Happy Heero and Duo fan

merith — Sat, 10 Apr 2010 23:42:53 GMT

The internet can be a powerful tool. Information can be sent out to friends and friends of friends, making any company or corporation or situation known to a great number of people. I'm invoking this tool and raising a voice.

My friend Rachel was seriously injured by a co-worker in 2004. This injury has permanently disabled her, making it impossible for her to work, sit, stand or walk for more than a few minutes at a time. This happened just over 5 years ago, when Rachel was 24. She's a fun, wonderful woman, a fantastic friend. Some of you might know her or at least have seen her, since she is part of the crew organizing Yaoi Con. Monday, Rachel experienced intolerable service from the moment she walked into the airport terminal, until she left the Untied customer service counter. Here is Rachel's story.

Pass the word. Let people know what United Airline thinks of those who spend money to receive terrible service, and how we as consumers will not stand for this type of behavior.

merith — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 13:23:44 GMT

Pass the news - find the closest party to you, or create one in your livingroom:

Visualize

merith — Fri, 05 Feb 2010 15:46:11 GMT

okay, so someone help me out with this...

for about a year now, i've been reading m/m original stories on ebook quite a bit. it seems to me that a lot of writers have some very interesting ideas about body height and weight. it is not uncommon for one man (or more) in the story to be considered 'small' at 5'8" or even 5'10"... ??? if the average height of the american male is 5'9", how does that make the man small? he might be shorter than his counterpart (which for some reason HAS TO BE 6'5" or so), but that does not make the man small.

by this same token, i've read a lot where a man at 5'10" is 'skinny' weighing 180 pounds. even if the guy had a large frame, that's still average weight.

size and weight isn't the make or break a story, but i'm telling you, it would sure help if some authors would do a little research when they make blanket statements.

in my relationship experience, i've dated men who were as short as 5'4" (and 112 pounds, way underweight), to 6'6" and 300 pounds. there were several in various sizes in between. average size being 5'8" and average weight.

*goes crawling back under the rock*

fic: Boys to Soldiers to Men - He Ain't Heavy - Quatre, Duo

merith — Fri, 06 Mar 2009 03:25:08 GMT

Title: He Ain't Heavy, Pairings: Duo, Quatre (friendship), Warnings: AU, mild language
Notes: This was a WIP languishing on the harddrive for a bit, but since it fit the this week's theme so well, i thought i'd finish it up. it is part of the From Boys to Soldiers to Men arc. find previous parts here in my memories, or on my fiction page on Jana's site. **this story belongs in the "from boys" section.**

When the police came, Quatre wouldn’t tell them where Duo was. His father was furious, in that cold way of his; Quatre wanted to believe his anger was at the situation and not at him. Duo hiding inside his closet didn’t help.

The moment the officers hauled Duo out, carrying him from Quatre’s house kicking and yelling, Quatre was out the back door. His father had said to leave it to Duo’s guardian, to let the ‘state’ handle their problem. But Quatre had met Duo’s foster parents and knew nothing good waited for him. His friend was in trouble.

Howard’s place wasn’t that far, but took forever to get to and Quatre was out of breath when he arrived. He couldn’t stop the tears; Howard didn’t say a word about them. Instead, he offered Quatre a bottled pop and a napkin.

“It’s Duo!” Quatre finally burst out. “They took him!”

“Who?” Howard jumped to his feet, peering intently at Quatre.

“The police,” Quatre said a little more calmly. “He ran away, again. And this time, they said they weren’t taking him back and Duo’s going to juvie, I know!”

“Whoa, slow down there, boy,” Howard said, resuming his seat but pulling the chair closer. “Duo’s been nabbed by the cops?” Quatre nodded. “Been taking things that don’t belong to him, again?” Quatre bit his lip and looked away from Howard’s face. “Never mind, I should know the answer myself.”

Quatre’s relief was apparent and Howard laughed a light chuckle. “Can we get him? I don’t want Duo to go to jail!”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Howard stood again, pulling on sunglasses and picking up keys. Quatre followed him out to the side lot where Howard’s ancient Ford sat and climbed in on the passenger side. His heart was still beating thick and heavy and his nose didn’t want to stop running. But Howard was there and Howard liked Duo. Told Duo to come hang out whenever he wanted. And Howard wouldn’t say something like that unless he meant it.

Looking at the old man from the corner of his eyes, Quatre hoped that were true. Duo’s foster mother threatened him with juvie the last time Duo ran away. She mentioned the state home, said that was where delinquents belonged. Duo had only turned away from her, grabbed Quatre’s hand and took them both from the house. He had scowled for the rest of the day and refused to talk.

The police station looked foreboding and Quatre hung back while Howard marched without care up the concrete steps. Howard was leaning against the big desk on his elbow talking to a laughing uniformed officer when Quatre finally made it through the great double doors. Standing uncertain a few feet from the doors, Quatre looked around trying to find Duo. Though his friend wasn’t in sight, Quatre was rather surprised; it wasn’t what he imagined.

He knew it wouldn’t be like the dungeon prisons of his favorite movie, The Three Musketeers, but rather thought jail would look more like Duo’s obsession, cowboy westerns. Besides the big desk in the middle of the room, the one Howard was at, there were several smaller – normal – desks off to each side, separated by half walls and glass. On his left, a pretty woman sat against the far wall in front of a bank of radio exchanges and Quatre watched in curious excitement as she connected with a radio car, spoke into a mouthpiece and disconnected again. Telephones were ringing and everyone seemed busy, but not too terribly concerned.

“Come on now,” Howard called to him and Quatre turned to see him disappearing through a doorway beyond the big desk. He chased after, staying close behind Howard.

Duo was in a small room with a single table and a couple of chairs. He sat slumped, but glowering and Quatre wondered what the police had done to him.

“Stay here,” the officer with Howard told Quatre. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.” Both the officer and Howard left the room, closing the door.

“Duo!” Quatre was already rushing to his friend.

With a quick glance to the door, Duo stood and tried for a cocky grin. “Hey Quat. What’re you doing here? Was that Howard?”

“To get you!” Quatre exclaimed, but gasped catching sight of Duo’s split lip. “What happened? Are you alright?” He reached a hand out, but withdrew it when Duo jerked his head away.

“Ah, it’s okay.” But Duo’s tongue licked at the blood welling up.

“Did they do that to you?”

“Nah,” Duo said shaking his head. “Hit myself when they was trying to drag me outta your room.”

“Oh Duo,” Quatre sighed, brows still furrowed in worry. He dug his handkerchief out from his pants pocket and handed it to his friend. “Did the police say why they came to pick you up? Was it Missus Wilson?”

“Keh,” Duo sneered, pulling the handkerchief from his lip for the moment. “That woman’s a cow, good for nothing but chewing on her own fat and squeezing out her litter.”

Quatre glanced back at the door, hoping no one had heard Duo. “Then how—?”

“Wasn’t ‘bout the thing,” Duo interrupted, shaking his head again. “The cops needed to ask me a couple things.” He was touching the white linen to his cut, pulling it away to check for blood and putting it back in place.

‘The thing’, Quatre knew, was damage done to the school, to a particular classroom. Quatre didn’t have a clue what other trouble Duo might be in. “What they ask you about?”

Duo shrugged. “They wanted to know about Gene, some of the places we’d been to, ‘n stuff like that.”

His brow scrunched up and Quatre asked, “Why? He died, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, I saw him.” Duo dropped back in his seat and dabbed the not-so-white handkerchief to his lip again.

Quatre sat in the other chair, not wanting to say more about Duo’s old mentor. The old man used to let Duo hang around his work shop, had shown the young boy the properties of chemical compounds and offered him respite from his foster homes. It had been an explosion in the old man’s basement that finally killed him. The house was destroyed and the only identifiable remains were a handful of scorched bones and a pair of melted eye glasses.

It was into this silence the door opened and Howard stepped inside. He stared at Duo for several seconds, then held the door open with his backside to it. “Well, come on James Dean. Not going to wait for you all night.”

“He can leave?” Quatre asked standing. Duo didn’t wait for the answer and was already halfway down the hall before Quatre exited the room.

“Of course,” Howard replied, following at a slower pace. “He wasn’t in trouble.” Howard paused to peer down at Quatre over the top of his sunglasses. “This time.”

They didn’t catch up to Duo until they were outside the station. “You taking me home, old man?”

Howard chuckled and went to the driver’s side of his old car. “You could say that.”

Duo scowled, but climbed in the back seat with Quatre. “He say somethun’ to you?” he whispered.

Quatre shook his head. “Just said you weren’t in trouble.”

“Does he know about McMillian’s?” Duo’s head was bent close to Quatre’s.

Shaking his head again, Quatre whispered the negative.

“You girls can stop whispering back there,” Howard teased.

“Who you calling a girl, old WO~man?” Duo slid to the edge of the seat and hung off the back of the front seat. “You cluck enough to be a hen.”

Quatre’s rebuke died with Howard’s loud guffaw. “Careful, kid. Bite the hand that feeds you, and you’ll get your toast bloody.”

Duo’s mouth opened to retort, but snapped shut. He glared at Howard instead. “What’re you talking about?” he asked barely above a whisper, his tone serious.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” Howard feigned surprise. “You’ll be staying with me now, kid.”

“That’s great!” Quatre exclaimed, reaching out to hug his friend in both arms. “You’re going to stay here! No state home…”

“Yeah, just great,” Duo muttered, pulling himself out of Quatre’s embrace. He sat back in his seat, his arms crossed and scowl firmly in place.

Glancing briefly in Duo’s direction, Quatre scooted forward. “How’d you do it, Howard? Missus Wilson swore she was going to send Duo away to the Home if he got in trouble again.”

“But he wasn’t in trouble, was he?” Howard answered, lowering his glasses long enough to wink at Quatre in the rearview mirror. “I’d already been talking to Miss Landsing. Paperwork’s already been submitted. Just waiting on the final signature.” His hand left the steering wheel to tap his jacket pocket. “Got that taken care of at the courthouse.”

“Stupid old fool,” Duo mumbled. “I didn’t ask ya to do that.” Duo was refusing to look at either of them.

“Duo… don’t you want to stay here? Live with Howard?” Quatre turned to look into Duo’s face.

“His funeral,” he all but whispered in reply.

“Don’t think you’re getting away with the trouble you caused up at the school last night, either,” Howard said, making the final turn down the street to Quatre’s house. “You’re going to have to work an awful lot to repay what you ruined.”

Duo swung around to stare at the back of Howard’s head. “How did you…” Shooting a look at Quatre he started to ask, but Quatre rushed to answer before his mouth opened.

“I didn’t say anything, I swear!”

Howard was chuckling again. “Think I didn’t hear about how someone tore up one teacher’s room. But only things belonging to the teacher?” Howard was watching them through the rearview. “And since you’ve done nothing but grouse about that teacher, then act guilty before you’ve been questioned…”

“Stupid old fool,” Duo was back to glaring at the back of Howard’s head.

“Yep, I am that, kid,” Howard agreed, pulling up into Quatre’s driveway.

Quatre sat back smiling. Happy knowing that Duo would be around for a long time. Even his dad standing on the front porch, waiting for him, didn’t cause him to lose his smile.

Fic: Heero/Duo - All These Things

merith — Sun, 01 Mar 2009 06:45:02 GMT

Title: All These Things, Pairing: Heero/Duo, Warnings: AU, BL, language, angst, sap,
Note: This story was written for sharona1x2's birthday (2/28/09). Sharon my bestest buddy, and one I would gladly share a blanket fort with to keep safe from the molten lava. I love you ♥. I also need to thank the most gracious lilzazu for her wonderful beta. (I still have a huge issue with commas!) *hugs* thank you so much for smacking me around.

The light came in great wide shafts from the many, tall windows lining the long wall of the cafeteria. As she turned away from him and walked to the door, it wasn’t her words he thought of, but of how the light shimmered gold in her hair and made the browns coppery. He watched her leave through the double glass doors; watched as she receded from sight down the sidewalk, disappearing in a crowd of passing students.

He gave a slow sigh and turned toward the cafeteria interior. His eyes sought the table in the far corner; his feet already headed in that direction. He shoved his hands in his front pockets, pulling on the shroud of indifference. After all, they’d only been seeing each other for less than two weeks. He’d barely had time to memorize her phone number. No love lost.

But, looking up, he caught the sudden movement of his friends, the usual gang that populated the same table every day at some time between eleven and two. They had been watching him, talking about him and his latest. Now they all seemed to have something better to talk about, to watch. All but Heero. Heero still watched, his expression the one he reserved for these break ups. His eyes concerned, his mouth turned down in the slightest hint of a frown. Duo gave him a tiny smile to show that he was good. That his world would be righted before nightfall, and not to worry. Heero gave a nod in return, and went back to the opened book in front of him.

Reaching the table, he dropped onto the empty seat between his two oldest friends, and waited. He knew it was coming, and they didn’t disappoint.

“She dumped you?” Hilde started, nudging his shoulder with hers.

“Yeah,” he answered with a nod. Heero barely glanced up, but pushed the waxed paper cup in his direction.

“What was it this time?” Trowa asked, and dodged the elbow his boyfriend aimed his way.

“Trowa!” The blond frowned at him before turning to Duo. “She wasn’t suited for you, Duo. It doesn’t matter what her reasons were.”

His lips twitched, but instead of replying, he sipped at Heero’s drink even knowing it to be Heero’s preferred iced tea without sugar.

“Bet she was jealous of his hair,” Hilde threw in, stirring the last of her cup of cracker with soup mush.

“Or his varied and exemplary wardrobe,” Relena added with a lifted brow and the tiniest of smirks. Trowa turned her way, laughing, and even Heero snorted, looking up from his book.

Chuckling in spite of himself, Duo shook his head. “Nah, she said she liked me in black.” He did look himself over and shrugged. It worked, and he didn’t have to worry about clashing colors or mixing stripes with plaids.

“It is your color.” Hilde smiled and winked. Quatre nodded, and Relena added her agreement. Heero marked his place with a finger, gave him a quick up and down, and a single eyebrow lift before turning back to his reading.

“Ah gee, thanks guys,” Duo mustered a slathering of sarcasm. “If you really want to know, she thought I wasn’t ‘into her’,” he brought his hands up to make quotation marks. The sudden silence at the table had Duo glancing around the table. In varying degrees, each expression reflected an agreement with the recent ‘ex’. “What? You think I didn’t like her? If I wasn’t into her, I wouldn’t have gone out with her. I wouldn’t have—”

“No, Duo, that’s not it,” Quatre hastened to say, holding out a placating hand.

“Oh, we know you liked her,” Hilde added, giving up on her soup and taking Heero’s tea from Duo.

“But, it might be…” Relena began, her cheeks pinking as she sought for the right word. “It might be best if maybe you paid more attention to your class work, and less to being in a relationship.”

Duo felt his jaw drop, and as he looked around the table again, he saw nods of agreement from all present. Except for Heero, who seemed to be ignoring the conversation with a little more focused intensity than usually displayed. He closed his mouth and took a deep breath. What the hell!

“Easy for you to say. ‘Cept for Hil here, you’re all in a relationship, and I’m not supposed to have one?” Three sets of negatives where thrown at him at once, all conciliatory.

“Heero’s not dating anyone,” Trowa said when the others quieted. The shaggy, brown head rose, and a pair of dark blue eyes glared across the table. “In fact, I don’t think he’s dated since… high school? And Heero’s happy that way. Isn’t that right, Heero?”

“Leave me out of this,” Heero ground out, turning a page with more force than needed.

“Okay, okay. So maybe I’ve dated some—”

“A lot,” Hilde added.

“Some,” Duo emphasized. “But they all knew it wasn’t serious, like a life-time commitment or something.” He sighed and lowered his head to his hands. “I just want someone to be with, to have fun with, you know?”

A murmured chorus of agreements went round the table, ending with Quatre’s, “But, you don’t have to be… romantically involved with someone to have fun with them, do you?”

“Of course not,” Hilde jumped in immediately. “He has fun with me, and God knows we’re not romantically involved.”

“But you were, once,” Relena pointed out with a smile.

“Until I got smart!”

“Hey!” Duo glared at the girl. “We were like ten…”

“Fourteen,” Hilde corrected. Her lips twisted in a grimace. “But it was like what Cheryl said – you weren’t into ‘us’. It was like we were for show, and not for real.”

“Oh God,” Duo moaned, closing his eyes. “Ancient history, Hil. Get over it.”

In answer, Hilde hugged his arm to her, and gave his cheek a quick kiss. “I am,” she said, beaming. “But I still don’t think you’re going to find whatever it is you’re seeking going from girl to girl…”

“There hasn’t been that many!” Duo protested, pulling away. “Maybe six or seven—”

“Eleven,” Heero supplied, not looking up.

“Elev—that many?” Duo slumped in his seat at Heero’s nod. “Damn. What the hell’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing,” Quatre said at the same time Trowa replied with, “Everything.”

“Asshole.” Duo glared, but lost the energy to do more. “There’s got to be a girl out there who’ll like me, would like to spend time with me. Hang out and stuff.”

“I’m sure there is, Duo,” Relena smiled softly. “You just haven’t found the right person yet—”

“Could be someone right under your nose, and you’re too busy chasing after those girls to notice,” Trowa interrupted.

“Yeah? You think so?” Duo asked without much interest.

“I’m going to the library,” Heero announced abruptly, standing up. He had his books stacked, and was turning from the table before anyone could protest.

“Heero?” Duo asked, watching his friend walk with a clipped pace away from the table.

“Oh!” Relena exclaimed. “I have a class in five minutes and it’s at the Kewitt building!” She began gathering her lunch items, but left them when Hilde waved her off with the promise to clean up after her. “See you tomorrow,” she called, dashing from the building.

“Speaking of class,” Quatre began, rising to his feet. “I have to go as well.” He turned to Trowa with a smile. “Walk me to the door?”

“Of course,” Trowa answered with a grin.

“Oh geez, you guys,” Duo grumbled. “You have the same class.”

Trowa wagged a brow in Duo’s direction. “Makes it easier that way to walk him there, then, doesn’t it?” Quatre picked up his tray smiling, and Hilde laughed out loud, turning heads.

“Whatever.” The two hadn’t taken a half dozen steps before Duo called out, “You guys going to be at Heero’s tonight?”

Quatre looked at Trowa before answering, and with Trowa’s shrug, Quatre told him, “I don’t know. We were going to go to the music hall to watch the Festival of Spring rehearsals.”

“Besides, all you do at Heero’s is drink and bit—” Trowa bent with a whoosh of breath; Quatre’s elbow had landed true.

“Maybe after rehearsal, but it’ll be late,” Quatre said cautiously.

“Yeah, okay. See you if you can make it.” With an apologetic smile and a wave, the pair moved off, heading for their next class.

Hilde sighed and leaned against Duo’s arm. “They’re so cute it’d make you sick if you didn’t know them well.”

With a rude snort, Duo rolled his eyes. “I do know them well, and they do make me sick, thank you very much.” But he leaned his head on hers. “Ever wish…” but his voice was soft as it was faded without finishing.

“What?” Hilde prompted.

“Nothing,” Duo said, nudging her off of him and starting to rise. “It’s not important, and I have to run.”

“You don’t have a class,” Hilde said, frowning but getting to her feet as well, and clearing the table off with him.

“No, no class.” Duo picked up the remaining stacked trays with the trashed piled on top. “Want to go find out what’s up with Heero. He ran off so quickly.”

“Ah.” Hilde nodded, following Duo to the trash disposal. “You know, he’s doing a lot of studying for that graduate program—”

“Yeah, the test is next week, I get that, but…” Duo dumped the trays and stood frowning in the general direction of the campus library. “He’s usually not so touchy.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.” Hilde touched his arm with a grin. “I’m sure you’ll be able to distract him from whatever’s bothering him this time.”

“That’s my plan.” Duo shared her grin.

*

Predicable as sunrise, Heero was ensconced at his usual table in front of the Dewey two-thirty to two-sixty non-fiction section. He always said few people read those books, so he was rarely disturbed. Duo watched his friend for a moment; his mouth twitched at the intense concentration Heero maintained.

“Here you are,” Duo said by way of greeting, dropping into the chair closest to Heero.

Heero glanced at him with a slow turn of his head. Two-three heartbeats passed before Heero replied, “I told you where I was going. I don’t think you’re going to win the young sleuth award, Sherlock.”

Duo grinned. “Never know. I look damn good in a deerstalker.” He received a snort in response, and Heero was already back nose deep into his book. Duo shifted in his seat and looked around quickly, making sure no one was near. “So, uh… everything okay?”

His pen paused over his notebook and Heero gave Duo a raised-brow look. “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Uh, well, you left kind of abruptly at lunch, and I…” Duo gave a shrug of a shoulder.

The frown that had started, eased away, and Heero gave Duo a slight smile. “I couldn’t concentrate fully with everyone talking. I thought it best to study in the library instead.”

“Oh.” Duo picked up a wadded piece of paper and began to smooth it out. “I thought you might be upset or something.” He wasn’t looking at Heero, keeping his eyes on his hands, watching his fingers unfold the creases.

“No, not upset,” Heero said, keeping his voice soft.

A minute passed, and Duo heard the quiet scratch of pen on paper; Heero was taking notes again. Heero’s crumpled page now flat, Duo began to fold it into smaller and smaller squares. When it was roughly the size of an ID card, he shot a glance at Heero and took a breath. “What Trowa said… didn’t bother you?” Heero was looking at him with that sort-of frown again. “I mean, was it… true?”

“Was what true?” Heero asked slowly.

Back to concentrating on minimizing the paper again, Duo could feel his ears burn. “Are you happy?”

“Yes?”

Duo chuckled silently. “That sounded like a question, not an answer.”

“Then you’ll have to define what you mean by happy.”

“You know.” Duo gave up on the puffed square and turned in his seat to face his friend. “Girls, good times, good food… doing stuff you like, being around people you like… stuff like that.”

Heero seemed to give his explanation some thought before giving a nod of his head. “By your definition, I am happy.”

“But you don’t… I mean, Trowa said you didn’t date. I’ve never seen you with a girl.”

“I—” Heero stopped speaking, and his attention moved to something over his shoulder. Duo turned to look and spotted another student passing through the area. “I haven’t dated,” Heero concluded softly.

When Duo faced him again, Heero was still watching over his shoulder. “Haven’t found anyone interesting?” he asked quietly, knowing that Heero was particular about people knowing his business. “If that’s the case, I can introduce—”

“No!” Heero said sharply. Duo leaned away from him, surprised. “I don’t have time to date right now. You know that.”

In the flick of his eyes, Duo knew. “The graduate study program,” he said in answer, his lips twisting sourly.

“It’s important that I study as often as I can. I wouldn’t have time to…be in a relationship.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Duo relaxed the glare he was aiming at the stack of books, and notepads. He knew from back in high school that this was Heero’s thing. “Are you going to be studying tonight?”

“Probably.” Heero cocked his head slightly. “Unless that’s your way of inviting yourself over.”

Grinning in answer, Duo stood up and braced a hand on the table before leaning in close. “I’ll be there at about seven. Quatre and Trowa might show, but they’re doing some music thing, so it’s not a definite.”

“Should I make dinner then?”

Duo straightened. “You don’t have to. I’ll pick something up.”

“Alright,” Heero agreed. “Just, please, no Taco Bell or ramen.”

“You got it, buddy.” Duo smiled and gave his shoulder a light punch. “See you at seven.”

He was walking away, and didn’t see Heero reach out and pick up the small square of paper. He didn’t see the square being tucked into Heero’s pocket, even as Heero continued to watch him walk away, leaving the Religion and Theology section.

*

In a slow release of air, Duo let his head fall back on the futon he sat against. The ceiling above seemed too far away and he had to close his eyes. He was having trouble feeling his lips, and his clothes felt strange against his skin. His cheeks had to be flushed, he knew, and by the tingling along his arms to his fingers, across his forehead, and down his nose, he’d had more than enough to drink. Not quite drunk, but just on the cusp of too much. Any more and he’d be waking with a hangover, cursing this night.

A toilet flushed, and Duo rolled his head to watch as a minute later, the door across the room opened and Heero walked out. He grinned for him, and then frowned, letting his eyes cross to peer at his own face.

“Muh ‘eps er guon,” he mumbled, still trying to see them with his own eyes.

Heero was frowning as he sat next to Duo. “Stop that,” he commanded. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

“M’K.” Duo smiled affably. He let his head lay on Heero’s futon, his face inches from Heero’s shoulder. He was warm, content, and …thirsty. “Gim’me another?” The urge to move was non-existent, and Heero was closer anyway.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Heero answered with a short grin. “You would regret it in the morning.”

“Yeah, but it feels good now.” His hand rose, and he poked at his cheeks with a finger, pushed at his lips. “Numb,” he muttered.

“Numb feels good?” Heero’s question was filled with amusement.

Duo let his hand fall back to the floor with a nod in answer. “Yeah, don’t hav’ta worry ‘bout anything then.”

“Worry—” Heero started and stopped, his brow clearing. “Oh, Cheryl.”

“Uh huh,” Duo agreed, closing his eyes again. “Girls suck.” His eyes flew open and he rushed to clarify, “I don’t mean that way.” Then he grinned. “Yeah, well, some do that way, but none do—did with me.” He sighed and closed his eyes once more, missing the soft smile Heero was giving him.

“What? You’ve never kissed a girl?” Heero sounded amused. Again.

“Nah.” Duo was shaking his head. “Kissed, and stuff. Petted some, but…” He cracked an eye open to stare at Heero. “Uh, haven’t, you know.”

“Okay.” Heero nodded, understanding. “You’re a virgin.”

Duo couldn’t help the blush. “And you’re mister playboy?” He managed to glare at his friend.

“Not at all.” Heero’s tone was mildly reproving. “I’ve never dated, remember?”

“Never?” Now both his eyes were opened, curious for Heero’s response. At the man’s nod, Duo whistled softly. “You ever kiss anyone?”

Heero’s look softened, and he was wearing a tiny smile as he answered. “Once.”

“Once?” Heero nodded again. “Wow, man. Never kissed anyone else?”

“No.” Heero’s reply was quiet. “I never felt like kissing anyone else.”

Duo’s eyes closed, but he had another question. “Why?”

“Why have you never had sex with any of the girls you’ve dated?” Heero countered.

“Yeah, well,” Duo stammered. “Never seemed right, you know? Should be about more than sex.”

Heero grunted, and quiet seconds passed. “Maybe those girls only ‘suck’ because they’re the wrong ones for you to be seeing?” Heero asked softly.

“Not you too,” Duo groaned, not bothering to open his eyes. “Get enough of that from the others.”

“They could be right, you know—”

“Yeah, yeah…and the cafeteria will serve Porterhouse tomorrow.” Duo shifted, putting a little distance between them.

“A Porterhouse is still just a slab of beef if what you really want is a slice of pepperoni pizza.”

Duo opened an eye to peer at his friend, not missing the smirking smile he was giving. “You can be seriously weird sometimes, Heero.”

“And dating the wrong person just because she has perky breasts and smells nice isn’t weird?” Heero was giving Duo his patented raised brow look.

His eyes blinked open and he had to sit up to stare at Heero. “I can’t believe you just said ‘perky breasts’.” And cracked up laughing when Heero blushed. He quieted, watching his friend avoid looking at him for the moment. A sudden shiver ran through him, and he yawned. Heero was staring at him now. “Getting sleepy,” Duo murmured, letting the laissez-faire take over.

Nodding his chin to the futon, Heero told him, “Lay up there for awhile.”

Duo nodded, and slid upward to lie on his back across Heero’s bed. His eyes closed and his breathing slowed. It was in this sightless fog that Heero quietly announced his intentions of cleaning up their mess. Duo grunted agreeably, listening to Heero move about through his blind filter. Heero’s place was relaxing, comfortable. Like always. He could feel the smile, but the lack of energy kept him flat.

“You let me stay over?” he mumbled, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Friends don’t let friends walk home cross campus drunk, right?”

“Right,” Heero answered somewhere above and in front of him. “I’ll turn down the lights for you,” Heero was saying. His voice was still sounding amused, but Duo didn’t care. He’d worry about that later. Duo heard him moving about, heard the snap of the bedside lamp, followed shortly by the click of the overhead light. The dim lighting was instantly better.

“You’re a good friend, buddy. Always taking care of me,” Duo rambled. “Letting me stay over, sleep in your bed…”

“Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve shared a bed.”

Duo grunted, and a flood of memories invaded his thoughts in a handful of seconds. From kindergarten they’d been friends. Back then, weekend stay-overs were frequent. At least until he discovered girls, and how much time and energy and money it took to make them happy. Not like Heero. Heero was content with him just being there. Didn’t take talking, or ‘going out’, or pretty wrapped packages to make him happy. Heero was a good guy. The best. If Heero were a girl—

“…too bad you’re not,” Duo muttered, his smile growing. “Perfect, then. Wouldn’t hafta date again.”

“What?”

“A girl.” His tongue was thick in his mouth, and his lips barely moved. But he heard Heero’s snort.

“I’m perfect but for the fact I’m a man?” Heero was sounding oddly amused, strange.

“Yeah,” Duo sighed, scooting closer when he felt Heero resuming his seat on the floor. His foot tapped against Heero’s side. “You take care of me—remember when I was sick? You brought me soup and made me drink juice.”

“You would have starved otherwise,” Heero grumbled. “Besides, you were here when I had my wisdom teeth pulled.”

Duo hummed softly, remembering. “You’re happy just watching TV, and don’t care if I forget your birthday,” he told Heero.

“But I’m a man?”

“Uh-hmmm,” Duo agreed, his smile slowly fading.

“You don’t think a man could turn you on? Make you happy?” Heero was asking, that strange tone back in his voice. He was shifting about, and Duo felt Heero’s hand on his leg.

“Nope. Man can’t,” he agreed, not wanting to think too much about it.

“So, if a man were to touch you, kiss you, it wouldn’t get you excited?” Heero’s hand was sliding up the length of his jeans, fingers skimming the inside track of his thighs.

No, Duo mouthed without sound. His heart thumped, feeling those fingers through the thickness of the denim and cotton of his briefs.

“But, if a girl were to kiss you.” Heero’s voice was a soft whisper, husky velvet as his other hand gently pushed the hem of his shirt upward, exposing his belly. “If she were to kiss you here,” warm lips touched his skin, and Duo let his breath go in a rush. “She would turn you on?” Heero’s words were hot, moist, fire.

“Ye—ah,” Duo whispered back, voice cracking.

“And if she were to do this.” Heero’s hands were on his fly, unbuttoning, opening, exposing. “You would get hard at her touch, at the promise of what she could do?” His hands didn’t stop as he was speaking, running down Duo’s thighs and back to his groin. Heero’s fingers burned a path through his briefs, and Heero’s thumbs set flame to his cock.

“Oooh,” Duo moaned, giving a short thrust of his hips. Heero’s hands felt so good. He licked at his lips, wishing for more moisture there. “I wo—would,” he stammered out.

“And you would enjoy it if she were to… lick you?” Even as he whispered the words, Heero pulled his briefs down, and his tongue lapped at Duo’s erection.

Gasping, Duo lost any reply he would have made; Heero’s mouth descended over his cock and all thought fled. Minutes passed, his hands found their way into Heero’s hair, and the only sounds were the moans, the half grunts forced from his throat, and the rare liquid slurp when Heero proved how far he could swallow a man-sized cock. And Duo lost the fight to control his body, allowing his hips to thrust at will. He was fucking Heero’s mouth.

It was quick, and it was hot, and it was over far too fast. Duo fisted Heero’s hair, holding him still, and gasping out, he arched his back as he came. Collapsing back onto the bed, his hands relaxed their grip and moved instead to stroke the head that brought him such pleasure.

“Oh fuck!” he exclaimed softly, fighting to catch his breath. Distantly, he felt Heero’s hands again, felt his briefs being pulled back into place, his jeans re-buttoned.

“A girl could do that, but a man couldn’t?” Heero asked softly.

Duo struggled for a moment to rise and lean back on his elbows. Heero was still kneeling between his legs, his hands resting lightly on both of Duo’s thighs, and his look… Duo’s breath caught at that look. He licked his lips again, and swallowed hard. But he nodded anyway.

“Duo, a man just did,” Heero told him reasonably.

“A—a…” Duo stammered, and in a rush, the past few minutes swept through his clouded thoughts. His eyes widened and he was on his feet, backing away from Heero still on the floor. “I—I— What…” A hand jerked through his bangs. “How… when… You’re gay?” He finally forced out in a choked voice.

Heero paled and sat back on his heels. “I don’t know.” His answer was subdued.

“What do you mean “you don’t know”?” Duo was shouting now. “You just had my dick in your mouth, and you don’t know?” This was insane! This was a nightmare.

Giving a slight shrug, Heero answered in that same subdued voice. “Then, I guess I am.”

“God, Heero! Doesn’t that creep you out?”

“No,” he answered honestly. “Does my being gay creep you out?”

“Yes!” Duo shouted again. Then he shook his head. “No… I—I don’t know.” He turned away, unable to look at his friend who was still kneeling there, with the scent of himself still in the air.

“Duo,” Heero began, and Duo could hear him standing.

“I’ve got to go,” he cried out, and nearly ran to the door, opening it and shoving his feet into his shoes in passing.

“Duo!” Heero called out, a hint of desperation in his tone.

“I’ll… I’ll call you later,” Duo said, hand on the door, and without looking back, he fled.

*

Mindless at first, Duo ran, only slowing when clarity began to return, showing him he was a mile opposite of where he wanted to be. He’d have to backtrack and hope that Heero hadn’t followed him to talk. Thinking about… about what had happened was the last thing he wanted to do, let alone talk about it.

Heero was gay.

Stopping abruptly, his hands closed into fists and his body vibrated with suppressed emotion. Heero was gay and did that with him. He barked out a rough growl, startling a couple out from under a tree in shadowed seclusion. Throwing a glare in their direction, Duo stalked away, his anger crumbling with each step.

Heero, was gay.

His feet slowed once again. Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, he stared at the concrete, words circled, pounding in his head. Feeling the prickling sting in his eyes, Duo blinked rapidly. He refused to cry. Sissies cried. Gay men cried. Jaw tightened in cramping force, Duo started walking again, slowly, staggeringly.

Heero was, gay. He had had a sexual encounter with Heero. Heero was his best friend. His oldest friend. And he was, gay.

The urge to crack his head open against the nearest brick wall was overwhelming.

He was back on campus now, crossing through the short stretch of ‘park’. Off to the left, the admin buildings were clustered, windows dark and doors locked waiting for Monday and the start of another chaos-driven week. Academic buildings circled and lined that side of the park. To his right, the gymnasium and beside it, the athletic building. The student athletic center was still open and Duo paused, weighing the benefits of a through, mind-numbing workout against just going the hell to bed and forgetting the whole thing happened. He continued his walk forward toward the dormitories and ‘home’.

There had been a time between frosh and sophomore years that he and Heero had talked about sharing a place. But Duo backed out; funds were too uncertain, the cost of the dorm room came with his scholarship. He wasn’t about let his friend carry him, even if Heero’s trust could cover the rent a hundred times over, and never make a dent. There were times when Duo hated his tiny room up on the fourth floor; this wasn’t one of them.

It was while he was crossing the footbridge over the creek that he heard his name called. Recognizing that the voice did not belong to Heero, Duo stifled the instinct to run. He waited at one end of the bridge for the figures to reach him. Logically, he knew it had been Trowa and Quatre to call out to him; the relief on confirmation surprised – and confused – him.

Heero was gay. But… Heero was still his friend. Right?

“I thought we were meeting you at Heero’s?” Quatre asked as they neared.

He rocked on his heels, and glanced back the way he’d come. “Yeah, uh… I left.”

“We can see that,” Trowa interjected quietly. He was frowning slightly, his head tilted to the side. “Everything all right?”

Duo nodded and shot a glance in Trowa’s direction. Trowa’s stare deepened and his arms folded over his chest.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Quatre asked softly, his brow puckering.

“Yeah…no,” he gave in softly. “I’m not okay.”

In a swift movement, Quatre was at his side, arm around his waist. “What is it? What’s happened?” Duo was shaking, and couldn’t stop. Quatre’s arms came about him and held him tight, and he was murmuring comforting words.

“Heero,” Duo whispered, remaining stiff in Quatre’s arms. In his peripheral, he saw Trowa jerk and take a step.

“Heero’s hurt?” Quatre demanded, pulling back to peer into Duo’s face. Trowa was half-way cross the bridge before Duo could force out the words stuck in his throat.

“He’s gay!”

Quatre’s “oh” sounded small and deflated, and Trowa began drifting back their way.

Pulling himself free, Duo shook off Quatre’s arms and wrapped his own across his belly. “Yeah, oh. I—I had no idea. Never even crossed my mind.”

“This bothers you,” Trowa stated, leaning a hip against the bridge handrail.

“Yes!” Duo’s eyes flashed. Immediately, his anger cooled, and he dropped his gaze shaking his head. “No. Fuck… I don’t know.” He pressed his lips together and fought the urge to say more.

“You…” Quatre started, “You’ve never had a problem with Trowa and I, or Mitch and Steve.”

“But it’s Heero!” Duo barked, “And he—” His lips clamped shut again and he turned away.

“What’d he do?” Quatre asked softly, his touch on Duo’s arm barely there.

“We’d been drinking,” Duo offered an excuse, heat climbing in his cheeks. “Talking shit—” He flicked a look back at Trowa, seeing the taller man nod. “The usual.” His voice thickened and he stopped talking, clearing his throat with a harsh cough.

“What’d he do?” Quatre repeated.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Duo declared. “Let’s just say that Heero made it clear he has no trouble living the lifestyle and leave it at that.”

“And you do have trouble with that?” Trowa asked softly, taking a step closer. Without looking in his direction, Duo nodded two sharp shakes. “Did Heero say anything to you about it? About… you?”

Duo turned confused eyes his way. “About me? No, just some bullshit about not dating the right girl, and how he’s a man…” His expression became troubled.

“He did tell you how he feels?” Trowa persisted.

“Trowa,” Quatre rebuked. “That is not for us to tell.”

Interest perked, Duo looked past Quatre to ask, “How Heero feels?”

“You are so dense,” Trowa chided. “He’s been in love—”

“Trowa!”

“—with you since the sixth grade.”

Duo sat suddenly, falling where he stood on his butt. “What?”

Quatre glared at his boyfriend, sighed, and sat down beside Duo. “He doesn’t know for certain, Duo. But to all of us, it’s obvious how much Heero cares about you. And when Hilde told us about how the both of you grew up together, we all agreed—”

“Wait,” Duo held up a hand. “You all talk about us? Heero and me?”

Even in the dim light, Duo could see Quatre’s cheeks burn red. “Not maliciously,” he rushed to reassure. “Just as friends concerned for other friends—trying to see if there was anything we could do to help—”

“Meddle in your lives—” Trowa contributed.

“—make things better.” Quatre tossed another glare over his shoulder. “Why don’t you be useful and go to see if Heero is all right?”

Hearing Trowa’s mission acceptance, Duo felt a short stab of guilt. Heero must be feeling—but, he was the one who started this mess. But. Not really. He was the one who told Heero he was perfect. He was the one who didn’t say ‘stop’.

“Oh God,” Duo croaked, burying his face in his hands. He had a virgin’s remorse. But, it was more than that. “I just left him, Quat. God, I’m such a bastard.”

“It’s going to be okay, Duo,” Quatre soothed, his palm rubbing circles over Duo’s back. “Regardless of what happened, Heero is first and foremost your friend. Your best friend, and no matter what, he will continue to be so.”

A tumble of years reversed, and Duo could almost hear Heero declare his undying friendship. Could almost hear his heartfelt vow in return. Involuntarily, his lips twitched up in a short smile at the memory. “I hope so, Quat. I hope so.”

*

Duo’s weekend passed in a fog; he’d never spent more time sequestered in his room. He passed the hours with an opened text in front of him, whole pages read without understanding a word. But midterms were approaching, and he used this as an excuse for whenever anyone dropped by. Despite his distraction, he managed to finish one term paper, and had made advanced headway on another. It wouldn’t wind up being the last minute rush these papers usually were.

Monday, Duo went only to his classes and avoided the cafeteria altogether. He spent the evening in the athletic center, working his body into an exhausted sweat. Tuesday nearly followed suit, but with Quatre’s insistence, Duo join them for dinner. Despite his apprehension, Heero was not around and he felt the lack of Heero’s quiet presence keenly.

For an hour he managed to listen to his friends talk around him, trying to include him in their conversations. Questions were sidestepped or ignored outright, though none were too intrusive. Both Quatre and Hilde let him know without being asked, without being obvious, how Heero was doing, what he was doing. Two words answered most questions on his mind: Graduate program. Others would take more time and one particular person to answer.

Heero’s test was on a Thursday. Duo could hold out for another couple of days, give Heero the time he needed to study, to concentrate on this one thing. He didn’t need Duo mucking in his life again.

Lunchtime on Wednesday found Duo slinking along the edges of the cafeteria walls, eyes peeled for a certain blue-eyed man. Their usual table in the back corner held one occupant, and she seemed too engrossed in the book in front of her to notice his approach. By the scattering of napkins, crumbs, and a double handful of wadded paper left behind, Duo knew the others had been and gone already.

“Hey,” he said quietly, taking a seat next to Hilde.

The girl’s head jerked up, her expression going from alarm to excitement in less than a heartbeat. “Hay yourself, jackass,” she told him smiling.

“Yeah, that’d be me,” Duo agreed, peeling up the top slice of bread to his sandwich. “That’s supposed to be ham.” He pointed at the whitish lump. “That look like ham to you?”

She made a point to look. “Looks like colored lard laced with string,” she answered with a smirk.

“Now who’s the jackass?” Duo scowled at his plate. It was the tail end of the lunch cycle, and there hadn’t been much left to choose from. He picked up one half and took a tentative bite.

“Have you talked to Heero yet?” Hilde asked, closing her book and setting it aside.

Glaring at her over his sandwich, he chewed cautiously and swallowed. “No, and I’m not going to.” He drank from his soda glass and added, “not until Friday, after the test.”

“Oh,” Hilde said, and sat watching him chew through another bite. “I think you should go see him today, before the test.”

At least she waited until he’d swallowed that bite. “Why?” Another bite and half the sandwich was gone.

Hilde looked away from him and twisted a short lock of hair around a finger. Duo was reminded of a time when she wore her hair long; curling strands around a finger had been a habit then, too.

“He misses you.”

Duo grunted around his sandwich and swallowed the lump nearly whole. A quick wash of soda forced it down. “He tell you that?” he demanded.

“No.” Hilde drew out the word. “Not exactly. But when I saw him earlier, he spent half the time looking around for you, and the other half acting like his best friend had died.” Duo grunted again, and pushed what was left of his sandwich away, hunger long gone. “Did you?”

“What?” Duo asked, raising an eyebrow. “Die?” Hilde grinned and Duo had no qualms punching her in the arm. “Do I look like a cadaver to you?”

“Well, you sort of smell like one.” He mocked another punch and she laughed, jerking away. “Seriously though, I think it would help his mental state if you showed him you don’t hate him or anything.”

“Yeah, I’ll take that under advisement.” Duo drank down the last of his soda and set the glass down on the table before turning his head slowly to give her a look. “What do you know about what happened?”

“Huh?” she asked in wide-eyed cluelessness.

“Give. What do you know, and how’d you find out?”

She gave him a searching look, her own expression softening. “I really don’t know specifics.” She let him know, keeping her voice low. “But it wouldn’t take an Einstein to figure out something happened between you and boy wonder. You’ve become the invisible man and Heero’s Droopy Dog.”

Duo said nothing, only adding the empty cup to his tray and sweeping the few crumbs on the table surface to the floor.

“Now you give. What’s going on, Duo? Seeing the two of you like this is seriously knocking my world off-kilter.”

He shrugged and continued looking at the tabletop. “If I told you Heero… Heero had feelings for me, would it surprise you?”

“No, you two have been friends for a long time.”

“More than friends,” Duo stressed. He could feel the heat climb up and out from the collar of his shirt. He was going to be beet red in less than a minute.

“No,” Hilde repeated, her hand covered his on the table. “Did he say something to you then?”

“No,” Duo croaked out, and cleared his throat. “Stuff happened, okay, and I just didn’t handle it well.”

“Duo,” she whispered softly, leaning into him and giving his cheek a quiet kiss. “How do you feel?”

“Confused.” He leaned into her, accepting the comfort she was offering.

“And about Heero?”

“Confused?” he said with a short laugh. “I… I just don’t know, Hil. I mean. God. He’s my friend – always. But… I don’t know how else to feel.”

“Then maybe you should wait until Friday to talk to him.”

He nodded, having had this conversation with himself already. “If you see him before then, tell him… tell him we’re still friends, okay?”

“Yeah, I can do that for you.” She gave his hand a squeeze and nudged him upward. “I’ve got a test in fifteen minutes,” she said by way of explanation. He nodded and rose with her, helping her clear the table and carry the trash to the bin.

“Duo,” Hilde said quietly, pulling him aside. “I’d like you to do something for me between now and Friday, okay?”

“What?” He asked guardedly.

“I want you to remember back when you and I first got together. When we used to date.” Now it was her turn to avoid looking at him. “Remember what we used to talk about, what we did.” Her eyes cut over in his direction and away. “And remember where Heero fit in all that. How he fits into your life now.”

“Okay,” Duo said slowly. “I can do that.” She glanced at her watch, and he asked quickly. “Why?”

Hilde gave him a wry grin. “Because I didn’t give up on you to have you fuck it all up, jackass.”

“What?” But she was hurrying away, and Duo stood just outside the cafeteria doors watching yet another ‘ex’ walk away from him.

*

Fridays were Duo’s ‘light’ days, having only two classes. On the much anticipated day, one of his two was cancelled. If this had been a week before, Duo would have found Heero and hung out with him. Even if the man had done nothing but study for the past six months, he was still the one whose company Duo preferred over any other.

But this wasn’t the week before, and Duo found himself at the athletic center for the fourth time in five days. He’d done what Hilde had asked; had done little else. After a frustrating hour of recalling every word and situation he could gleam from his memories, he was still no closer to knowing what Hilde wanted him to understand.

In the end, Duo wound up in his dorm room, showered, dressed, and sitting on the edge of his bed, counting down the minutes until he was sure Heero would be home from dinner, finished with studying for the night, ready for the beginning of his weekend. Though, on a normal day, Heero’s weekends usually began with Duo dropping by to watch a movie, have dinner with him, or drink into embarrassing situations.

At a quarter after seven, Duo deemed it close enough and headed out for Heero’s. He was half-way there when he nearly turned around. It’d been a week with nothing from Heero. His mind didn’t put the brakes on thoughts of Heero never wanting to see or hear from him again. As confused as he’d been, as he still was, that response was the one he dreaded most.

Logically, he knew Heero had been studying nearly non-stop for this test. And, based on what Hilde had alluded to, Heero was as lost as he was. Clearing the air could only make things better between them, right? Put them back on the road to being best friends again? He hoped to God it would.

And he was there, standing outside the door to Heero’s studio. Rubbing his palms on his jean-covered thighs, Duo took several steadying breaths. Hands dry, heart rate still not calm, but it was time and Duo forced his hand upward into a fist and knocked.

Particles of time dragged by for an eternity. Seconds became hours, and not even two dozen had passed before Heero was there, opening the door. The neutral expression on Heero’s face died, and Duo could feel his own face mirroring Heero’s surprised look. Time did the eternity thing again, stopping only when Heero began breathing again.

“Come in,” he said, stepping back and letting Duo pass in front of him.

Duo entered, his eyes going immediately to the futon before shifting away. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything…” he started, and his sweep of the room brought him back to the occasional table in front of the futon. The table he’d sat at so many times in the past, playing games, eating meals, doing homework. The table held a couple of wine glasses, still containing wine, and a bottle half full. His glance turned back to Heero and he took in the dress shirt, the one Heero liked to wear ‘out’. Though it looked rather odd accompanied by the pair of gym shorts Heero wore.

“No, you’re not interrupting anything,” Heero was saying, door closed and Heero now stationed in front of it with his hands cupping either elbow. “How have you been?”

Duo wanted to cuss – damn stilted conversations. It was like they were strangers, or bare acquaintances meeting for the first time after years apart. “Good,” he replied. “And you? I see you lived through the test.” He gave Heero a smile that refused to hold for long.

But Heero smiled in return. “Yes, I survived. And I just heard—”

“I think it’s come out enough so it won’ stain,” a voice interrupted, coming from the now open bathroom door.

He had a moment to take in the flush on Heero’s cheeks before seeing the man to the voice emerge. His mouth dropped; he felt it, and could do nothing to stop its descent. If Duo were so inclined and were asked to choose attributes of a model male, this man would be the epitome: long – long blond hair, gym sculpted abs, chiseled pectorals, and a handsome face with a killer smile. And in his shirtless state, there were no doubts about many of those attributes.

“Oh, company?” The man came to a halt and looked between Heero and Duo, his shirt in his hands, an obvious wet circle waist-high.

“Zechs, this is Duo,” Heero introduced him, his tone carrying a curious edge to it. “Duo, this is Zechs, otherwise known as Millardo Peacecraft. He’s a—”

“Friend,” Zechs supplied, suddenly at Heero’s side, his arm circling Heero’s shoulders. “A good friend.” The man’s mouth was smiling, but Duo saw little geniality in the man’s eyes.

His own eyes narrowed, zeroing in on the arm slung casually about Heero’s shoulders. “Funny how he’s never mentioned you before,” Duo said, and nearly bit his tongue to keep anything more from escaping.

“Duo, he’s—” Heero started, shrugging off the arm and taking a step forward.

“So very pleased to meet you,” the man interrupted again. “And while Heero has neglected to tell you about me.” He shot a rebuking glance at Heero before smiling back at Duo, “he has had no qualms about not talking about you.”

Replaying the man’s sentence again, Duo couldn’t find fault in it. He frowned and stuck a hand in his pocket, glancing back at Heero. But Heero was looking at Zechs ‘also known as Milliardo’ and in that speeding particle of time, he knew now, without a doubt what Hilde had meant, why Trowa called him dense. And he couldn’t be in the same room as the two of them.

“Ah…guess this is a bad time and all,” he started saying, inching for the door. “I’ll just go now and leave you two alone—” his voice caught, and as Heero was turning to him, he was at the door, opening it and ready to run.

“Duo!” Heero cried, behind him in a flash. Heero’s hand slammed against the door, keeping it from opening any wider. “Don’t go.” Startled at the pain in his tone, Duo looked at him. “Please, don’t leave.”

Another fraction of a moment and Duo knew he wouldn’t leave, couldn’t leave. His mouth worked silently and Heero’s moved into a smile. Tender and hopeful, and his. With a sigh, Duo released his hold on the door and let Heero close it again.

“Heero?” A woman’s voice this time.

In near unison, they turned from the intimate tableau they’d struck. The woman was standing in the kitchen doorway, Heero’s dress pants dangling from her hand. The invisible wire was cut and Duo began to smile. He nudged Heero with his shoulder and nodded his head in the woman’s direction.

“I thought you said I wasn’t interrupting anything.” He put a mock harshness in his tone.

“But you were—”

“And yet you’re here with a half naked man and a beautiful woman with your pants in her hands.”

The trepidation in Heero’s expression bled away. His lips quirked up in a grin and he gave Duo a snort. “If you’re so worried about it, you could lose a piece of clothing or two yourself.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Duo took the invitation and turned his back to the room.

“Hey now,” the woman squawked out. “I enjoy the male form, but—”

“I think this might be our cue to leave,” Duo heard Zechs murmur behind him.

His shoes removed, he managed to give Heero a mirrored, eyebrow-arched look before the laughter began. In a moment, Heero’s hand was in his and he was pulling his friend into an embrace. “Missed you,” he whispered behind Heero’s ear. Heero’s hold tightened before he released him.

“Duo,” Heero said, pulling him forward while continuing to hold onto him. “I’d like to introduce you to Professor Lucrezia Noin, head of the graduate study I’ve been working toward.”

“Professor,” Duo greeted solemnly, shaking the hand she held out for him. “It’s good to meet you.”

“And you must be the Duo I’ve heard so much about,” she said, smiling. “I feel I know you already, so please, call me Lu.”

“Know me…?” Duo gave Heero another raised brow look and was faintly amused to see his friend’s cheeks flushing. Turning back to the professor, he kept his tone questioning, “I’m assuming that you’re here because of the graduate program, then?”

“Oh most assuredly.” She was smiling, looking between the two of them.

“Professor Noin and her husband.” Heero indicated the blond model of a man now fully dressed, “asked me out to dinner to celebrate.”

“You were accepted?” Duo’s eyes lit up, and his hands were on Heero’s shoulders, clutching at him.

“Yes—” Heero barely began before Duo was pulling him into another embrace.

“Unofficially,” Lu was saying with a laugh. “It will be formally announced on Monday.”

“But you made it!” Duo hugged his friend again. “That’s great man!”

A quiet throat clearing broke them apart; the professor and her husband were standing together, wearing twin smiles of amusement. With a small squeeze of his hand in apology, Duo moved away, giving Heero room.

“I was able to remove the stain,” Lu said, holding out Heero’s pants to him. “A good dry cleaner can remove any residue and block them back into shape.”

“Thank you,” Heero said politely, taking his slacks. “And thank you both for dinner, and letting me know the outcome early.”

“It’s been a pleasure working with you,” Zechs said with a smile. “I am hoping tonight will be the first of many.” His gaze took in Duo. “Your friend is more than welcome to join us at any time, of course.”

“Thank you,” Heero said again. “But if you ever put your arm around me again, I will break it.” Duo stared in shock, and Lu choked back a startled laugh. But Zechs bellowed in laughter, a sound so completely in contrast to his aristocratic air that Duo couldn’t help joining him.

“Then I shall endeavor to foster my company on your handsome companion,” Zechs stated, recovering from his merriment.

“You so much as look in his direction and I will break both your arms,” Heero growled.

“I believe I’ll have to keep you at home,” the professor mused, laughter tinting her tone. “Chained to the bed.”

“Now, cheri?” Zechs inquired.

So it was with an amused air that the two departed, and Duo found himself still smiling after the door had been shut behind them.

“She seems nice,” he ventured, wandering over to pick up the bottle of wine. “Good choice in booze.”

Heero snorted. “She is nice.” He took the bottle from Duo’s hand and picked up the glasses with his other. “Zechs managed to spill his glass on the both of us,” Heero explained, heading off to the kitchen. “Which is why you saw him like he was, and why I’m in this.”

“It’s oddly appealing,” Duo said, trailing behind Heero. “Kind of a classy rebel look.” Heero stopped rinsing glasses long enough to roll his eyes at Duo. “And that is such a sexy look for you.”

A flick of his fingers and water splattered across Duo’s tee-shirt. “And that is a good look on you,” Heero said with a smirk.

“Watch it college boy,” Duo warned, brushing droplets from his shirt. “Revenge can happen when you least expect it.”

“Warning me has me expecting it, therefore negating your threat,” Heero reasoned, shutting off the water and drying his hands.

In the sudden silence, the little room grew even smaller. Duo’s grin started to fade and his palms began to sweat. There was nothing and no one to distract either of them from the other.

“Would you like a soda?” Heero offered. “I have beer left from last week, but,” he shrugged and gave Duo a half grin, “I’d rather neither of us drink for this.”

“No, soda’s fine,” Duo rushed to answer. “I’m swearing off beer for life.” At Heero’s look, he amended, “for the time being, anyway.”

Two cans of cola and a sweeping invitation to take any seat in the studio, Heero lead the way back into the main room. Duo settled on the futon, his back propped against the wall and his legs drawn up and crossed. Heero waited until Duo opened his can before making the head of the futon his seat, his pose mimicking Duo’s.

“I’m sorry,” Heero said quietly, his gaze steady.

Duo swallowed a mouthful of soda and dropped his own gaze to his lap. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Heero,” he contradicted in an equally quiet voice. “It was my fault—drank too much, talked too much.” His eyes flicked upward and back down, “pushed too much.”

“I knew—know you aren’t gay, aren’t into men,” Heero protested. “I shouldn’t have.” His hand tightened on his can and he forced himself to relax it. “I went too far and won’t do it again.”

Another quick glance upward and back and Duo shifted, straightened his legs out. Time lengthened and the minute extended to five. Duo set his soda aside and leaned his head back against the wall. He stared at the ceiling as the seconds ticked by. When he started to speak, his voice squeaked and he gave a nervous grin.

“You remember Heero, when we were about five, or maybe six, and I used to stay over at your house?” Heero answered his non-question with a slow nod. “We used to pretend the living room floor was hot molten lava, and the couch and chair were ‘safe’ zones.” He smiled softly and Heero voiced a soft affirmative. “We’d huddle in that chair under the blanket from your bed and tell stories all night.”

“I remember,” Heero’s voice was a whisper of wind between them.

“It was my safe place there, with you.” Duo lifted his head and looked at Heero, his eyes clear and his voice firm. “You always have been.”

Heero frowned questioningly, his head giving a slight shake.

Duo was smiling softly now, his path laid out in front of him. “Hilde reminded me that I’ve always had a problem dating others. But it was only a few hours ago that I realized it was because none of them were you.”

“Duo?” Heero questioned. “I… I’m not sure I understand. What are you telling me?”

“And Trowa calls me dense.” But Duo’s smile widened and he began to crawl in Heero’s direction. “I don’t know if I’m ‘gay’ or not,” he was saying, “but, I know that there’s only room for one person where it matters, and I’m afraid you’re it, buddy.” Sitting on his knees at Heero’s side, Duo tugged the soda can from Heero’s hand and leaned over to set it on the floor.

“You… love me,” Heero verified, wonder beginning to lighten his expression.

Duo offered a half grin and a shrug.

Heero’s eyes darkened briefly. “And you want to…to have sex with me?”

Only then did Duo drop his gaze. A heartbeat passed and Duo raised his head. “I know that I get turned on by you, a man and not some girl. I know that I want more of what you started last week.” He shrugged unconcerned. “I guess we’ll figure out the technical aspects of it together.”

“Or you can ask Quatre,” Heero said with a smirk.

“Not on your life,” Duo vowed. “Can you imagine what he would come up with for visual aides?”

“Personal home videos?” Heero quipped, and smiled when Duo laughed.

“Or better yet, a live demonstration!” Heero snorted, casting the visual away with a shake of his head. The companionable amusement lingered and Duo moved again only to settle with his back to the wall next to Heero. Once he was close, Duo found himself staring at Heero, unable to look away.

“What?” Heero whispered softly.

“Who was it that you kissed?” He asked, almost sure he knew the answer.

“You,” Heero’s response came immediately. “Third grade, Miss Teirney’s class. Bobby Ackerman dared you to kiss me and you did.”

Duo’s brow puckered slightly. “You’ve had a crush on me since third grade?” Heero nodded slowly. “You know, that’s kind of sad, Heero.”

It was Heero’s turn to shrug. “It just means you have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Oh?” Duo grinned and leaned closer. “I plan to do a lot of catching up.” His words ended as his mouth met Heero’s. A dozen years after their first, and only, Duo kissed Heero for the second time.

“I think I’m going to like this plan,” Heero murmured against Duo’s lips.

This time, Heero initiated the kiss. Time moved into a non-existent plane where couches and blanket forts saved little boys from living room lava and kisses between best buddies didn’t count except when it did and friends became lovers in that instant of comprehension.

As an after note: A couple of years ago, a young lady (jade_sage) gave me a song and mentioned it would make a most excellent story involving Heero and Duo (of course). That song, Of Montreal's 'Tim, I wish you were born a girl'. I attempted to stay true to the song and it was close enough for my daughter to recognize where parts of the inspiration came from.

merith — Sat, 28 Feb 2009 03:01:29 GMT

for those of you who have expressed an interest: chat room time!

chat room name is gundamwinged on AIM
wednesday 7pm - 11pm
friday 7pm - 11pm
sunday 6pm - midnight
(times are eastern)

merith — Sun, 25 Jan 2009 21:21:44 GMT

from the 5 character meme request that i took drabble requests for...

Duo for femaleshinigami

*Duo* 'tween a Rock and a Wet Spot

He shifts without meaning to, and his eyes open wide, his flesh twitches even as he moves back into position. But, he’s fully awake now, and staring into the dark of his room. He knows he’s being silly; for being slightly miffed at the situation, for not waking his lover (for whatever reason), for not taking care of it immediately. It has been days since they’d last seen one another, and even in his somnolent state, Heero refuses to sleep without a little incentive, incentive Duo is more than happy to provide.

Too eager, too tired for more, a handful of kisses (of the hot and devouring kind), lots of bump-n-grind motion, and the feel of skin on skin, leaves them both with an immediate release. One that might have been embarrassing if they were younger or first dating, but, after nearly ten years, it is satisfying for the moment. There will be other encounters when neither are too tired, or too eager; encounters that will linger and fulfill.

‘Tomorrow, mid-morning,’ he thinks, closing his eyes, and tries to stay on his not-quite two-foot section of dry sheet.

*

Heero for jade_sage... she'd asked for heero in a skirt, but didn't quite make it.

*Heero* Online Shopping

Their shared office is quiet, his partner seeming to be totally absorbed in his work. Heero flicks a quick look in his direction, verifying that he is working, and opens a web browser. He types in the URL by memory, and three mouse clicks later, he is at the selection page, scrolling through the proffered inventory.

Black, tight, and leather are his basic requirements. Choice of length and texture will come in reviewing the details. Matte or shiny, mini, short, or knee-length. Heero pulls his lower lips in between his teeth, and bites in concentration. His eyes flick upward, contemplate his partner again, before dropping back to the narrowed selection on the page.

Five minutes have passed, and Heero is no closer to a decision. He clicks on the next choice and hears Duo whisper in his ear, “Yes, that one.” And he is jerking his head around in shock, only to find – no one there.

“Everything okay?” Duo asks from his place at his desk.

Heero’s cheeks redden slightly, and he gives his partner a brief nod. Duo grins in his direction, and returns to his computer.

In less than a week, it will be Duo’s birthday (or at least, the date Duo chose to celebrate his birthday), and this year, Heero decides to go give in to one of Duo’s fantasies. For the past two weeks, he has been coming to this site, trying to decide, knowing he could never make this sort of choice in person, at a shop in front of other people. This is his last day to order, and have it delivered in time. He makes his choice, adds a couple of other items he’d already decided on, and checks out, paying for the articles with his credit card information given from memory.

It is near lunch time, and he clears the browser history, makes a note to scrub his access from the company server and logs. He is closing down the browser when he notices Duo smiling intently at his own computer, and he frowns.

“Everything… alright?” he asks suddenly.

“Hmmm?” Duo hums, looks up and smiles at him. “Never better, Heero. Never better.” His fingers move in practiced strokes, as he adds, “Ready for lunch?”

Heero nods, locking his own computer, and rising. He adds another note to check the server logs to see just what Duo has been up to; the man is entirely too amused to be innocently working.

*

an amused wufei for salamandere (though, he is amused, but gets confused... hope this works)

*Wufei* Office Affairs

When his partners came back from lunch, he wanted to laugh. Or at least snicker. He had spent the last hour envisioning the expressions on both their faces, had debated on whose desk the gift should have been left on. In the end, he knew Yuy’s was the perfect choice. Based on break room talk, Maxwell had already been the recipient of more than one gift of the type.

Yuy received his fair share of admirers, but none seemed brave enough to broach his …demeanor.

The box of candy, he knew, was just the right touch. Not too much to make him suspicious, and yet, just enough to know someone was interested. Now to see just what Maxwell was going to do about it, what his reaction would be.

Wufei studiously kept his head bent over the paperwork on his desk, though he watched from the corners of his eyes.

Maxwell had been talking, yapping about some car show they were planning to attend that Saturday. He stopped talking mid-sentence, and Wufei seized the chance. He looked their way just as Yuy reached for the shiny red heart, and schooled his face into a neutral expression. Yuy unfolded the note, holding the gift, and scanned its contents.

“Hey!” Maxwell exclaimed, reaching for the box. “Chocolates!”

“No!” Yuy jerked the candies away.

“I always share mine,” Maxwell groused, shrugging out of his jacket, and throwing a mild glare at his partner.

“They might be poisoned,” Yuy murmured, reading the note again.

Wufei choked, drawing both of their attention. “What—why—” he cleared his throat and tried again. “Why would you think that?”

Yuy’s eyebrows raised, and he flicked his glance at the box he still held. “Did you see who left these?”

Shaking his head to the negative, he consoled himself with the lie by the logic that he hadn’t seen himself leave them.

“The note isn’t signed. There have been threats before, and this would be the perfect avenue to…”

“Make some poor shy girl unhappy,” Maxwell interjected. He had crossed to his own desk, and was sitting at his chair, still glaring in annoyance. “No wonder no one gives you anything – thinking diabolical plots and schemes in everything.”

“And why would some girl I don’t know want to give me anything?” Yuy demanded.

Maxwell shrugged, and crossed his hands behind his head. “How should I know? I’m not a girl.”

“No, you’re not,” Yuy conceded. He folded the note with a sigh and turned to the door. “I’m still having them tested though.”

Left staring at the empty spot Yuy had disappeared through, Wufei wasn’t sure whether to beat his head against the desk or begin planning the next step.

“I think being upfront and honest with how you feel is the best policy,” Maxwell said softly.

Looking at his remaining partner sharply, Wufei opened his mouth to deny any involvement. Maxwell arrested the action by plucking from his trash can the plastic bag of the drug store down the street where he’d purchased the chocolates. “It’s… it’s not what you think.”

“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, but I’m warning you now, I don’t share and friend or no, if you hurt Heero, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Uh, Maxwell…” Wufei blinked at the suddenly serious – instantly dangerous man. “I wasn’t… I’m not…” it clicked, and he was left asking with reluctant curiosity. “You don’t… share?”

“No. Never.” The reply came in short, piercing bullets.

Wufei started to smile softly. “That’s… good,” he murmured, and decided to go back to work. A minute later, another thought registered. “Maxwell,” he began, his ears pinking. “Tell Yuy to ignore any deliveries he receives over the next couple of days.”

*

Quatre for darthanne

*Quatre* When you Weren't Looking

It has been a busy day, busier than the entire week combined. So when his private line rings, he answers with his mind still on the meeting just attended, and switching to the one he’s about to attend. It is Duo, and Quatre listens to his talk, but continues with pulling up the agenda for the next meeting, his mind working on whom to assign the tasks from the latest planning committee.

“…just the two of us, and we wound up at that Mexican shop…” Duo is saying.

“Yes, I know the one,” Quatre murmurs encouragingly, hitting print, and closing down the word doc. He has what he needs for the meeting in… (a glance at the clock) three minutes. Duo continues to tell him about the menu and what was ordered, and Quatre opens an email communication to pass off the list of items to one of the five assistants. He bullets the tasks needing to be finished by close of business, and prioritizes the others if there is time left in the day.

“…wasn’t expecting that question, so I told him the truth.”

“Always the best policy, isn’t it?” Quatre says soothingly, a tendril of thought wondering why Duo was suddenly agitated by telling the truth.

“Glad to hear that buddy,” Duo says, and Quatre pauses in typing the memo. He faces the vid monitor, and looks at Duo for the first time since answering. “’Cause I have to tell ya, Trowa’s on his way over there to uh… talk about it in person.”

His mind slams shut, and Quatre does a quick rewind of Duo’s conversation. Duo meets Trowa for lunch. They eat at the Mexican place Trowa likes. Trowa asks Duo …

“What… what in the hell have you done, Duo?” he asks, his face whitening.

Duo visibly swallows, his eyes widen, and he flushes bright red. “I didn’t mean to tell him like that, honest! I was just so surprised…”

“Duo?” Quatre asks softly, but his attention is diverted to the office door opening, his executive assistant telling someone he isn’t to be disturbed, and suddenly, Trowa is there.

“Everything all right, Quat?” Duo’s voice sounds far away of a sudden, and Quatre cannot take his eyes off Trowa; Trowa as he’s never seen him before.

“Quatre has to go now, Duo,” Trowa says, reaching over the desk to hit the disconnect button.

“Tro—” Quatre’s voice cracks, his mouth dry.

“I can call security,” his assistant offers from the doorway, knowing Mister Barton is a friend – a close personal friend – but afraid of the sudden overwhelming presence of him on this visit.

“No,” Quatre says, tearing his eyes from Trowa’s, and putting a little more firmness in his tone. “There’s no need.” He smiles for the woman, hoping to reassure. “And Grace,” he adds as she starts to leave, “Please reschedule the two o’clock, cancel the three, and…” his eyes return to Trowa’s. “I’ll let you know about the rest of the day.”

“Yes, sir,” she says, hesitating with her hand on the doorknob, glancing between the two. The hint of threat is gone, and something else is charging the room. Closing the door behind her, she smiles, and plans to have TBG reroute all incoming calls to her line, and reschedule or outright cancel all Mister Winner’s meetings for the rest of the day. Anything short of a major disaster could wait until her young man finally confesses to his young man.

*

Trowa and Duo friendship for leftminds

*Trowa, Duo friendship* Until Then

I am no longer eating; any interest in the sandwich on my tray disappears when I hear the slur. At first, I believe I am the target, since it wouldn’t be the first time, but a quick glance tells me I am not. Though I am surprised by who is, and by his reaction. It isn’t the first time he’s taken his share of teasing, his share of jibes, and I wonder as his shoulders hunch deeper in his jacket as he leaves the cafeteria. He usually has three methods of dealing with jerks like that: ignoring them as if they do not exist, laughing and agreeing congenially with his detractors, or flipping them off.

The jocks at the next table over laugh, high-fiving each other, derisive comments are traded. I notice the one that is not participating, but instead, he watches the door their daily target left through. He realizes I am staring at him, and scowls at me. I continue to stare, letting him see nothing of what I am thinking. A handful of seconds pass before I rise, taking my tray to the disposal site, and dumping the waste. I have an idea on where he has gone; it won’t take any time to catch up. And if I’m wrong, there is always tomorrow.

He is on the roof, where he usually goes when he’s either too angry or upset to trust himself. I join him at the wire mesh fence, and let the wind cool my own face. It is in silence we stare out over the town – the little slice of it we can see. It is on my lips to tell him what jerks they are, but he knows that already. I would give him the platitudes of comfort, the ones I am offered when facing the same taunts and jibes, but I have told him these before. He knows it will get better, that people do mature, and life isn’t stuck at sixteen.

There will be a day, and God I sure hope it is soon, that the one he is interested shows that he is interested as well. The look I was given tells me it will happen. But, until that day when he is here to offer silent support, it will be my job; just as it has always been Duo’s for me, and still is in a lot of respects, even if I have my own someone.

Because, that’s what friends do.

*

merith — Fri, 02 Jan 2009 20:21:20 GMT

so, zazu mentioned something about 121 days of writing (or maybe it was fics?) anyway... i think i want to attempt to write 121 fic(lets) this year. and, i really would like to write something each day until finished. *sigh* it might not happen, given this conversion is pretty hectic and has been keeping me very busy (or brain-dead). but, i am going to try!

okay, here's the first, and i apologize for it's rather cliched approach. but, i think this set will be a series of fic(lets) to continue in the same universe as 25 5 sentence fics for february 08. and yes, that's heero and duo as cops, heero working in homicide and duo working in cold cases.

title: new years, pairing: heero/duo, warning: sappy, cliched

With a surprised snort, Heero woke, his eyes scanning the dimly lit room swiftly. Even as he recognized the reason for his wakening, the tension eased from his muscles, the instant alertness from his eyes; the pop-pop-pop continued beyond the living room window as revelers celebrated in their way.

The heavy warmth moved against his shoulder, and Heero focused his attention there, his expression momentarily tender. A shift in lighting, and his eyes flicked to the vid set left on, its sound barely audible. The countdown had passed, but the cameras were still panning the crowd, picking out couples kissing, holding onto one another, joy and hope for the new year clear in their expression.

“Or too much to drink,” Heero muttered quietly. He suppressed a yawn, and glanced from the remote two feet in front of him to the man using him as a pillow. Duo had been tired, Heero knew. In normal circumstances, there would be no way Duo would have slept through the firecrackers their neighbors so thoughtfully set off to mark the hour.

Frowning slightly, Heero reached out and brushed hair from Duo’s face. The bruise that had marred his cheek was fading, the cut edging his lower lip healing. Though he hadn’t been there, it didn’t take much imagination to visualize what happened. Fifteen hundred miles from home, a bust that’d turned into a knock-down, drag-out fight and on Christmas, the suspect he and his partner flew out to arrest, didn’t come quietly. Heero’s thumb skimmed the surface of Duo’s lip, and the steady breathing paused. Heero watched, mildly relieved when the rhythm resumed.

They had spent Christmas apart, not for the first time, but for once, this year they had actual plans that had to be postponed. A break in Duo’s cold case Christmas Eve day had him scrambling to pack a bag to catch a hurried flight. Heero saw it, the excitement building behind his eyes, even as his lips apologized for ruining their own trip. Not that he could fault Duo; he had done the same a time or two.

New Years had almost become a casualty to work as well, but a last minute confession, and a stand-by position fulfilled brought Duo home in time for dinner. Too bad he’d fallen asleep during the movie they watched. Heero hadn’t minded; Duo was home, and the movie could be finished at another time. Instead of car chases, explosions, and choreographed gunfights, Heero tuned in the local channel showing other party-goers living it up on the street, counting down the minutes.

Somewhere in there, Heero drifted off himself.

“Hey,” he said softly, shrugging his shoulder gently. “Time to go to bed.”

Eyes blinked opened, warm, confused, with hints of blue glinting. “…time is it?” Duo managed, shifting enough to lift his head from Heero’s shoulder, and raise an arm above his head in a stretch.

“You missed the new year.” Heero smiled slightly when Duo broke out into a wide-mouth yawn.

Duo stopped yawning abruptly and turned with a frown. “Why didn’t you wake me? We could have done the countdown together.”

His smile turned sheepish. “I missed it, too.”

“Oh.” The ‘O’ of his mouth smoothed, and Duo turned, noticing the vid set still showing party-goers. Heero didn’t look, but watched Duo instead. “There’s still the champagne, though.”

“It will still be New Year’s tomorrow,” Heero replied, reaching now for the remote, pushing the power button, and plunging the room in darkness. “The champagne can wait.”

“Oh?” His inflection of tone wasn’t lost on Heero, and its sudden alertness sparked along nerves, pimpling skin, and jolting him to his feet.

“Come on,” Heero answered the unasked. “Let’s go get a start the new year.”

“Right behind you,” Duo said, and from the warmth and press against his back, Heero knew he was, and would be.

merith — Mon, 10 Nov 2008 02:03:23 GMT

okay... since more than enough of you have expressed an interest... here goes:

Secret santa kind of thing…

The last couple of years, I’ve participated in secret santa gift exchanges others have promoted (my own last year!), but thought I’d like to bring it to my friends as well (have to share the love!). Because, we all sort of know one another. *grin* or at least this would be a great way to introduce yourself to someone you didn’t know!

Here’s the plan:

• Drop me a comment telling me you want to participate. Use something like this format:

Name
Working email - one you check with some regularity
Gifts you would like (be descriptive or link if possible/specific) -- give your santa a bit of a list, in case your #1 choice is unobtainable.
Address where you’d like your gift sent (important note: if you will not be at your current address, please indicate the address you will be at when so your santa can ship to the correct address.)
Would you be willing to ship overseas? (If not in US, willing to send to the US or another country outside your own?)

• I will put together the list of busy bee santas, matching one person up to another… introducing folks who might not know one another. The santa assignments will be sent via email.

• SANTA YOU, will shop for your recipient, spending no more than $25 total (keep in mind you have to ship it still).

This is important: please be cognizant of the fact your santa will only have $25 to work with, and do not ask for something that will exceed that amount. Make this enjoyable for your santa as well!

• SANTA YOU, will wrap (if you want to), package and ship to your recipient.

• RECEIVER YOU, will post a public post (so your santa can see) letting your santa know you’ve received the gift and piling accolades upon their head.

• Christmas day, I will post the masterlist of all santas and giftees (unless you tell me otherwise). This way, you can ‘meet’ and get to know one another a little better.

Please note, if you find yourself unable to participate after signing up, PLEASE let me know as soon as possible so I can find an alternate, or juggle something around.

EDIT: please note -- secret santa assignments will be sent out over thanksgiving weekend -- before the 1st (or 2nd) of december, so you have time to plan and buy for your recipient!

.

February writing challenge: day 25

merith — Sun, 24 Aug 2008 22:53:45 GMT

yeah...it's definitely not february any longer, but, i did promise to finish these. all stories have been posted now, so i'll stop with the spam :)

using table 7 from the 5sentence_fics community

Fandom: Gundam Wing, Pairing: Heero/Duo, Rating: PG, Warnings: BL, slight touch of sap word count: 121, see previous stories here.
Table 7, #10 - Hidden Treasure

It took a moment or two for him to realize what was off; the sunlight was halfway across the bedroom floor, and that meant it was nearing noon, Heero was asleep, and they were in bed. There was no alarms, no ringing phones, no showers to take, breakfasts to rush through, and no demands on their time.

“Go back to sleep,” Heero mumbled in a groggy voice, and Duo kissed him before laying his head back on Heero’s chest.

The day was theirs, the first in over a month, and they were starting it off right. And, with one leg threaded through Heero’s, his cheek pressed to Heero’s chest, Duo drifted back into slumber, listening to the beat of Heero’s heart.

February writing challenge: day 24

merith — Sun, 24 Aug 2008 21:48:30 GMT

yeah...it's definitely not february any longer, but, i did promise to finish these. (i'm hoping to finish them today so sorry for the spam!) :)

using table 7 from the 5sentence_fics community

Fandom: Gundam Wing, Pairing: Heero/Duo, OC/OC (possible?) Rating: PG, Warnings: BL, slight touch of angst word count: 224, see previous stories here.
Table 7, #23 - Bills to Pay

It had been two months, one week, and two days since the shootout resulting in hospitalization for both partners, but, while Heero returned to work, his life going back to ‘normal’, Williams hadn’t. He still reported for duty, still made the arrests, still performed at peak level, but talk of retiring, of maybe going into private detecting, of moving to Florida and getting a job with his brother-in-law peppered his rambling monologues.

When asked of Montoya, Williams would answer in mumble excuses, and turn away, but Heero saw the telltale, the fear that edged his eyes and tightened his mouth. Heero knew the reason then, for the sudden change, for he had spent many days and far too many nights in the grips of that fear, just knowing the next call would have him reporting to the hospital, the next knock on the door would be a brother officer come to inform him of the worst minutes of his life.

So, after work, over draft pulls down at McGinty’s, Heero shared some of his personal life with his partner; telling him how there were days he nearly demanded Duo resign; days he nearly walked away, but, he also shared how he came to control the fear, and trust in his partner’s ability to keep himself safe from harm, and make it through another day.

February writing challenge: day 23

merith — Sun, 24 Aug 2008 19:04:36 GMT

yeah...it's definitely not february any longer, but, i did promise to finish these. (i'm hoping to finish them today so sorry for the spam!) :)

using table 7 from the 5sentence_fics community

Fandom: Gundam Wing, Pairing: Heero/Duo, OC/OC (possible?) Rating: PG, Warnings: BL, slight touch of angst word count: 199, see previous stories here.
Table 7, #08 - Desert Wind

They called it a vacation, but to Heero’s eyes, it was enforced time off; enforced as a result to injuries obtained in the line of duty; enforced for losing his professionalism, using force bordering excessive; enforced while his partner recovered in a hospital bed, where the specialist wasn’t sure he would regain full use of his arm, be fit for duty.

Duo was there with support, with words to calm, words of agreement, and knew just when to hold onto words altogether, as Heero ranted and riled against the system that worked so unfairly. And when Heero was released from the hospital, if not for duty, and Williams was out of critical care, Duo booked a long weekend away – somewhere different, somewhere Heero could find the peace he desperately sought.

He didn’t believe it would be possible, and nearly refused to board the plane, but after a day and a night at the cabin deep in the Sonoma, the bitterness was fading, the intense anger mellowed.

Watching the sunset on the flat horizon, the faint hint of a breeze lifted the hair from his face, and a pair of arms circled his waist; he was content for the day.

February writing challenge: day 22

merith — Sun, 24 Aug 2008 17:44:43 GMT

yeah...it's definitely not february any longer, but, i did promise to finish these. (i'm hoping to finish them today so sorry for the spam!) :)

using table 7 from the 5sentence_fics community

Fandom: Gundam Wing, Pairing: Heero/Duo, OC/OC (possible?) Rating: PG, Warnings: BL, slight touch of angst word count: 163, see previous stories here.
Table 7, #24 - Don't Look Back

Heero found him sitting on the grass on the hill above the memorial, the one erected to commemorate peace and unity, to remember those lost in the time of strife and unrest, and to stand as a pillar of strength against tyrannical methods of government. With a bare nod of acknowledgement, Duo turned back to watch the monument’s visitors; parents with babies in strollers and children running to circle its expansive base, widows and widowers, mothers and sons, fathers and daughters, friends, companions, and comrades.

“Do you think they understand what it’s really about,” Duo asked softly, leaning against Heero’s shoulder.

Taking a moment to study the crowded square below; too far away to note expressions, he could still read posture and body language. Confident in his answer, he reached for Duo’s hand and gave it a squeeze, reassuring, and said, “Most do, enough to believe in its symbolism to prevent acts of stupidity for the foreseeable future, and that’s enough for now.”

February writing challenge: day 21

merith — Sun, 24 Aug 2008 16:52:45 GMT

yeah...it's definitely not february any longer, but, i did promise to finish these. :)

using table 7 from the 5sentence_fics community

Fandom: Gundam Wing, Pairing: Heero/Duo, OC/OC (possible?) Rating: PG, Warnings: BL, slight touch of sap word count: 149, see previous stories here.
Table 7, #01 - Letting Go

The morning started quiet after the briefing on their new case, and Duo was content to let it remain so, for the time being. He knew only through Heero that the weekend plans his partner alluded the Friday before weren’t the only ones on her schedule; dinner and drinks between partners’ partners wasn’t typical in any squad, any department of the force.

But, watching the unconscious smile flitter on her lips as she reviewed case details, Duo thought that maybe he would let the silence continue. He knew enough of the man to know he was a good one, if rough around the edges; knew enough to know he could be a good match, if the man lasted that long.

Setting aside his case folder, he broke the quiet to suggest a beginning point in reopening the investigation, and kept the shared knowledge of his partner’s activities to himself.

Gundam Wing: Heero/Duo, times of day: night

merith — Sun, 24 Aug 2008 04:41:21 GMT

title: conjunctive point, author: merith, theme: times of day - evening, rating: PG-13, warning: BL, angst, language, disclaimer: i own neither gundam wing nor alanis morissette's song title.
notes: written for the Summer '08 stagesoflove, this is the last of five stories for this theme.

Part 1: el manana (morning)
Part 2: back 2 good (noon)
Part 3: man in motion (afternoon)
Part 4: misguided angel (evening)

Part 5: Head Over Feet (night)

There has been a few times in my life that I realized too late that I’ve done something I shouldn’t have. Tonight was one of those times. Or, at least I thought tonight was. Like a replay of a similar night so many weeks ago, I found a table while Duo went to the bar for drinks. And like then, the music was loud, the dancers on the floor pressed front to back-to-back to front, and I was propositioned too often to join the requester in a dance, in a dark and quiet corner, in a drink.

I looked across the room toward the bar, hoping to spot Duo, hoping I hadn’t made the mistake I was beginning to believe I’d made.

Last night, Duo’s invitation was less threatening. We’d spent the evening watching movies like we used to, and Duo adding commentary to try to make me laugh, and me pretending to ignore him, or protest the inanity of the movie choice. After the third disc played out, Duo drove me back to Meloney’s apartment, parked out front, and walked me to the door. He declined my offer to come inside, to have a coffee or tea. Instead, he leaned against the doorjamb, and slid fingers along the side of my neck to the back. Gentle pressure and Duo was kissing me with a soft brush of lips for a short minute.

“Come with me tomorrow,” he asked softly, his mouth holding a small smile, and his hand still cupping my neck.

I was watching his lips, wanting another kiss, wanting more than a kiss. “Tomorrow?”

“To Bally’s. I… want to dance with you.” Humor twisted his lips up and made the skin around his eyes crinkle.

Visions of Duo dancing with the twink had me backing up, ready to tell him ‘no’. With my back against the door, there was nowhere else for me to go. Duo’s hand slid down my arm to catch at my wrist. His smile faded, and I was telling him ‘yes’.

He left me standing there with another too short kiss, and a ‘pick you up at eight’ tossed over his shoulder.

I was still looking toward the bar when a beer slid in front of me, and Duo was there, leaning in close. “Had to go to the other bar. They had the Dunbarden.” He pulled his stool next to mine, his leg pressed close from thigh to knee. “You’re going to like the band tonight.” He took a quick drink from his bottle, but his eyebrows wagged at me.

“Why is that?” I asked not trusting his expression, and looking toward the unlit recess.

“They play that progressive spacetrip crap you like.”

Glaring at him only made him laugh harder. I’d have to have several more beers to make that music palatable, and Duo knew it. “Then I suggest you find another club—” I stopped talking abruptly when an arm came from behind me, and slid around Duo’s shoulders.

“Duo,” a silken voice murmured loudly. “It’s been ages.” A twink. One of those androgynous forms, too thin, too made-up, and usually drugged or drunk or both, was inserting itself between Duo and me, winding its body round Duo’s to face him.

“Ah,” Duo managed, pushing back from the table with his hands reaching for the figure’s arms, trying to extricate himself. “Been busy, and I’m with someone.” Duo nodded in my direction, and I tried to get rid of the stunned expression before the red lipped, glitter sprayed, and rainbow swirled eyes turned my way.

“Oh. I see.” The red-pupils not found in nature swept me up and down. “Can I play, too?” The figure asked in a velvety voice, its colorful eye winking.

“No,” Duo responded immediately in a firm voice, pushing the body half-draped over him into an upright position. “We were just leaving, actually.”

“Leaving?” The mouth pouted, but the eyes didn’t leave my face. “You’re no fun any more, Duo. But this one…” A hand reached up, fingers extended, and Duo’s hand gripped its wrist.

“No.”

Raising my gaze from the long lacquered nails to Duo’s face, I was surprised to see his jaw set in firm lines, his eyes hard and cold.

The twink pulled its wrist free with a twist and an obnoxious sigh. “I was only going to tell him how much better his eyes would stand out if he put a little kohl—”

“His eyes are perfect how they are – without artifice.” Duo stood and reached for my hand. “Ready, Heero?”

With a glance at the sulking twink, I nodded and slipped off my stool. Duo pulled me from the club without a word or a look back. But I had, and spotted the twink leaning against our abandoned table, finishing off my beer, and watching us leave. I wanted to feel guilty, but I didn’t. I searched for the unease the situation should have left me in, but it wasn’t there. Instead, I wanted to laugh. Laugh for the slinky clown left on its own, for Duo’s expression of surprise when it wrapped itself around him. But mostly, I wanted to laugh because Duo wanted to leave with me.

It wasn’t until we reached the parking lot and were heading to his car that I tugged his hand for his attention.

“Who was that?”

Duo scowled at me, hearing the obvious amusement in my tone. He sighed, and threw an irritated look behind us, as though he could scour the memory clean. “Someone I used to dance with.”

“Just one more question,” I started, and his eyes became guarded. I gave him a smile, and squeezed his hand. “Is… it male or female?”

His laugh was worth the moment of discomfort.

- & -

The morning after my last night at Ops Command, Duo was waiting for me. He called Jana over, and invited her out to breakfast with us. I only gave him a look and shrugged at Jana’s raised brow. Whatever Duo was up to, I hadn’t a clue.

It should have dawned on me when Wufei caught up with us in hallway before the elevators; my excuse was the end of the shift, the end of a long week, and anticipation building going into a new position. But, it wasn’t until I spotted Trowa and Quatre loitering in the front lobby, pretending interest in an abstract print hanging from the wall that I realized something was up. Stopping abruptly, I turned a look to Duo.

“What?” He managed in an ‘oh-so-innocent’ tone that didn’t fool anyone.

Instead of responding, I shook my head and gave his shoulder a jolt with my own. By now, Quatre was watching us, smiling, and Trowa was turning away from the awful product of someone’s idea of art. I accepted the handshakes and congratulations from both before Duo was pushing us toward the door, demanding sustenance before he faded away.

I was to start my new position the following Monday, and from what I’d been told, it would be days of assessments, mental and physical, followed by weeks of training (or re-training in my case). Breakfast felt more like ‘Last Supper’ than ‘congratulations’.

It was in the middle of Duo stealing a sausage link off my plate, and Jana’s innuendo-laden comment that Quatre laid his fork down and smiled at me. Not one of his congenial smiles or ‘I’m-just-being-polite’ type smiles, but one of his genuine ‘all is right with the world’ smiles. I knew what he was going to ask before he opened his mouth, and gripped my fork in preparation.

“You’ve moved back home, then,” he said, smiling his smile at me from across the table.

“No,” I informed him, shaking my head, my fork decimating what remained of my egg.

Duo’s hand was on my leg under the table. “Won’t let him,” he announced grinning in the sudden silence. “I need another week—” his eyes flicked in my direction and back “or two of perfect solitude—”

“Perfect?” Wufei snorted, breaking any remaining discomfort. “The day Maxwell and perfect are used in the same sentence—”

“Hey!” Duo cried out. But he was grinning, and the grip I had on my fork eased. “I’ll have you know I’ve been told I have ‘perfect’ ass—”

“I don’t want to know!”

“—sets,” Duo concluded with a laugh.

Giving Duo a short smile, I glanced at Wufei. “His ass isn’t bad either.” Wufei’s palm met his face, and Jana’s abrupt laugh had coffee spitting over the table.

“Thanks, babe,” Duo leaned close to murmur.

“Anytime,” I murmured back. He smiled and I felt the physical tug in my gut, the one telling me to be closer, to kiss him, to let him know without words where exactly he stood in my world. But instead of lips meeting, I dropped my hand to cover the top of his still on my thigh, and I squeezed it gently.

His hand turned, and he threaded his fingers inside mine. “Remind me to show my appreciation of your ‘perfect assets’ one of these days.” Duo’s eyes were as blue as a clear winter sky just before dusk, and he had them focused on me, shining with an emotion I had believed to have been there months before.

“Soon,” I choked out, tightening my hold on his hand.

Breath released in a rush, Duo nodded, and squeezed my hand back. The moment was ours and no one else existed. I would have ran back to Meloney’s, tossed my things in garbage bags, and had them back at Duo’s – our – place before the others had finished breakfast if Duo gave the word. But. He was working his way through something, something he hadn’t done before, and I wanted to give him the time he needed. Once I moved back, I wasn’t planning to leave again.

He brushed his thumb across the back of my hand, and it felt more intimate than the wild joining we’d displayed all those weeks ago.

It was Jana’s laughter and Quatre’s that quickly following that pulled me back into focus on just where we were. With a quick glance, I saw that the conversation had moved from Duo (and his perfect assets) to Wufei’s new job, and the improbable incidences he’d already been made privy.

Quatre’s initial assessment of the situation was inaccurate, but only by scant measure. My life wasn’t ‘all is right in the world’ quite yet, but, sharing a quick smile with Duo, I knew it was right for the moment.

- & -

After sleeping most of the day, Friday was spent with friends – The Five were together. Dinner out and after, a decent pool hall with a dozen tables and low-keyed music. The beer on tap was cold, in quantity, and went down smooth. We traded partners, and singles, swapped tables and stole cues. Stories were told – some were fabricated on the spot – and predictions on sport event outcomes were made. No one spoke of work or of relationships or of our involvement in the war. We were five male friends spending a Friday night together with a beer in one hand and a cue stick in the other.

At least we were until it came time to say goodnight and goodbye. Brief hugs were exchanged, and promises to visit made. I offered no assurance as to when, not knowing what was in store over the next few months in the new position. But, the first long weekend, I told Quatre, I would catch the next available shuttle. Duo amended my pledge to include himself on the invite.

We were the last to leave, standing side by side in the parking lot, watching the taillights of Wufei’s car wink out of sight, Quatre and Trowa gone long before. It was warm outside, with enough of a breeze to keep it from being too warm, and at half past midnight, the place was nearly empty, the traffic on the street out front at a minimum.

It could have been the pseudo privacy of the moment, or the half dozen beers I’d drank, but when Duo took my hand, I let him pull me to my car; let him push me up against the driver side door; let him lean in and kiss me as though no one could see us. Whether it was the alcohol talking or Duo’s influence, I was kissing him back. With his ass in my hands, I couldn’t pull him close enough, and feeling that his cock was as hard as mine was, I cursed the thickness of denim.

If it hadn’t been the startlingly loud roar of an engine coming to life from a truck a couple of rows over, I don’t doubt that in minutes, Duo and I would have been inside on the backseat of my car, finding our way to release. As it was, we both broke apart, but still held onto one another. Duo lowered his head to my shoulder, his breath hot and heavy against my neck. My hands rose to his back and, dropping my head back to rest on the roof of the car, I stared up at the stars, wishing we hadn’t been interrupted, thankful that we had been.

“Fuck,” Duo mumbled. His breathing was returning to normal, and I felt his hands withdrawing from the inside of my shirt. “That could have been…awkward.”

I made an agreeable noise. “Public Indecency, Indecent exposure, public lewdness,” I murmured, lifting my head to smirk at him. “I can’t understand how that would create awkwardness.”

He laughed like I knew he would, and he took a step back, his hands still at my waist, but leaving a couple of inches between our bodies. “It would make for interesting water cooler gossip.”

“Maybe we should…” I started, glancing at my car and back to Duo’s face. “Would you like to…” Hell. We were already dating, in a way, and I couldn’t ask him over to stay the night or invite myself into his bed.

“I would like nothing better,” Duo told me, but he extracted himself from me, leaned in, and gave me a fleeting kiss. “But, I do have to go into work in the morning.”

“What? On a Saturday?” I asked, reaching for his belt loops and hooking a finger through.

“Special ops planning.” Duo glanced down at my hand, but smiled, and didn’t pull away. “A team is being formulated to deploy in the next day or two, and I have to put together full dossiers on a couple of operatives I’ve worked with in the past.”

Again with a non-verbal noise. This meant that he should have left at least an hour ago, if not more. “So, no on breakfast in the morning?”

He shook his head. “I’ll take a rain check on one though.” It was then that he looked at his watch and frowned. “I’m not sure when I’ll be finished, but we can get together when I’m done?”

I nodded and let go of him. “Tomorrow if you can,” I confirmed. “How about Sunday?”

“Probably will be around.” He was smiling softly, and tossed his hair back from out of his eyes. “I’ll give you a call when I get a chance, okay?”

Nodding again, I reached behind me and opened the car door. “I have to stop by the apartment and pick up a few uniforms, gym equipment. Do you want me to wait—”

“No,” Duo interjected. “It’s still your home, Heero.” His hand was stroking my arm in short soothing caresses. “I have to warn you, though; I probably won’t be there until late tomorrow night. Unless a breakthrough of some sort happens, it’s going to be a long day.”

“I know,” I assured him. “I understand.” He needed to head home, but I also understood why he was still standing there. For the same reason I was still standing there. I didn’t want to tell him good night. “It’s going to be six in the morning soon,” I reminded him. “Go home. Get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow, if only over the phone.”

It was his turn to nod, but in a quick move, he dove in for a kiss and spun away. “Tomorrow, Yuy.”

Still standing at the open car door, I watched Duo climb in his car, start it up, and back out of his parking slot. He paused for a wave and a brief honk of his horn as he passed. Giving his disappearing presence a wry smile, I let myself drop into the driver’s seat and start my own car.

Meloney’s apartment was becoming too small, too silent.

- & -

Duo managed to call late Saturday, if only to let me know the situation had gone hot. He was now part of the planning crew, and in charge of the team’s immediate deployment. The urgency of the situation and the interrupted knowledge transfer made Duo the team’s go-to expert. As such, he had to be on-hand to walk the OC through territory and agent histories. I hung up with another promise of a call when he got the chance.

Sometime tomorrow, he had said. We really need to talk, and soon. Before…” and I could almost hear him think about what he wanted to say. “before this continues much further.”

I understood what he was and wasn’t telling me, but hearing the ‘let’s talk’ phrase kept me awake for most of the night. The situation was coming to a point where we had to talk, to put voice to what we both had been flanking. The goal was the same for him as it was for me, of that I was certain. I did not want another ‘Monday Morning After’ of regrets.

He managed a two-minute call mid-morning on Sunday, and that was only to let me know he’d made it home, that his participation in the mission was complete, and that he was going to bed. I spent the rest of the day readying uniforms, repairing equipment or finding suitable replacements, and watching the minute hand crawl over the clock’s face.

Determining I was as prepared as I could be, I decided to go for a run, and brought my cell phone with me. Just in case. I had barely made the sidewalk when it rang, and finding it was Duo on the other end, I nearly ran back up stairs to take the call.

“Hey,” he said immediately after my greeting. “I just wo—” A loud yawn interrupted him.

“Do you need more sleep?” I asked, leaning back against the outside wall of the apartment building.

“Yeah,” he agreed, and I could hear the exhaustion in his voice. “I was hungry,” he added, and immediately the sounds I’d been hearing in the background made sense. “Taking time out to eat, and take a piss, then I’m going back to bed.” I barked out a laugh. Elegant Duo was not. “You could join me, you know.” He offered softly. “I’m having peanut butter and jelly – I’ll even make one with your favorite jelly.”

“I’ve had lunch.” But the longing to see him had me wanting a sandwich, even if I didn’t eat it.

“You could come to bed with me,” he slipped in slyly. “Though I have to warn you, I’m not up for anything but sleep.”

A pleased sound made its way out of my mouth; an afternoon nap would be nice. But. “I might not be able to let you sleep,” I finally said. “And you need to sleep.”

Another yawn. “Yeah.”

“How did it go?” I asked to change the subject, attempting to banish images of Duo in sleep.

“Good,” Duo said around a mouthful of sandwich. I heard the refrigerator door, and the sound of a pop-top opening. “The team was in and out, but there was a hell of a lot of mop-up to do.”

I nodded to a woman and her young daughter as they passed. I thought she lived on the fourth floor, but lacked confirmation. “Rushed operations usually do,” I agreed listening to him take a long swallow of his drink. “You need to drink water; not that carbonated sugar.”

He deliberately smacked his lips with a gratifyingly pleased sound. “Next time,” he promised. “What are you doing, since you don’t want to sleep with me?”

Shaking my head, I grinned into the phone. “I was about to go for a run.”

“Mmmm,” he hummed, and the skin on my arms prickled. “Have you already done your stretches?” Duo was murmuring now, and by sound alone, I knew he was back in bed.

“Yes,” I told him. “Quads, gluts, hams, and calves.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” I laughed, and would have said more but Duo yawned yet again.

“Hold that thought for later,” I advised and pushed off from the wall. “For now, sleep. I’ll run, and we can talk later, got that?”

“Roger.” He was nearly asleep, and it would take moments only for him to cross that threshold.

“Hang up, Duo. Call me when you wake again.”

“Uh hummm,” he murmured, and I doubted he really heard me. But, there was a click, and the line went dead.

I pocketed my cell and ran through a quick routine of stretches to remind muscles of what we were about to do. Even as I began my run with short striding steps, a gentle calm began infusing itself into routes oxygen traveled, through neuro-pathways, and the blood stream. Patience hadn’t always been virtuous for me, but exercising more than muscle had its rewards.

When next he called, it was after eight. I was beginning to think we wouldn’t be meeting after all. Duo kept the call succinct – “meet me in fifteen minutes at the north parking lot at Riverwalk Park,” – he’d said. I had no sooner agreed than he hung up. Pulling on a shirt and slipping into my runners without socks, I grabbed keys and wallet off the desk, and left the apartment.

Duo was obviously waiting, had been waiting for some time, by the looks of it. I parked one slot over from his car in the nearly empty lot, and watched him for a long minute before getting out. He was sitting on the hood of his car, staring at the line of trees that blocked the view of the river. At least, that’s the way it would appear to a casual observer.

Stopping in front of him, I touched his leg. Duo’s eyes flicked to my face and away, a bare acknowledgement I had arrived. His eyebrows drew together, and he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Guess it’s time, huh?” He asked, even as he slid from the car. “Come on,” he said, taking my hand and tugging on it. “Let me buy you a lemonade, then we can find someplace quiet.” I nodded and let him pull me along, across the parking lot and out onto the walking path.

The park started from simple beginnings; a dirt trail winding from the east end of town to the west, with large dirt patches at intervals along its path for parking. Those who fished had long taken advantage of the site, and a couple enterprising enthusiasts built a boat dock. A year later, a snack and tackle shack was added, and a parking lot paved. A few trees removed, playgrounds made, and patches of grass planted, voilà! Instant park and all around family entertainment.

The river walk was more than the park, with its playgrounds, picnic tables, boat dock, and small amphitheater. I came here often to walk its trails, sometimes run if it wasn’t crowded. Possibly, it was the one public place I was most comfortable in lowering some of my ingrained defenses.

“Here.” Duo held out a plastic glass of lemonade. He turned down the path as soon as I accepted it from him, and began walking. I followed more slowly, sipping the liquid level down to keep the overflow from spilling out over the rim.

The furtive look I ignored, letting Duo take his time. Instead, I drank lemonade, walked by his side, and let the sounds of the river soothe as they always did. We hadn’t gone far before Duo was shifting his drink around and moving to my left side to take my hand. I looked at our clasped hands, and gave him a short smile. He gave me a tight little smile in return. Whatever it was Duo wanted to tell me, I knew then it was worst that I’d thought.

Another five minutes walking, and he nudged me off the path to a small vista overlooking the river. It was a place I was familiar with, making a point to watch the river flow during most park visits. Duo let go of my hand, finished the last of his drink, and threw it away. I went to the rail and leaned out over it, looking at the rocks below, the river beyond.

“I used to follow you here, sometimes,” Duo said quietly behind me. I looked over my shoulder, and he was smiling softly. “You used to leave the apartment and disappear for hours. When you’d come back, you’d be so relaxed.” His smile quirked up wryly. “Used to think you were off getting laid in some perverted way.”

I laughed and turned watch him, back to the river. “That would be you, not me.”

“Yeah, well.” His eyes cut away from me to look over my shoulder as though he could see the far shore. “I couldn’t ask, you know. So I followed you.” He flashed me a grin and shrugged. “You came here, walked the path. Did nothing.”

“It’s…” I shrugged, unsure of how to tell him the power the river had on me. “Meditative. I’m able to think here.”

He was nodding, no longer smiling. “Yeah, I got that after the third time.” He twisted about to look at a copse of trees on the other side of the trail. “I hid there that time, watched you for over an hour.” Duo was looking at me again. “You just stood there, watching the water.” He flashed another grin. “I stopped following you after that. Figured if you wanted me to know, you would have said something.”

“Duo…” his name elongated between us.

“Don’t worry about it,” he waved off my half-started apology. “We all need a little private time, and this is where you choose to do yours.” His smile was wide for a moment. “At least it didn’t involve whips, leather, and latex.”

“Is that why we’re here now? So you can tell me you followed—”

“No,” he cut me off sharply with a hint of a frown. “No, nothing like that. I—” He looked out over my shoulder again. “I started to come here too, after that. It’s peaceful and all that crap.” His eyes flicked to mine and away. “Just thought being here would help,” shrug “tell the story – the whole story.”

Now I was frowning slightly. The ice in my cup shifted, and I used that as an excuse to move closer to Duo, to toss my cup away. “Duo,” I kept my tone low, calm. “Nothing you say to me now will change what I feel.”

His hand skimmed the inside of my arm, even as he chuckled slightly. “Careful who you offer that to; it might make a liar out of you.”

“But not you,” I insisted.

Duo shook his head slowly. “No, probably not. You know most of it, just not the dirty details.”

“Okay.” I took his hand, cupped our fingers together, and gave them a squeeze. “If you’re ready?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, and leaned into me for an instant. Taking his hand from mine, his look apologetic, he moved to the rail and grasped it in his hands. “You know all about me and Hilde hooking up, going into business, and getting serious, right?”

He wasn’t looking toward me but the river; I added a verbal ‘yes’ to my nod.

“I…I thought I loved her, Heero.” His voice dropped to a quiet somber tone, and I stepped closer to hear. “She was so pretty, so—fun. She was smart and cute, made me laugh.” His knuckles were turning white on the rail, and I touched his shoulder.

“People grow up, change. It happens,” I told him softly, but he shook his head sharply.

“No, it wasn’t like that. I only let you believe that’s what happened with us.” The grin he flashed my way this time was wavering. “I didn’t lie, since we were getting older, growing apart. That was only happening because of me, and what I was doing. Had nothing to do with Hilde.”

Keeping the frown from showing, I nodded, encouraging him along and trying to recall that time, nearly six years before, when Duo was still living with her. I had only visited once in the time between the rebellion and Duo’s move to Earth. And in the two days I was there, I saw nothing to show the discord that broke them apart. I’d always expected the next communication from either of them would be a wedding announcement.

“We were lovers,” he said softly, wistfully. “My first, and God, I thought I’d gone to heaven.” I nodded, though I couldn’t claim the same with my first. “I—we had such big plans. Expanding the yard, pulling in the big contracts. Getting married.” Another wavering grin. “I wasn’t even seventeen.”

I looked out over the river, watched it flow. At the same time he was planning a future, I was still at a loss. Wandering from place to place, I was trying to decide what I wanted to do, what I wanted to be. There was no question of having anyone – no matter who they were – in my life, then. A friend, I could handle, but to have someone depending emotionally on me was not to be considered.

Duo inhaled deeply and exhaled just as strongly. “I was just a kid, then, and it hit me like a sledge hammer one night.” The laugh he gave was humorless. “I’d just spent nearly twenty hours hauling shit, and was coming home and thought – This was going to be my life for the rest of my life.” He took another big breath, but let it out slowly, his look thoughtful. “It took another couple of months, but no matter how I looked at it, nothing changed.”

It was quiet for several minutes, and after stealing a look at Duo, I touched his hand. “You got… scared? Bored?”

A flashing smile and, “No, not exactly. Maybe I was scared or scared of getting bored. But even then, I knew something was missing. It didn’t feel right any more. Like there was a hole,” his hand rose to touch his chest, his gut. “Nothing was filling it, making it go away. Not Hilde, not working hours on end,” he snorted softly. “Not the booze or even the drugs.”

“What happened?” I asked, though I was getting an idea now.

He was silent again and when he spoke, his tone was vicious and full of loathing. “I started fucking anything and everything that’d have me.”

That shocked me. The brutal delivery, the rough tone, I jerked, and he registered the reaction.

“Yeah, I was a class A manwhore.” He spun away from the rail and began to stalk down the path.

I swore softly and chased after him. “Duo, that isn’t who you are, now. It doesn’t have any bearing—”

“It has everything to do with now,” he said savagely. “Don’t you see Heero? I loved Hilde. Was planning to spend the rest of my life with her, and look what that got me?”

Mouth opened to throw out another protest it clicked. He was afraid – had been afraid all this time. “You love me,” I whispered.

His eyes closed and his head bowed. “Yeah. Congratulations.”

I was smiling. I couldn’t help it. Having faith in a belief proved did that to a man. “It’s not the same,” I reassured him. “Different people, different times, different situations. You have far too many options than you did then, and have the wisdom to know that, now.”

He was looking at me now. “I know what you’re saying Heero, but what happens when—” his eyes became pinched, “when it becomes the same as then… when it’s not enough any more?” His voice dropped to a whisper.

The naked anguish was vivid in both voice and expression. His first days after Hilde slammed home. He had a dancing acquaintance with alcoholism in those days, and how many times, he would lament in drunken stupor his loss, what Hilde had meant to him. What they had was dead, burnt to ash, and spread across the galaxy.

“Duo.” I reached for him then, pulled him into an embrace, and held him tight. “I won’t let it happen,” I promised.

“She hates me. Couldn’t stand to be near me.” He was breathing hard, much too fast. I stroked his back, made comforting noises, and held him. “I couldn’t stand it if—if I lost you.”

“You’re not going to lose me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I nearly did already.” His words were muffled into my shoulder; his respiratory distress was easing.

“Not lost, never that,” I assured. He gained enough composure to give me a look.

“Moving out? Changing jobs?” Duo’s eyebrow rose with every word. “Running away is supposed to be my thing, not yours.”

I shrugged. “I wasn’t running away, just putting in a little temporary distance.”

Duo laughed, and it was a good sound. “Yeah, whatever you did, it worked.”

“I didn’t do that for you—” I started to protest, pulling away.

“I know. But it made me take a look at what I was doing, and how that was heading the same direction Hilde and me went.” His cocky grin was back, twisting itself into self-depreciation. “The problem with using sex for fulfillment,” he was looking at me, waiting for some kind of response, and I shook my head, not knowing where he was going. “It doesn’t work. It feels good for a few minutes, makes you believe that’s all there is, but leaves you emptier than when you started.” He drew a long stuttering breath.

“After I landed here, stopped drinking, and hitting the clubs, I—I found it. Just took me awhile to realize where it was coming from.” When he smiled, I kissed him in front of God and anyone watching. A minute past before he pulled away and tilted his head in silent invitation. “It’s getting late.”

Nodding, I released my hold on him, but kept his hand in mine. We started walking back toward the parking lot, and the silence this time was more relaxed. There were still issues between us, but Duo laid to rest what troubled me from the start. A little time and more talking, and I knew we wouldn’t have the problem he and Hilde had.

We were crossing the parking lot, nearing the cars when I offered tentatively, “Do you want to come back with me?”

“No,” Duo was already shaking his head. “You have early morning call, and I think I need to be alone for awhile.” He gave my hand a squeeze, and flashed a smile. “Let’s see how the next couple of days go, then make plans, k?”

“All right.” I couldn’t help the disappointment, but I did understand. He had dredged up a lot of buried garbage tonight, and muster was at six for me. It was already pressing ten. I didn’t want to wash out before I started. “You’ll call me,” I asked softly, “if thoughts get…rough. If you start to question—”

“I will, promise.” He tugged on my hand, pulled me into a brief hug. “I love you, Heero. I just don’t want to fuck this up.”

“You’re not,” I assured again, and kissed the side of his neck. “We’re in this together, right?”

“Right.” And pulling away, he gave me another smile. “Get your ass home, Yuy. Call me tomorrow when you’ve finished your first day.”

“Roger that,” I intoned, giving him a smile of my own.

I don’t remember the drive home, or undressing for bed, but the dreams I had left me weak-kneed and waking with wet sheets.

- & -

When I had been warned evaluation days were going to be hell, I had brushed them off. No one had gone through the type of training I had, and the modified version I still put myself through. I was wrong to dismiss it without further investigation.

The physical endurance, agility, and mobility assessments I aced without pause. The regulations, procedures and policies, and ESUN Penal Code exams given between the physical tests were passed with near perfect scores. Marksmanship, weapons care and use, munitions recognition, and HE/Demolitions tests were performed without flaws.

It had been the psyche eval the second day in, that left me drained and crawling between the sheets without dinner. I had been put through worst, though not in many years. By the end of each session, I felt the loss of my mental wards keenly, and wondered when they’d faded away.

At the end of the third day, I wanted to crawl up the last flight of stairs to Meloney’s apartment. I was longing for sleep, but knew I needed to eat, needed to keep myself moving, and not fall into the trap of losing energy upon arriving at ‘home’. At least I’d made it inside, had taken off my uniform shirt and managed to drape it over the back of the desk chair. I’d even kicked off my shoes before deciding a short rest was worth the risk of losing forward motion.

I hadn’t been sitting five minutes before there was a knock on the door. Staring at it in silence, I debated rising to answer, or putting up with another knock or two and ignoring it. Another knock followed by an amused if slightly exasperated voice.

“Come on, Heero. Answer the door already. I know you’re there – your car’s in the lot.”

Only for him would I haul my ass up off the couch and let him in. I stood for a moment, half-leaning against the door, drinking in the sight of him. Sunday night had only been three days before, but felt a lifetime. Between my exhaustion and his assignment in assisting with the operations mop-up, we had only been able to talk together once. And I know I was barely coherent.

“I could have been out on a run,” I finally told him.

But Duo only grinned. “If you can manage to run up and down the building stairs, I’ll give you whatever you want, whenever you want it.” There was a defining lift of his eyebrow, and a definite challenge in his eyes.

For a half minute, I seriously thought about pushing myself to beat his challenge. But, I had the idea that anything I’d want, he’d give it to me anyway, and I’d still be in shape to enjoy it. Instead of answering, I gave a shrug and stepped back, leaving him room to pass by.

He brushed close, sliding fingertips over the cotton of my tee shirt. I shivered, and stood in the open doorway watching him cross the living room to the table. It was only then that I saw he carried a plastic take-out bag from the Chinese restaurant down the block.

“You brought me dinner?” I asked, closing the door, and setting the lock before trailing behind him.

“Yeah,” Duo said, pulling white cartons from the bag. “Thought you might want to eat, even if you feel like shit.” He glanced up with a swift smile. “Even if you look like shit.”

“Thanks,” I muttered mildly, feeling suddenly ravenous. I was more interested in what he’d brought than what he was saying. But, he leaned over, kissed my neck, and backed up.

“Smell like shit, too.”

Pelting him with a fortune cookie was about all I could muster. “Let’s see how fresh-as-a-daisy you are after being put through what I went through today.”

He murmured something faintly agreeable, but tugged my hand away from opening a fragrant carton. “How ‘bout you take a quick shower, get out of this uniform, and I make up a plate of you?”

I stared at him for a moment, and nodded. “Acceptable.” But, I used his own hold on me against him, to pull him close and kiss his mouth, not letting go until I felt the need to breathe overriding the need to touch.

“Hmmm,” Duo was murmuring again. “Maybe I should join you in the shower.” He was smiling softly, his hands somewhere down around my waist. “Wouldn’t want you to fall asleep and drown, would we?”

It was a tempting offer. Very tempting. But, I pulled away, shaking my head. “As much as I want you there washing my back, I better go solo this round.” I gave him a quick kiss, and turned toward the bathroom. “Five minutes, Maxwell.”

Not one of the quickest showers I’d ever taken, but it was fast. Enough to clean, if not soothe abused muscles and aching head. Dressed in a pair of shorts, I pulled on a tank top after a minute’s hesitation; I knew Duo enjoyed my shirtless state, but, he was there to feed me.

Besides, it took seconds to remove a shirt.

True to his word, Duo had plates ready, glasses poured, and …music? I turned to the source of the sound, and spotted a personal player, set up on the end table by the lamp. Giving Duo a look, he lifted a shoulder and offered a plate.

“A little background music helps dinner digest better,” he said, leading the way to the couch and taking a seat.

Snorting quietly, I followed his example, sitting at his side with my plate on my lap, and water glass on the coffee table in front of me. Pepper beef over steamed rice and low-mien chicken, two menu items I ordered most often with take-out Chinese. Wufei would turn away in disgust.

As we ate, I let Duo dominate the conversation, guide its direction and tone. He began by telling me about the operation he’d been working clean up on. How he’d had lunch with Wufei the day before. Told me about Wufei’s fancy new office in built-to-order satellite Preventers’ building – the new multi-million credit structure close to the senate building, the ESUN government building, and the new UN consulate.

“I watched you today,” he slipped in before forking a mouthful of rice into his mouth.

“What?” I sat blinking at him, not completely certain what I heard was what he said.

“Watched you,” Duo confirmed, and took a long drink from his glass. “You were out on course nine.” He set his plate on the table, and sat back with a satisfied sigh. “Best fucking run of the course I’ve ever seen.”

Feeling warm, I gave him a small smile and pushed leftover rice around on my plate. I knew there were observers in the command tower, but I hadn’t known I had an audience. “It was a challenging course,” I stated, recalling the runs, the crawling, the climbs, the jumps, the hauling of training manikins, the swim.

“You were amazing,” Duo murmured, suddenly close. His hand slipped up along my shoulder, and his fingers rubbed at the back of my neck. “I’m surprised you can move after that display.”

I closed my eyes, and tilted my head. “You have the rest of your life to stop that,” I told him, feeling the aches now.

“Here,” he said softly, and the plate was pulled from my fingers. I watched him put it on the table, and then both of his hands were on my shoulders, his fingers digging deep.

A moan made its way up and out, and Duo’s hand was pushing on me, guiding my body into turning, giving him better access. A minute passed, and he was tugging on the hem of my shirt, pulling it off over my head and tossing it somewhere. I didn’t care; I wanted his hands back where they were and doing what they were doing.

Thumbs drew away lines of tension, knuckles kneaded tight muscles, and palms soothed oxygen soaked skin. The ceiling could have collapsed, and I wouldn’t have cared. My world narrowed to Duo’s hands on my back, his body behind me, his leg pressed along side mine, and somewhere in the background, music – something light without being saccharine.

Somewhere along the line, his hands gentled to caresses, and I felt his lips ghosting kisses in a random pattern. Shoulder and spine, neck and elbow. He was shifting me around again, and sliding his body onto my lap, his legs straddling mine.

Eyes hooded and hands lifting immediately to his hips, I managed a smile. Duo’s hands hadn’t stopped; his fingertips skimmed the surface of skin over my chest, up to my shoulders and down my arms to the wrist, only to reverse their route. His lips were parted slightly, his eyes watching mine, his look open, unguarded, and tender.

I lost my smile in the wave of emotion, and my arms rose up his back, pulling him close. “I love you,” I whispered, kissing him.

“Love you,” he returned between planting kisses on my jaw and neck.

The raw wanting of him, the need for him, the hunger to feel him, feel all of him, had me jerking on his shirt, popping buttons and ripping seams. I left bruises, and picked up a couple of my own. But his shirt was off, and his undershirt followed. I fumbled with his belt buckle, trying to keep my tongue in his mouth, and failed. Duo slapped my hands away, stood up long enough to shed his fatigue pants and boxers, and he was back. Naked skin to naked skin, I couldn’t seem to touch him enough, couldn’t taste him enough.

“Holy God damn!” Duo swore softly, panting into my neck. “I… shit, Heero.” He twisted suddenly, bending at the waist, and snagged his pants.

“Duo,” I groaned out, feeling the press of his erection grinding into my own. Orgasm was imminent.

“Here.” He was back, touching me, kissing me, pressing something cool and vaguely tube shaped into my hand. “Use it on me, now!”

A long deep kiss, and I managed to break away long enough to see what he’d given me. Lubricant. I uncapped it behind his back, lost the lid somewhere on the floor when he rocked his hips, and nearly lost control over ejaculation.

“Fuck!” I growled, and blindly covered fingers with the stuff.

“That’s what I want,” Duo murmured against my lips, took the lower one between his teeth, and drew back, taking it with him.

With barely a nudge of warning, I plunged two fingers inside, and surged forward to swallow the gasp he made with my mouth covering his. Seconds passed, and the tension eased in his grip. Fingers imitated the act of fucking. He broke the kiss with a low throaty groan, and his body bowed, his forehead came to rest on my shoulder.

“Oh fuck, Heero…,” he gasped. And I prodded that spot again. A tremor shook his body, and I moaned.

This was taking too long; this wasn’t lasting long enough.

I wasn’t going to last through a thorough prep, and by the way he was leaking precum, I didn’t think Duo would either. Dropping the tube by my leg, I reached for his jaw, lifted his head, and held him, giving him kisses tender, and gentle.

“My shorts,” I murmured against his cheek. I was rewarded with his hands moving between our bodies, forcing the waistband down and exposing my cock. His touch was fire, and it was my turn to gasp as his hand circled my erection.

He pushed himself back on my suddenly lax fingers, and I started to match the pace he set. “Lube,” he demanded, voice rough and breathing ragged.

My hand dropped to grope about for the tube, and closed over it, squirting a small geyser out when Duo brought our erections together, rubbing both between his hands. He chuckled weakly, and slipped a hand away to take the lube from me. He was quick in application, and I lost where he tossed the tube when he was done.

“Now would be good,” he said, lifting a hand to grip my shoulders. “I’m not going to last long as it is.”

I nodded in agreement, being in the same shape. My hands went to his hips, helping to guide his body as he rose up on his knees. One of his hands held my cock as he lowered himself; gray edged my vision, and fingers tightened their grip in bruising strength.

Hearing Duo moan, I forced my eyes to focus. His head was arched back, his eyes closed, and his mouth open. He was panting in short harsh breaths. I wanted to come watching him.

When he was seated, he settled into me, both hands on my shoulders. He rubbed his cheek against mine, whispering faint words I couldn’t make out. His back was slick with sweat, and my hands glided over his skin, caressing and touching.

“Okay.” The word was a bare whisper, but I heard and dared to move, to support him as he moved.

A steady rhythm of shallow thrusts, in a gentle rocking motion. I levered up using thigh muscles, up on the balls of my feet, and my back pressed hard against the back of the couch. Deeper, longer thrusts and he arched into me, a short cry on his lips. I was chanting his name under my breath, wanting, needing, reaching for more.

His lips were there, kissing mine, open and moaning, calling for God and more and deeper, harder. His mouth was hot to my tongue; his body surrounded me in burning heat. And he was vibrating, quivering. Coming.

Cradling him as he rode the wave out, I was rocking up into him, keeping to the unhurried pace we started. He roused, eyes opening to gaze at me with a sated smile. ‘Love you,’ he mouthed, and he rode me, pushing me past the edge I was skirting.

Head back, body arching off the cushion, legs taut, and feet pressing holes in the floor. I lost minutes of consciousness. Reason faded in, leaving me slumped back on the couch, Duo holding me, watching me with a moderated version of that tender look.

“Stay with me?” I asked, knowing sleep was inching its way in.

“Always.” Was his answer.

- & -

Thursday morning arrived far too early, but I had another day of tests and skills assessment, and Duo had a court appearance. He shuffled out with a piece of toast in his mouth, a travel mug of coffee clutched in his hand, and a borrowed shirt. I promised to call him later, when I had a break, and he accepted the invitation to stay the night.

Somehow, being faced with another grueling day didn’t seem so bad after all.

It was late afternoon when I made it back to the apartment. The day’s tests weren’t as draining, or I was getting used to them. I wasn’t expecting Duo for a couple of hours. His court appearance ran late, and he had ‘things to do’, as he put it. I had time to take a long shower, and to make a quick meal.

A stop at the grocers on the way home, I sorted through the bag, leaving items I was about to use on the counter, and putting the rest away. My phone rang while I was popping open a beer. It was Meloney.

“Guess what?” she demanded, interrupting my greeting.

I held the phone away to glare at her by proxy. Shaking my head, I said, “You’re pregnant.”

“Ha! As if,” she choked out. “They know how to prevent those kinds of things these days, you know.”

“So I hear,” I murmured, and took a draw from my bottle. Back in the living room, I managed to untie and toe off my shoes without losing the phone or the beer.

“Dufus,” she called me, and I glared at the phone again. “—getting married!”

“You’re getting married?” I asked to confirm, and settled a shoulder against the window frame.

“Yes!” Meloney was close to shouting. “We’re planning for June, after we graduate.”

The image of a pressure keg exploding made me want to caution her against combining too many events into a short time. But, she sounded too happy, too giddy with the emotional high. Maybe later when her life evened out again.

“That’s great news, Mel,” I told her instead. “Congratulations.”

“It is great, isn’t it?”

I had to smile. “It is.” Letting only a moment pass, I asked, “When do I get to meet Mister Right?”

Meloney laughed lightly. “Maybe this weekend? I was calling to tell you I’ll be coming home Sunday. Is that okay?”

Thinking on words and promises exchanged the night before, I was nodding into the phone. “I will be out before you arrive.”

“Oh?” A curious note entered her voice. “And how are things going for you?”

Again, I smiled. “Confident enough to say I’ll never have to borrow your apartment again.”

“Oh Heero,” she said softly. “That’s so good to hear.”

I cradled the phone to my ear, and watched the sun sink farther down in the skyline. “Yes, it is, isn’t it.”

- & -

Duo ended up not staying the night, but he promised to meet me for breakfast in the morning. My first day of normal hours, with a somewhat normal schedule. My orientation period was over. Thursday, I had been assigned an office, and even managed to meet staff support members, and had been briefed on applicants to staff my team.

I wanted to be at work early. I wanted to get a jump-start on finding out those I had to choose from, and begin taking notes on each candidate’s strengths and weaknesses. At least, that was the plan.

Finding Duo sitting at the round conference table, two tall heat cups filled with steaming liquid (coffee and tea, my nose informed me), and a bag from the bakery down the street from the apartment sitting on its surface, I tossed the plan out the window.

I exchanged a brief kiss with him, and pulled out the chair next to him. “Black Iris?” I questioned, smelling the steam rising from the cup in front of me.

Duo nodded, pleased, and reached for the bag. “I brought croissants.” And he went on to tell me the story of how he nearly had to beat off this woman to get the pastries, and I let him speak, to ramble on in that easy way of his.

“How did you know I would be here this early?” I interrupted.

He paused for a moment only, and smiled. “Easy,” he told me, brushing his hand against mine. “You told me yesterday about the applicants you have to choose from and how you wanted to start putting your team together.” He shrugged. “That tells me you’d be here early and stay late until you’re satisfied with the results.”

I drank my tea, and glanced out the windows edging one wall. Morning wasn’t always the best time of day for me, but, starting with today, I had the idea morning was about to become more than acceptable.

“Ready, Heero?” Duo asked, and I knew without clarification what he meant.

Taking another sip of my tea, I covered Duo’s hand with my own, and answered with a simple, “Yes.”

/part 5

/story

merith — Fri, 22 Aug 2008 01:19:24 GMT

title: one man's treasure, warnings: none, pairs: none (gen)
notes: written for cait by her request, something to show 'packing up to go away' prompt.

They had started early, but by late afternoon, the living room had barely been touched, and there were still four more rooms to pack, not counting the kitchen. Quatre looked up from the “object de art” (as Duo called it) he’d carefully wrapped in tissue and bubble wrap. He was hot and tired, sweaty with dusty smudges and newsprint on hands and fingers and a spot on his cheek no one had told him about yet.

“Duo,” he began, knowing he was sounding peevish but no longer caring. “I will pay you to let me pay for a packing and moving service.” The room stilled, and three sets of eyes swung to their friend; none held their breath, knowing what the answer would be, but hoping for a change anyway.

“Not necessary,” Duo replied, continuing his sort to keep and discard task. Though, the other four believed more of the ‘keep’ items should reside in the ‘discard’ pile.

“This is going to take the rest of the week, if you keep taking things that should have been thrown out years ago…”

Duo glanced over at Quatre, frowning. “I never said you had to help.”

“That’s not what he means, Duo,” Heero cut in, finishing taping a box with a sharp jerk. “We are all more than willing to help you pack – and move – but, you have fifteen years worth of—” he froze, and his words halted abruptly. His eyes rose to meet Duo’s, and he looked away.

“Junk,” Wufei supplied, adding his now packed box to the stack along the wall. “I can confirm that this box contains nothing but junk – trash, old receipts, matchbooks, and a…” his lip curled. “Dried out fruit pit.”

“Duo—” Quatre began only to be cut off.

“It’s not junk! Not trash!” Duo insisted, jumping to his feet. “Everything in here means something.”

“No one’s saying it doesn’t.” Trowa was there, a hand soothing on his shoulder. “But…”

“No, no buts.” Duo twisted away from Trowa’s hand. “See this?” He thrust a scuffed and cracked Frisbee in Trowa’s face. “See!” He demanded of the rest of his friends, holding the disk high enough for them to see what he held. “Do any of you know why I keep this? Even knowing every one of you would toss it out?” His lips were drawn tight, his mouth hard.

Trowa shot a look to Quatre, then to Heero. Both shrugged, even as Wufei shook his head. Heero stepped forward, and reached for the Frisbee, taking it gently from Duo’s hand. He turned it over in his hands, and ran a finger over the chipped and faded paint adoring its face. Finally, he looked up and shook his head.

“I don’t know. Why do you keep this?”

“Because,” Duo said softly, ducking his head. “It was the one we used when we all drove up to Banyon’s Lake. Bought it at the market there when we got sodas and sandwiches for lunch.”

His brows drawing together, Quatre slowly got to his feet. “That was years ago… the summer after the war…”

“Fifteen years ago,” Heero cut in. “Relena’s vacation retreat, and we all wanted to get away.”

“And someone suggested a swim…” Wufei added, coming closer.

“Duo did,” Trowa said quietly. “Heero and I were responsible for procuring transportation…”

“And you left me the job of distracting Relena from our real plans,” Quatre interjected with a grimace.

“Geesh, buddy. You’re still holding a grudge about that?” Duo asked with a grin.

“You didn’t have to listen to her talk endlessly about her plans for renovating the gardens!”

Heero laughed, and tossed Quatre the Frisbee. “I noticed you were out there helping her and the gardener with landscaping ideas the next day though.”

“Even with a sunburn.” Trowa smiled, and slipped an arm about his shoulders.

“Duo,” Wufei called his attention solemnly. His tone sobered the lightening air, and all four turned his way. “I… understand the Frisbee. But, some of these items—” his hand waved vaguely at the “keep” pile.

“Okay,” Duo conceded, but bent and pulled out a rolled up piece of paper. Unrolling it, he held it out to Wufei. “Remember when we had lunch at that hole-in-the-wall place waiting for word from the hospital when—”

“When Relena was in labor with our first,” Wufei concluded. His hands shook, taking the placemat from Duo’s hands. He smiled wistfully at the scrawl of names penned over its surface, each one more ridiculous than the last. “I remember.”

Quatre looked at the pile at their feet, at the boxes stacked against the wall, at the small cluster of objects waiting to be wrapped, and packed. He thought of the rooms still untouched, and the shelves each contained, the hidden boxes and trunks. Some of the items housed familiar if only vaguely; most objects attributed to Duo’s peculiarity of collecting ‘scrap’.

“So many memories,” he murmured.

Picking up another piece of “junk”, Heero held it out for Duo to identify. “Tell us about them. Remind us,” he asked softly.

And the five friends settle down around the neatly stacked pile of throwaway items, and listened as Duo shared his collection of memories.

merith — Sat, 02 Aug 2008 23:25:38 GMT

song meme fic number three...

Corazon's #12 - Heero/Duo, to Jimmy Buffett's 'Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes' warnings: BL, language, some angst, some sap, sexual situation,
note: while this fic was written for cor and his #12, this has been an unfinished work on my hard drive for quite some time. before this morning, i had maybe 300 words written of it. (there's just over 5,000 now). the story began from a picture drawn by natea21 back in august 2006 - Duo at the beach. enjoy!

I found him on the edge of the surf, the waves barely touching his feet. He was lying back in a low beach chair, and that damn braid of his draped over the chair’s back, trailing in the sand behind him. A brown bottle of some sort of liquid encased in a foam coozi sat within reach of his hand.

Instead of launching immediately into what I came to say, I looked out over the ocean – or his little cove of it. On the horizon, a yacht lay in anchor, or sat adrift. Gulls flew low over the boat, crying their distant cry and circling away. It was a peaceful beach, a small pocket of paradise, if a person believed in it.

“Why are you here?” he asked suddenly.

It took me a moment to focus on him, to take in his tone. No malice implied, his voice sounded more bored, incurious. “You don’t answer your emails, or return phone calls. And I’ve only received a post card in response to the letters I’ve sent.”

“You,” he drew out the word, “only want to talk of ‘the good for all’ and ‘keeping the peace’.” His hand found his bottle, and he lifted it to his mouth.

“We need you,” I said, feeling the frustration growing.

“I fought my fight, already. It’s somebody else’s turn.”

“The war isn’t over, Duo.”

“It is for me.”

And he drank from his bottle once more. I turned away, looking out over his cove to the ocean again, clamping teeth together. He wasn’t looking past the end of the day, much less the end of the year. For several minutes, he didn’t say anything, and I wasn’t about to. But I turned from the water to look him over; tried to find the boy I once knew.

He looked good; in long, knee-length shorts over legs tanned to a chestnut brown and bare feet half buried in sand. His hair was sun bleached in streaks; unbuttoned and opened, his shirt would have rivaled one of Howard’s own. But, it was his hand that drew my attention. It was the same – large, long-fingered, with signs of busted knuckles, calluses in just the right spots to show what he’d been, and I knew if I looked closer, there would be a scar. The one he would’ve gotten saving me.

“I’m not leaving without you,” I felt compelled to say.

His head turned in my direction, but his expression remained impossible to see. His mouth twisted into a parody of a grin, and his eyes hid behind a pair of sunglasses.

“Well, that would be a first.” And he laughed a short and dark sound.

“Damn it, Duo!” I raked fingers through my hair. “You know why I had to—you would have done the same!” I expected an argument, a flying fist, something. But Duo only stared at me for a moment and turned away. “You would have,” I insisted.

He raised his bottle to his mouth again, held it at his lips for a moment, and said finally, “I would have, maybe, at one time,” and took his drink.

“Why won’t you consider returning?” I got the idea he was ignoring me, now. “You threw everything away, for what? A shack on some God-forsaken island and nothing to do all day but get drunk?”

“Yeah, go figure.” He was laughing softly.

“What happened to you?” I asked softly, crouching down by his chair. “You used to believe in what we did – had ambitions…”

“Yeah, I used to have it all,” he spat out at me. “Or nearly all I wanted. But it wasn’t me who threw it away, Heero. It fucking wasn’t me.”

“It was you who quit and walked away.” Mouth dry, I could barely force words out of it.

“And what did I have back there? You tell me,” he demanded softly. “I had a career, a job I thought I loved. I had a place I called my own. I had friends – or at least I thought they were.”

“You had—have friends still,” I insisted. “Not a day passes that someone doesn’t ask after you.”

“But not when it counted.”

“What?”

“Where were those friends when I was left lying in my own blood and vomit back in that lab?” I jerked back, but his hand flashed out and grabbed my wrist, holding me in place. “You might have had to leave me there – at least for a few hours, but where were you when I needed you, huh? Where were you when night came? When the power shut down and the air was slowly dying on me?”

“The extraction team—”

“Oh yes, let’s not forget them,” Duo interrupted. “They very nearly killed me because someone didn’t warn them of what had happened.”

I knew he meant me, and he knew I knew. It had been an oversight, but at the time, I was a little busy myself. “You lived,” I pointed out.

His grip tightened on my wrist and he stared at me from behind his glasses. His lips flattened. “Yeah, I lived,” he said in just as flat a voice. He released me suddenly, standing abruptly, and nearly knocking me over.

“I had a lot of time to think about it, too,” he continued, hoisting his beach chair over his shoulder and starting across the sand. “Two weeks in a hospital bed, with nothing to do but think.” He looked over his shoulder at me. “And no one visiting.”

“You know I couldn’t,” I protested. “I was still undercover, and half the world away—”

Duo’s laugh surprised me, but he began walking again. “It was always about the mission, always the job with you. Never about you or what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked, following him.

He didn’t answer me until we reached the edge of his ‘yard’, the wooden steps of his sagging porch a mere dozen feet away. “I believe you know the answer to that already,” he said, turning to face me. “Tell you what,” he glanced between me, the rental sitting out under dubious shade, and the door to his shack, “you answer that question on your own, and I’ll give serious consideration to going back with you.”

But he grinned, and slipped those damned sunglasses from his face. I nearly gasped aloud, seeing the other set of scars he’d received that day. “But somehow, I think if you can answer that question, it won’t be me who’ll be moving.”

I didn’t respond, but watched as he hung his chair up on a peg nailed to the side of the house, watched as he opened a screen door that needed oiling, and watched as it smacked shut behind him. Answer that question, he’d said. It seemed simple enough. But, I had the idea it would be the hardest question I ever had to answer.

When he didn’t return after a few minutes, I stopped staring at the door and walked to the rental. Its newness, the gloss paint, and gleaming metal was in complete contrast with its surroundings. Instead of getting in and driving back to the so-called resort hotel where I held reservations, I opened the door, shrugged off the jacket I wore, and tossed it into the back seat. Rolling up shirtsleeves and removing shoes eased some of the heat, and the still chilled bottle of water helped even more.

Thinking I could out wait Duo, I took a seat on the hood of the car. At least it was in partial shade though I suspected it would become a thing of the past during late afternoon hours. I hoped I wouldn’t be there to find out.

Answer that question.

It was never about me, not where work was concerned. I had a job to do, an important one in maintaining the peace that continues to be paid for. There was a time I thought Duo felt the same. He’d given the same effort and passion to the job as I did. At least, he had until that one undercover op.

Pushing those memories away was second nature. I would think about that later.

Never what I wanted? What the hell had he meant by that? What I wanted was to complete my assignments and do them well. There was no room for failure. If I had my way, there wouldn’t be threats to peace, to those under Preventer’s protection. If I had what I wanted, there would be no need for me or my kind.

No need for my kind. Duo was my kind. Or had been once. He was needed, just as I was. Did I want him to be needed? Did I want to be needed?

Off to the side of a patch of weeds disguised as a lawn, a naked faucet jutted up out of the ground, its pipe tarnished and patchy with rust. With a glance at the shack’s door, I slipped off the car, walked barefoot to the spigot, and turned it on. At least the water was clean and clear. Scooping up a handful, I splashed my face. It was refreshing and cool. So I stuck my head underneath it, wetting hair and shirt, but not caring at that moment. The island was tropical, the sun unmerciful and relentless. Cool on the surface now, I refilled my water bottle and shut off the tap.

My shirt was soaked; my slacks splotched with water. Mentally going over the list of what I’d packed for this trip, I regretted not bringing shorts. Or swim trunks. But, I wore boxers, and Duo’s nearest neighbor was miles down the road by car. I laid shirt and pants over the car’s roof to dry, and resumed my seat on the hood.

Duo had found one of the remotest islands in the quadrant. I was positive it was deliberate; took nearly three weeks for physical mail to be sent or received. Even priority correspondence. Internet connection was spotty; the phone lines worst and cell reception non-existent. He lived in the ultimate hiding place.

But. It was beautiful in a wild and abandoned sort of way. Three miles from tip to tip, and almost two from side to side, there was no airport, but the ferry was fairly regular. As long as its pilot wasn’t hung-over, which was also fairly regular as well.

Twenty-some miles to the north was another island, tropical and touristy, it had amenities I was used to expecting while traveling. Airports, running water, air conditioning, four and five star hotels, restaurants… I think I was getting soft, and that made me smile.

From my perch on the car, I could still see the ocean. It was just as gorgeous a blue from here as it was on the beach. The sun was moving, and I could feel it brushing on my back. Taking a swim was beginning to sound better than sitting and waiting. Another look at the still closed door, and I returned to the beach where Duo’s chair had been set up on my arrival.

The sand was hot on my feet, but the tide cooled them down immediately. The water was unexpectedly warm, cooler than the air, enticing me further into its reach. Swimming in rolling water wasn’t the same as swimming laps in the gym’s pool. A pool didn’t have waves that swamped over and around a body, tossing it around like a rag doll in a dog’s mouth.

But. There was something exhilarating about the challenge of staying out of its grip. Of fighting its uncaring embrace to surface for air. The pull of muscle to regain footing in the shallows only to turn back and do it all over again. I must have spent nearly two hours diving in and out of the waves before calling it quits.

Duo was waiting on the beach when I finally emerged. He handed me a towel with a too-knowing smile and headed back to the shack.

“You can use the shower if want,” he was saying. “No hot water, but you really don’t notice out here.”

Up around the other side of the shack, Duo waved a hand. Quartered off, paneled in corrugated fiberglass on three sides was a walk-in shower stall. A hook on one post held a ratty, terry-cloth bathrobe, and the hook on the other post, a towel matching the one I held. Inside the stall, a naked pipe came up from the ground, lashed with U clamps and wire to the stall’s framework. A showerhead hung from the curve in the water pipe. On one side, a plastic coated metal rack held soap, shampoo, a back scrubber, and a razor. All the amenities of home without the privacy.

I continued to blot at my hair, and shot a look at Duo. He’d taken up a position outside a backdoor to the shack, leaning against the weathered slats making up the outside wall. It was the challenge in his grin that had me setting the towel aside, and shucking out of my boxers. I never could resist one of Duo’s challenges, even if it cost me. Besides, it wasn’t as though he’d never seen me naked before. Just because it had been years…

The water was warm and more than a trickle, but not the stinging pressure I was used to. Habits die hard, even on tropical isles, especially when one was naked in the presence of a friend. I made quick use of Duo’s soap and shampoo, and rinsed the salty residue from hair and skin.

Shutting the water off and stepping free of the stall, I used the discarded towel sparingly, dabbing my face, shoulders and arms. With a quirk of a grin in Duo’s direction, I lowered my head and shook dog-like, flinging water from my hair. Duo’s startled shout and the genuine laugh that followed made it worth the effort.

I finger combed my hair back, and tied the towel around my hips. “Change of clothes would be in the car,” I said, jerking my chin in its direction.

Duo looked at me critically for all of a minute. “Did you bring anything suitable for this place?” He demanded.

Bringing up the mental list of what was packed again, I shook my head. “I wasn’t planning to be here long,” I said, knowing it wasn’t an excuse.

“Come inside then,” he told me, already turning away and opening up the back door.

The inside of the shack was unexpected. The lighting dim, mostly coming from the dual windows facing the front and the one smaller window facing the back, the interior was surprisingly cool. A fan twirled lazily overhead, but no other means of air conditioning could be seen. From the backdoor, I had a clear view of the front door, the long room in-between divided into a partial kitchen with the larger portion belonging to lounge space. Beaded curtains hanging from a single door of the interior wall cordoned off another set of rooms.

Just inside the door, I had stopped to look around, but Duo headed straight for the beaded doorway. At a glance, I saw little in the way of furniture. A severely used couch, a battered easy chair, an end table hosting a lamp, and a wall of bookshelves made up the lounge. The kitchen held a simple two-burner stove with a miniscule oven, a refrigerator that was generations old, and a Formica table with a half dozen mix-matched chairs around it.

“I have a pair of shorts and a shirt you can use,” Duo was saying from the other room. I cleared the beads, and was surprised yet again.

The ‘bedroom’ was a long as the shack, a large, unmade bed taking up most of its room. The only other furnishings in the room were a six-drawer dresser, and a makeshift closet built into one corner. My eyes were drawn to the bed, noticing the number of pillows, the way the sheet lay disturbed, the fold of the top sheet and light blanket. I wondered who Duo had been sleeping with.

“Yuy.” Duo thrust clothes into my arms. “These should fit.”

Taking the pro-offered items, I gave him a short nod. “Thank you.” Duo was taller by four or five inches, but appeared much thinner, lankier. With my physical training, and continued routine, my shoulders, chest, arms, and legs were knotted with well-defined muscle.

Seeing no reason not to, I set the clothes on his bed, dropped the towel, and pulled on the set briefs he’d provided. The shorts were a little too long and snug around the waist, but not uncomfortably so. The shirt was a replica of the one he’d worn down by the beach when I’d first arrived, only more sedate in dark blues with a wash of gray flowers.

“I’ve got chicken and caba salad, if you’re hungry,” Duo said from behind me. A glance over my shoulder confirmed he’d stood there watching me change. “Was planning to mix up a batch of margaritas, if you want one.”

It took me a moment longer than I liked to recall what exactly a margarita was: tequila, lime, triple sec, ice, salt. Giving Duo a nod, I added, “Acceptable.”

He only shook his head, and ducked back out the beaded doorway. I followed slowly, picking up my discarded towel, and giving his bed another look. Why it bothered me that there might be someone in his life, I wasn’t sure. And at the moment, I filed those thoughts away in the same place I shoved the memories from that mission.

Duo was in the kitchen area, bent over inside the fridge. I draped the towel over the back of one chair, and watched. He backed out, holding a rectangle, baking dish in one hand, and a large bowl in the other. I moved forward and took the bowl from him.

“Thanks, man,” he grinned, and set the foil covered baking dish on the stove. “The chicken’s cooked, and I can reheat it if you want, but…” he gestured toward the living space. “The oven can really heat the place up, so I usually eat it cold.”

“Cold is fine,” I told him, still holding onto the bowl.

“Great!” He gave me another grin, and bent again, pulling out a blender from a cupboard under the small countertop. “Just set that on the table and have a seat. I’ll have these whipped up in no time.”

I took a seat, and put the bowl (holding what I suspected was the caba salad, whatever that was), toward the center of the table. Watching Duo move about the kitchen, I could believe drinks would be served in ‘no time’; he appeared practiced enough in the art of margarita making. On the heels of that thought, I wondered who else had shared his table, shared his talents at bartending.

In minutes, Duo had two unmatched glasses poured, plates, flatware, napkins, and the chicken set on the table. He pulled up a chair next to mine, removed the foil wrap from the chicken and the lid from the bowl, and immediately began dishing up his plate.

“Eat up,” he was saying, before taking a drink from his glass. A large swallow and a lusty smack of his lips, he flashed me a grin. “Nothing like a bit of tequila and lime to rid you of what ails you, eh?”

I lifted my own glass hesitantly, sniffed, and took a sip. It was not distasteful. Sour and salty disguised the kick of the liquor. “You have troubles?” I glanced in his direction, scanned the room, and then out the front windows. “Here?”

“Well now, that all depends.” Duo seemed flushed behind his tan, and I wondered. “Sometimes paradise isn’t, yanno.”

“You are unhappy?” I asked quietly deliberately not looking at him by taking a scoop of the salad and putting it on my plate.

“Eh, it’s not so much I’m unhappy,” Duo was definitely flushing now, “but more, this wasn’t my first choice of locations to live.”

Staring at a forkful of ‘salad’, I could identify a handful of ingredients. It appeared to be made mostly of fruit, some vegetable greens, what looked like a red onion, and some kind of nut. I ate the mouthful before saying anything more. The salad was acceptable.

“What location would be your first choice?” This time, I did look at him.

He tossed the bones of his chicken wing back on his plate, and wiped fingers on his napkin. “Doesn’t matter any more,” he finally answered. “Ain’t going to happen, so no use bringing it up.”

I let his answer hang between us, spending the next few minutes in silence, eating. The wings were flavorful, heated in a spicy way with an underlying smoky taste. I hadn’t seen a smoker or grill, but I hadn’t seen all there was to see about Duo’s place. Yet.

“What are your plans for tomorrow?”

“Same as today with the added attraction of fishing for dinner,” he said, reaching for another wing. “Have more. What’s leftover will be tossed to the dogs.”

Pausing, I gave him a look. “Dogs?” I hadn’t seen any since I’d arrived.

“Palo and Manny’s dogs,” Duo answered, waving his wing westward. “Two old guys who live on the other side of the trees.”

Satisfied, I nodded and helped myself to another wing, and another sip of my drink. I was surprised to find it halfway gone, and would have suspected Duo of nipping from it, but I knew he hadn’t.

“So, why’d you ask?” Duo prodded me with an elbow.

I blinked at him, trying to recall why I had asked. What I’d wanted was for him to return with me. To pack his stuff, get in my rental and go back home. With me. Was that what I wanted? The last of my margarita was gone in two long swallows.

“Whoa there, buddy. You packing for a first class trip to margaritaville?”

The alcohol coursed through veins long sober, and the burn ate its way inside and out. I was blinking at Duo again, and shaking my head. “No, just thirsty,” I said, knowing it sounded inane.

Duo eyed me unamused. “I do have water.”

My eyes dropped to my plate, and I shook my head again. “I’m good.”

“Okay,” he might have said, but his tone told me he was anything but accepting my answer. “So, tomorrow?” He prompted me again.

Worrying at a fruit cube with my fork, I couldn’t look at Duo any more. “I—” I stumbled, caught my breath and started again. “I want to stay with you.” And shook my head violently. “No, I mean,” I shot him a quick look, and back to my plate. “I would like to spend the day with you.”

From the corner of my eye, I could see he was puzzling out what I’d said and what I meant. He was wearing a half-frown, and scratching at the back of his neck like he did when he was nervous or thinking hard. That had me wondering which he was feeling more of; I knew what I was feeling, and it had nothing to do with the brain.

“Uh, sure. If you want. The boat’s big enough for six, so there’ll be room for the both of us.” He fussed with his salad, then set his fork down abruptly and turned to face me. “Why the hell are you here, Heero?”

“You,” I told him, and pushed my chair away from the table and stood. “I’m here for you.”

In the ten years I’d known him, I’d never seen Duo as surprised as he was then. But, the courage the margarita bought me was fading, and I was the one to turn away first. I grabbed at my dishes, and took them to the sink. Dumped bones and the remains of uneaten salad in the waste can, and the dishes in the sink.

“Do you have the answer to the question, Heero?” Duo asked softly from right behind me.

I shuddered, suddenly feeling him there. He was so close, closer than he’d ever been to me physically before. Legs turned to jelly, I leaned heavily on the counter, and closed my eyes. I’d traveled half the world, and more hours than a person should remain awake to be right where I was. There were only inches left in this journey.

“It wasn’t supposed to be about me,” I told him through lips too numb to feel. “It was supposed to be about fixing what was wrong, about maintaining the peace.” Shifting around, I turned to face him, looking at him directly for the first time since my arrival. My hand was shaking as I raised it, touching a fingertip to his face, to the scar that edged his eyebrow to his hairline. “You took what was meant for me, and I left you,” I was whispering now, words nearly choking in my throat.

Duo’s hand caught mine, and he pressed it flat to his cheek. “I’d do it again—a hundred times if I had to—”

“No!” I cried, moving to embrace his head with my arms. “I couldn’t bear it again.” His hands were wrapped around my wrists, his eyes watching mine. “Don’t you see?” I asked in whisper, leaning my forehead against his. “I thought I’d lost you. That I’d failed you that day.”

“You—you didn’t fail, Heero. God no.” Suddenly, his arms were around me, pulling me close. “You did what you were supposed to do; what I would have done.” His lips ghosted over my temple, along my forehead.

“But you doubt me, hate me for not coming to see you,” I reminded him in a long shuddering breath.

“No, no, no… never hate. Not you.” I was pressed hard with my back to the counter. Duo’s arms tightened around my shoulders. He loosened his hold long enough to look at me. “A little disappointed you only managed a note, but I don’t hate you. Never did. Never could.”

“Then why…” I had to close my eyes, had to shut out what I hoped I was seeing reflected in Duo’s eyes. “Why did you leave? Why did you stay way?”

He ran a soothing hand over my hair, pressing my head to his shoulder, and I cling to him as a drowning man. “You didn’t need me, not then. Maybe not even now.” He brushed a kiss to the side of my face, and I raised my lips to touch his.

“I need you,” I told him. “You said it was never about what I wanted, but that was what I had then. You were part of it.”

Duo pulled back, turned, and walked half a dozen steps away from me. His hands rose to press thumbs against the ridge of his eyes sockets; he let out an abridge shout full of frustration, anger, fear.

“I can’t do it any more, Heero,” he said, dropping his hands and turning back to me. “I can’t put my life on the line for meaningless reasons.” His hand reached for me, held palm up. “For you, a thousand times infinity. But for Preventers? Never again.”

I took his hand and pulled him to me. “What do you want, then? What will make you content?”

He chuckled softly, holding me like I held him. “You, me, a good tide and a blender full of margaritas.”

“You have that now.” I was smiling.

“Then I am content.” His hands were exploring places they’d never been, places I’d only dreamed they’d touch before.

“I could be content here,” I told him, pushing his shirt from his shoulders. “At least for awhile.”

His hands and mouth stilled. His look serious. “And that will be the crux of it.”

Running both hands down his chest and hooking my fingers into the waistband of his shorts, I nodded and pulled. His body crashed into mine, and I sought his lips for a kiss –hard and demanding. I didn’t want to think about tomorrow or next week. I didn’t want to think beyond the moment now, and what I would touch or feel or taste next.

It was an enlightening night. I found out personally why Duo’s bed was so large, why in its unmade state it appeared as though a troop of acrobats had performed on it. Duo did not sleep in stillness, but used every corner of his bed, and me by de facto.

Sex with Duo surpassed imagination, and when he woke, I planned to show him again that it was all about what I wanted. That it was about me. That it was all about us.

And, in the morning, when we went to the dock where his boat anchored, I planned to make a call. I had vacation time coming, plenty of it. I was going use it to make it about me, about us. If at the end of that time a change needed to be made, I thought I was ready to make a change – that I could make a change.

merith — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 04:14:34 GMT

title: on the steps of a slow afternoon in july, pairings: heero/duo, warnings: language, BL,
notes: written especially for sharon, because i love her, and inspired by the wonderful drawing my lovely porc created.

It happened during the long stretch of summer, where the days were hot and long, and nights seemed to last for minutes only. It was days like that, where going barefoot burned the soles of feet, and ice cream melted from the cone before it could be licked.

It happened up at the lake house. The one Relena had invited us all to spend some time at; to play at being young adults without the responsibilities we all carried.

It happened as a surprise, in a most unexpected way, and ended in the best way possible.

We had been there four days, and I was already sporting a slight burn across the tops of my shoulders, and on the end of my nose. Hilde had threatened me with bodily harm if I forgot sunscreen again; Heero didn’t say a word, but held my chin in his palm while he smeared the crap on over my nose and cheeks that morning. What a guy, what a pal, what a pain in my ass. But at least I didn’t burn, and Hilde didn’t get exasperated at me again.

This old house was big and sprawling, where the first floor was practically one large room, divided into kitchen and living space. The upstairs had a handful of bedrooms, where everyone was bunking with someone else. I don’t think anyone minded, since we were up every night to midnight or later, and awake just after dawn. Besides, I was sharing a room with Heero, and it wasn’t as though we hadn’t shared a room, an apartment, or hell, even a bed before. Hilde and Relena were in the room right next door, and I swore I’d split them apart if they kept me awake talking and laughing again. On the other side of the two Chatty Cathys, Trowa and Quatre were calling home. That left a room for Wufei and another for a possible drop-in visit that weekend from Une (though Relena called her ‘Ann’, like they were great friends), and Mariemeia.

So it was just us, almost, since Wufei hadn’t arrived yet. But, according to Relena, he should be up sometime the next day. The routine, if there could be one on such a relaxed a trip, was to have breakfast together, then head out either as a group or in whatever pairs, singles, groups we divided into to go swimming (what I did most often) or boating (Quatre’s pastime) or to try a hand at fishing (Heero’s favorite) or simply lie in the sun (where one was sure to find Hilde).

The night before last, we had piled into Quatre’s monster SUV that I swear can seat twenty, and headed down the road to an ice cream and burger joint. The sign on the roof claimed the best hand-churned ice cream that side of the river, and, even after I ate just about the best burger and fries (with extras swiped from both Hilde and Heero’s plates), and a large double chocolate shake, I had to agree with the claim. We probably sat out front, taking up a couple of tables, talking, listening to the crickets in the weeds, and pretending for awhile that we hadn’t all done what we did; weren’t exactly who we were.

We were still sitting there, the sun was about gone, with the stars coming out, and the sky that velvety looking purple-blue color. Heero leaned back from his seat at the table behind me, poked me on the shoulder, and pointed out a shooting star. I watched it fade from sight, and turned to ask him what he had wished for, but didn’t. There was such a wistful expression on his face, hopeful with a hint of doubt, that I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know what he was wishing. If he had wished for anything.

That night, after we got back and were in bed, I asked him if he ever wanted to go back – to space, to L1, to some place other than earth. He didn’t answer for a long time, and that was all right with me. I wasn’t too sure I wanted to know that answer either, but was willing to accept whatever he gave me. When he finally said that he wasn’t sure what he wanted yet, it even made sense, since I wasn’t sure what exactly I was wanting either.

And then it happened. I guess, now, it was going to happen anyway, should have probably happened a long time ago. But… well hell.

The lunch routine wasn’t – if one of us was hungry, we made a sandwich. There wasn’t anything formal or anyone waiting on anyone else. If I was making a sandwich and someone walked in, I’d make them one too, if they wanted it. It just so happened that day that we were all in for lunch at the same time. Trowa and Heero were back from a ‘sure spot’ of hiding fish. Hilde, Relena, and me up from the beach, and Quatre in from a drive to town to find some part or other that the catamaran he was playing with needed.

I was pouring ice tea, and Relena was making sandwiches with Heero. Quatre was telling us about a Mexican restaurant that looked decent and thought we should check it out for dinner one night. Trowa was sitting next to Quatre, fiddling with an old radio, trying to bring in a station for the weather report (he thought it might rain and wanted to confirm), and Hilde was sitting on Quatre’s other side, cracking snap beans, putting some in Quatre’s hands every time he stopped waving them about. One of the lake neighbors had stopped by before we headed down to the beach that morning, and dropped off a huge bag of beans from her garden, and Hilde was dying to make beans with bacon dressing. So, snapping beans was what they did while the rest of us prepared lunch.

In the midst of Quatre talking, Relena and Heero slapping bread and meat and cheese together, and I passing out tall, cold glasses, that damn radio let out a squawk and a news announcer’s voice came out loud and strong; I nearly dropped a glass. Relena jumped, tossing the sandwich she’d just made over her shoulder, Heero was crouched on the floor in a defensive stance, Hilde shrieked, and Quatre threw himself back away from the radio.

Trowa only blinked, and turned down the volume. At least I wasn’t the only one who cussed, though Heero accused me of being a bad influence on Relena’s vocabulary.

Sandwiches were plated and being put in front of a seat, occupied or not, Heero was pulling bags of potato chips from the cupboard, and I was about to bring over the last of the tea glasses when the radio announced a storm moving in later that night. The announcer’s voice continued to warn of boating hazards, and choppy waters. Trowa was grinning up at Heero, talking about what a great fishing night it would be, and Heero was ready to abandon lunch to get ready.

“You can’t be serious,” I was demanding, glaring between the both of them, but mostly at Heero. “Didn’t you just hear the man? ‘ Volatile waters’. Means it’s unsafe.”

“Unlike piloting a gundam or fighting in a war…”

“Or being a Preventer agent…”

“I agree with Duo. You shouldn’t put yourself at risk—”

“There’s no risk,” Heero was quick to negate Relena.

“Bullshit!” I interjected slamming down the last glass, sloshing its liquid over the sides and on the table. “You won’t even wear a life jacket, will you?”

“I—” Heero glared at me. “I can swim.”

“In waters like these? This isn’t gym’s lap pool, Heero.” Damn, but the boy wasn’t seeing sense.

“And you’re not my keeper!”

“But you’re mine?” I was up in his face, and not giving an inch. It was as though everyone else had disappeared, and there was only Heero and me in that kitchen. “It’s not okay for me to go without that chemical crap and maybe get a little red. But far be it for someone sane to point out how stupid it is for you even to think about heading out in a motorboat with a storm coming. Without wearing a life jacket.”

“That’s because you were being an idiot to let yourself burn when something simple could keep you from doing so!” The bag of chips was squeezed into crumbs between Heero’s hands.

“And you’re being stupid to go out in the middle of a storm without a Goddamn life jacket to fish!”

“Trowa will be there too,” Heero shouted back. “How come you’re not all over him about this?”

“Because I don’t love him, you moron!”

It was the jerk Heero gave; the instant softening of his eyes that clued me in on what I’d said. By then, Relena was standing just inside my peripherals, a hand to her mouth, but I’d heard the stifled giggle. Hilde or Quatre, I wasn’t sure which and I wasn’t about to turn away from Heero to find out either, had gasped.

“Damn, Duo.” That was Hilde whispering.

Heero, he stopped squeezing the bag of chips, let his arms drop to his sides, and his mouth opened and closed a couple of times.

And me, I was doing my own impression of a netted fish. “Uh…” finally forcing some sound out, even if it was incoherent. “Gotta go,” I mumbled, and spun around, racing for the door.

I think I heard my name, but I wasn’t waiting around to find out. I figured I would head on up the road, see if maybe I could catch a ride to town, and maybe wait out the night there. Only, I’d left my wallet back at the house. I’d been swimming all morning and only slipped into a pair of jeans after a shower just before lunch.

But run I did. I was half way to the market-cum-post office-cum-café when I thought how stupid I was being. It wasn’t as if I could run away from home. For one, I wasn’t home. For another, I wasn’t a kid any more. Running was what I did when I was six (and a couple of times when I was sixteen). I was a man now, or supposedly, I was.

Hell. If Heero was going to punch my lights out, he would have done it a long time ago.

So, instead of running, I stopped. Found myself a rock to sit on down by the lake, and took to watching the birds dip and dive after insects off the water. The wind was picking up a bit, and the water rippled with it. A look up showed those storm clouds gathering, though they weren’t threatening yet – just patchy things scudding against the blue.

About an hour had passed, maybe, I wasn’t sure exactly. Enough time for me to get a grip and pull my ass up off the rock. The walk back didn’t seem to take enough time; I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face any one of my friends, let alone Heero. First thing I noticed though, Quat’s SUV was gone. Made me wonder if someone (or all of them) had gone off looking for me.

The house looked quiet from the outside, and I kept glancing up at the windows, hoping to see a face, (or hoping not to see anyone). I was thinking that maybe I’d throw on a pair of trunks and hit the beach for an hour or so, at least until the storm made its presence known or the wind got stronger.

Heero was sitting on the steps leading to the kitchen door. He was just sitting watching me, waiting for me, with his feet on the step below and his arms resting on his thighs. I recognized that look he was giving me. I should; I’d seen it just the other night at the ice cream shop.

My palms were suddenly sweaty, and for some reason it became hard to breathe. But my feet were still moving and I was standing in front of Heero before I knew what I was doing. He peered up at me, and I gave him a short shrug and a tiny smile.

“I already knew,” he said softly. And he wasn’t looking at me any more, but at his hands and they were clutching each other like a drowning man to a lifeline.

What could I say in answer to that? Not much, especially since I think I’d left my brains somewhere down by the lake. So, I sat on the step next to him – not too close, but not really keeping him at a distance either. He wasn’t saying anything, and neither was I. Instead, I watched the wind pick up leaves and dance them around.

“I feel the same way, you know.”

That was Heero talking, and I had to look, just a little, to make sure. His face looked like he’d been the one out in the sun without wearing sun block. In that moment, it was good between us again.

I eased back on my hands, inching a bit closer to Heero, close enough to bump his knee with mine. “Looks like the storm will be a sure thing.” I kept it easy, soft. “Supposed to be good fishing tonight.”

His knee rested up along side mine. “Person would be foolish to go out on the lake in the middle of a storm.”

“Not if he knew how to swim,” I told him, watching the lake, eyeing the clouds. “Wore a life jacket.” Heero snorted, and glanced at me. “And was smart enough to come in if there’s a hint of lightning.”

Heero made this choking laugh and knocked my knee with his. He was giving me this little sideways look, head tucked down peering at me from around his arm. It was a soft look, something tender and special.

“I’m not going out on the lake tonight,” he told me, and turned to lie on the side of his hip, leaning back and bracing on an arm, with his long legs stretched out down the steps. He was still looking at me, even as I was looking at him. A gust of wind blew, and he raised a hand to brush hair from my face. “There’s something else I’d like to be doing instead.”

It was nearly impossible to pull away from his look, but I did, and sought the lake again. I hadn’t known that Heero felt the same, but it didn’t matter any more. That was the past, and I knew now. Tonight, we might talk, or we might not. I don’t think that was important, not yet anyway.

It was good enough, for now, just to know.

merith — Fri, 25 Jul 2008 02:40:14 GMT

Song meme -- i've decided to post as many of these song meme fics as i can, when i get them done. also, i'm going to add links to the songs, so you can hear them (if you don't know them). the first two - sharon's and raz's

#121 - Heero/Duo, dialog fic to Lonestar’s “All the Way” for sharona1x2, warnings: hints of sap, language, suggestion of sex of the BL kind.

“Hey, nearly done there?”

“Just a moment. The tender’s being a bitch and won’t lite.”

“Heh, and this from the pyrotech king who could blow up anything with common household products.”

“Yeah, I managed to create a few fireworks through the years, haven’t I?”

“Mmmm, no complaints from me on that.”

“Good, cause we have plans and I’d hate to usurp them just to prove you wrong.”

“I wouldn’t mind…”

“Of course not. Fire’s going, did you bring the champagne…”

“Here take this, hook your arm – like that.”

“Oooh, fancy are we?”

“What else are you supposed to do on a romantic anniversary weekend?”

“Ah, the good stuff.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to down the glass in one swallow… or smack your lips like that.”

“I don’t think I was meant for ‘the finer sensibilities’.”

“You don’t have to smirk about it.”

“What’s on the music disk? Want more of this ‘hooch’?”

“Hooch, Duo? …just half a glass for me. I want to keep my faculties clear for later.”

“Oh? Have something in mind?”

“Always where you’re concerned.”

“Good. Hate to think you were hanging around for someone else after all this time.”

“As if anyone else would still be breathing…”

“Damn straight! What is this music you’re playing?”

“Uh… A compilation of the ‘Best One-Thousand Love Songs of the Past Six Hundred Years’.”

“Huh… by whose standards I’d like to know. Sorry, Heero, but that shit has got to go.”

“Shit? Should have known you and romance cannot share air space.”

“You want romance? I’ll show you romance. Just let me switch disks…”

“Oh, this is…mmmm… much better.”

“Like dancing do you?”

“With you? Since day one.”

“How many dances has there been?”

“Not enough…”

“Let’s see… sixteen years together, and at least a dance a month…”

“You’re tickling my ear.”

“Heh… how’s that?”

“Wet.”

“Never satisfied, are you?”

“Never…”

“Less than two hundred? That doesn’t sound right…”

“Numbers don’t count. This does.”

“Wanna sit this one out?”

“Tired alread— Hey! Bruising isn’t encouraged on anniversary get-aways.”

“By whose rules?”

“You want bruises? I’ll give you bruises!”

“Heero! No fair, man! Ummph… you gaining weight?”

“Tell me how much you like to bottom and I’ll let you up.”

“I love it when you bottom…”

“No! You bottom.”

“Like I said, I like it when you… Ah! Heero! That’s definitely no fair! And definitely not romantic grabbing me there while pinned.”

“Just proving a point… ummm, weren’t we supposed to be snuggling in front of the fire?”

“This could count as snuggling. Though you might wanna let up on my wrist there…”

“How’s this?”

“This is nice.”

“Are you wearing my cologne?”

“Mmmm, I like the way it smells on you.”

“I rather like how it smells on you too.”

“More cham-pang-na?”

“Pfft, how ‘bout I just sip from yours?”

“And share germs? I’m not so sure…hmmmprf!”

“Don’t seem to mind so much now.”

“Nope. Share a little more?”

“Hmmm, getting warm in here to you?”

“Let me take off your sweater. Better?”

“Much.”

“I agree… your skin looks great in the firelight.”

“…is that a compliment?”

“Shut up. You know what I meant.”

“Such a romantic.”

“Didn’t we already discuss that?”

“Kiss me again to show me.”

“Always…”

“There?”

“Good… and there…”

“Think maybe these pants might be getting a little warm, too.”

“Yes, take them off for me… what’s wrong?”

“You’re wearing my underwear.”

“I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“They’re my Jimmy Unitus specials.”

“Trust me, Duo, they do not enhance the package.”

“They’re shaping yours just fine… and looks like someone’s arroused.”

“And you’re not?”

“Mmmm, never said I wasn’t. But—”

“AH! Duo!”

“Like that? How ‘bout when I do…”

“Oh God, yes… more…”

“You bring the… good.”

“Hurry!”

“Nuh huh…that’s not the romantic way.”

“Fuck the romance!”

“I’d rather fuck you.”

“Then get on with ~ it.”

“Hit the spot there?”

“Again!”

“Demanding are we? I can do that… see? Damn you look so fucking sexy like that.”

“Duo…”

“Don’t move… not ~ yet…”

“Duo… now! God, now!”

“Impatient demanding bastard.”

“Arrogant prick.”

“You love this prick.”

“Mmmm, just like that… again…”

“Who likes to bottom?”

“Pri~ck!”

“Oh. OH! God-fucking-damn! Heero!”

“Du~o!”

“Yeah, hmmm, snuggling in front of the fireplace.”

“Don’t move yet.”

“Okay, just hooking my shirt for…”

“’k, thanks.”

“Hmmm, you taste good.”

“Heh… you’re tickling again. Shift over.”

“How’s this?”

“Perfect.”

“Hey, don’t be falling asleep.”

“Not sleepin’…”

“No? Then why are your eyes closed? …huh? What was that? Not sure I understand slumber-mumble.”

“Prick.”

“Heh, but you love this prick.”

“And that one.”

“More champagne? I think there’s a little left.”

“Don’t want to move.”

“You’re so pliant after sex. Bet I could get you to agree to a new car…”

“What’s wrong with the one you’re driving now?”

“I guess not.”

“Duo, what’s wrong with your car?”

“Nothing, just wondering how far I could…”

“Nothing? Is that why we drove mine up here?”

“No, we drove yours because you wanted to drive. Controlling bastard.”

“Damn straight. Now give me another kiss.”

“Roger that. …meet specifications?”

“Affirmative.”

“We done with this romantic in front of the fire shit now?”

“Hell, Duo. I’ll make a note that there’s to be no more romantic…”

“This is good!”

“…get-aways in the future.”

“I just want to check out the game console… they have Chronis Fighter IV, and…”

“I’m Jax’Pal.”

“HA! Shar’cotan will kick his ass! ‘specially with me on the controls.”

#43 - Trowa/Quatre “Mercy” by Duffy for Raz, warnings: SEX, bondage, and probably a couple of other things as well... as a note, raz's original song and i didn't get along, so i offered to use one of the two songs playing during katee's SYTYCD routine - this was one hot number and i had to use the song.

Silk ropes tied in practiced, expert fashion and looped through the headboard slats bind his wrists and ankles in a kneeling position. He tests them with a gentle tug of his arm, even knowing he is well and truly caught. Another swatch of silk is wrapped about his head, blinding his sight. His lips part. He is panting in sudden, vicious need, and his ears strain for any sounds of him.

“Quatre,” he breathes, knowing a response will not come. But, the act of saying his lover’s name excites him even more, and the cheeks of his buttocks tighten, pushing his hips out, making his stiffened cock jut that much more.

A touch. A touch is all he needs. At least for the moment.

Fingertips ghost over his cheek, and his head tilts toward it, seeking further contact and earning a sharp tap on his nose.

“My pleasure, not yours,” the voice he longs to hear says.

So close, and Trowa lowers his head in instant submission. The mattress dips and there is a touch, a hand running up the inside of his thigh. His breath stutters in a gasp and he trembles, holding back the urge to speak, to ask for more. The hand is gone before it reaches where he most desires touch.

“Beautiful,” his lover says, and it is all he can do to remain still, to keep from uttering pleas.

A mouth closes over his nipple and he tenses, his arms jerk in slight appreciation. The mouth is warm; its tongue works his erect nub. He is vibrating, feeling the hint of suction from chest to groin, and his erection jumps in its confine. A brush of a thumb over his other nipple and he arches his head back, gasping.

“Easy,” is the breath of a word on his skin.

“Master,” he pleas.

The vibration of the laugh is felt through their connection of mouth to nipple, and Trowa moans. He pulls on his wrist restraints, wanting to touch, and stills only when the soothing hand runs down his flank, caresses the cheek of his ass. With a sigh, he gives in to that hand, to the mouth sucking and biting, and to the pinching and twisting of his flesh between the fingers.

It is the anticipation of knowing what is to come that has him tense. The blindfold keeps him from knowing just where he will be, what he will do.

The hand slides palm flat on his skin from his chest down to his abdomen. Fingers curl and stroke in caressing touches; his hips jerk in short, quick motion, seeking the hand, seeking more. And the hand is bridging the frame of his pubic curl. His lower lip quivers, and he bites at it, keeping the utterance from being released.

“Do you want me to touch you? Or,” fingers brush in the lightest of touches over his cock; the voice tickles his ear, its tone teases along nerve-lines, twitching at his cock, “…do you want to suck me?”

Trowa gasps, his mouth is open and he is straining in the war of his decision. To give or receive; the desire is both his, and the choice is made. A finger glides over the rigidness of him, swipes through the moisture gathering at the head, and is gone. A wet, pleased sound is made, and the finger is back, another swipe, another sound.

“Lovely.” And Trowa smiles, knowing he has given already, knowing there is more to give. A zipper sounds, and there is the rustle of clothing. His skin pimples and immediately flushes; he shivers as he waits.

Arms circle around his confined ones, and the play is loosened in pinning his upper body to the bed. His lover is so close; the smell of him overwhelms his nostrils. Trowa turns his head just enough, and his face is tucked against a shoulder. He cannot resist nuzzling, though he knows he will be punished for the liberty.

“Che, none of that.” The tone is light, though, amused, and Trowa dares more. His tongue streaks out for a taste. He is rewarded with a laugh, but his lover’s body draws away, and he regrets the distance.

“You should have enough room, now.”

A hand is placed on his head, pushing it down, and he bends at the waist, his mouth open and seeking. Slick wetness slides on his cheek, and he homes in on his target. Mouth wide, the thick, stiff flesh glides over lips and tongue, and Trowa begins to work throat muscles, clamping and drawing, swallowing at nothing.

The hand on his head begins to stroke through his hair; his lover moans, hips thrust to his face. His throat relaxes, letting his lover fuck his mouth. His lover’s other hand joins the first, and his hair is gripped in twin fists, guiding and holding his head in place.

Trowa smells the leather, and can feel the metal of the zipper with each down-stroke. He images what his lover is wearing, wishes he could see to confirm. The red leather, he decides knowing they are Quatre’s favorites. His feet will be bare, and Trowa’s cock jumps at the thought. He cannot tell if a shirt is being worn, but determines there hadn’t been one – no fabric came between him and his lover when he pressed his face to his lover’s chest. Trowa moans around his lover at the mental picture he’s created.

The need to come is strong and gaining.

“So good,” his lover groans.

He works his tongue, adding some small measure of friction and texture to the experience. He knows it will last moments only, and if he is pleased, it will be his turn. His buttocks clench in excitement, and he feels his cock jiggle against his thighs. A touch will be all it takes.

And his master is coming; he swallows. He feels a spill and whimpers at the loss. His lover is finished, but still the leather is pressed tightly to his face, his nose is squashed into the fly’s crease, his forehead against the waistband. Trowa’s breathing steadies as he waits his lover’s pleasure. A hand releases its hold and he feels it slide over his shoulder, stroke his back in a soothing caress.

“You are so beautiful like this. So very beautiful.” There is unconcealed desire and adoration in the voice, and Trowa shivers at its rawness. “You please me very much,” his lover says, and Trowa moans.

His mouth is emptied, and Trowa’s tongue is licking at the edges of his lips, recovering the last of his lover. A laugh, and his lover is kissing him, tongue plundering, tasting him and himself. The hand still wrapped in his hair pulls, drawing him upward, and he is flush with his lover, chest to chest, thigh to thigh. Trowa tests his bonds again, sounds his displeasure at being unable to touch, to hold.

“Would you like release?” his lover laughs softly against his mouth. The hand on his back is gone, only to appear at his hip, trailing fingers tease at the tuffs of hair cover his groin.

“Please,” he murmurs, seeking the mouth so close to his. “Please.”

Fingers unclip his ring. “Come for me,” he is commanded, and his mouth is covered again with his lover’s.

His cry is swallowed as he comes, his body arches, straining against the silk ropes, and his eyelids flutter behind the blind. Quivering, weak and panting, he slumps into the arms that hold him.

“Beautiful,” he hears even as he begins to fade. “So beautiful.”

merith — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 17:32:22 GMT

while waiting for that darn SoL muse to get over itself and allow me to write, i've gone ahead and wrote up another set of song meme fics.

Setting itunes (playlists) to random, write a flashfic for the first ten songs that come up.

all my ficbits are gundam wing, heero/duo, wufei/relena, and one zechs/noin, with a little bit of all five. though, i have to warn, a couple have some strong angst in them. ...i'll warn for those. :)

Crash into Me – Dave Matthews Band heero/duo, mild angst

Your call came late at night, but I didn’t mind; I wasn’t sleeping anyway. ‘Pick me up?’ You asked, and I agreed immediately, glad to hear the relief in your voice.

You looked so weary, but good. So very good. Standing outside the customs gate, with your beat-up old duffle in hand, in a wrinkled tee shirt, and hair sticking out everywhere in your braid. But you smiled for me. Gave me a hug and a hard time for driving three hours to the spaceport, only to turn around and drive another three back.

I didn’t ask you think why you had come, why you’d left her in the middle of the night, and come to me. You didn’t offer, but I knew there was a story. I knew you’d tell me, later. There would be a later, of that I was sure.

You slept on the drive up, and I didn’t mind. It gave me the chance to look at you, to see how the past year had treated you. Good was the consensus, though there were new lines on your face, and hallows under your eyes. But, you were still you – strong, beautiful, sexy, and independent to a fault.

One day, one day I’ll be more than a friend there to pick you up, a place to crash while you sort out where you belong. One day, I will be where you want to be.

*

All Star – Smash Mouth hints...

It was the derisive call from a female voice in the crowd that set him off laughing. His companion scowled in irritation, but Duo waved him off. Turning to the unknown heckler, he blew a kiss, and grinned. A yell of ‘I love you!’ and another suggestive proposition met him in return.

He waved again, turned, and jogged to catch up with the other four heading for the raised dais. It was a joke. A ceremony to put faces up on the political scene. Five good-looking young men, the saviors of earth and space, of life as the masses knew it were good for more than a photo-op.

They stood in line behind several long-winded dignitaries, and his barely contained laughter was getting louder. His companion gripped his wrist. The look given surreptitiously asked for his compliance, gave him assurance that allowing this experience would be rewarded.

Game face on, he settled in for his role of the moment. Freedom was only hours away. He’d waited years for that day. And given the way his hand was being stroked, it would be more than what he ever had expected.

*

Dancing in the Dark – Bruce Springsteen wufei/relena

Her hair is perfectly in place, her smile a practiced graciousness. Another session, another meeting, another political rally. She wondered as she was introduced to yet another ‘up-and-coming’ what the refined assemblage would think if she were to run screaming from the room, ripping the confining dress from her body and throwing the torturous shoes as far as she could throw them.

This was her life, the one she’d been leading since she could walk. Though, these days it involved more than looking pretty standing by her father’s side.

A quick glance behind her confirmed he was still there. Good. Her quip about meeting in a dark room hadn’t scared him off. A few minutes respite from her world was all she needed, and he – upright and proper as those whirling around them – was perfect.

An hour later, she wandered from the reception, knowing he followed. She pulled the pins binding her hair, and shook it loose. She kicked her shoes off in some empty corridor, and left them under a bench. Her dress came off next, and she wondered for an instant if there were security cameras in this wing. But it didn’t matter any more.

With a flashing smile over her shoulder, she disappeared into a darkened room, one she knew would be waiting for her… and him.

*

Frankie in the Rain – Jann Arden zechs/noin, mild angst

She watches from the window, sees his frame outside within the circle of lamp light bathing the street. It is raining, softly but steadily. She sighs though there is no one to hear, and knows she’ll let him inside – again.

He is wet, but not soakingly so. Enough that she hands him a towel, and finds a set of dry clothes he’d left behind. Clothes he used to keep in her dresser once upon a time. He returns to the kitchen where she sits and waits with a cup of coffee and her heart on her sleeve.

Neither speaks, and she doesn’t expect him to; he never has before. But, this time there’s a difference. Instead of the act of an instant claiming, a token resistance, and a handful of hours of bliss, he pours himself a cup, adding the spoonful of sugar. He takes a seat by her side, and leans close to give her cheek a kiss.

She watches him in silence, and he gives her a smile. Tender, soft, and he tells her the words she’s longed to hear for all the years of their lives together. Finally.

*

Amen – Jewel duo with thoughts about someone, mild angst

I lay in the dark cradled in Deathscythe’s palm, staring at the moon. He was here just hours ago; here in the flesh, and wasn’t someone I’d dreamed. Not this time.

He left, taking not only his Gundam, parts of my buddy, but… something from me.

It itches just under the skin; it burns along my veins.

I had thought, these feelings, such strong emotions only came from what I needed to do. The reason I was here dirtside in the first place. But now, there is him.

Fuck, God. You don’t make my life easy, do you?

*

3 A.M. – Matchbox 20 heero/duo, hilde, angst

It’s the short hours of the morning and raining, and he’s gone to her again.

We were asleep when the call came, and from my position at his back, I could hear her crying through the receiver. His voice was calm, soothing, and what I’d come to expect from him – the tone he reserves just for her. He gave his word, hung up the phone, and turned to me with an apologetic look. I don’t like it, but I smile and nod my acquiescence anyway. It’s the least I could do, for her.

See, before there was a he and I, there had been a he and she. It was long over before it was over, he assures me, but the guilt is still there. So when she calls, he is compelled to answer. I know it is only comforting words, a hug, and a hand to tuck her back into bed that he gives.

But, it’s three AM, and it gets lonely.

*

The Boxer – Simon and Garfunkel duo, heero, angst

In a city far away, the boy finds shelter in a room full of others seeking a place for the night, a refuge from the cold and snow. His coat is ragged and has seen better days, finer times. His clothing is ragged, dirty from being worn too long without reprieve.

He watches the night, hears the quiet shuffles and shifting of the twenty or so others sharing the room with him. There is a cough in the dark, and he closes his eyes. In the morning, he thinks, he will find a job. Something to feed him for another day. Scut wages for a scut job.

It is what he is used to. He had grown up on the streets, after all.

In another city far from the first, a boy stands tall, gauging his opponent. This one is the latest of many – all who’ve come to try their hand against the soldier, the strongest of them all. His body bears the scars from battles past, and he knows there will be more to add as time goes on.

This is his job, his place. His knuckles are wrapped in tape, his brow and neck are wiped free of sweat, and a water bottle is squirting liquid in his mouth. Another fight, another victory. How many more he’d have to win, he didn’t know. One day, he wouldn’t win.

One day, he would lay his gloves down for good.

*

River Deep, Mountain High – Celine Dion wufei/relena, kind of sappy

Relena sat at her desk, the end of her pen between her lips. Work momentarily forgotten, appointments scheduled not even a blip on her radar. Relena was nineteen, soon to be twenty, and for the first time in her young life, she was in love. Truly in love.

When she was a child, there had been an assortment of toys, her favorite the little white stuffed terrier with the black button eyes. She remembered losing him, and crying inconsolably for days. Nothing could take its place. No other toy brought her such joy.

A few years before, there had been… The Crush. Her cheeks heated just recalling her behavior of that time. Luckily, it had only lasted a few months, and though he held a special place in her heart, he was not the one she loved. Was not the one she pictured having a family with, growing old with.

It was a growing thing, this emotion that so over whelmed her at the moment. A small glimmer of something more, it surged to a flame, and when he showed signs that maybe he might hold the same feelings, it raged to an inferno. Their first kiss was enough to burn the building down.

Her eyes closed, and her sigh was full of longing, a desire she knew would cause the heavens to combust when it was fulfilled. And she only waited for the match to ignite.

*

Separate Ways (Worlds Apart) – Journey heero/duo, heavy angst

We sleep in the same bed, but he might as well be a thousand miles away. The argument still rings in my ears, and my fists clench in frustration. Never had he been so unwilling to see it from my side; fuck if I am I going to see it from his.

It’s not the first time we’ve spent days angry and short with each other. Though, these days are becoming more frequent, and the silence between is lengthening.

What happened to us? What happened to the promises whispered in the dark, curled into one another? What happened to our tomorrow?

Is there another? Is there someone else who’s caught your eye? Will he make you happy? Touch you like I thought I had? Break those locks guarding your heart? I… I love you. And if there is someone waiting for you, I wish you the best. Though what I want more is to beat his face in, wipe the floor with his ass. And I will, if I hear he’s hurt you.

I can’t help but look his way and am surprised to see he’s watching me. His hand slides forward, and he touches my face, wipes the tear that managed to escape, and he shudders.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and I draw him in my arms. I don’t want to let him go. Ever.

*

The One – Elton John heero/duo, mild angst

Watching you cross the sand, I lie to myself again and believe I don’t understand what happened. Maybe I do, maybe I don’t want to remember. But the years have passed now, and I see you have changed – see you haven’t changed.

You’re still all I ever needed.

We were so young then. Believing we were nigh on invincible, feeling the rush of battle and the fight, carrying it to the nearest dark semi-private corner to take it out on each other. I can still hear your bit back cries and muffled grunts; still smell your skin and sweat and come on me. You loved me then, as I did you.

And when the fighting was over, we couldn’t hold it together any more. The meeting of bodies became just sex, and neither of us could live with that.

But today, today is my chance – our chance. Nothing will block our way again. Because, you’re all I ever needed.

merith — Thu, 17 Jul 2008 04:38:50 GMT

just so *I* don't forget... over on mission_briefs, links to favorite fics are being collected to create rec tables. so far, there are a lot of heero/duo fics being rec'd but very few other pairing fics... i haven't even started in on my favorite non-heero/duo pairing fics yet, but wanted to make sure the word gets around as to what's going on.

in a couple of weeks, i plan to sort through the fics, and put the tables together by genre and pairing.

and, just so i put it somewhere, here are the definitions for each genre:

Adventure/Operations/Politics – Rather obvious, but just in case: any and/or all that fit this category more than any other, even if there is romance or citrus or violence. If it’s more adventure or political intrigue than hugs and kisses, it belongs here.

Amnesia – Regardless of what other category a story might fall under, if there’s memory loss, then it belongs here as well.

Citrus – This is a softer way of saying PWP, as in, gimme lemon, gimme smex. Who cares what else is happening.

Cross Over – Obvious, but… this realm of storytelling puts the boys in another fandom world or the other fandom world makes a visit of its own. Heero at Hogwarts? Duo battling homunculi? Quatre in Wonderland? Mulan giving Wufei a hard time? Let us know about these favorites!

Domestic/Mpreg – Family men or women, house, home, babies and children, and generally trying to make life work. Again, these stories might fit under another genre as well, but be sure to hit this category too!

Drugs/Addiction/Aphrodisiac – Beating the habit or giving into one, mind altering or libido freeing (aphrodisiac) lay the best story you know on the comm. We can handle it. (I can find some good 12 step programs for us if not!)

Fantasy/Fairy Tales – I combined these two, as they’re close to the same thing, and separating them might dilute the possibilities. Whether it’s dragons and elves, sprites or magic casters, damsels in distress and their knights in shining armor, the three little pigs or Rapunzel, let us have those fics made of ether and dreams.

Ficlets – There are a LOT of brilliant short story fics out there. These are stories that are generally less than two thousand words, and usually less than a thousand. Sometimes, a quick bite is all a reader is looking for. So don’t be shy with those recs in this category! The genre doesn’t matter; anything goes here. The only stipulation is all fics have to be roughly two thousand words or less. (No, you don’t have to count them, but the story should be on the shortish side).

Furry/Anthro – Should be obvious, but just in case. These stories are about men (or women) blended into animal forms of some type, or are pure animal/shape-shifters. Whether the story also crosses into other category areas is irrelevant. If the guy or gal is partially morphed or can fully change into a beastie, let us know about it!

General Romance – The romance is strong in GW (at least, we believe so), and there are thousands and thousands of fic that back up that claim. But, romance is the name of this category, and that’s what we wanna see here. Romance of one person showing his (or her) love for another, those tender feelings apparent or not, but felt all the same.

General Angst – The definition of Angst in the dictionary contains the synonym of Gundam Wing. Like romance, there are many angst fics. The characters in this series just bleed angst, and we fanficcers adore it. Mostly. Now, angst can come from many sources, so be sure to check the main intent of the story first. Such as a prison fic infused with NCS and torture is angst-filled, but it probably is best served in the NCS/Violence category. But, a story where life is getting the protagonist down (break-up, lost job, dog died, best friend moved away), that is general angst and fits right in here.

Genderbender/Cross Dressing – Oh my lovely guilty secret, how I ♥ thee! Whether the boys (or girls) turn out to be girls (or boys), turn into boys or girls, or just like to dress up like they are, hit us with your best shot. These stories cross all genre boundaries from mission operations to power differentials, but if he’s in a dress, or she’s really a boy – link it here!

Historical – Should be obvious, but… these stories would have to be AUs, whether they occur in our present, or modern past, or they occur in the GW/AC past. A Western or a WWII fic, something from the Renaissance (not fantasy/fairy tale), or even the building of the colonies or Heero Yuy’s peace keeping attempts, if it smells ancient, it is and belongs here.

Humor – Have a snickerfic, spoof, or just a darn funny story to share? Then let us know about it here. This is one of those areas where other genres will intrude, but the overall mood of the fic should be humor. It should amuse and make us laugh (or at least go aww). It should not bring a person down at any point.

Long Stories / Multi-Arcs – Have a favorite long, LONG story or a multi-part arc that takes hours and hours if not days to read? Share! Doesn’t matter the genre, just the length. These stories should be over 100 thousand words, if not more, or are multiple arc type stories (Murder of the Crows comes to mind here. Many stories linked in an arc, though the single ‘story’ wouldn’t quality on its own, it does together.).

Mental Illness – Oh the recesses of my mind, how you play me. Is he crazy? Is she unbalanced? Or maybe, just maybe it’s a set up, and all of the earth’s sphere is against him.

NCS/Violence – Rape, torture, non-con, you know, the usual. ;) The story doesn’t have to have it graphically laid out; implied is more than acceptable. The story doesn’t have to have all elements listed either, one or more is fine for this category.

Ordinary: School – If the story takes place in, on, around a school, this is the category to put your link. Of course, any number of other genres can be happening within the storyline; just remember school=here.

Ordinary: Various – Rather a general catch all, miscellaneous category of sorts. If a story has generally everything (even the kitchen sink) is of a general friendship without meeting other category criteria, then it fits here.

Physical Illness/Deathfic – *shivers* I am really bad with deathfic. I shy away from them like the plague, and can honestly say I’ve read less than a dozen in total in all my years in reading fanfiction. However, some physical illness fics do not bother me, and I’m hoping this category will be well represented.

Power Differentials – Masters and slaves, Kings and vassals, Princes and paupers, (and their feminine counterparts), prostitution, these stories have one character holding the reins, the life and boy of another – or so they sometimes think. Give us those characters in charge, those BDSM players, commanding another for love, hate, or the joy of doing so. Give us those fics where a prince falls for a street urchin, and how the differences in their stations pit one against the other (or not).

Science Fiction – Such an exciting genre category! So much potential to explore – like Star Trek, seeing new worlds of a fanficcers mind. Link us to the stories with techno advances, spaceship travel, alien adventures, artificial life forms, and time travel jaunts. Even if there’s a bit of smooching, or violence, or political intrigue, if it has a sci-fi element in it, link it here, too!

Supernatural – Otherworldly, mediums and fortunetellers, spirits and spiritual oddities, ghosts and spooks, zombies, wraiths and ghouls, Ouija the names of those fics here! (I feel like I’m repeating myself, but want to make sure it’s covered) This category could overlap with other categories, so be sure to cross-post or post to the genre that makes the most sense.

Vampires & Lycanthropes – Werewolves and vampires, romantically linked or mortal enemies, bring us links for one and all. Gotta love those sexy bloodsuckers! And according to Duo, sex with a werewolf is very satisfying! This category could overlap with other categories, so be sure to cross-post or post to the genre that makes the most sense.

if you want to contribute a fic or five of your favorites (it's unlimited, so rec as many as you can put together)... go here and find the genre/category tag that your fic rec(s) are under!

*snugs* have a most wonderful thursday!!

.

merith — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 22:42:33 GMT

title: from the ashes, pairings/characters: trowa, dorothy (non-pairing), warnings: mention of personal violence, hints of rape
notes: written for the gw500 2 character challenge for trowa and dorothy.

Trowa gave a slight nod to the uniform waiting in the hall outside the bedroom door. Dismissing the man immediately, he regulated his report to his partner with a look. The door to the suite was open, and Trowa paused before crossing through. Behind him, he heard his partner leading the local constabulary to another room, somewhere private. Down the hall, he knew other locals had begun questioning staff, creating lists of guests, deliveries, and persons of potential interest.

But, before him, the woman waited, and she was his to interview.

It had been nearly four years since he’d seen her last, five since he’d vowed to take her life if given the opportunity and means. Memories surfaced, and Quatre’s pale face image swam before him. The scent of his blood was strong, and instantly nauseating. Stepping into the room, he shut the door to that time and place.

“Miss Catalonia,” he called to her quietly, professionally.

She had been standing at the window, its drapes had been left opened, but the view outside the glass filtered through filmy sheers. At the sound of his voice, she turned her head, and Trowa hid the sudden shock. Nearly swollen shut, her left eye was blackened, its bruise in vivid contrast to her pale coloring. Her mouth with its generous lips hadn’t escaped injury; the upper lip split and swelled, the bruising equally as obvious.

“Why are you here?” Her voice was hoarse and raspy, and it was then that he saw the purple and blue marks dotting her throat.

“It was reported that you had suffered an assault,” Trowa began, stopping when she gave a sharp shake of her head.

“No. Why you?”

“I am assigned to the embassy. Any and all threats to personnel, property, and security of this facility are under Preventer precinct.”

She snorted softly, and turned back to the window. “And they sent you.” She reached out a hand, and ran finger over the edge of a sheer. “How very ironic.”

“Miss Catalonia, regardless of our… past, I am here in an official capacity. Our differences will not cloud nor deter my investigation,” Trowa stated calmly, authoritatively.

“I know you won’t,” she told him, turning from the window and crossing the room. She pulled a chair out from the small table, and sat, indicating the other chair with a wave of a hand. “Have a seat.”

Trowa watched her for a moment before moving forward and taking the seat across from her. Reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, he pulled out his notebook and pen, keeping his eyes on her. “Has a doctor been to see you?” he asked, concerned with the size of the swelling over her eye.

Her glance flicked his way only to drop. “The in-resident medic looked at it.” Her lips thinned, pulling at the cut and starting the bleeding again. She pulled a tissue from the pocket of the robe she wore and pressed it to her lip. “I refused to be transported to the hospital.”

It was something she would do, he knew, and bit back the reply to urge her to seek additional medical attention. Instead of saying what he should say even though knowing they would be ignored or scoffed at, rather he requested in as composed a tone as he could manage, “Tell me what happened last night.”

“Nothing to tell,” she informed him, not looking his way. She lowered her hand from her lip and checked the tissue before putting it away.

He turned his head to deliberately to take in the disheveled bed, its coverings violently displaced, and its pillows and sheets stained with blood and possibly other fluids. “The evidence shows otherwise.”

“Believe what you will,” she dismissed his words with a shrug. Opening the silver case beside her hand, she plucked a cigarette out, and brought it to her mouth. There was a tremor in her hand, and the flame shook as she lit the cigarette. He wondered with faint interest when she’d taken up the habit.

“Miss Catalon—”

“Dorothy!” she cut in. “I have never been Miss Catalonia to you.” She drew in sharply on her cigarette, the ember flared red emulating her sudden anger. “I refuse to be so now,” she said, letting the smoke trail out with her words.

“Alright, Dorothy,” he said soothingly, “The maid states that you were restrained to your bed. That you failed to respond when she attempted to wake you,” Trowa prompted.

She gave him a sardonic laugh. Another twist of her lips, another draw of her cigarette. “I’m a heavy sleeper.”

“If you are concerned with reprisal or retaliation, I can assure you security has been reinforced.” He was frowning and fought for control.

“There can be no revenge if nothing has taken place.”

“Then explain your eye, the bruises, the cut on your lip,” he demanded softly.

Her lip curled derisively despite the injury. “I fell.”

“Dorothy,” he started, frustration building.

“Isn’t that what women in my position usually say?” The look she directed at him told Trowa exactly what had happened. But it also told him she wasn’t going to tell him what he needed to know.

Keeping his voice soft, the tone one he used on spooked animals, he told her, “The evidence gathered would be enough to tell us who did this. The surveillance files and DNA tests will confirm and convict.”

“But without a complaining witness, you have nothing.” She took another drag on her cigarette, and stubbed it out blowing the smoke his way.

“What about other women? You can stop him from doing the same to someone else,” he appealed, though he was certain it wasn’t likely to work.

She dropped her gaze, and touched a finger to her lip. “There will not be anyone else.”

“What? How can you be sure?” he demanded, leaning toward her. “Were you targeted?”

She snorted and shook her head. “No more questions.”

“If you’d rather speak with a female agent, a rape counselor…,” Trowa tried again, maintaining his calming tone.

“No!” her reply was quick.

“I can understand your reluctance to speak about what happened,” he continued, watching her closely. “Victims often have difficulty coming to terms with their assault.”

Her mouth drew tight while he spoke, and her hand curled into a fist. “But you don’t understand, Agent Barton. I am not a victim. I have never been a victim, and I will not let you put me into that role now.”

His composure on the brink, he shoved himself to his feet. “You were brutally beaten and raped! That qualifies as a victim, no matter what your convictions are.”

“I have nothing more to say to you,” she told him in a flat voice, rising slowly to her feet. Her eyes stayed locked on his, her lips firmly pressed together.

In that moment, no matter what their past had been, no matter his near-dissipated desire for revenge, Trowa wanted nothing more than hold her, offer her a measure of comfort, and let her drop that too tough façade. It was a visceral emotion, and he nearly bent double with the weight of it.

“Dorothy, please.” Her eyebrow rose, and he swallowed hard against another plea.

“I plan to take a shower now,” she told him, her neck straightening, head held proud. “So, unless you plan to watch, I’d suggest you leave.” Her hands were undoing the belt at her waist, and as she continued to speak, she shrugged out of her robe. “Unless you get turned on by something like that.”

As her robe slipped off her shoulders and slithered to her feet, further evidence of the trauma she’d endured was revealed. From the bite mark at her breast to the hand and finger bruises across her abdomen, hips and thighs, Trowa knew he was only seeing part of the brutality.

He reached for her, hand held out beseechingly. “Dorothy…” he gasped.

But, she was turning away, heading for a door on the far side of the room. “Goodbye, Agent Barton,” she called out to him without looking back.

Dropping his arm, hand fisting at his side, he declared to her retreating back, “I will not drop this, Dorothy. I will find out who did this to you.”

She stopped at the bathroom doorway, her hand came up to grip the jamb as she twisted about to face him. “Why would you want to do that?” The cynicism faded from her tone.

“Because, despite everything, I care.”

Lips curved hinting at a smile. “I do believe you do.” But her brow arched, and her shoulder shrugged. “Take care, Trowa Barton.” And she entered her bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Trowa stood in indecision. He wanted to pursue her, wanted to implore her to talk, to tell him what had happened, who had done this to her. But, with the closing of the door, he knew it wasn’t going to happen. There were other avenues he could take, even without a complaining witness, a victim for the prosecution to parade before a jury, there were always ways of making the bastard pay.

On leaving the embassy, he collected his partner, the surveillance files, and Dorothy’s bedding in evidence bags. They would be pulled from the case as soon as his commander heard his report, and he delayed relaying that bit of information to his partner and commander. But, it was a momentary reprieve only.

Time ran out when they were only through the first set of video recordings. Another case was assigned, and Trowa was made to set aside Dorothy’s file. His next two days were spent reviewing the recordings, going through visitor logs, and building a case. The list of potential suspects grew, and he had no way to whittle them down. Not unless someone talked – Dorothy or her attacker.

It was late on the fourth night after her assault, and Trowa was writing up a report detailing his narrowed list. Crosschecks of logs, histories, and surveillance zeroed in on three. If he couldn’t nail the bastard through Dorothy, he planned to investigate detailed backgrounds of each man, squeezing information from them until one of them popped. Then he’d tie Dorothy’s case to him, and let him hang.

He was nearly finished, wanting nothing more than to print off his report, put it in Dorothy’s file and head home for the night when the call came. It was his partner, letting him know that they’d picked up a new case. A homicide, the son of a diplomat who’d been tortured and left to die. One of the three on Trowa’s list.

Taking down the location of the DB, Trowa gave his ETA and hung up his phone slowly. His gaze had gone to middle distance, his mind replayed Dorothy’s interview.

“There can be no revenge if nothing has taken place.”

His eyes shot to the report he hadn’t printed yet. He read over the steps that he’d taken to reach this particular suspect. The image of her with her robe sliding off her body was clear and bold, the bruises, the bites. It took only a second, but the report disappeared from his computer, would permanently disappear when he had more time.

On his way out of the office, he picked up Dorothy’s file from his desk, the only copy in existence listing his notes of the interview, his notes from the surveillance files, and the evidence log number. Somewhere in space, miles from the colony, the shredded pieces of all but the most basic details from Dorothy’s file would be jettisoned.

And Trowa knew his sleep wouldn’t be disturbed if the bastard’s murderer was never brought to justice.

merith — Sun, 13 Jul 2008 23:35:00 GMT

title: experimental game, pairings: heero/duo, (implied) trowa/quatre, relena/hilde (sort of), warnings: shoujo ai (that's girl-love, non-yuri), BL, language
notes: written for the hell of it, most of it during the writathon (12 hrs sunday, 7/13), and completely inspired by katy perry's i kissed a girl (this is a download link for the song).

It was mid-afternoon on a Thursday, and the quiet scuffle of papers being shuffled, sorted, and stacked into separate piles was a steady noise out in the Vice Minister’s mansion gardens. If anyone were around to hear it, that person would assume it was the minister herself hard at work, devouring one of several stacks of documents, declarations, and letters needing her attention. If such a curious person was able to by-pass security, and make it to the hedges, and this person was able to peer over the bushes blocking that particular corner of the residential garden, curiosity would be rewarded by seeing two young adults sitting close at a glass-top patio table. One a dark-haired young man, dressed in a uniform slacks, and a khaki button-up shirt, his sleeves rolled up on his forearms; the other a young woman, with long blonde hair pulled up in a high ponytail.

And if the curious person had believed it was the young woman sorting through the pile of paperwork sitting before her, that person would have been wrong. For it was the young man who was diligently looking through report folders containing documents, photos, and maps, sorting and compiling each piece into stacks he believed they belonged.

The young woman, on the other hand, chewed on her bottom lip. An executive pen held between the fingers of her right hand was twirled in an oddly absentminded action, and the mound of work she had her assistant bring to her outside, ignored, work she felt she could finish in the fresh air, since her office seemed far too stuffy that day for working.

“Heero,” she said with a sigh, “What’s it like to kiss a girl?”

A three-page report halted midair, and the young man turned his head slowly to regard his companion. “I don’t know.”

With a tiny frown marring her forehead, the girl turned her head. “You’ve never…?”

In one short shake of his head, her companion confirmed his inexperience. “I’ve never had the inclination.”

Her lips pursed and trapped air was blown in his direction with a put-put-put noise. “You have kissed before, haven’t you?”

Now it was Heero’s turn to frown. “You’ve been spending too much time with Duo.”

“And you don’t?” Her mouth turned upward in humor. “Tell me what it’s like to kiss someone of the same sex.” She set her pen aside, and leaned her head to rest temple to palm, watching Heero’s expressions change in rapid display before hardening.

“I will not speak of my personal life.” He turned from her, and went back to sorting his papers again.

Relena lingered in watching him, knowing full well he was completely aware of her scrutiny. The skin just below the ear she could see was red, and she knew if she brushed his hair aside, his ears would be as well. Heero Yuy had learned to blush in the most discreet way.

“I’ll just ask Duo,” she said softly, smiling when Heero’s hands faltered in their work.

“It’s none of your business, Relena,” Heero told her sharply. “Duo will not tell you either.”

“Classified?” And she laughed lightly when he turned to roll his eyes at her. “Alright, no questions.” She picked up her pen, and tried to focus her errant thoughts back to work. Minutes passed, and she was ready to give up work for the day; business as usual was as far from her ability as Earth was from L1.

“Why?”

She nearly jumped, startled at the sudden question. Confused, she looked at Heero for a moment before sense assured itself. “I’ve never kissed a girl either,” she answered with a smile.

Heero jerked back in surprise, and she nearly laughed at his puzzled expression. “You… want to?”

Her humor leaked away, and looking away, she slumped into herself. “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. His hand was warm and strong on her shoulder, and she canted her head to the side to see him regarding her with a warmth not often shown.

“I understand.” And she knew he did. “You have ten minutes before your meeting with the Russian ambassador.” His hand fell away, and he began gathering his neat stacks of papers.

Eyes widening, Relena rose abruptly. “Lara,” she called loudly for her assistant and hurrying for her in suite office.

&

It was hours later, and Relena found herself in a small antechamber at the Russian Embassy. A brief respite from the formal dinner she could not forgo without insult, she sank onto the deep cushioned sofa, and leaned her head back, just to rest her eyes.

“Here ya go, Princess,” her Preventer escort of the evening said, and she opened her eyes to see him holding a glass of ice water in one hand, and two tiny white pills in the other.

“Thank you!” she said gratefully. She swallowed the pills with a polite sip of water, wishing she could down the glass instead. It was cool and she held it to her face, closing her eyes again.

“I can have Heero fake an urgent matter needing your attention,” Duo offered, taking a seat beside her.

“No,” she told him quietly, willing the pills to work their magic, wishing the pain to subside soon. “I should have met with the ambassador last month, and he really does mean well.” She heard a snort, and she smiled briefly at it. “He does, Duo.”

“It’s an attitude like that that’ll have you hitched to that sniveling git of his.”

She opened her eyes, and drank more water from her glass before turning to look at her escort. His face was still as boyish as it’d been when she first met him, though she could see now where the planes of his cheeks were beginning to narrow and thin. His hair was still long, and neatly plaited, but his bangs still fell in disheveled spikes over his forehead.

“People in position are always trying to set me up with their sons.” She sipped from her glass again, and willed the frown from her expression. “I don’t care for it, but it comes with being young, and single for this job.”

“Better you than…” Duo left the sentence hanging.

“But, you’re not so single, are you?” She thought the pills were beginning to work, for the fingers of pain seemed not to be clawing at her quite so much.

“Yeah, well… if I was available, I still wouldn’t want people trying to set me up with every Tom, Dick and Mary.”

It had to have been his misquote that caused her slip, for his use of a woman’s name had her thinking back to her conversation that afternoon. The question popped out, and she bit her lip wanting to call it back.

“A girl?” Duo drew back, a baffled look on his face. “Well, uh, I guess it’s nice. I mean, girls have soft lips. But, uh…” He screwed up his face and focused on her. “Why do you want to know?”

Her attention became riveted on the small ice chips swimming in the water left in her glass. “Curiosity,” she answered slowly. “I wondered if there was a difference between a girl and a boy.”

He was still staring at her with a half-scowl and a question behind his eyes. “You’re working too hard,” he finally declared. “You need to get out and have some fun – some teenage girl fun.”

Relena flashed him a smile, and laughed softly. “That will quite possibly never happen,” she stated, and handed him her glass. Rising, she added, “I believe our time is up, and we should return to our host.”

Scrambling to his feet, Duo found an empty spot to leave the glass, and trailed behind her. “I mean it, Princess. You should get out more; enjoy something of life before it’s over.” Catching sight of the Ambassador emerging from his smoking down the hall, he leaned closer to the minister and said in a low voice, “Or find yourself married to one of those gits.”

She paused at his words, seeing the object of their disdain close on his father’s heels knock over an urn table, and upsetting the vase setting on it. As it crashed to the floor, she said in a quiet aside, “Heero would never let me leave the house. And it would create a scandal to hold such an event at the residence.”

“Let me handle Heero, and I’ve got a perfect place in mind,” Duo assured her, keeping his voice low. “Leave it to me.”

“If you can get Heero to agree, I’ll be there,” she promised with a wink, and began to walk briskly down the hall, ready for round two with dignitaries.

&

The phone rang minutes before lunch, and she almost ignored it. It had been a long morning, and the headache that had started the night before still hadn’t let up. But, it was her private line, and only a small handful used that number. Stifling the exasperation wanting to surface, she picked up the handset.

“Morning Princess.”

Duo. “Good morning,” she answered, putting a smile behind her words. Though she knew he wasn’t there, her eyes automatically shot to the space Heero normally occupied while on duty. The agent assigned for the day glanced away from the window, and acknowledged her look with a brief nod.

“Feeling better after last night?” He sounded cheerful, and relaxed, and, just for that moment, Relena envied that of him.

“Better, but busy,” she told him, knowing he’d pick up the hint.

“You’re always busy, princess,” he fired back. “That’s why I’m calling. It’s all set.”

“What’s all set?” She frowned slightly, waiting for his response.

“The party? Remember, we talked about it last night?”

“Oh,” she exhaled the word, recalling her promise to be there if he accomplished what she thought was unobtainable. “And Heero…?”

“Agrees with me,” Duo all but crowed. “Told ya to leave him to me.”

“He can’t deny you anything, is that it?” He actually had her smiling genuinely.

“It happens sometimes,” he admitted. “Just not often, and he knows I’m usually right.”

Relena picked up her pen and scooted a pad of paper closer. “So, this… party? Where and when?”

“Tomorrow at eight, and someone will be there to pick you up – me or Heero, not sure yet,” Duo supplied promptly. “Wear something casual, like a normal teenager. Jeans or something.”

“Got it. Teenager costume.” Her mouth turned up softly listening to him laugh. The headache was lifting.

“See you tomorrow, Princess,” Duo was saying suddenly. “I gotta go.”

“Until tomorrow, Duo.” The line clicked off, and Relena hung up the phone slowly, wondering what she had in her closet fitting Duo’s idea of ‘teenage girl’.

&

Precisely at a quarter to eight, Heero arrived at the resident door. She had seen him in casual clothing many times over the two years he’d been her guard, but it never failed to startle her at how comfortable he looked. The dangerous edge of him exuded, but in his sneakers, jeans and light yellow short-sleeve, he appeared to be more rebel teenage boy than lethal weapon.

“So,” she asked almost shyly, turning around slowly in the entrance hallway. “Do you think this will pass Duo’s requirements?”

Heero’s eyes went from head to feet, and he nodded. “It is acceptable.”

“Acceptable?!” she demanded, tones nearly at screech level. “I’ll have you know, I spent hours on this outfit. The hair alone took…” Her voice faded as Heero began to chuckle, the amusement clear in his expression. “You!” she cried, and slapped at his arm, but smiled all the same. “Let’s go before you make me late.”

“After you,” he said, bowing formally, sweeping his arm out and to the side.

The drive was hardly a quiet one, as she asked question after question regarding the where and who and what was involved with Duo’s Party. And she had come to think in those terms – in capital letters, with the emphasis on Duo.

That Heero barely answered her questions didn’t surprise her. What had was learning the party was going to be held at his and Duo’s apartment; that Duo had somehow managed to coerce his former pilots-in-arms to be there.

Too soon, Heero was pulling into the complex garage, coming to a stop in his assigned slot, and shutting down his car. Public appearances were a way of life for Relena, but the sudden stage fright had her clutching Heero’s arm, trimmed manicured nails digging into the muscle there. Even facing a convention hall full of delegates from every country and colony in the Earth Sphere hadn’t given her the butterflies facing the door to her friend’s apartment was.

“Relax,” Heero told her softly. “You know most of everyone here.”

She took a deep breath and wiped a palm on the leg of her jeans. “Okay, I’m ready.” Heero only laughed softly, and opened the door.

“Lena!” Duo shouted from the other side of the room. He made his way closer, even as Heero pulled her inside, and shut the door behind them. “Glad you could come.” He was grinning, reaching for her arm with eyes promising mischief.

“Wouldn’t miss your party for the world,” she told him smiling, letting him take her wrist and guide her farther into the apartment.

“Hey look who’s here,” Duo announced loudly to the room. “It’s Lena!”

“Lena?” she murmured, tugging on her arm. Nicknames weren’t something given to her. She was always Minister Darlian, or Miss Relena. Duo was the only one to call her something other than her given name or position title. But, Lena?

Through the chorus of hellos and welcomes, Duo was dragging her through the main room and into what passed for a kitchen. The countertop was filled with bowls and plates of snack foods, drink paraphernalia, and a blender half-filled with a red slush.

“What’s your poison?” Duo was asking, handing her a paper plate with daisies edging its border, and filling it with chips, dips, crackers, and cheese.

“Poison?” Relena asked, returning half the items he’d given her.

“Well, we have all the makings of a teenage bash – beer in a pony keg, strawberry daiquiri, rum and coke, and… yeah,” he hefted a bottle filled with a purple liquid to peer at the label. “Grape Pucker.”

Her nose crinkled. “That looks vile.”

Duo glanced at it again. “Never had it, so dunno. But I hear it’s supposed to be good.”

She looked over the assorted drinks and their mixers, wondering if she could get away with asking for water or a cola. “What are you drinking?”

“Beer,” he answered promptly, smirking.

“Oh.” She managed to keep her nose from crinkling again. Beer was one beverage she couldn’t imagine herself imbibing, the smell alone made her queasy. “What’s a daiquiri?”

Pulling the plastic carafe from the blender base, Duo sloshed the contents. “Strawberries, lime grenadine, rum, and lots of ice.”

“I’ll have that,” she told him, relieved that the drink seemed simple and less potent than the other choices.

“Excellent choice,” he said, whipping out a glass and dunking it rim-side down on a small plate of sugar. “One Maxwell Strawberry Daiquiri, coming up!” Rim coated, he poured the glass full of the slush, topped the lip with a red strawberry, and presented it to Relena with a flourish. “There you go.”

Relena took a tentative sip, and found it refreshing if a little sweet with the sugared rim. “It’s good,” she told the watching Duo.

“Alright, then. Time to get this party started.” And he was ushering her back out into the main room, leading her about by the elbow, introducing her to people she already knew, if only by name.

Before her drink was finished, she had the idea on why he was so insistent on calling her ‘Lena’ and pretending as though she weren’t known to all present. She was after all, supposed to be acting as though she were a ‘regular’ teenage, someone other than the Foreign Vice-Minister. Accepting a second daiquiri before her first was quite finished, she found herself learning steps to a dance most of her ‘friends’ would be appalled to watch.

Taking another large swallow, she licked the sugar from the glass’s edge, and set it aside for the moment. The music was starting, and Trowa had his hands on her hips, showing how to move in time to his gyrations. Never had a boy held her in such a way, and she rather liked it. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Heero watching her, even though he was dancing with Duo. She looked at him for a moment, and gave him a smile, letting him know she was fine and okay with what was happening.

A cluck of a tongue had her looking up at Trowa. Without saying a word, the man said so much with the flick of his eyes, a raised brow, and a twist of his lips.

“Once a bodyguard, always a bodyguard?” she quipped, and was rewarded with a laugh. Trowa pulled her close, and any thought she might have had flew away.

Slinky, sensual, and more sexual than she’d ever danced, his hands ghosted down her arms, over her rear and back to frame her face. His hips swayed from side to side, and thrust forward on every downbeat. She was left clinging to his shoulders, heat climbing up her neck and into her cheeks.

Must be the drink, she whispered in her mind, and let go to mimic his actions on her own.

The song ended, and the random player shifted to something slow, sweetly lyrical. Quatre was there, with an apologetic smile to pull his lover from her arms, and take her place. ‘Lena’ went back to her drink, and downed half its contents, watching them.

“Dance with me?”

Another pilot, another Preventer agent. Relena nodded, and nearly dropped her glass to the floor setting it down. Wufei didn’t say anything, but took the hand she offered, and led her to the cleared space, pulled her closer, and began the shuffling steps to a slow dance.

Off on their right, she could see Trowa and Quatre dancing together, arms wrapped in a tight embrace. Nearby, she watched Duo pause in mid-step to press a kiss to Heero’s neck, and receive a look in return. It was a lover’s dance, and this upright, proper boy of an agent was anything but her lover. But, lover or not, ‘Lena’ would still enjoy herself in it. Giving in to temptation, Relena lowered her head to rest on Wufei’s shoulder, hiding the smile at the start he gave, and circled her arms around his neck. Minister Darlian would never deign to act thus, but Lena would.

A little over two hours passed, and Lena was in the kitchen learning how to make a Maxwell Strawberry Daiquiri. The fruit added, and she clicked the button, learning too late that the lid should have been added first. But she was laughing along with Duo, and didn’t care that her new ‘teenage girl’ blouse was spotted with unmixed daiquiri.

“You have some here,” a light female voice said, followed by an index finger swiping across her cheek.

Relena spun around in time to see Hilde stick her finger to her lips, and lick. Somewhere between a gasp and a sigh, her mouth parted, her tongue mirrored Hilde’s, and her eyes continued to watch as Hilde’s finger was sucked. “Thank you,” she managed, jerking her eyes up.

“Any time.” Hilde grinned, and reached past Relena to press the power off on the blender. “I think it’s done.”

“Done?” Relena repeated, head turning to the girl standing so close to her.

“Daiquiri?” Hilde was looking at her now, her mouth curved up in a light smile. “You wanted another one, right?”

“Oh, yes, I did.” She backed away only to hit the cabinet behind her, and ducked her head. Suddenly red and flushed, she knew it had little to do with drinking and everything to do with red lips and the taste of strawberries on them.

Hilde laughed softly, and poured frozen daiquiris in the two waiting glasses. “Here,” she said with a wink. “Let’s go have some fun.”

“Hey!” Duo protested. “What about this mess?”

Taking Relena’s hand, Hilde tossed over her shoulder as they were leaving, “It’s your fault for neglecting all the steps in daiquiri making.”

“Maybe I should…” Relena paused in the doorway, looking back at Duo rinsing out a washcloth.

“No you shouldn’t,” Hilde told her firmly, pushing her out of the kitchen, and back into the main room. “Duo’s a big boy and he can handle a little splatter on his own.”

“He is that, isn’t he?” Lena stepped in with a laugh.

For a breath, Hilde’s brows drew together, then she snorted. “Just don’t let him hear you say that. He already thinks he’s bigger than God.”

“God-like penis complex?” Though she blushed hotly, she was grinning as Hilde choked on her drink.

“You did not just say that!”

She took a demure sip of her drink, and willed the blush from her cheeks. “I did, didn’t I?”

Still chuckling, Hilde’s arm circled Relena’s waist, and she squeezed her tight. “You’re alright, Lena. I like this side of you.”

The music changed, the volume rose, and Hilde gave a loud whoop, setting her glass down on the nearest surface. She grabbed Relena’s drink and dropped it down beside her own. “C’mon! MOSH time!” Hilde was yelling, louder than the song.

Her other hand was grabbed, and Duo was there. Lena was pulled out into the middle of the suddenly crowded open space, Hilde on one side, and Duo on the other. Imitating moves and gestures Hilde made, laughing at some of those Duo was making, from all sides, someone was moving, dancing, twisting, laughing, singing. She was bumped and held, spun about and repositioned. The dance was like nothing she’d participated in before – no partners, no choreographed steps, and it was the most fun she’d ever had.

&

Another drink, another dance, another hour passed. Relena was sitting in the middle of Heero and Duo’s couch, holding a new drink, and twisting her lips around, running them along her teeth. They were tingly, almost numb and they felt funny.

“I think you’ve had enough of this,” Duo said, plopping down beside her and snatching up her glass. She turned his way in slow motion, her mouth opening in protest as he drank what was left.

“Hey, that was mine.”

“Not any more.” Duo grinned, pulling a stray lock of her hair.

She grinned in return, and was instantly distracted by the feel of her lips against her teeth again. “Does my mouth look funny?” she asked, touching it with her fingertips.

“No,” Duo said, drawing the word out slowly. “Why?” He was leaning over to peer at her from under his bangs.

“It feels funny.” Her eyes crossed trying to see her lips, and she shook her head suddenly, breaking the look. Duo laughed, and she turned her gaze to him. “You have a penis complex,” she told him seriously.

“Ah… what?” Duo gaped, blinked, and scooted back. “Now I know you’ve had enough to drink.” He flicked his finger over one bright red stain. “You should have rinsed these out before they stained.”

Her eyes followed his finger, and she made an agreeable noise. She smiled softly, thinking about the seconds following the accident. Lifting her head, she scanned the room. “Where’s Hilde? She didn’t leave, did she?”

“Nah, powder break, I think,” Duo answered, looking around the room himself. “Maybe you should go wash your face, sober up some before Heero finds you a little more than tipsy.”

“I should,” Relena agreed immediately, nodding her head. She tried to stand, but sat back down with a whoosh. Duo chuckled, and stood, pulling her up with him.

“Think you can make it on your own?” His hand was still on her arm, holding her steady.

She nodded again, and stumbled, unbalanced. It was his hand and strength holding her upright, and she leaned into him for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she straightened.

“I’m good now,” and was proud that her voice was steady. He released her slowly, and she managed to walk toward the hall entrance, the direction she knew where the bathroom to be.

The door was cracked open, and she pushed it wide. “Oh,” she gasped. It was occupied, but Relena didn’t look away, couldn’t look away.

“I’m almost done in here,” Hilde said, turning back to the mirror over the sink. “Come in, and keep me company.”

“I came to wash my face,” she murmured, making her feet move, and her hand shut the door behind her.

Hilde glanced her way, and moved aside. “There’s clean washcloths in the closet there,” she said pointing to the narrow door flush with the wall.

“Thanks.” In a dream-like quality, Relena opened the cupboard, picked out a washcloth, and approached the sink. Hilde was leaning over the counter space, touching up her eye shadow, and Relena clutched the cloth watching her. “Your eyes are pretty.”

The wand paused over a lid, and Hilde’s eyes flicked in her direction, looking at her reflection in the mirror. “Thanks,” she said softly, a quick smile on her lips. “Your eyes are pretty too, but you need to wear a darker shade of shadow to bring them out more.” She finished the touch up, and turned to face Relena.

“I—I don’t…” Relena flushed and dropped her eyes. She reached for the faucet, and wet the cloth in her hand. “I couldn’t wear something like that,” she finished quietly.

Hilde was watching her as she squeezed the excess water from the cloth, as she ran it over one cheek then the other. Relena watched Hilde’s reflection, and shivered when Hilde took the washcloth from her hand.

“Here, let me,” the girl said, turning Relena to face her. “Let me show you how great your eyes will look in a different color.”

She was so close now, and Relena gave her permission. Hilde wiped the lids of her eyes clear, her chin held gently in Hilde’s hand.

“A silvery blue, I think. Not too dark. But maybe with a little liner,” Hilde was murmuring more to herself, and Relena closed her eyes, let Hilde pat her face dry, let the girl begin applying something different to her eyes, to her face.

Time was immaterial. There was only the now, with Hilde gently using brushes on her eyes, her cheeks, her lashes. Never had anyone done something like this for her, to her. Professionals were used before each vid broadcast and even at special functions. But at those times, she was never touched by those touching her face. Too focused on a speech or an introduction or a debating issue, the professionals were just that, professionals doing a job.

As Hilde’s fingers brushed color to her cheeks, followed with a puff of air, Relena smiled softly. Friends she had had plenty of, but those sycophants would never have approved of Lena; would never have slurped down a daiquiri, danced chest to back and side to side within a crush of friends; would never have had the desire so sharp and sweet to press lips to lips inches away.

“There,” Hilde whispered, drawing back. “A little gloss and you’re good to go.”

Relena opened her eyes, and blinked. Hilde was staring at her, mouth parted, and eyes reflecting an emotion Relena knew was in her own eyes. Her hand rose as if on its own, and she caressed fingers up Hilde’s jaw, cupped it like she’d seen an actor do in a movie once, and drew closer.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her eyes on Hilde’s. Their lips touched, and she felt the tiny gasp from Hilde’s mouth against her own, and smiled. Drawing back minutely, her eyes flicked from Hilde’s to her lips and back, and she was pressing her mouth to Hilde’s again.

Her first thought was that Duo had been right. Girl lips were soft. Her next was the urge for more. She moved her lips slowly, parting and closing them, and felt Hilde gasp again. Hilde’s lips were sweet, and she touched the tip of her tongue to them. Hilde’s mouth opened, and her tongue was touching Relena’s.

“Oh,” Relena gasped softly, her breath hitched. Her hand curled in Hilde’s hair, and she opened her mouth to Hilde’s tongue. Minutes ago, she had thought her lips were tingly; now, her lips were electrified. Soft, gloss covered lips were creating fire inducing friction, and Relena’s free hand wrapped its fingers in Hilde’s shirt, pulling her closer yet.

Vaguely she was aware of a hand in her hair, pulling on the ribbon she’d used to tie her hair back. Fingers were at her waist, kneading tenderly. Stilling movement without moving away, Relena opened her eyes, staring into Hilde’s.

Hilde’s wonderfully sweet lips curved upward, her hand tightened on Relena’s waist. “That was nice,” Hilde whispered against her lips. Her other hand released the grip she had on Relena’s hair, and brought it around to stroke the back of her fingers over Relena’s cheek.

“I want—” Relena started, but a loud knock at the door broke them apart.

“Lena?” Duo called, the knob was turning, and Duo was walking in hand over his eyes. “Lena? You okay in he—” he choked, seeing the two of them standing too close, faces obviously flushed, and breathing hard. “What the hell—?”

“Are you a barbarian? This is a bathroom, you know,” Hilde said roughly, her arm snaking around Relena’s waist.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Duo demanded, coming inside the room. “Hilde? Relena?”

“Duo,” Relena breathed happily. She stepped away from Hilde, and placed a hand on his chest. “I know what you meant, now.” She was smiling up into his face as he glared down at her.

His expression became perplexed. “What I meant?” He glanced up at Hilde who was now leaning against the bathroom wall, her arms crossed over her stomach.

“Don’t look at me. I don’t know what she’s talking about.” She was scowling at him, obviously displeased.

Duo frowned at her, and taking Relena’s wrist, he pulled her out of the bathroom after him. “You and me are going to talk, girl. Right here, right now!”

“Here?” Relena asked, stumbling to a halt in the hallway outside the bathroom.

“No,” Duo growled, and jerked her farther back into the hallway, away from the music and friends and drinks. “In here.” A door opened, and he pushed her ahead of him into the dark room.

“Oh.” Relena turned about when the lights flipped on overhead. Suddenly curious, she moved away from Duo to the middle of the room. In front of her was large bed, and she was blushing, knowing this was Heero and Duo’s bed. The one they slept on together, the one where they were together. She put her hand on its comforter, wondering if it were as soft as it looked.

“…Hilde of all people! It’s just not—”

Looking away from the bed, she saw matching chests of drawers, one on each side of the window. It was then she noticed how neat the room was, for neither dresser was cluttered, though both held personal items. The bed was made, and glancing around the floor, she saw not a hint of discarded clothing, not so much as an errant sock.

She turned back to Duo, a slight frown marring her newly made-up face. “I thought you two were bachelors.”

“…drink too much – what?” Duo stumbled to a stop.

“Bachelors,” she repeated slowly. “Aren’t bachelors supposed to have messy rooms, disgusting things hidden in corners?”

Duo’s mouth worked, before he shut it with a snap. He muttered something under his breath that she couldn’t hear and spun around. “Wait here,” he told her, and left abruptly.

Alone, she wandered over to the dressers and looked over the objects there. A pair of picture frames caught her attention, and she picked up the first. Heero and Duo, taken at some formal function, for she recognized Heero’s standard black on black over white dress clothes. She smiled fondly at the both of them, seeing how happy they looked.

She replaced the one and picked up the other, her breath catching knowing when it had been taken. It was one of her surrounded by all five pilots, shortly after the first Eve war. Quatre’s arm was in its sling, and the final battle was still reflected in each of their eyes. How close it had been. Her eyes smarted.

“Must be the daiquiris,” she muttered quietly, but brushed a gentle fingertip over each of their young faces.

The door opened behind her, and she turned at her name. “Heero,” she breathed, and crossed the floor to his side.

“Duo said you might want to go…?” he questioned.

“It’s time to go home?” Her hand rose and she picked at a stray string on his shirt.

“I think so,” he answered, gently tugging the picture frame from her hand and tossing it on the bed. “I think you’ve had enough normal ‘teenager’ fun for the night.”

“Okay.” Her tone was demure, and suddenly, she felt tired. Heero let her take his hand, and he led her from the room, back out to the main room. She was able to tell a few of the other goodbye, but she could see a couple had already left, and there was no sign of Hilde.

Duo followed them outside the apartment, and he touched her arm briefly. “I’m glad you had a good time, Lena. But maybe next time,” he shot a look at Heero, “next time we do this without the daiquiris, okay?”

“Thank you, Duo,” Relena said, and on impulse, she leaned forward and kissed his mouth. It was a quick press, and she was backing away, turning about and heading for the elevator before Duo could say more.

“She kissed me, Heero,” she heard Duo say hoarsely.

“I saw that.” Heero sounded as always so cool and collected, if somewhat amused. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” he said, and soft footsteps alerted her to his presence.

&

It was in silence that they rode the elevator car to the garage level, and in silence, she followed Heero to his car. She didn’t mind the quiet; she almost relished it. A hint of melancholia settled in her middle, and sinking into the plush of the passenger seat, she stared out the side window, thoughts circling on the party she’d just left.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked in a small voice, watching his profile reflected in the window.

He had glanced her way, then back to the road before he answered. “No, I’m not mad at you.”

“But Duo was.” One hand gripped the other in her lap.

Heero shook his head. “He was concerned. Worried about you.” The back of his hand brushed her arm, and she turned to him. “I think you scared him.”

“I scared him? How?”

A quick look followed by a quicker laugh. “You haven’t been quite yourself tonight.”

“But I wasn’t,” she said seriously. “I was Lena.” Heero’s laugh was one to remember, and she smiled in sudden good feeling. “Heero,” she said, leaning over the center console, “I kissed a girl.” And the giggle that started, stopped as if jerked up short. Her hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes grew wide staring at Heero. “I giggled!”

“I heard.”

Relena’s breath hitched; Heero’s voice held such affection. He glanced her way, and gave her a smile. “Do you think she liked it?” her voice was small again, uncertain.

“Who? Hilde?” Heero looked at her again. “I think if Hilde hadn’t, you would have known it,” Heero reassured her.

“I kissed her, Heero, and I liked it.” She turned to look out the side window again, and smile a soft secret smile just for herself. “Do you think she would let me kiss her again? I’d like to kiss her again,” she whispered to her mirrored image.

“She’s staying with us,” he offered, and she felt the car turning onto the long drive to the residence. “Why… why don’t you ask her to lunch tomorrow.”

“Lunch! I can do that.” She straightened as Heero pulled the car to a stop. “Do you think she’d come?”

“She will come,” Heero assured her again. “Do you need help inside?”

“No, I can make on my own.” She smiled and leaning over the console again, she kissed his lips softly. “That’s to make it even,” she quipped and exited his car. She was smiling when the doorman let her inside, and still smiling walking up the stairs to her room.

It had been a night of experiments, of new adventures, and one she knew she’d never forget.

merith — Sat, 12 Jul 2008 07:42:53 GMT

title: like the romans, pairings: heero/duo, warnings: BL, language, nudity (in a big way), sexual situations
notes: written to fulfill two situations. the first, in response to the prompt on visual_trigger, and lilboof's fic challenge to meet nude recreation weekend (this weekend, btw). enjoy!

It was supposed to have been a joke, and now, standing just out of the light coming in through the swinging glass doors, it had become his worst nightmare. Shifting from foot to foot, Duo tried not to watch as his housemate and best friend turned away, and left through those same glass doors he was trying to avoid.

“Nude Recreation weekend’s coming up,” he’d mentioned oh so casually that Sunday three weeks before. “A convention’s being held up the coast. We should go check it out.”

Heero had looked up from the counters he’d been wiping down, and Duo hid the smile wanting to form. The very thought of Heero at a nudist colony was laughable. But goading the man was Duo’s pastime, and one he enjoyed as often as possible.

“Might see some people we know.” He snickered and shot a glance Heero’s way. “Might see more of them than ever ya wanted to.”

Hanging the cloth he’d been using on the rack bolted to the door of the under sink cabinet, Heero grunted, then straightened and rinsed his hand in the sink. “It has been awhile since we’ve gone anywhere,” he said finally, drying his hands and turning to face Duo. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

“Uh…” Duo hesitated. “It’s at a nudist resort, you know.”

“Affirmative.” Heero nodded to confirm.

Duo grinned weakly. “There’ll be naked people there—ones without clothes…”

“That’s usually what naked means, Duo.” Heero took a seat at the table opposite Duo, and opening a browser on his laptop, he began a search.

“And you’re alright with that?” Duo asked.

“I am not bothered by other’s lifestyle choices,” Heero commented, his eyes glued to the laptop monitor. “There are still vacancies at the resort,” he looked up and pierced Duo with stare. “Do you have a problem with nudist philosophies?”

On the verge of yelling a ‘Hell Yes!’, Duo saw it. Saw the challenge in Heero’s eyes, in his look. The look that said ‘I will if you will’, and ‘I dare you’, and on its heels ‘I dare’. It was his joke. He couldn’t back down.

“No, I don’t.” And firmed his expression into cheerful confidence.

A handful of clicks and taps on the keyboard later, and Heero nodded in satisfaction. “We are booked into a two-bedroom bungalow for Friday and Saturday night, check-out at three on Sunday.” He pulled up a map site, and spun his computer around for Duo to view. “If we work it right, we should be able to stop at that restaurant you liked in San Simeon for dinner on Sunday.”

“Great,” Duo said weakly, wondering how he was going to get out of this mess. Wondering if he could talk Quatre into getting violently ill to where his presence would be needed at his friend’s bedside. Barring that, he wondered if he’d be damned straight to Hell if he prayed for Relena to get kidnapped again.

Standing on the hardwood floor in the bungalow’s small sitting room, Duo swallowed hard, and wished again that he hadn’t accepted Heero’s unvoiced challenge. That Heero had no reservations about walking in the buff astonished him; waking up hearing Heero moving about and finding him sans clothes that morning had been a surprise. A nude Heero letting in breakfast delivery without batting an eye had left him speechless. Duo kept his boxers firmly in place.

When they’d checked in the night before, Duo thought it might not be so bad. The resort staff were all clothed, the reception area was decently decorated – no pornographic pictures, not even the artistic kind in sight – and the few guests seen had been dressed, if casually. The little cottage they’d been assigned was again, tastefully decorated, and Duo could find nothing odd in the furnishings or stashed in the cabinets. It had seemed like a perfectly normal, if somewhat worn, resort cottage.

During breakfast, Heero showed him the activities list, with the panel schedule, and mentioned the dance planned for later that night. Duo found it hard to listen, blood thrummed loudly in his ears, and his eyes remained glued to the food set before him. Heero had ordered his favorite weekend breakfast, and he couldn’t taste it.

Heero was sitting with him at the table in the nude. Heero was naked and acting as if it was an everyday occurrence. Heero was making plans for their day, filling the hours with a beginning charcoal sketch class, a volleyball game on the beach, lunch in the community square, a nature hike followed by a swim in a wooded lake. Mention of a wine and cheese tasting before dinner was made.

Wine and cheese? Duo shot a look at Heero. The man was serious. Taking another bite of waffle, Duo made a vague agreement to Heero’s itinerary, and wondered if he could fake an injury.

And now, Heero had left, heading for the main building to see what the charcoal class had to offer. His housemate had waited for Duo to join him, looking pointedly at the boxers he still wore, and when Duo gave him some hazy sort of excuse, Heero nodded looking disappointed, and left on his own.

Turning from the glass doorway, Duo explored the sitting room, discovering a vidset in an entertainment hutch. He turned it on, and flipped through the channels idly, wishing Heero would come back; wishing they were at home; wishing he could shed his clothes and enjoy the weekend with Heero. It was only two days. He could withstand anything for two days.

With a growl, Duo hit the power button and jumped to his feet. Thumbs hooked his boxers, and he slid them off, letting them fall to his ankles and kicking them away with his foot. He was a God Damned Gundam fucking Pilot! He withstood OZ torture and interrogation. He grew up on the streets, lived his early life in poverty and want, snuck, stole, and fought his way to become what he was. Showing a little skin was nothing.

One hundred meters from the bungalow door, Duo heard voices down the path, and he froze. Hearing the voices coming his way, he turned back around. Later, he decided. He would venture out later.

Less than an hour had passed, and Heero was walking back through the door again. Duo stood behind the couch, acknowledging Heero’s return, and wishing he hadn’t had the brilliant idea to ‘acclimate’ himself to being in the buff by parading around inside the privacy of the cottage.

“Are you feeling better?” Heero asked, coming to the small dining table, and setting down a long, rolled up sheet of paper.

“Uh, yeah. Feeling better,” Duo mumbled, averting his eyes from watching Heero. “Have fun?”

He saw movement from the corner of his eye, and figured Heero had shrugged. “The instructor was adequate.” Suddenly Heero was in front of him, and Duo hastily jerked his gaze upward. “Do you feel well enough to play volleyball?”

Duo opened his mouth in a negative reply, and snapped it shut. He stared at Heero for a moment, seeing the concern in his eyes, the worry line furrowed across his brow. Nodding slowly, he licked his lips quickly. “Yeah, I can play.”

“Good.” Heero smiled, his head tilted slightly. “It’s not the same without you,” he added, and turned away. “There’s a sign-up sheet for net times down by the community square. We should head up there.”

“Okay,” Duo croaked, and followed Heero out the door.

Each side of the path was lush with greenery. Huge leaf plants mixed with dense ferns surrounded copse of trees, and Duo felt an odd sense of relief. It had been too dark the night before to notice the plant life, and the well cared for paths, that were strangely comfortable to bare feet. The path they currently walked joined pathways from other bungalow clusters, and the main path led to the community square. According to the resort brochure, most of the larger group activities took place at the community square.

Knowing that many of the guests attending the convention would be at the community square, Duo developed a plan immediately upon leaving the cottage. Following closely behind Heero started out as a good idea. The closer he was to his housemate, the less of him everyone else could see. But, the closer he was to his housemate, the more he couldn’t keep his eyes off him.

He stifled a groan, and tried not to watch the flex of muscle, the way one cheek would concave, and the other would stretch with each step. He wanted to touch, and wanted badly. This desire was not a new one; he’d gone through phases of wanting, of denial, and of channeling those feelings into physical activity. He would overcome this one as well. Heero would never know, could never know.

It was several years before he’d made the promise to himself, a promise made after a harsh rejection of a tentative advance. Five years had dulled the hurt, but it was still a lesson Duo held dear and near. Heero hadn’t wanted him then, and hadn’t shown an interest in being more than a friend since. And a friend was all that Duo would allow himself to be.

The problem of keeping his promise was instantly clear, and hot on Heero’s heels was compounding it. The square was nearly in sight, and Duo knew he wasn’t going to be able to maintain disinterest. Parts of him were showing just how interested he was in the scenery. Heart pounding, he stepped away from Heero and sat on one of the benches set into a recess along the path, immediately drawing his knees up to his chest.

“Duo?” Heero called, stopping to turn back toward him.

“Uh, go on without me, Heero,” Duo said, hiding his face in his knees. “I’m going to go back.”

Heero came closer, standing before him. “Are you alright? Do you need me to get the doctor?”

Shaking his head, Duo mumbled, “Nah, no doctor.”

“Then, what’s wrong?” Heero sat beside him, his hand coming to rest on the back of Duo’s neck.

Duo took several deep breaths, keeping his eyes closed. Pride or Heero, he knew which he couldn’t lose. “I can’t do it. I can’t go out there.” Without raising his head, he lifted a hand and waved it in the direction they’d been headed.

A silence hung between them, and Duo peeked a look at Heero. Heero was regarding him with tender concern, Duo sighed. “It’s like those dreams where you’re at a party having a good time and discover you didn’t put on your pants, and everyone’s laughing at you,” Duo whispered.

Heero nodded, and gave him a short smile. “Let’s go back to the cottage.” He rose and held his hand out for Duo to take. “You do realize this is a clothing optional resort, don’t you?”

Gaping, he shook his head and took Heero’s hand. “Optional? Like, I can wear something?”

“Yes, you can wear something.” And Heero’s smile widened, even as he turned to head back the way they’d come.

“So, would I be the only one wearing clothes then?” Duo asked, following behind Heero pretty much as before, but keeping his eyes above waist level.

“I doubt it,” Heero snorted softly. “There were several who wore clothes in the class this morning.”

Duo chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Will you wear anything?”

Heero glanced back at him before shrugging. “I am not bothered by the lack of clothing.”

But I am, Duo thought, and sent a beseeching pray to whatever god was listening.

In minutes, they were back on the path heading to the community square, Duo comfortably ensconced in a loose pair of bathing trunks. To his relief, he discovered many of the guests present wore some covering, though the majority did not. It was shortly after the first game of volleyball he played, teamed up with Heero and a male and female couple, that Duo discovered his initial discomfort in the presence of so much exposed flesh had eased.

By his second glass of wine at the tasting, he thought he would be okay with shedding his shorts. He mentioned the idea to Heero, and was slightly miffed at his friend’s sudden mirth. The challenge was back in Heero’s eyes, and Duo wasn’t going to back down this time.

Two hours and a lengthy shower later, Duo sorted through the meager clothing he had brought contemplating just what a person wore to a nudist dance. The towel from his shower was still wrapped about his hips, and he went to the door of his room, opened it, and called out, “Heero? What are you wearing to this thing, anyway?”

Heero stuck his head out of the bathroom, half his face still slathered in shaving cream. “Nothing.” There was an amused smile on his lips and that challenge in his eyes.

“Nothing?” Duo almost squeaked. “What do you do with… well, when you dance?” He made vague wiggling gestures with his hand in front of his groin.

Laughing, Heero shook his head. “I don’t think it matters.” He ducked back into the bathroom, and Duo stared at the empty space.

“Not matter? Oh hell yeah, it matters.” He was muttering to himself again. Shoulders slumping, he turned back to his room, resigning himself to do as the Roman’s do.

In the end, Duo wore his hair braided, his only ornament the cross necklace he’d worn for over ten years. Heero joined him in the sitting room moments later, and Duo barked out a laugh seeing the shirtless collar and formally knotted bowtie around his neck.

“Where did you get that?” he demanded, moving closer to inspect it.

“There’s a dealer’s store up at the main building,” Heero answered with a smirk. “I picked it up this afternoon.”

“You should have told me, I would have gotten one too.” Duo gave him a half glare, but stepped back with a grin. “Looks good.”

Heero’s eyes swept up and down Duo, coming to rest on Duo’s face. “So do you.”

His breath caught and held, his mouth gaped, but Heero was turning away, leading the way out of the bungalow and toward the main building. With Heero’s seemingly blithe comment swirling in his suddenly confused mind, Duo followed with leaden feet.

Like many of the informal dances he’d attended, the room was dimly lit, decorated with strings of lights, balloons, and streamers. Guests congregated along the walls in groups of two, three and more. A set of refreshment tables aligned the near wall, and folding chairs were set at random intervals. At the back of the room was a raised platform were electronic equipment took up most of the space, and moving from one piece of equipment to another, a young man bobbed his head in rhythm to the song currently playing. DJ, Duo’s mind supplied, and dismissed him.

He stood close to Heero, but schooled himself from openly staring at his friend. He definitely worked to keep his thoughts from how Heero looked, and the desires that woke with those thoughts.

Out in the middle space of the room, couples were dancing in varying degrees of talent and skill. One couple ignored beat and rhythm, and held each other close, moving to music only they heard, feet shuffling over the hardwood flooring. It wasn’t surprising to find several sets of threesomes dancing back to front, and Duo frowned in puzzlement, wondering how the males of the group would be able to keep obvious reactions from showing.

An elbow to his side brought him around, glaring at Heero. “What?” he demanded with a hiss.

Heero lifted an eyebrow, glanced out to the floor, and back to Duo. “What were you thinking about?”

A sudden flush, and Duo looked away. “Uh, just about the dancers… how they can do it like that.” Heero’s gaze followed his, and they watched one set bump and grind in almost a practiced ease.

“You’ve seen dancing like that before, and I know you’ve danced similarly with Quatre and Trowa.”

“Yeah, but not naked!” Duo protested, turning back to his friend. “Dancing with Tro and Quat was fun, but hell, it was erotic as fucking Hell.” His eyes widened briefly and he looked back at the dancers again. “Everyone would have known it too, if I’d been naked.”

Heero’s laugh had Duo scowling at him again. “Like you could dance like that without getting a hard on, Yuy?”

Sobering slowly, Heero watched the dancers before answering. “I have no desire to be sandwiched between two men.”

“But you’re telling me you could and not be effected?” Duo challenged again. “Playing your way, if it was one person – man or woman – you wouldn’t feel anything?”

“One person,” Heero repeated, his eyes cutting to Duo and back to the floor. “It’s a matter of control. I would be able to maintain mine.”

“I’ll bet,” Duo muttered darkly. “You’re telling me you could be ass to cock and not get erect? Fuck, I’m getting half hard just thinking about it!”

Immediately, Heero looked, and Duo felt his body flush with heat. “I see,” intoned Heero. “Maybe you need mind and body control training.”

This time, it was Duo’s turn to laugh. “At a nudist colony dance?”

Heero shrugged. “You seem to have some trouble here.”

“No thanks.” Duo dropped his gaze to the floor, his voice lowered as he continued. “There are some responses that shouldn’t be trained out of a man.”

A touch on his arm, and Duo was looking up at Heero. “Affirmative,” Heero said softly with a nod. With a slight indication of his head, Heero asked, “Would you like to dance?”

Eyes flicked to the floor and back, Duo nodded dumbly, letting Heero lead him to the edge of the floor. The song was a fast one, a heavy driving beat, and one that didn’t require touching his partner. Duo discovered he didn’t mind parts of him jiggling as he moved as much as he thought he might.

One song blended into another, and Duo was held close, his feet shuffling between Heero in small circles where they stood. Never had he thought he’d be skin to skin with Heero Yuy. Not since that day on Peacemillion, not outside of fantasies he tried to deny existed. As much as he attempted control, he remained just as he’d told Heero before half-hard, and wanting.

Keeping his pelvis from touching didn’t mean Heero hadn’t brushed against him, and Duo began planning to make a hasty escape to regroup as soon as the song ended. At the opening strands of the next song, Duo wasn’t prepared for Heero to grab his waist, turn him about, and press his back to Heero’s chest. He was even less equipped for one of Heero’s hands to hold on to his hip, while the other splad over his abdomen.

Heero’s hands, Heero’s whole body moved him in time to the beat; the red flush covering him was lost in the dim lighting. A part of him wanted to be angry with Heero. He’d already told Heero he didn’t have the kind of control Heero could claim. And here he was, plastered against Heero’s chest, Heero’s pelvis grinding into his ass – his naked ass – and his response was immediate and quite possibly in danger of being discovered in an embarrassing way – dim lighting or no.

“Spontaneous response,” Heero whispered at his ear. Heero’s hand shifted lower, and Duo grabbed it with his own.

“I—I need to get out of here,” Duo stuttered, angling his head to give Heero a pleading look. “I can’t—” His eyes widened, and Heero’s lips curved upward in a slow smile. “Is that—”

“Yes,” Heero confirmed. “Control has been sacrificed, and retreat is advisable.”

A wicked smile of his own grew. “Mission parameters, Heero?”

“Stick to the shadows. Avoid civilians,” Heero’s words ghosted over the skin below Duo’s ear. He shivered and lifted his hand to cup the back of Heero’s neck. “Draw back to base.” Heero’s lips sucked in Duo’s earlobe and teeth grazed it.

“What’s—” Duo gasped, his eyes closing; Heero’s fingers skimmed over his erection. With a groan, he continued, “Mission objective, Yuy?”

“To take care of this,” Heero murmured, fingers wrapping around Duo’s cock. “And this.” Heero thrusts forward with gentle pressure, leaving no doubts that his control was gone as well.

“Mission accepted,” Duo said with a grin, and began pulling away from Heero’s embrace, making for the darker corners of the room, and scoping out the best route to disappear with the fewest witnesses.

The end of the convention would bring questions needing answers, and plans that would change lives. But, for the rest of the night, and into the next day, Duo was going to accept, give, and believe. Living like the Romans wasn’t a bad way to spend the weekend.

merith — Thu, 10 Jul 2008 23:44:32 GMT

title: under the small top, pairings: none, but there are hints depending on your fandom gogles, warnings: none
notes: written for the gw 2 character challenge of cathy and paragon. totally pointless, really and that almost became its name

As she tread over the dirt path from the trailer to the large tent (not the Big Top, but the much smaller one connected to the Big Top, housing costumes, curtained dressing areas, and equipment in pre-staging), Cathy cast another curious look at the stretch limousine idling in front of the Big Top. Garishly pink, her nose crinkled in distaste. But, with a mocking smile, she glanced down at her own sparkling outfit, and turned to enter the small tent.

“Trowa?” she called out in the dimly lit space. Her eyes were quickly adjusting, but where there were shadows, light did not show.

“Here,” came the quiet reply from one such corner, and Cathy could barely make out a kneeling shape.

Releasing a silent sigh, she made her way through boxes and chests and racks of costumes. In the far corner of the tent, before the dressing partitions, she found her brother crouched low to the ground, his hand scratching on the belly of the latest lion cub. She paused for a moment to watch, smiling fondly, and wondered for the thousandth time how he came to have such empathy for the felines.

“Did you know that the Foreign Vice-Minister will be at tonight’s performance?” The excitement she had dampened earlier bubbled up, and her eyes suddenly rivaled her outfit in sparkle and shine.

“No, I didn’t know.” Trowa stilled his hand, holding it to the cub’s chest to settle its play. His head tilted to the side, his hair shifted, showing her his face unhindered.

Cathy’s breath caught for the moment. Shaking off the wonder of his beauty, she squatted down by his side, resting her hand on his bare shoulder. “A limo just pulled up out front. I think she’s here already.”

With grace that rivaled the cats he adored, Trowa rose swiftly, scooping the cub up in one arm, and bringing her up with him. “Did you see anyone?” He was already moving through the tent to one of its openings.

“No,” Cathy drew the word out, following along behind. “Just the limo.” She scrunched her nose up slightly. “It’s pink.”

Trowa laughed softly, its sound almost lost in the dim tent. Cathy smiled at his back, pleased to hear his amusement.

“I know,” he told her, glancing back over his shoulder. “I’ve seen it before.”

“Oh.” She’d forgotten – had wanted him to forget – the time he’d spent during the war, after the war, and those he’d spent that time with. If he didn’t remember them, he wouldn’t leave her again, wouldn’t put himself into dangerous situations again. But, as they exited the tent, she didn’t mention his friends, or the time he was gone; she let it lie, and hoped it would go away.

One of vehicle’s front doors had opened, and a uniformed man stepped out. Cathy watched in fascination as the old man with great formality and pomp, closed the driver’s side door, moved to the rear door, opened it, and held it open as a dark-haired young man exited. He straightened, his head turned to take in the immediate area, his glance touched upon her and Trowa, then slid away. She gasped in surprise.

“Isn’t that—”

“Heero,” Trowa murmured in a low voice. “So, she talked him into that job after all.” Cathy shot him a look at the hint of amusement in his tone. The cub Trowa still held gave a protesting mew, and clamped its jaws on the hand holding it in a firm grip.

“Your hand!” Cathy cried, reaching for the animal.

“It’s nothing,” Trowa said, absently, knuckling the cat on top of its head, and extracting his hand from its maw. “I should take him back. He’s getting restless.”

“Let me take…” A flash of color in the corner of her eye had her turning her head. “Oh,” she said in exhale. “She’s pretty.” The blonde girl stepped out of the vehicle, her hand in the driver’s. Even from the distance where she stood, Cathy could see the fond smile the girl gave the older man. “She’s so young,” she whispered.

“Older than you’d think,” a new voice added from behind her.

“Duo,” Trowa was acknowledging, even as Cathy turned to verify the figure she remembered belonging to that voice.

Her eyes narrowed, and her mouth thinned. One of those friends. “Where did you come from?” she demanded.

The boy, though Cathy had to amend that thought to almost a man, scratched the back of his neck with a lazy smile. “Well, I suppose from my momma’s belly, but it could have just been a test tube.”

“No! I mean—” Cathy started in flustered, made even more so by Trowa’s aborted laugh.

“He knows what you mean. Just ignore him, Cath.” He smiled for her, and managed to wrangle the cub into a sedate hold. “Why are you here?” he asked of the boy dressed all in black.

A mischievous grin wavered on the boy’s face before he toned down his humor. “Him,” he said with a nod toward the two making their way over the trampled grass. “Heero asked me to meet him here, and I thought I’d take in the show.”

“Trowa’s not going anywhere,” Cathy declared promptly, eyes flashing as deadly as her knives.

Duo’s hands were held out wide. “Hey! I don’t plan to take off with him.”

“Who’s going where?” Heero asked, joining the small group.

“How cute!” Relena exclaimed, her eyes lighting up, seeing the cub in Trowa’s arms.

“I think he’s spoken for,” Duo muttered, his eyes cutting in Trowa’s direction.

“Duo,” Trowa warned, and gave Relena a small nod in permission when her hand reached out in a tentative motion. “Watch his mouth. He likes to bite.”

Heero eyed the cub, and repeated, “Who’s going where?”

“No where, babe. Ain’t going nowhere.”

Cathy took a step back, her glance shooting from each of the four beside her, wondering how it’d gotten suddenly so chaotic. Settling on Heero, her smile a weaker version of its normal vibrancy, she said in a polite tone, “It’s good to see you again, Heero.”

“Hey!” Duo protested. “How come he gets the royal treatment, and I get the bum’s rush?”

“Is he an orphan?” Relena asked Trowa quietly, scratching delicately behind the cub’s ears, smiling delightedly at the loud purr.

“Because you bring that out in a person,” Trowa said in an aside with a crooked smile, only to answer Relena’s question a moment later, “No. His birth was hard on the mother, and she’s still in recovery.”

“It’s good to see you again, too,” Heero answered quietly, his mouth twitched as his eyes flicked in Duo’s direction and back. “Will you be performing this evening?”

She attempted to not feel guilty for her actions, but she couldn’t help blushing from them. “Yes, in two acts,” she responded to Heero’s question, her eyes also flicking to the side to take in the boy there. “With Trowa for our knife act, and I’ve been working with the trapeze group.”

Relena’s head turned from watching the cub, and her expression gleamed. “It must be so exciting, working and living in a circus!”

“Yeah, cleaning up after the elephants is my idea of a great time,” Duo said in a droll tone and a lift of the eyebrows.

“I’ll make sure you have it then,” Trowa told him.

Ignoring the brief exchange, Cathy held out her hand. “I’m Cathy Bloom, Miss Peacecraft, and yes, it is very exciting working in a circus.”

Changing positions with Heero, Relena accepted the proffered hand. “It’s a pleasure, Miss Bloom. I am so looking forward to tonight’s show.” She laughed lightly, and with a quick glance at their companions, she leaned closer to confess, “I haven’t been to a circus since I was a little girl, and I’ve always wanted to dress in costumes such as these.” Her hand indicated the sequined bodice and frilled tulle skirt Cathy was currently wearing.

Uncertain on how to respond, Cathy shot a look to her brother, but he had turned to his friends, and they appeared to be holding a near silent conversation. “I can show you some of the costumes…” she offered hesitantly, “if you’d like. We might even find one for you to try on.” She smiled at the unexpected smile of delight the most important person on planet or colony directed her way.

“Oh, please, could we?”

Her hands were clasped in a warm and eager manner, and Cathy nodded her head, turning toward the small tent once again. “There are several racks of clothes, and if we don’t find something hanging, we can search through the trunks.” Her steps returned to her graceful and confident stride. She was on her own turf, and began to vision what the girl whose hand she now held would look best in, would like the most.

Behind her, Heero broke off his conversation and began to follow immediately. His hand shot out and closed around Duo’s heavy black shirt with a “you’re coming with me,” and didn’t stop, even when Duo half stumbled into steps beside him.

“Hey!” Duo protested, but Cathy saw he followed, and she waited at the tent’s entrance. “Guess we’re going to go play dress up, Tro,” Duo half twisted about, with Heero’s hand still clutching his shirt.

“Not me,” her brother answered, hefting the cub. “Need to put this guy to bed.”

Cathy held the entrance flap open for her guests to pass, and gave Trowa a smile. He nodded back and turned to leave. She watched him for a moment, while behind her, Relena was already exclaiming in animated fashion at the glittery outfits.

“Let’s go check on mama, little one,” Trowa murmured to his charge. It had been a surprise to see his friends again, had been some time since he’d last seen them both. But, he’d heard the rumors, had been told what may or may not be happening between the two former pilots – one turned bodyguard, one part-time shuttle pilot and part-time scrap man. There would be time later to find out the truth behind the speculation.

Instead of making his way back to the cathouse right away, he stopped by the limousine’s driver, and offered him a comfortable place to sit and wait for his employer. At the decline, Trowa let the old man know he’d send someone over with refreshments and an offer for a tour before the show began. And smiled slightly at the polite acceptance.

Minutes later found him in front of his trailer, the cub safely reunited with his mother, and his duties discharged for at least an hour. He cast a glance back toward the Big Top, barely making out the high point of the smaller tent next to it, and knowing Cathy would be engaged in entertaining her guest for several minutes more. He knocked softly in a prearranged pattern, and opened the door.

He had his own guest – also unexpected, but very much welcomed – to entertain.