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FIC: When Spies meet Howard's Hawaiian, and its Namesake [Gundam Wing, Middie & Howard]
Title: When Spies meet Howard’s Hawaiian, and its Namesake
Author: Omnicat
Unofficially Adapted From: Masashi Ikeda & co’s Gundam Wing including sidestories, in particular Episode Zero
Spoilers & Desirable Foreknowledge: All of the above.
Summary: Middie Une meets Howard. Good times, for a change.
Characters & Pairings: Middie Une, Howard, discussion of Lady Une
Warnings: Liquor, general spy-ness and a few bad words.
Author’s Note: Prologue, whoo.
When Spies meet Howard’s Hawaiian, and its Namesake
It was a dark and stormy night.
Actually, no it wasn’t.
The day was, plainly put, perfect. Sun, sea, just the right breeze and not a single obligation in sight. Middie was a puddle of boneless, graceless contentment in her comfy deck chair, a stack of books collapsed on one side of her and a pitcher of iced lemonade sweating on the other. The crew of the ship was busy as usual all around her, but her little island of self-indulgence lay well out of the way of their ever-hurried feet.
Yep. Perfection.
“Hey there. You still enjoying yourself?”
Even the old man’s constant conversational pit stops did nothing to ruin Middie’s bliss. What more proof could there be of the wholesome effect of vacations?
“Having the time of my life,” Middie answered, taking off her cheap, spiral-tipped sunglasses to smile up at him.
“I gotta say, you’re a strange one.”
“Again?”
“We don’t get a lot of tourists here, what with this being a salvage barge instead of a cruise ship.”
“Yes, I gathered that.”
Howard squinted at her over the top of his own pointy sunglasses. “Getting bored of your gracious host, are ya?”
“Absolutely not,” Middie said earnestly. She folded her legs beneath her and patted the end of her deck chair. “Have a seat. Want something to drink?”
“Nah, I’m good.” He plopped down on the proffered spot and produced a metal flask from who knows where. “Taste this.”
Middie raised a suspicious eyebrow, a lifetime of offering people drugged drinks looking over her shoulder.
“You’re a legal adult, aren’t ya? Go on, take a sip.”
Oh, what the hell. She accepted and took a swig. “Wow, this is amazing! What is it?”
“My own recipe. Here, I’ve got a copy to spare.”
“‘Suggested market name, ‘Howard’s Hawaiian’.’” she read. “Who’s going to market it?”
“Not you, evidently.” He sighed. “Oh well, it’s always worth a try.”
“Whuh?”
“Nothing, nothing. Just that you never know when your impromptu drinking buddy’s in the distillery business, you know. Say, I’ve been meaning to ask, what business are you in?”
“None. Else I wouldn’t have to improvise the world cruise I’ve always dreamed of on a salvaging ship, now would I?” Middie quipped.
“Who knows. I’ve had guests on this ship with stranger motivations. You remind me of a certain one of them, you know. You wouldn’t happen to be related to Lady Une of the Preventors?”
Oh. This question again. That explained it.
“I am, but we’ve never been close,” she answered, as she had countless times in the past. Freedom truly was the stuff of miracles. Even this wasn’t setting off her usually all-too-short, antisocial temper. “Can I have a little more of this?”
“Go ahead and finish the bottle, I’ve got plenty more where that came from. ”
So she did. “Une really isn’t that rare a name, you know,” she said, by force of habit more than anything else.
“Sure, but the family resemblance is.”
“What, you’ve met Lady?”
“Sure have.” Suddenly there was a second flask in his hand, which he saluted her with and then cheerfully upturned.
“And it was a good meeting?” She didn’t mean to make it sound incredulous. It was a deeply ingrained instinct.
Howard laughed a hoarse, grandfatherly laugh. “No need to look at me like I’m about to bite your head off. She was a perfect guest, much like yourself. She thanked me for the hospitality and asked if I had a family waiting for me somewhere. I said not anymore and more of that depressing stuff, we talked about some of the kids we knew, and she mentioned she had a younger cousin in a similar situation she hoped would be happy again now that the war was over.”
“And you assumed I was that cousin just because of my name,” Middie said wryly. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the fact that Lady would apparently start talking about her out of the blue. Or that she knew about her past circumstances. She knew Lady had had a fairly influential position in the military back during the war, but because of that same war, their families hadn’t kept in touch after the death of Middie’s mother. Or so she had always thought.
“What? Of course not. I’m not senile just yet, I wouldn’t just randomly approach people like that.” Middie begged to differ, but she genuinely enjoyed Howard’s company, so she kept her mouth. “Like I said, I’ve seen eyes like yours before.”
“Wha - when did you say that?”
“Just now. Did you spike the lemonade, young lady?”
Middie stared at Howard in bewilderment. Howard’s raised eyebrow danced and his moustache quivered ever so slightly. Middie narrowed her eyes at him.
“Anyway,” Howard continued, far too jovially to be innocent, and slapped her on the knee. “Since we’re obviously never going to agree on how much of the reason that you’re on my ship is my business, tell me something: why are you broke and homeless when your dear cousin is leading such a very successful organisation where your skills would earn you such a very good salary?”
For a moment, Middie debated with herself about the pros and cons of continuing the small talk on the one hand and grabbing a life vest and literally jumping ship on the other. It was obvious that Howard was messing with her head on purpose. Either he was the crafty and bored yet benevolent old man who missed having a family that he pretended to be, or he was trying to lure her into some kind of trap, having, for reasons unknown, thus far forgone doing things the easy, logical, sane-even-for-a-crazed-revenge-killer way by throwing her overboard with a piece of scrap metal around her neck.
Eventually she rubbed the bridge of her nose, took another drink from Howard’s flask, and answered. Her childhood occupation had made her far too paranoid. “I’m not homeless, I’m voluntarily nomadic at the moment. I can go back home, I just don’t want to.”
“If you’re not going back, where are you headed?”
“Nowhere. Not in particular. You know that saying about throwing baby birds out of the nest to teach them to fly? That’s what I’m doing. To myself.”
“And your way of learning to fly is floating around the seven seas pretending my ship is a cruise?”
“Yep. I mean, I’ll run out of money soon enough and then I’ll get to finding a job and renting a place and all that. But in the mean time, I’m just going to enjoy the breeze. I daresay I’ve earned it.”
“Aaaah. Well, can’t argue with you there.”
Humming an affirmative, Middie held up her flask to him, and they clinked.
They lapsed into a companionable silence, broken only by Howard muttering something about little paper umbrellas. Middie smiled, leaned back against her deck chair and closed her eyes. Freedom tasted sweet. Like illegally brewed liquor that may or may not leave her brain dead by nightfall.
She was happy. And maybe one day she’d let her not-as-astranged-as-she’d-thought cousin know.
PSAN: Hope you liked it. ^_^
Spies Of Our Lives
When Spies meet Howard’s Hawaiian, and Its Namesake
When Spies have Job Interviews
When Spies meet their Karmic Twins
When Spies have Boring Assignments
When Spies meet Wise Old Masters
When Spies have Interesting Assignments
When Spies meet No-One. In Fact, This Never Happened
When Spies have Days Off
When Spies meet the No-Nonsense, Unimpressed Truth
When Spies have Family Outings
When Spies meet Relatives for Rent
When Spies have Utterly Bizarre Assignments
When Spies meet the Undead Doctor
When Spies have No Good, Very Bad Days
When Spies meet the Ghost of Love Disasters Past
When Spies have Reconciliation, Finally!
When Spies meet Their Ever After
Middie Une shows up out of nowhere and enlists with the Preventers. Paranoia ensues. Or it would, if Trowa had any say in it.
Author: Omnicat
Unofficially Adapted From: Masashi Ikeda & co’s Gundam Wing including sidestories, in particular Episode Zero
Spoilers & Desirable Foreknowledge: All of the above.
Summary: Middie Une meets Howard. Good times, for a change.
Characters & Pairings: Middie Une, Howard, discussion of Lady Une
Warnings: Liquor, general spy-ness and a few bad words.
Author’s Note: Prologue, whoo.
When Spies meet Howard’s Hawaiian, and its Namesake
It was a dark and stormy night.
Actually, no it wasn’t.
The day was, plainly put, perfect. Sun, sea, just the right breeze and not a single obligation in sight. Middie was a puddle of boneless, graceless contentment in her comfy deck chair, a stack of books collapsed on one side of her and a pitcher of iced lemonade sweating on the other. The crew of the ship was busy as usual all around her, but her little island of self-indulgence lay well out of the way of their ever-hurried feet.
Yep. Perfection.
“Hey there. You still enjoying yourself?”
Even the old man’s constant conversational pit stops did nothing to ruin Middie’s bliss. What more proof could there be of the wholesome effect of vacations?
“Having the time of my life,” Middie answered, taking off her cheap, spiral-tipped sunglasses to smile up at him.
“I gotta say, you’re a strange one.”
“Again?”
“We don’t get a lot of tourists here, what with this being a salvage barge instead of a cruise ship.”
“Yes, I gathered that.”
Howard squinted at her over the top of his own pointy sunglasses. “Getting bored of your gracious host, are ya?”
“Absolutely not,” Middie said earnestly. She folded her legs beneath her and patted the end of her deck chair. “Have a seat. Want something to drink?”
“Nah, I’m good.” He plopped down on the proffered spot and produced a metal flask from who knows where. “Taste this.”
Middie raised a suspicious eyebrow, a lifetime of offering people drugged drinks looking over her shoulder.
“You’re a legal adult, aren’t ya? Go on, take a sip.”
Oh, what the hell. She accepted and took a swig. “Wow, this is amazing! What is it?”
“My own recipe. Here, I’ve got a copy to spare.”
“‘Suggested market name, ‘Howard’s Hawaiian’.’” she read. “Who’s going to market it?”
“Not you, evidently.” He sighed. “Oh well, it’s always worth a try.”
“Whuh?”
“Nothing, nothing. Just that you never know when your impromptu drinking buddy’s in the distillery business, you know. Say, I’ve been meaning to ask, what business are you in?”
“None. Else I wouldn’t have to improvise the world cruise I’ve always dreamed of on a salvaging ship, now would I?” Middie quipped.
“Who knows. I’ve had guests on this ship with stranger motivations. You remind me of a certain one of them, you know. You wouldn’t happen to be related to Lady Une of the Preventors?”
Oh. This question again. That explained it.
“I am, but we’ve never been close,” she answered, as she had countless times in the past. Freedom truly was the stuff of miracles. Even this wasn’t setting off her usually all-too-short, antisocial temper. “Can I have a little more of this?”
“Go ahead and finish the bottle, I’ve got plenty more where that came from. ”
So she did. “Une really isn’t that rare a name, you know,” she said, by force of habit more than anything else.
“Sure, but the family resemblance is.”
“What, you’ve met Lady?”
“Sure have.” Suddenly there was a second flask in his hand, which he saluted her with and then cheerfully upturned.
“And it was a good meeting?” She didn’t mean to make it sound incredulous. It was a deeply ingrained instinct.
Howard laughed a hoarse, grandfatherly laugh. “No need to look at me like I’m about to bite your head off. She was a perfect guest, much like yourself. She thanked me for the hospitality and asked if I had a family waiting for me somewhere. I said not anymore and more of that depressing stuff, we talked about some of the kids we knew, and she mentioned she had a younger cousin in a similar situation she hoped would be happy again now that the war was over.”
“And you assumed I was that cousin just because of my name,” Middie said wryly. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the fact that Lady would apparently start talking about her out of the blue. Or that she knew about her past circumstances. She knew Lady had had a fairly influential position in the military back during the war, but because of that same war, their families hadn’t kept in touch after the death of Middie’s mother. Or so she had always thought.
“What? Of course not. I’m not senile just yet, I wouldn’t just randomly approach people like that.” Middie begged to differ, but she genuinely enjoyed Howard’s company, so she kept her mouth. “Like I said, I’ve seen eyes like yours before.”
“Wha - when did you say that?”
“Just now. Did you spike the lemonade, young lady?”
Middie stared at Howard in bewilderment. Howard’s raised eyebrow danced and his moustache quivered ever so slightly. Middie narrowed her eyes at him.
“Anyway,” Howard continued, far too jovially to be innocent, and slapped her on the knee. “Since we’re obviously never going to agree on how much of the reason that you’re on my ship is my business, tell me something: why are you broke and homeless when your dear cousin is leading such a very successful organisation where your skills would earn you such a very good salary?”
For a moment, Middie debated with herself about the pros and cons of continuing the small talk on the one hand and grabbing a life vest and literally jumping ship on the other. It was obvious that Howard was messing with her head on purpose. Either he was the crafty and bored yet benevolent old man who missed having a family that he pretended to be, or he was trying to lure her into some kind of trap, having, for reasons unknown, thus far forgone doing things the easy, logical, sane-even-for-a-crazed-revenge-killer way by throwing her overboard with a piece of scrap metal around her neck.
Eventually she rubbed the bridge of her nose, took another drink from Howard’s flask, and answered. Her childhood occupation had made her far too paranoid. “I’m not homeless, I’m voluntarily nomadic at the moment. I can go back home, I just don’t want to.”
“If you’re not going back, where are you headed?”
“Nowhere. Not in particular. You know that saying about throwing baby birds out of the nest to teach them to fly? That’s what I’m doing. To myself.”
“And your way of learning to fly is floating around the seven seas pretending my ship is a cruise?”
“Yep. I mean, I’ll run out of money soon enough and then I’ll get to finding a job and renting a place and all that. But in the mean time, I’m just going to enjoy the breeze. I daresay I’ve earned it.”
“Aaaah. Well, can’t argue with you there.”
Humming an affirmative, Middie held up her flask to him, and they clinked.
They lapsed into a companionable silence, broken only by Howard muttering something about little paper umbrellas. Middie smiled, leaned back against her deck chair and closed her eyes. Freedom tasted sweet. Like illegally brewed liquor that may or may not leave her brain dead by nightfall.
She was happy. And maybe one day she’d let her not-as-astranged-as-she’d-thought cousin know.
PSAN: Hope you liked it. ^_^
Spies Of Our Lives
When Spies meet Howard’s Hawaiian, and Its Namesake
When Spies have Job Interviews
When Spies meet their Karmic Twins
When Spies have Boring Assignments
When Spies meet Wise Old Masters
When Spies have Interesting Assignments
When Spies meet No-One. In Fact, This Never Happened
When Spies have Days Off
When Spies meet the No-Nonsense, Unimpressed Truth
When Spies have Family Outings
When Spies meet Relatives for Rent
When Spies have Utterly Bizarre Assignments
When Spies meet the Undead Doctor
When Spies have No Good, Very Bad Days
When Spies meet the Ghost of Love Disasters Past
When Spies have Reconciliation, Finally!
When Spies meet Their Ever After
Middie Une shows up out of nowhere and enlists with the Preventers. Paranoia ensues. Or it would, if Trowa had any say in it.