Author's Note: The following fics were written specifically at Nozomi's request and with her direction. So, you can blame her. That is, I adore her and I want her to be happy, and I hope these make her so. Don't expect a lot of plot here, or a lot of length. They are each intended to fill exactly one page in Word.
Pairing: 1x5
Warnings: Profanity
Accompanying Song: "Don't Fuck With Me" Jill Sobule
They did not fight as other couples fought. There were no raised voices, crying fits, or broken vases. Sometimes, Wufei almost admired that about them, the cleanness of it, the practicality. But after a few days of anger the silence began to wear and the apartment felt so cold he caught himself dressing in his winter clothes. As if an extra sweater could protect him from eyes that looked past him all unseeing.
They did not fight as other couples did. How could they? Couples dated, shared tokens of affection, acknowledged desire. They did none of that, as if to do so would weaken them, make them more human and so more vulnerable. Instead, when anger threatened, they went cold, stopped speaking.
There was a game of sorts to it. Heero would never acknowledge it and Wufei never said as much out loud. But he knew they were testing each other, showing off, each trying to prove how little they needed each other. How little they really cared. They could go at it for weeks, before one of them broke. And that was a game too, making as little of it as possible, acting as if nothing had changed.
Wufei was sick of it. It'd been comforting at first. Familiar and so like the war, like being a soldier, he'd just sunk into it. They'd treated it like a mission. Talked about what to do instead of what it meant. They still did. It wasn't comforting anymore. Six months and it felt more like confinement than companionship, but there was no getting out. When had Heero ever been willing to give up on a mission?
And what could he say? 'You never take me anywhere nice?' or 'Why don't we ever talk?' And who could he ask? They didn't write self help books with titles like 'Dealing with the Homicidal Ex-Terrorist in your Life' or 'Getting in Touch with your Inner Child Soldier'
He looked across the room at where Heero sat, not speaking. How did you kill, live, die for someone who wouldn't notice if you did? It occurred to him that he didn't remember why they were fighting.
He'd had so many ideas about love, when he'd been younger, before he'd joined the war. Love, peace, literature, poetry. He had believed in so many things. Now, this. And it was—
It was—
"Heero?"
Heero looked up, smiled in the way he did when he'd won, but wasn't going to say it. And Wufei hated him, just then, but it didn't matter because there wasn't anyone else, and there never would be. It'd be so easy, to give him everything. And it was so difficult, to give him nothing.
"I'm moving out."
