Just to show I'm still alive and writing, here's a little teaser (which
might make people wish I had stopped writing)

Mindless Tripe Productions Presents:
Yardwork
(featuring Heero Yui)

As with all Mindless Tripe Productions, this fic will make a very real
attempt to deal with serious current day issues in an earnest manner. Gundam
Wing provides the perfect venue to discuss in an intelligent manner such
controversial topics as sexism, racism, free choice, religious demagoguery,
and the course modern day world governments should take in influencing the
world. Think of this as a forum, nay, a piece of history in the making as
ideas at creating a better tomorrow are put forth for deep reflection for
the reading public, making them question the very values their entire lives
have been based on.


God, you're gullible if you actually believed that.

MTP puts out crap like 'The Top 10 Rejected Gung Ho Guns', and 'Those Who
Hunt Ninjas'. This particular fic is actually going to deal with married
life in the 'burbs, focusing on the 'perfect soldier' from Wing Gundam,
Heero Yui. The most serious thing discussed will be gardening, which, though
ordinarily not the sort of thing you would associate with Wing Gundam or
Heero, seemed the perfect topic for Mindless Tripe Productions to deal with.
God willing, after reading this, you'll never look at doing chores the same
way again.

This is going to be my first attempt at Wing Gundam. I'd ask you to be
gentle, but let's face facts, after all I've done, I know better and deserve
worse.

Standard Disclaimer: MTP is proud to declare this a YFZ (Yaoi Free Zone).
Sorry fangirls, but Heero's straight here. Of course the others, Duo, Wu
Fei, Quatro (or was that Cinco?) and Trowel... Trowy... Chewy...
whatshisname with the pointy hair, are as light on their feet as
participants in a Dorothy Parade held in San Francisco. But they don't
appear here, so by definition it's yaoi free.

Oh, yeah, by the way, I don't own the characters herein. They are owned by
someone else.

All C+C appreciated. You can contact me at sommer@3rdm.net

At Larry F's at:
http://lwf58.tripod.com/fan_fiction/d_b_sommer/index.html

Or R+C books at:
http://dbsommer.rcbooks.org

And also Angcobra is now storing all of my fics, at
http://s5.sexshare.com/~angcobra/dbsommer.html

And on with the show...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A piercing cry shattered the peaceful morning air, the tranquil moment of
perfect serenity shredded irreparably by a vile cacophony composed of howls
of anguish that rivaled any suffering in the long ended war. It tore at the
very basis of the soul and threatened to extinguish hope in the clarion call
of primal anguish. Or at least that's the way it was perceived to the
subject the sudden burst of noise had assaulted.

The raucous din straight from the pits of Hell ended abruptly as the hand of
Relena Peacecraft slammed into the top of her alarm.

"Vile cacophony composed of howls of anguish?" she mumbled through a cottony
mouth as she roused herself from the lingering traces of sleep. Gods above,
that was terribly melodramatic. And all of that build up for turning off a
lousy alarm? Frankly, it sounded to her like a standard misdirection ploy
that talentless hacks, who pompously considered themselves genuine authors,
would use.

Though correct, the fact remained it was still a fourth wall breakthrough.
Since the story was not to be in that vein, however, Relena decided to
abandon that sort of critiquing for the rest of the fic. It would be for the
best.

Groggily, she yawned, stretching out and raising her arms to the ceiling of
her home, located in the peaceful suburbs of Neo New York, the recently
christened capital of the world. She smacked her lips, trying to get the
awful flavor of whatever the horrible tasting substance was that accumulated
in people's mouths while they slept. It was odd, how merely by leaving one's
mouth shut and consuming nothing while the slept led to an awful taste
mysteriously forming within it. Where did it come from? She would have to
ask her spouse his opinion on it.

Relena turned her gaze at the person in bed next to her. Her husband of ten
years, Heero Yui, was already sitting up, wide awake and awaiting his wife
to fully return to the land of cognizance. He held a flat stare as he looked
upon her. It was a look she had seen many times before, that stare of
expectation. Or maybe it was one of lust. Or boredom. Sometimes it was hard
to tell when it came to Heero. He still hadn't learned the art of 'emoting.'

"Heero, did you wake up with a funny taste in your mouth?"

"Yes."

She continued blinking the sleep from her eyes. "Why do you think that is?"

"I would assume it's because right before we went to sleep, you had me eat
out your-"

"Oh, right. I guess that's why you would have a funny taste in your mouth."
Relena sighed. Just looking at her husband  sitting up in bed reminded her
she was in love just as much now as the day when he first spoke to her at
their school so many years long past. She remembered them like it was
yesterday, those words that won her heart.

"I will kill you"

It still sent shivers of bliss down her spine.

Most people probably would have been afraid for their continued existance,
but there was something in the way he had said he was going to end her life
that had touched her heart and bound her to him forever. It had taken a long
war, near death experiences in just about every episode, and the years of
reconstruction afterward to finally complete the ties to each other. It had
been an unconventional romance, it was true, but they were unconventional
people, so it was appropriate. She recalled the time they finally admitted
their love to one another, the day their lives had intertwined and finally
became complete when she told him...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Damn it, Heero, I'm tired of all this dancing around one another, putting
things off again and again! It's time to stop skirting the issue and admit
our feelings for one another! Heero Yui, I love you. You love me too, don't
you?"

"I don't see any reason to kill you anymore. Does that count?"

"Yes. That is close enough when it comes to you. So, now that that's
decided, let's get married."

"Why?"

"So that we can live together as husband and wife, and raise a family."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Do you have anything better to do?"

"No. Not really."

"Then it's settled. I order you to propose, then marry me."

"Okay."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was fortunate she had figured out Heero tended to respond to orders very
well. Part of his upbringing, she supposed. But he was happy. She could
tell, even if others couldn't; she knew him that well. It also made their
sex life fantastic, since he would perform on command. She was the luckiest
woman alive.

She met her husband's expectant...lustful... whatever, gaze with one of
envy. "I can't believe how quickly you wake up."

"I've trained myself so that my internal body clock is accurate to within
two point one seconds of standard time. Every morning I awaken ten seconds
before the alarm goes off. I am always able to achieve one hundred percent
combat readiness in less than a second."

"Oh."

She gave him a peck on the cheek and got out of bed. He continued to stare
as she discarded her nightgown and went to the bathroom to prepare herself
to face the trails of the day ahead. Once properly cleaned and refreshed,
she donned one of the elaborate Napoleonic uniforms she wore to work as an
ambassador at the United World Government's headquarters. The jacket was
hand-woven from the purest silk. It was a shade of azure that matched the
color of the deep blue sea. Silver buttons and gold trim lined the outfit,
meshing perfectly with the white pantaloons that billowed slightly around
her legs. Black leather boots completed the uniform that was the current
style the government was using. The ensemble cost a small fortune, like the
rest of the outfits in her entire wardrobe. She was one of the people that
used the government's clothing allowance she received from her job to the
fullest.

Heero stood next to her, dressed in a white sleeveless T-shirt, plain brown
shorts, and gray tennis shoes. He was one of the people that didn't use the
government's clothing allowance to the fullest.

Relena admired the way her husband still filled out his attire. Unlike some
of his contemporaries, (such as Wu 'Blubberguts" Fei, who had discovered the
joys of red meat and beer and ballooned to a whopping four hundred pounds)
Heero had stayed in the same shape he had maintained during the war;
somewhat lean, but all wiry muscle. And he was as flexible as an accordion
too. It made for some very interesting bedroom gymnastics, though the first
time she had used that term, Heero misinterpreted it and performed an
elaborate floor exercise for her benefit. He tended to take things a bit
literally. Not that that had stopped her from jumping his bones the moment
he was finished. And she had ordered him to buy more white tights. Those
were a definite keeper, with that sweet ass of his.

Relena shook her head free of such thoughts; there was no time for a morning
quickie. She gathered her briefcase and went to her desk. It only took a
moment to grab a sheaf of papers she had finished writing the night before.
She placed all but one of the appropriate documents within the case. The
remaining paper she handed to Heero. "Here's a list of chores I want you to
do."

He looked at it, momentarily confused.

Relena released a sigh. "I mean it's your mission profile for today."

"Oh." The look of confusion passed and the flat stare returned.

Her husband was full of his little eccentricities. She had learned to deal
with them, though sometimes they were a bit on the trying side.

Heero read the document. "I notice sex isn't on the list, like it usually
is."

Relena rolled her eyes. "Some of us like to pretend it's spontaneous every
now and then. For instance, if you were ever struck with the urge to, say,
rip off my clothes, tie me up, and treat me like your personal bitch, you
could go ahead and do it. I wouldn't mind in the least." She gave him a
hopeful smile.

Heero continued giving her his flat stare.

"I suppose it is a bit much to ask," Relena sighed. "I'll add it to the list
later if I'm in the mood. Oh, I also want you to spend some quality time
with Selena."

"I do spend quality time with the girl," Heero responded.

"Daughter, Heero. Refer to her as your daughter." Relena gave yet another
exasperated sigh. "And when I say quality time, I don't mean teaching her
unarmed combat techniques, demolition disposal, or how to field strip pulse
laser rifles."

"We haven't gotten to pulse laser rifles yet. We're still working on
ballistic firearms."

"You know what I mean!" After a moment, Relena added, "Actually, you
probably don't. Look, all I'm asking is for you to do things with her that
involve a normal childhood."

Heero's flat stare changed to a quizzical one. "That is how I spent my
childhood. I learned all of those things, and you can see how I turned out;
normal."

"I am so not going there," Relena said dryly. "All right, don't worry about
the quality time. Just take care of the list." She gave him another peck on
the cheek. "I might get home early today. I think I'm wearing down that
moronic appropriations panel. God, I hate that English ambassador. He's
always going out of his way to make problems for me. Sometimes I just want
to kill him."

"Do you want me to add that to the mission profile?" Heero asked.

Relena found herself seriously considering it. "No. It goes against my
intrinsic pacifistic nature, unfortunately."

"Then you just want me to wound him?"

"Tempting, but I'm afraid I'm still going to pass. I'll just have to satisfy
myself by outmaneuvering him on the battlefield of politics and convincing
him to see things my way."

"Try kneeing him in the groin. I've found that tends to get people to see
things my way."

"Now that's something to consider. Take care." She kissed Heero again, and
headed out the bedroom door.

"I'll escort you to the hovercar, just in case," Heero said, hovering
protectively near his wife, eyes scanning the stairs in case of ambush.

His actions made Relena's heart flutter. Not that she believed for one
second anyone was going to try to assassinate her, she was nowhere near as
important a political figure now as she had been at war's end, but that he
was so protective reminded her of how much they loved each other.

Once the pair made it to their hovercar --and Heero searched the vehicle to
make sure no one had attached any bombs to it-- she bid him goodbye and
drove off for work.

Heero watched until her car was out of sight. Once convinced she had made it
out of their development safely, he turned his attention to his mission
profile. It contained the standard day's parameters he had grown used to.
Wake and feed the child, clean the house, do the windows, clean the clothes,
and the other usual things. There was only one curious item that caught his
eye:

Do yardwork.

That would require a significant amount of time. He mentally calculated the
most efficient way to complete the tasks set before him. It would probably
be best to do the yardwork early, after breakfast. He reentered the house,
intent on waking the gir... his daughter. It had become something of a
morning ritual for them, and he felt it qualified as the sort of
father-daughter bonding Relena seemed insistent he do with the child. He
grabbed a metal bucket, filled it with water, and headed towards her
bedroom.

Once outside the door to her room, he paused to examined it. It was just
like all the bedroom doors to the house, oak with a fine fuchsia coating of
paint to it. He liked fuchsia. If had had his way, his old Gundam Zero would
have been painted in that color. But his mentor had expressly forbidden it,
stating he would sooner personally turn the Zero over to Trieze himself if
Heero even contemplated throwing on that 'garish' style of paint. Heero
obeyed orders, as he was trained to, but it was one of the few times he had
known the faintest pang of regret. Once Relena found out it was his favorite
color, she had allowed him to paint the majority of the interior house in
fuchsia. It brought that flat stare to his face, the happy one, when he
admired his handiwork.

On the door there was a wooden plaque of Sandrock, which bore the name
'Selena,' hanging on the center of it. The plaque was a sweet little thing,
or so Relena asserted. Heero thought it unwise to give any potential enemies
that made it into the house all but a map to where the girl lay, but Relena
insisted it remain. He supposed it was all right. Besides, anyone that
managed to make it that far would probably have already done sufficient
research to know where the child's bedroom was anyhow. Any one of the
neighbors that had visited and seen the interior of their home could be
abducted and tortured into revealing the layout of the ground and upper
levels of the house. Only the basement remained off limits to any but
immediate family, a stipulation which Relena had accepted from him.

Returning his full attention to one of his mission objectives, he looked at
the door. He gave what passed for an affectionate glance from him; a flat
stare, at his daughter's bedroom door and promptly kicked it in.

As the door's lock shattered into several of its component parts and wood
from the frame went flying through the air, Heero drew back and then forward
with the pail. His timing and aim were flawless as the watery contents
cleared the aperture the instant there was enough room and headed directly
for the bed.

However, the girl that was supposed to be lying there was no longer in it.
The instant the Heero's foot made contact with the door, a pair of brown
eyes flew open. In one fluid motion Selena's hand, which had been under the
pillow, gripped the handle of the object that lay underneath as she rolled
to the right, kicking the covers high in the air and obscuring her form as
she flew free of her mattress. The water was still in mid-air as Selena
landed on her feet, crouched behind the side of the bed away from the door
for cover. The liquid had just hit the mattress as she cooly gripped the
handle of the gun that had been under her pillow and brought it up to eye
level. Automatically, she maneuvered the rear and front sights into
alignment, perfectly centered on their target: Heero's head.

"Die!" Selena shouted as she snapped off two quick shots in less than a half
second: the maximum rate of fire possible for the firearm. Both projectiles
made a direct line for their target, bringing a smile to the shooter's face.

Faster than the eye could follow, Heero raised the bucket up in front of his
head. Both projectiles slammed into the side of the pail, the metal ringing
as each detonated on contact, their impact sending the projectiles' payload
across the surface of the bucket instead of the flesh of Heero's face.

He lowered the bucket, now covered with pink dye from the paintballs, and
stared at his daughter. In an even voice he said, "Excellent reflexes,
except for shouting out 'Die!'. You're distracting yourself and potentially
aiding a possible second attacker into keying into your position. Remain
silent next time."

"Goddammit, Daddy! Why can't you wake me up like a normal father?!"

"Good morning to you too." Heero turned to exit the room, mentally deciding
what to prepare for breakfast as he grabbed the edge of the door and swung
it between him and his daughter. The move just preceded the sound of four
more paintballs impacting it at eye level.

Selena's marksmanship was improving. That knowledge doubled the happy, flat
stare on his features.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx














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