own, I found nothing poetic enough to give any significance to this time of year. People screaming over the latest toy, the masks of falsified kindness just because of the date, and mega-corporations all pushing and advertising in hopes of roping in a few more pathetic dollars did nothing for my faith for any sort of Holiday happiness.

Christmas was dead.

But I allowed myself to swim in the heated lagoons of his eyes, and I couldn't help or fight against the feel of the corners of my mouth pulling upwards. One gloved hand of his shifted heavenward; water-beaded leather caressing my left cheek which, I realize, lost feeling awhile ago. He was smiling almost drunkenly, and I wonder if I'm far from the truth on that; I know Duo, and I know him enough to realize he's intoxicated on the season.

"Let's go in. I'm dying for some hot chocolate, extra marshmallows, of course!" He squirmed beneath me, innocently for a moment, then with renewed strength and purpose. "Of course, I could go for some other hot things too, ya know."

I responded by reaching over and dusting a nice bunch of snow onto his face, which left him sputtering and glaring, amid peels of laughter, and I slowly rose to my feet, stepping to the side of him. My hand was extended down to him, offering him an easy way up, and I must admit that I rooted myself more firmly to the ground as his slick fingers wrapped around mine, consumed in light fear he'd tried to pull me back down into the snow. I was pleasantly surprised as he behaved for once, and hauled himself up, brushing his hands furiously over his backside in hopes of getting rid of any snow that hadn't soaked into his numb flesh.

The heat that flooded the air around him settled over me like a comforting blanket while I took a step forward, my arms sliding loosely around his neck. My eyes settled onto him, deepest blue like the depths of ocean corners, and I silently entertained the idea of an expanse of pale flesh kissed gently by a rainbow of lights from the decorated tree a foot away.

My personal Christmas present, unwrapped for my convenience and looking more festive than any ridiculous fashion or toy in any store. The meaning of the holiday was never lost on him, not as he held onto toys sadly and whispering how "Solo would have liked this" or carrying the bag of "borrowed" toys down to the Salvation Army to donate for the season, more out of love and memory than out of a need to benefit his own restless soul.

My little demonic angel, my little killer, was as pure as the snow we were surrounded by.

"Tell me more about these other 'hot things'," I purred and I couldn't help the chuckle as he did a noticeable doubletake.

So perhaps Christmas wasn't dead, just burrowed down deep in a violet lagoon, hibernating until the time is embracing us both. Perhaps...perhaps...it's all worth it anyway.




~The End~