Author: Ceres-chi
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine.
Warning: OOC, angst
Pairing: 1x2
Indefesso
tick tack.
Another minute completed.
Duo watched the wooden clock from the corner of his eyes. The sweep hand moved on. Just like it had done for the past few hours and would be doing for the rest of the night…into the next day…and beyond…and…
tick tack.
He'd been wondering what it would take to make them stop. His fingers itched at the thought. He placed them on the table top, focussing his gaze on the tea cup in front of him, following the swirls of steam with his eyes.
tick tack.
The rustle of cheap paper. Across the table, Trowa turned yet another page of the magazine. Duo didn't look up. He'd read the back of it already. Three times. He felt like he had memorized every single word. If asked he would possibly be able to recite them like a poem.
Not that anyone would ask.
No one was paying attention.
tick tack.
He balled the fingers of his left hand into a tight fist, flexing the others against the smooth wooden surface. Steam billowed in clouds into his face, bringing a faint blush to his cheeks, dampening his bangs. He stared into his tea cup. But then again, he wasn't.
His gaze flickered over the table, back and forth between his own gangly white fingers and the ones that were hovering over the keys of a laptop. Scarred fingertips he noted, even in the dim light of the room. Wiry muscles beneath the tanned skin, long, confident fingers, efficient and strong. So very different from his own. Within a heartbeat of his reach. He shifted on the couch and ducked his head unconsiously as the blush deepened and spread to his neck. His cheeks flamed crimson.
He thrummed his fingers against the table top to stop them from trembling, choking on a tiny whimper, swallowing, forcing it down before it could fall from his lips.
tick tack.
Cupboards opened and closed in the adjacent room, water was poured into the sink, crockery clattered.
"Anyone care for more tea?", Quatre called from the kitchen.
"No, thank you." Trowa replied.
No one else bothered to answer.
Heero didn't even move. He resumed his typing and Duo watched his fingers fly over the keys. Watched his eyes too, which squinted against the desktop in concentration, glowing in it's light with a blue-greenish tint. Yet still as dark as the agony in Duo's heart. Still as haunting, even when they weren't boring into him. He shifted again.
His fingers on the table adapted a frantic pace.
tick tack.
If he could only find a way to smash that mother-fucking, god-forsaken clock. It'd not be his salvation, nothing could ever be, but it would feel so damn good!
A book was closed with a bang.
"For god's sake, Maxwell! If you're so bored that you can't keep your fingers still, go upstairs and clean the bathroom! Your hair has made a mess in the shower, as always!"
Wufei spoke through gritted teeth. He hardly ever did that since it wasn't polite.
Duo snatched his fingers from the table as if something had burned them. He shot from the couch, still not looking up, not meeting the eyes which were now – surprisingly – all directed at him.
"I…I…I'll do that!" He stuttered and hastily retreated from the room, keeping his back to the others on the whole way out.
tick tack.
Wufei gaped.
He and Trowa exchanged a crestfallen look.
"What was that?" The Chinese pilot asked Quatre who had just joined them. The blonde shrugged but eyed the doorway with visible concern.
No one noticed that the typing had stopped.
Piercing blue eyes locked their gaze on the spot of the couch which Duo had so recently vacated.
Sure enough, when Wufei entered the bathroom the next morning, he found it in a state of pure and utter cleanliness. He couldn't believe his eyes, even considered that he was still dreaming but his jaw collided with the floor when he noticed that even the lamp cover and the pipes below the sink had been polished.
What the hell…? He thought and shook his head in utter disbelief. No one, absolutely NO ONE could force Duo Maxwell into doing house chores if he didn't want to do them. He noticed that his feet had taken him halfway down the stairs before he conciously realized what he was doing. But he nevertheless strode on with determination. He had to talk to the baka in order to make sure that he hadn't lost his mind.
/Jesus, what next?/ He grumbled to himself in his head. /The return of the dinosaurs?/
Wufei found Duo in the kitchen where he was pouring himself a cup of coffee. He looked worn and tired, dark circles tainted his usually bright eyes but the Chinese pilot didn't really notice any of those things since he was dead set on making the American baka spill who really cleaned the bathroom last night.
"Maxwell!", he shouted, his chest heaving with a certain fury.
Duo winced at the rash tone of the other's voice. /When will he finally learn to use my name?/ He thought to himself but what he answered was a faint: "Morning Wu."
"Don't you Morning-Wu me! What in the Lord's name happened to our bathroom?", the Chinese boy shouted, looking for all the world like he was questioning a prisoner of war.
"What, am I being interrogated now?", Duo rejoined sarcastically, all the while concentrating on spooning sugar into his coffee mug.
"Maxwell!" The Chinese pilot seethed. "Are you even listenting to me?"
"Yes Sir!" Duo mock-saluted but didn't bother to turn around. He had no desire to face his comrade about such a stupid matter.
In that very moment, Heero entered the kitchen and several things happened at once.
Wufei, intently focussed on Duo's back and therefore unaware of the Japanese boy's presence lunged forward in order to grab the Americans shoulder and hurl him around. However, he connected with the solid form of Heero who, through the assault, stumbled against Duo.
And Duo's body went ramrod straight.
The hand which grabbed his waist to support Heero against him, the hair tickling the shell of his ear, the hot breath on his neck…
"Duo…"
That voice!
A mug fell to the floor and shattered. Duo gasped in shock and nearly collapsed against the counter. He whirled around, nearly knocked Heero over in the process, managed to croak out a small, clipped "Sorry!" and was out of the room before anyone could blink.
Quatre and Trowa, who were just coming down the stairs for breakfast had to jump out of his way.
"What happened?", the blonde asked when he entered the kitchen, focussing accusing eyes on Wufei. "What did you say to him?"
"I…I have no idea!" The Chinese boy stammered but looked severely guilty.
Heero refused to answer. He crouched down and collected the shards of Duo's broken teacup from the tiles.
Quatre's heart lurched at the pitiful scene and he looked at Trowa with sorrow deeply carved into his eyes.
"I'll go see if I can help." He whispered to him. Trowa nodded and, when Quatre slipped quietly past him, squeezed his hands encouragingly.
"Duo?"
He knocked tentatively.
No answer.
"Duo?" Quatre tried again, turning the handle but the door was locked.
"Duo, please…", the Arab breathed, resting his forehead against the cool wood of the door and clutching at his heart which still hurt in his chest.
"Go away!" A furious voice shouted from the inside, desperate and broken.
"But I…"
"I said GO AWAY!" Quatre flinched at the near hysterical scream. He wanted to help, he wanted to do something but he did as he was told and retreated from the door. He respected his friends wish and would give him what he needed.
Isolation.
Even if, at the other side of that door, he was falling apart.
Duo pressed his eyes tightly shut and punched at the wall until he bled. In his mind he repeated his life-saving mantra over and over again.
/I will not cry. I will not cry.
I will not cry!/
Nightfall.
The house was quiet. But not as quiet as it should be.
A tune wove through the place, sensual, mystic but sad. The same notes over and over again until it vibrated and lived and breathed…in every fibre of the building.
It whispered through the curtains, thrummed through the walls, called out, begged…
Stopped.
And started over.
Until it truly defeated the silence.
Doors opened, heads peaked sleepily – curiously – into the darkness, bare feet padded out into the hallways.
"What…what is that?" Quatre whispered in awe as he noticed the tall silhouette of Trowa approaching from around a corner.
"A piano." his friend answered calmly.
Quatre listened, closely, tilting his head into the direction of the origin of the faint music. It sounded to be quite far, far away but he could hear it in his heart.
The song was beautiful, but it hurt. Because it spoke of feelings greater and more painful than anyone should be forced to endure.
"It's that song again, isn't it?" a third voice chimed in. Quatre nodded at Wufei who had just appeared from the other direction.
"We've been hearing that same song over and over again for the past nights but…"
"But who could it be?" the Chinese boy interupted Quatre's reflection.
"No one in this house plays the piano. It belongs to my sister Dayah but she's hardly ever here." the blonde Arab said, shrugging his shoulders but his expression, even in the dark, was wistful and contemplating.
For a long moment, the three of them stood simply listening, feeling.
"Do you think…?", Quatre hesitated not daring to actually speak his thoughts as his eyes searched Trowa's. He didn't realize that he was holding his breath. His friend merely returned his gaze and, after a long time finally said:
"Where is Heero?"
The notes of the song spilled from his soul. He knew them like he knew himself, they were carved into his heart. His fingers were a blurr over the piano, he didn't consciously direct them anymore, didn't think, only played.
The music was a part of him and the vessel of his emotions. Only the notes could convey what he wasn't able to tell. It was ironic. He talked so much but under the intense scrutiny of cold blue eyes, words failed him. In his presence he could only clamp down on his feelings and if he didn't have his music, he'd burst.
He'd only ever played for himself.
How could he ever let him hear, let him see what he meant to him?
How, when his love and desire were entwined with every single tune?
When his feelings for him were what made his music come alive?
What would he be without them?
He couldn't remember his music from before they met. Was it lighter? Happier?
His fingers stopped abruptly, his body fell into a slouch over the piano. Duo sighed in despair.
"God, Heero…if only you knew." He whispered tiredly.
Sometimes….if you're really lucky…..the Lord might actually be listening.
Nothing could have warned him of the door bursting open and the figure walking through it.
Duo jumped in shock and jerked away from the piano, whipping his head around only to come face to face with the reason of his sorrow.
His eyes widened in absolute horror.
He felt like being struck by lightning right were he stood and he couldn't but stumble as far away from the instrument as his feet would carry him, tripping over the little stool he'd been sitting on only seconds before.
"H…Heero?" he squeaked in utter bewilderment and felt more scared than he would ever admit to anyone in his entire life.
The Japanese boy stood in the middle of the room, his hands in tight fists at his sides, regarding him calmly but deadly.
His eyes…those devastatingly beautiful eyes…moved from his face to the note sheets on the piano and suddenly flickered with the notion of….something….that made Duo grow even more fearful of him.
Those eyes returned to his face….the bluest blue he had ever seen…..halting his frantic retreat, trapping him effectively in place.
Heero moved.
"Where did you get those notes?" He inquired in a voice that left Duo no choice but to tell.
"I…I…found them." He stuttered. His breath hitched in his throat and he couldn't avert his gaze from Heero's intense, binding stare.
Oh God, those eyes…
He approached way too fast and Duo was trembling now, hating himself for it. But he couldn't stop, he shook to his very core and within an instant the Japanese boy was right in front of him, so close that he could swallow his breaths. He gasped. He felt like a trapped mouse, he wanted to flee but Heero's strong fingers folded around his arms in an iron grip and hurled him forward until their bodies were flush against each other.
That's when Duo started to struggle.
"No…" he rasped, never more scared than in this very moment. "Please…" He bucked and pushed against Heero's solid chest to no avail. The Japanese boy only pulled him tighter the more he resisted. Heat flared in his cheeks and he hid his face against the other boy's shoulders, gritting his teeth and mewling in shame because he could feel that he was going to embaress himself.
Heero though, didn't let go of him. When he could be sure that the American wouldn't fight against his hold anymore, he bent his head close to the boy's ear so that his breath would wash over Duo's exposed neck. "Those notes are mine." He hissed against his skin, swiping his tongue over it, lazily licking at a droplet of sweat on his neck.
Duo couldn't contain the moan this time. It tumbled from his lips, needy, desperate, betraying him. His whole body shuddered with the jolt that passed through him, his knees gave out and when one of Heero's hands closed around a cheek of his ass he knew that he was leaking in his pants. "D…Don't…" he hiccuped and writhed in vain when that hand spread him open and a long, teasing finger slipped into his hidden fold.
"Ahhhhhh!" He cried, biting his lips too late, cursing himself when his hips thrust forward into Heero's. He thought that he was loosing his mind when an equal hardness pressed against his own. The finger trailed deeper into his cleft, Heero's nose nuzzled a tender spot behind his ear and he was reduced to a quivering bundle of flesh.
"Why did you take the notes?" Words mouthed against his skin in a low, raw voice that curled his toes and set his groin on fire. He twitched, hard and heavy in his confining clothes. The hand on his ass moved to his tigh, lifting and folding it around Heero's waist. Hips pistoned fiercly into him and he lost all coherent thought.
"I…I don't KNOW!" He half shouted half sobbed, panting harshly when his head lolled back from it's hiding place against Heero's neck. "I found them….I…I'm sorry…I didn't mean…."
He trailed off. Because the world suddenly spun around him and the next thing he knew he was again sitting on the little stool. He blinked in confusion at the absurdity of it when a firm body slid in place behind him and he was once again wrapped in a tight embrace.
But it was the single word pressed against his neck that had him catch his breath in his throat.
"Play." Heero commanded, lightly kissing the shell of his ear. His hands moved confidently over the plains of his body, downward, coming to rest on his tighs, spreading them apart.
"What?" Duo squeaked hoarsly, licking his dry lips, pressing his eyes closed when he felt Heero's fingers at the fly of his pants.
"Do it!" the Japanese boy insisted, biting his neck for emphasis, pulling him back until his burning length nudged inbetween the cheeks of his ass. A lone, caloused finger trailed over his erection and Duo squirmed helplessly in pleasure.
How, by all saints, was he supposed to play when he was barely able to recall his own name?
Yet he obeyed and lifted his shaking arms, placing his trembling fingers over the keys of the piano which he could barely see through the hazy fog in his mind.
The first notes of the song tumbled shakily into the room. He tried to get a grip but Heero was doing his best to fry his brains. Before long his hands were wrapped around his dripping cock, stroking him in time to the music which he was calling forth from within. He didn't know what was happening or why he was even able to but his fingers moved over the keys like they had a mind on their own. Just like Heero's fingers moved over his burning length, rocking his hips into his ass.
The sounds of their mutual desire mixed with the sensual melody. Heero's lips still ghosted along the shell of his ear and it all came crashing down when he cooed the words that would set him free.
"The song…..I wrote it for you."
"How did you learn to play the piano?"
Moments after finding pleasure in each other, they were still in the same position. Duo lying comfortably in the cocoon of Heero's arms who's chin was resting on his shoulder. One of the Japanese boy's hands was curled around his dear braid, idly flipping the ends of it back and forth between his fingers.
"Back in Maxwell church…"Duo replied softly "Father Maxwell taught me to play the organ. It wasn't such a big step to the piano after that."
His gaze turned inwards as he recalled, gently smiling to himself.
"Did you know that we actually had a band at the Sweepers?" He chuckled. "Well, something like that anyway. Some guys back there really had a clue but our instruments were crap. We had an old, rusty saxophone, a broken violin that we glued back together and an ancient, battered Bechstein piano which sure as hell was precious some hundred years ago but screeched like a mad cat. Drove Howie up the walls, that thing."
Duo grinned at the happy memory of it and Heero's lips coiled into a small smirk.
"He threw a wrench into it once, just to make us shut up. But we patched it back together, only….it sounded even worse after that…"
He closed his eyes, lost in contemplation and visions of the past.
"One day it was just…gone." Duo breathed. "It was fun, though." He smiled again and snuggled deeper into the arms surrounding him when Heero kissed his neck.
"What about you?" He wanted to know, having just spent half an hour listening to myriads of little tunes and melodies that Heero had coaxed from the now sleeping piano. Duo shifted slightly in his hold of him, watching him curiously from the corner of his eyes when the Japanese boy didn't answer right away.
He seemed to be deep in thought, all the while playing with his hair absentmindedly.
"Dr. J noticed that I had a thing for music when he caught me watching a concert on my laptop when I should have been studying." Heero eventually shared.
"For the first time in my life I had deliberately ignored one of his orders and fallen prey to something that, in his eyes, was a distraction. But instead of banning all things related to music from my vicinity he went out to get me an instrument and included practising hours into my schedule so that I would be able to concentrate on my training again."
"He bought you a piano?" Duo asked in awe, not quite able to believe that the creepy old man would do such a thing.
"Yes…" Heero confirmed, hesitating, caressing a copper-coloured strand with his fingertips. "He actually…went to the Sweepers."
Duo stopped breathing.
"He got me an ancient, battered Bechstein piano…"Heero elaborated, smiling when his eyes went wide as saucers, overflowing with emotion and his mouth fell open in shock.
"…which sure as hell was precious some hundred years ago, but…"
Duo clamped his hand over Heero's mouth, trembling in his arms once again as laughter spilled from his quivering lips, rattling his bones. He laughed so hard that tears streamed from his eyes but he decided that it was ok.
Because they were tears of joy.
THE END
The Italian word "indefesso" means "restless" or "unresting".