Entry for Oishii Contest 2003 (@ a little piece of gundam wing)

Title: Blues Away

Author: Vuli

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Two pilots seek to end their loneliness with one another.

Pairing: 1+5. Truly obsessive fans might see a fleeting 2+4 implication (and a wishful 1+2+5 on Duo's part).

Warnings: Shonen ai. A healthy dose of angst, and a smidgen of sap. TWT.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. That honour belongs to SOTSU, Sunrise and Bandai. If I did, I could pay someone to write this for me…but where's the fun in that?

Archive: First dibs to Dacia at alpogw (it is for her Oishii contest after all), but anyone is welcome to it.

Author's Notes: Some might see Heero and Wufei as OOC. I prefer to think of them as more in-character than the series ever allowed them to be. ^_^ I also take liberties with Heero's past with Odin Lowe – kinda hard to get it very wrong, however, when we're given so little to go on.

**This fic was written as the first of a larger series. For the purpose of Oishii, I've decided to post it as a stand-alone, but I do intend to continue it at some point. Keep an eye out for further parts in the future!**

Blues Away

The large country house was ancient and in slight disrepair, a fact testified by the peeling varnish on the window frame in front of him and the musty, faded carpet beneath his feet. It did, however, bear some signs of a recent attempt at modernisation, someone's hasty efforts to breathe a little life back into the place. And it wasn't a coincidence that the building was large enough to comfortably house five people, with a few rooms to spare.

Chang Wufei stood in the landing outside his room, staring through the extravagantly-sized window at the myriad shades of mauve, red and gold light that stained the cloudless sky. Early sunset – a time he usually favoured for meditation, but his routine had slipped during the last few days. It was always the same when he spent a lot of time around other people. They distracted him, put his mind out of focus, and in doing so made him more aware of the fact that all wasn't right within himself.

He hadn't intended to come here at all. His own living arrangements would have been adequate for several more weeks, and he preferred the peace that only solitude could bring, but…

Stepping closer to the window, Wufei lifted a hand to massage away the abrupt, sharp ache in his ribs, his face twisting into a grimace. The injury was a result of his own confidence, the belief that no other human being could come close to touching him, harming him, unless he allowed them to do so. Had he not been so exhausted during the last mission, he would have been right. As it was, he had failed to see the soldier coming at him until the man's rifle butt had struck his ribs with shattering force.

He still didn't know whose surprise had been greater when he felt bones crack. But the soldier's obvious shock, that he had actually succeeded in harming a Gundam pilot, made him pause long enough – two seconds, no more – for Wufei to recover and promptly break his neck.

It wasn't until later, after he had completed the mission and retreated to his rented bedsit, that he had the chance to assess his injuries, finding that the blow had opened a large cut across his chest, shallow and not serious. Several ribs had fractured but fortunately none were broken, and after binding them he had simply stripped the rest of his clothes and collapsed into bed.

When Heero and Duo found him that night, no amount of protesting on his part could stop them from carrying him out of the bedsit and bringing him to this house. The only answer he could get as to how they had managed to locate him was Maxwell's flippant, "You know Heero. He has his ways."

Now that he was here, he couldn't deny that he felt a little more at ease…recovering from injuries in an urban location didn't exactly instil a sense of safety, even if it was unlikely that OZ would have found him there. But there was something else creeping through him, a sense of weariness that went soul-deep, as if his reserves were draining dry. And it was becoming harder to ignore it.

"Are your ribs hurting?"

Wufei flinched at the unexpected noise, looking round to see Heero leaning against the wall behind him. His hand fell away from his chest, where it had been rubbing unconsciously, to rest on the windowsill. "A little," he admitted, annoyed at being so easily startled. The house was so quiet with the other three pilots away on missions, it was easy to forget that he wasn't alone.

"I came to see if you were hungry."

The statement made Wufei smile slightly. "I'm fine, thank you."

In the last couple of days, Heero had made an enormous effort to put aside his usual indifference and lend whatever help he could while Wufei's ribs were healing. It was…nice, for want of a better word…to know that there was somebody looking after him, even if it was disconcerting that Heero Yuy was the one doing it.

Heero came to stand beside him, head tilting up to admire the sky. "It's going to be a nice night."

A sigh escaped Wufei's lips and his head slipped forward to rest on the window, his eyes closing against the sunset. Heero glanced at him, surprised. His companion seemed morose, possibly even depressed, a far cry from being the teen who was self-assured to the point of arrogance…but it wasn't his place to pry.

I'll leave that to Duo or Quatre, he thought wryly as he returned to watching the changing sky. Heero knew he wasn't an approachable person, and he didn't try to be.

Apparently, that wasn't enough to deter the Chinese pilot. "Do you ever feel…worn out?" Wufei asked softly. He didn't need to open his eyes to know that Yuy's sharp gaze had turned on him. "In here, I mean," he went on, lifting a hand to tap his chest, above his heart.

"On occasion."

"It's troubling, isn't it?" Wufei wasn't expecting an answer this time, and didn't receive one. "Sometimes it seems that there's a force inside me, so much energy that I don't know what to do with it, or myself."

"When you fight?" Heero's voice startled him, but the question itself did not.

"Not exclusively, but yes," he replied, his hands curling into loose fists on the windowsill. "And then there are times when there's nothing but stillness. I used to savour that sensation, believing it to be peace. Now it's suffocating." Another sigh passed from him, fogging the windowpane. "I'm so tired…exhausted in spirit, I suppose you could say," he murmured.

Heero was silent beside him. He doesn't understand, not really, Wufei mused, shifting his weight a little and keeping his eyes closed. He didn't want to see the bewilderment, perhaps even condescension, in the other's gaze. How could he explain problems of the soul to a person who chose not to acknowledge his own? Explain that his dead wife's ideal of justice had become so consuming that it smothered him, driving him to violence?

His eyes flew open when an arm slid unexpectedly around his waist from behind, another reaching up across his chest to clasp his shoulder and a head settling atop it. It wasn't entirely unpleasant but it was incredibly awkward, even if their bodies weren't touching. "Yuy?" he probed, frozen in the loose embrace, his cheeks colouring in embarrassment and the first tinge of outrage.

For a moment, Heero did nothing, his hair tickling Wufei's neck with every minute movement of his head; then his arms tightened, drawing the black-haired pilot closer. Wufei, unprepared for the abrupt move, stumbled backward into his comrade, suddenly mortified to find himself held snugly against Heero's torso.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, his voice hushed despite the fact that the house was empty.

"I've seen Duo and Quatre doing this," Heero responded calmly, apparently unfazed by the intimacy of their contact. "It appeared to make them happy."

Wufei's face reddened further. "It's different for them," he protested, his hands clasping the forearm around his waist and pushing. For once there was more entreaty than threat in his touch, and he hoped it would be enough to persuade Yuy to release him. If Heero didn't want to let go, there was little chance of forcing him to without hurting one or both of them. He was in no mood for a fight.

Unfortunately, the gods weren't smiling on Chang Wufei that day. Heero lifted his chin from the Chinese boy's shoulder and craned his neck forward, staring at Wufei in the window's translucent reflection. As he moved, his cheek brushed unintentionally against Wufei's, who felt his pace quicken. "Explain," Heero stated curiously.

"This," Wufei replied somewhat brusquely, indicating their posture with a dip of his head, "comes easily to them. It's in their character, I suppose. But you and I…well, I'm not used to such…familiarity."

"I see." There was a faint sigh in Heero's voice, and his hold relaxed as he stepped back a pace; while he didn't release his companion, it was clear that Wufei was free to go. "My apologies. It wasn't my intention to make you uncomfortable. I was trying to help."

Wufei, on the verge of pulling out of the slack embrace, faltered at the final, subdued comment. "What?" he asked, his wide-eyed gaze focusing on Heero's reflection. To his further surprise, Heero looked aside, refusing to meet his eyes.

"An unhappy team-mate makes an unhappy team," the Japanese pilot mumbled in answer, his own cheeks flushing. There was an obvious trace of Duo Maxwell in his words.

He's worried about me, Wufei realised, the thought strangely pleasing. How much courage had it taken for Heero to reach past the austerity imposed on him by his training and allow himself to show concern for another? Abruptly, the hug didn't seem quite so unnerving, and his hands unconsciously pressed Heero's forearm closer, tightening the grip around his waist before patting in a clumsy gesture. "I'll be fine," he said softly, seeking to reassure the other boy. "This is something I've learned to tolerate. I won't let it affect the rest of you."

Behind him, Heero shifted closer once more and lowered his face to rest against Wufei's shoulder blade, shaking his head slightly. "Unacceptable," was the answer, quiet and perhaps a little sad. "No one should have to tolerate being lonely."

Is that what the stillness inside me is? Wufei stood motionless, absorbing the strangeness of the situation for a moment. He had never expected to choose Heero Yuy to confide in, nor vice versa, and as for physical contact…well, aside from Maxwell's occasional enthusiastic greetings, he had never been touched so intimately before by any of the pilots; indeed, he had gone out of his way to discourage it. A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Only minutes before, he would rather have decked Yuy than let the Japanese teenager put his arms around him. And the idea that he could enjoy Heero's touch should have been ludicrous…but…

Suddenly unsettled by the direction his thoughts – and his body – were taking, Wufei cast about for something to say, hoping conversation would distract himself from the emergent desire that tightened his chest. "Are you lonely, Heero?" he asked finally, turning his head to look over his shoulder, then flinched when he found Heero's face inches from his own, his eyes dark in the fading light.

"Always," Wing's pilot murmured despondently before leaning forward and touching his lips to Wufei's in a gentle, almost chaste kiss, but there was an urgency that belied the apparent tenderness.

Shocked beyond movement, Wufei stared at Heero in disbelief as the other boy drew back, rage flowering inside him, consuming the pleasure that had previously begun to spread through his body. How dare he? How dare he! His features hardened into a habitual scowl and he dug an elbow mercilessly into Yuy's exposed side, disappointed to hear little more than a soft grunt in response.

"Get off me!" he snarled when Heero failed to release him, feeling his immediate anger leach slowly away into humiliation. He might have come to enjoy the embrace, but a kiss was another matter entirely. It was a blatant betrayal of the confidence he had placed in Heero, heralding something much less innocent in his mind. "I doubt you saw Quatre and Duo doing that!" he growled furiously, and Heero lowered his head. "What were you hoping for, Yuy? A quick fuck while we have the house to ourselves?"

Heartless bastard…I trusted you and you exploited it. I thought you understood…

The brief, distressed expression on Heero's face when he looked up sharply startled Wufei. "No!" the cobalt-eyed pilot protested, his arms tightening almost desperately around his comrade.

"Then what?" he persisted, reluctant to believe the sincerity in Heero's voice.

"I…" Hesitating, Yuy appeared to struggle for words, his gaze flickering aside to linger on some unseen point beyond the window before returning to meet Wufei's, apprehensive but steady. "I don't want to be lonely anymore."

Wufei was silent as he studied Heero, trying to understand the emotions in his unexpectedly expressive eyes; to his credit, the other teenager allowed the scrutiny, although it was with an air of discomfort. There was fear, Chang realised, so well-guarded that it had mutated into the cold, impassive demeanour that had become Heero's trademark characteristic. It seemed that he preferred to portray the 'Perfect Soldier', as Maxwell so aptly put it, rather than confront the reality of being an imperfect human.

Yes, there was fear. And there was need…

Sighing, Wufei's expression softened and the hard feelings inside him dissipated. He is human, no matter what else his training demands of him. "What do you want, Heero?" he pressed. "If it's comfort, I'm not sure I can give it to you."

"I want the closeness that Duo and Quatre have. To be truthful, I want more." Heero touched his forehead to Wufei's temple and pushed, turning the Chinese pilot's head toward the window once more. "I want this," he stated simply, squeezing Wufei meaningfully.

For a long moment, both regarded the alien image in the reflection, each surprised by how natural their postures had become…to an onlooker they might have seemed totally at ease with each other. And it wouldn't be a complete misconception, Wufei realised, finally relaxing into Heero's embrace with only a slight uncertainty and giving Yuy his unspoken consent. "I think I do, too," he affirmed, then snorted and half-turned in the other teen's arms, meeting his questioning gaze. "Maxwell's made us soft," he remarked, a familiar smirk curving his mouth.

"Then we'll have to thank him when he gets back," Heero countered quietly, tilting his head and brushing his lips across Wufei's. He was a little surprised when Wufei responded in kind before leaning into him and kissing him firmly, dark eyes sliding shut, but his wonder wasn't enough to keep him from circling both arms around the raven-haired pilot's waist and hugging him closer, tentatively parting Wufei's lips and deepening the kiss. At that moment, it didn't matter to either of them that it might not go any farther than this.

It was enough.

---------------------------

Hidden in the gardens below, a shadowy, motionless figure observed the two boys framed in the window from beneath the brim of his dark hat, a slow smile forming on his face. "I'll be damned," Duo breathed, pushing his cap back with one finger and stepping out from between two tall bushes when he was certain that his return had gone unnoticed. He had fully expected to arrive and find Heero and Wufei even further estranged from each other, but to find them like this…

Abruptly aware that he was staring, Duo flushed and lowered his gaze, although he was unable to stop himself from grinning. They look good together, he thought, picking his way through the flowerbeds back to the path. His eyes lingered on the crushed plants and strewn petals that marked his hasty dash toward cover no more than seconds after he had spotted his friends having a 'private moment', although how private they expected it to be while standing in front of a window was another matter entirely. Not that he had been spying, of course. Heero made it his business to keep an eye on the other pilots, and Duo felt entitled to doing the same.

Distractedly, he made a mental note to try and repair the damaged flowers before Wufei noticed – the Chinese teen had already scolded him once about walking on the flowerbeds. How was I supposed to know he had a thing about plants? Duo wondered, snorting as he stepped onto the path and moved toward the house. He managed to keep his gaze from wandering back to the window, but his mind was only too eager to supply the still-startling image of Heero with his arms around Wufei, kissing him with a gentleness that Duo wouldn't have believed him capable of.

"Way to go, pal," he said aloud, beaming proudly. "Never thought you had it in you." And who would have thought that pompous, uptight Chang Wufei could put aside his pride and allow someone to touch him like that? Pausing to kick his boots against the doorstep to remove the telltale mud, Duo opened the door and sang out a greeting, knowing that the two pilots would hear him from upstairs, then headed for the kitchen.

"So, who's making me dinner?" he called loudly, dumping his pack on the floor and collapsing wearily into a seat by the table. A sigh huffed its way out of him as his body relaxed, the ache in his muscles returning after having been chased away by surprise just a few minutes ago, and his head tipped back over the top rung of the chair.

"I am," a cool voice replied from the doorway, and Duo looked over with a welcoming grin. "You didn't have to shout," Heero went on, crossing the room to the fridge. "You're loud enough as it is."

"Nice to see you too, honey," Duo retorted good-naturedly, pulling his cap off and tossing it in the direction of his pack. Splaying his legs, he put both arms up and stretched exaggeratedly, adding a yawn for good measure before bringing his hands down to rub his eyes. "Damn, I'm tired," he commented, rather unnecessarily, and earned himself a grunt from Heero.

"You're back early," said pilot stated, retrieving a wrapped plate from the fridge and placing it in the microwave.

"Yeah, well." Duo waved a hand casually while forcing himself not to smile. Thought you'd get 'Fei to yourself a bit longer, huh? he mused wickedly. "The information was easier to get than I expected."

Setting the microwave to reheat, Heero leaned against the counter and folded his arms, staring at Duo silently for a few seconds. "You saw us," he said at last, his tone even.

"W-what?" Duo stammered in dismay, sitting bolt upright in his chair.

"You saw us," Heero repeated, and his eyes flicked upward suggestively.

"Oh." Mortified, Duo turned his face away to hide his spreading blush. Jeez, who knew I was so skittish about this sort of thing? And I thought Quatre was bad… "I'm sorry!" he blurted. "I wasn't spying on you, I swear! It's just…it was a shock, you know?" He was excruciatingly aware that he was rambling but he couldn't help himself. "I've never seen either of you hug someone, or…well, you get the idea. And to see you doing it together…"

The sound of a chair scraping on the floor brought his head round sharply, and he watched wide-eyed as Heero settled into the seat beside him, a calm, patient expression on his face. "I understand," he said simply, and his words were enough to relieve the nervous tension inside Duo.

"So, where's Wufei?" he asked warily, glancing toward the kitchen door. "Isn't he coming down to chew me out for perving?"

"He doesn't know, and I would prefer it stayed that way." Heero leaned forward, clasping Duo's wrist firmly, but there was no sense of threat in the gesture. "Can I trust you to keep this confidential?"

"Hey, your secret's safe with me," Duo replied at once, patting his friend's hand in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. Sometimes you never knew how Heero Yuy was going to react. "But don't think that you guys can start making out when you think I'm not looking," he teased, stifling a laugh at the speed with which Heero released his wrist, then felt the humour leave him as the other teen ducked his head self-consciously. Leaning over, Duo peered under the dark bangs. "You really like him, don't you?"

Heero stared back at him helplessly, his cheeks colouring slightly. However, before he could muster a response, the ping of the microwave interrupted the moment, and Heero rose swiftly to retrieve the hot plate and set it down in front of Duo, dropping a knife and fork beside it. "Enjoy your dinner," he mumbled and made to leave, but it was Duo's turn to catch his wrist.

"Keep me company?" the braided pilot implored, tugging insistently, and Heero reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled back down into the seat. "I didn't even get a chance to moan about my aches and pains yet!"

"You're hurt?" Heero asked, immediately scrutinising Duo for any sign of injury.

"Apart from a bruise on my side about yea big," Duo held up his hands and touched both thumbs and middle fingers together to make a large circle, "no. Some idiot thought he'd tackle me when I was trying to get away." He snatched up his fork and stabbed a slice of carrot emphatically. "He wasn't very big, but his shoulder was damn hard," he continued, a chunk of chicken sharing the carrot's fate before he stuck the fork in his mouth.

He was relieved to feel Heero relaxing beside him as he launched into retelling the events of his admittedly unexciting mission. For a moment, he had been afraid that he'd touched on something too personal and risked alienating his friend, but with the topic diverted Heero seemed more at ease.

Mental note number two: talking about Heero's love life is a no-no. Apparently, Heero still wasn't ready to discuss his feelings with others…well, with the exception of Wufei, obviously, and perhaps not even then. Duo could only guess at what the two reclusive pilots had talked about before he returned.

"So, when are Quat and Trowa due back?" he asked when his plate was empty, bracing his elbows on the table and leaning his chin on his hands.

"A few days," Heero replied noncommittally, staring out of the window. It was clear that his mind wasn't entirely on the conversation, and Duo had to hide another smile.

It's nice to see that he's not the uncaring machine he pretends to be, he thought cheerfully, again experiencing an odd sense of pride toward his friend. He wondered briefly what had changed in Wing's pilot to spur him into revealing his emotions for Wufei. And how does Wufei feel about him?

Uncertain of what else to say, Duo yawned and got to his feet. "Think I'll go take a shower and get an early night," he remarked, reaching for his plate.

Heero batted his hands away. "I'll do that. You should get some rest," he said firmly.

"Thanks." Suddenly reluctant to just walk out, Duo touched Heero's shoulder. "Look, forget what I was teasing you about before. You and Wufei aren't going to get anywhere if you think you have to hide your feelings from the rest of us." Heero remained silent, but there was gratitude in his eyes as he nodded slightly. This time, Duo didn't bother to hide his smile and he headed for the door, grabbing his pack and cap on the way out.

Now, where is Wufei? he mused, taking the stairs two at a time in his eagerness to change out of his dirty clothing. The last thing he needed was to run into the short-tempered teen after seeing him with Heero, especially when Wufei didn't know that they had been seen. Regardless of his promise to Heero not to say anything, he didn't trust himself yet to keep his mouth shut should the Chinese pilot rile him about one thing or another. Fortunately, there was no sign of him on the landing, which probably meant he was ensconced in his room. Relieved, Duo sought out his own room to dump his pack before making his way to the bathroom and quickly stripping off.

He examined the bruise on his side while he ran off the water, unhappy to see that it had grown since the last time he had looked at it and was now a nasty mishmash of blue and dark purple. It registered as a dull, continuous ache, but in a couple of hours it was going to hurt like hell. Of course, had the OZ soldier hit him just a little higher, he might have had to endure the pain of a few fractured ribs instead. Shaking his head, Duo turned away from the mirror and reached behind himself for the end of his braid.

A sharp rap of knuckles on wood was all the warning he got before the door swung ajar and Wufei's face appeared. Smothering a yelp, Duo snatched a towel from the rail and clutched it around his waist, glaring at his comrade. "Damn it, Wu!" he snapped. If there was something Duo Maxwell was not, it was a prude, but still… "How about a little privacy, huh?"

Wufei seemed totally unabashed, focusing on Duo's bruised side for a moment. "Do you need anything for that?" he asked gruffly.

Duo was almost reassured by the brusqueness in his tone. Same old Wu. But it wasn't the 'same old Wu', as he had witnessed a short while ago. And 'almost reassured' wasn't quite sufficient when you were standing near enough butt-naked in front of a friend whose sexuality you had been recently made aware of. "It's nothing a painkiller and some R & R won't take care of," he answered flippantly, clasping the towel even closer while he desperately tried to hide his embarrassment. "Look, 'Fei, is there something I can do for you? 'Cos I'm trying to take a shower here…"

Wufei nodded, his gaze drifting away slightly. "I wanted to thank you," he said distantly, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

For what? Duo wondered, frowning slightly. "Fine. You're welcome, all right? Now bugger off and let me have my shower!"

"Certainly," Wufei responded, his expression slipping back into its customary smirk, and he was gone no more than a second later, the door closing solidly behind him.

Duo didn't move, staring warily at the door until he was certain that the Chinese teen wasn't about to barge back in, then flung the towel back over the rail and pulled the tie from his hair, raking the braid out with his fingers. What the hell was that about? he fumed silently, stepping under the shower spray and sighing blissfully as the warm water peppered soothingly against his tired muscles. The look in Wufei's eyes when he had spoken, and that bloody smile…

He froze abruptly, his amethyst eyes wide. He was thinking about Heero. Did he think Heero was in here when he opened the door? Suddenly fighting away rather intimate images involving the two Asian pilots and the shower he was currently standing in, Duo groaned in frustration and smacked the heel of his hand against his forehead, cursing his imagination. "Damn them," he hissed under his breath. "They look too good together."

---------------------------

In the kitchen, Heero wiped idly at the dish he had just finished rinsing, for once in a long time his mind not completely on the task at hand. His thoughts kept straying back to the few minutes he and Wufei had shared on the landing and he was happy to let them, marvelling at the power of the emotions that he had experienced.

Much of his life had been spent bereft of such feelings, even before he had consented to Doctor J's intensive training. For all Odin Lowe's counselling about "following your emotions", the assassin had done his best to drill into him the age-old concept that there was "a time and a place" for such things without really defining the time or place. Heero often had difficulty determining these for himself – it had been almost impossible before he had met and come to trust the other pilots, because he had been constantly wary, the Perfect Soldier always on guard.

Perhaps that was the reason why his emotions had seemed magnified a hundred times over in their intensity this evening. He had been completely unprepared for the exhilaration of feeling his lips against the other boy's for the first time, nor the desperate panic that had seized him when his advances had been misinterpreted. Then the overwhelming elation when Wufei had accepted his second kiss, had returned it…

And at that point, Duo had arrived, his bright voice ringing through the silent house. Heero had known, of course, the moment Duo had stepped into the garden, just after the abortive first kiss when he had glanced away from Wufei's insistent glare. Had known that he and Wufei would be in full view should the braided pilot happen to look up – and look up he had, although Heero had already begun to focus on the boy in his arms again. Even now he was relieved that Duo had missed both the kiss and Wufei's rather violent reaction to it.

Let him enjoy what he did see, he thought, rather darkly, startled at his own sudden ill temper although the source of it was plain. He was uncertain of what to do next, and the sensation unsettled him. Wufei had barely seemed to react to Duo's unexpected entrance, but it was that lack of response, that distancing of emotion, which made Heero unsure. At the loud call from downstairs, Wufei had pulled away from him without a word or gesture and retreated to his room, the intimacy between them dissipating in the blink of an eye.

What happens now? he wondered in frustration, setting aside the dry plate and gripping the counter tightly. What is expected of me? It had occurred to him, in the minute or so that he had spent sitting at the table after Duo had gone upstairs, that he might have misjudged the situation. When he had embraced Wufei, he had never intended to go as far as he had – he had simply been putting theory into practice, trying to soothe his comrade's distress. It had worked for Duo and Quatre, after all. Yet there had been a powerful longing – for companionship, or perhaps more – beneath his logic, transforming a simple embrace into something much more intimate in Heero's mind, and after the initial contact he had slowly lost control of himself…

But who was to say that Wufei wanted the same? The idea that he might feel otherwise pained Heero more than he would have liked to admit.

'You really like him, don't you?' Duo's voice probed into his thoughts, and Heero stared at the counter. Was that true? At the time, he hadn't given a thought to initiating a relationship, if that was the appropriate word for the tenuous connection between himself and Wufei, nor had his actions been based on mere attraction. He had genuinely wanted to help ease Wufei's emotional pain, and perhaps his own.

Analysis of problem and application of solution, just as he'd been trained.

Based on that, though, would he have felt the same if it had been one of the other pilots? No, came his own mental reply. With Wufei, there was a sense of equivalency between them, that while their talents lay in different areas neither was any stronger than the other. They were equals without being the same. With the rest of the pilots, there was always the subconscious need to be strong, flawless, something stable for them to depend on, yet he had felt comfortable showing a softer side of himself to Wufei.

His training had left little room for gentleness in his life…was it so wrong to want to touch someone for no more sinister a reason than to comfort them, or to be touched himself without construing it as a threat?

The sound of footsteps descending the stairs and strolling into the kitchen a few seconds later brought him out of his musings, but he didn't look up. The tread, a little too loud and a little too heavy, revealed the other's identity at once. "Duo, I told you –" he began, then fell into surprised silence when he felt warm lips against the nape of his neck, a pair of hands resting firmly on his hips. Not Duo after all.

"You never came," Wufei said quietly, his tone faintly scolding, and his grip shifted to allow him to rub his thumbs against the small of Heero's back.

"I didn't know you were waiting for me," Heero responded carefully, unconsciously leaning back into the stroking digits.

"Of course I was."

Heero couldn't entirely suppress a sigh of relief, and he reluctantly freed himself from Wufei's touch to turn and face his companion, who was regarding him with a puzzled expression. "I thought you might have reconsidered," he admitted.

'Hmph'ing, Wufei moved back a couple of paces and folded his arms. "Didn't I tell you that I wanted this as much as you do?" he asked, no trace of reproach in his voice, just disappointment. "I'm not one to treat emotions lightly, Yuy."

"I didn't mean it as a slight," Heero insisted quickly. "But…it's different, now that Duo is back."

Understanding chased the frown from Wufei's face. "Is it?" he pressed, arms dropping back to his sides. "What happened, and what might happen, is for us. Just you and me. The fact that Maxwell has returned hasn't changed anything between us." He hesitated, studying Heero uncertainly. "Unless you think otherwise?"

Heero shook his head in denial, unable find anything to say in reply; instead, he reached out and caught Wufei's hand in his own, stepping toward him. Apparently, he wasn't moving fast enough for Wufei, and the Chinese pilot tugged him closer, his free hand rising to cup Heero's cheek before sliding round to the back of his head, bringing their mouths together in a tender kiss and putting both their doubts to rest. When they parted, Wufei was smiling wryly.

"It's odd to think that we were…rivals…a few days ago," he observed, his fingers brushing through Heero's unruly hair. "I wouldn't have dreamed of showing any sort of weakness in front of you, and I never wondered why. I suppose I had assumed it was pride."

"Are you wondering now?" Heero asked softly, leaning forward to kiss the other teen's jawline while his arm stole around Wufei's waist. Truth be told, his thoughts had once followed the same lines, but allowing himself to be affectionate with his comrade certainly didn't seem like a failing anymore. It felt secure…safe. Surely there was nothing weak about something that made him feel stronger?

"No," Wufei answered, squeezing the hand still clasped in his own. "Because I know why." He drew back a little to meet Heero's eyes, his dark gaze warm. "I didn't want you to think less of me."

A small smile quirked one corner of Heero's mouth. "It's nice to know that you value my opinion so highly," he responded, then touched his lips to Wufei's briefly in silent reassurance.

Wufei inclined his head in acknowledgement, his smirk returning unbidden. "By the way," he remarked, amusement in his voice, "Duo says we're welcome."

"What?" The confusion on Heero's face quickly melted into astonishment. "You didn't…"

The throaty chuckle from Wufei was all the answer he needed, and he released the ebony-haired boy's hand to take a light swipe at his head. Wufei ducked aside slightly to avoid the mock-blow, smiling wickedly as he recaptured Heero's hand and turned it to press a kiss to his wrist. "Thanking him was the least I could do," he retorted, pulling Heero flush against him.

Whatever Wufei had been planning was cut short by a heavy thump and a loud, muffled curse from upstairs, startling the two pilots. Without a word, they separated and headed for the stairs, ascending quickly. Heero paused once they reached the landing, but Wufei moved immediately toward the bathroom.

"Maxwell?" he called, opening the door and leaning inside.

The shout that followed was anything but muffled. "GODDAMN IT, WUFEI!" Duo bellowed, and Heero snorted as the Chinese teen backed hastily out of the room, an instant before something solid collided with the door. "I swear, if I see your face peering in here again -"

'Again?' Heero mouthed at Wufei as he stepped to the door, smirking. "Having problems, Duo?" he asked loudly, interrupting the American's tirade.

"Uh, h-hey Heero," came the rather mortified answer. "No problems."

"Is that why you were lying on the floor?" Wufei interjected sternly.

The door jerked open abruptly, revealing a dripping, towel-clad Duo hugging a ball of dirty clothing to his stomach. "See? I'm fine." He made to push past, but Heero held firm, fixing Duo with an adamant stare. "All right!" the braided pilot relented, huffing sullenly. "I slipped and fell out of the shower, okay?"

"Did you land on your side?" Heero moved to inspect the bruise, but Duo turned his body to put it out of sight. And out of reach.

"No, and it hurts enough without you poking at it!" Duo protested, holding up a warning finger. "This mother hen routine is nice and all, but can I go to bed now?"

Heero stepped aside with a faint frown and Duo stalked past, muttering under his breath and shooting a dirty look in Wufei's direction before disappearing into his room. The two Asian teens were left standing in uncomfortable silence, suddenly too awkward to even look at each other.

This is ridiculous, Heero thought, folding his arms self-consciously and glancing at Wufei, who was staring down the hall after Duo. Just a few minutes ago I couldn't keep my hands off him… Anxious to break the tension, he sidled a little closer to the other pilot. "I wasn't going to 'poke at it'," he said at last, drawing a barking laugh from Wufei.

"Your examinations do tend to be rough, Yuy," he remarked, relaxing slightly.

"Are you implying that my medical training is inadequate?" Heero retorted, relieved to feel the awkwardness lessen. His efforts at levity were greeted with one of Wufei's infrequent, sidelong smiles, the kind that tilted his head down a fraction and softened the severity of his appearance…the kind that made his obsidian eyes shine with amusement.

"Your medical training is fine," Wufei answered. "It's your bedside manner that is lacking."

Heero shrugged, unfolding his arms. "I only ever treated myself in the past. It's hard to be nice when you're stitching your own wounds."

"Indeed." Wufei stared at him for a moment or two, his expression affectionate, then shifted his weight and looked away. "I think I'll go to bed too," he stated, the warmth fading from his face.

Subduing a disappointed sigh, Heero nodded. Perhaps they had taken things too far, too fast, but he couldn't bring himself to regret the events of this evening. At least he didn't feel quite so alone anymore. "Goodnight."

He was startled when Wufei leaned toward him and kissed his cheek. "Goodnight, Heero," the Chinese pilot murmured, brushing a hand against his. Reflexively, his fingers curled around Wufei's and squeezed fleetingly as the other boy pulled back.

There was a small smile on his face as he watched Wufei move away down the hall. No, he had no regrets.

Owari