Acknowledgements and Disclaimers: Gundam Wing and its related characters belong to Bandi Sunrise and probably a whole bunch of other people who aren't me. I'm just sneaking onto their playground hoping to play dodgeball in the dark. Huge thanks to my betas, Ruth and Th3 J4ck, wonderful people both. Worshipful thanks to Ruth for finding the absolutely perfect title for this story.

Notes: Section divisions indicate a shift in POV. The author also wishes to disclaim any legal responsibility for accidents perpetuated upon baked goods during the making of this story.

Dedicated to Thirteenth Nightengale, for nothing more, but indeed nothing less, then being herself.
AC 199

Prelude - Heero

I slid the groceries onto the counter, while my eyes automatically checked the clock. 7:05, that stupid broadcast had already started. I was not going to turn it on tonight. Resolved, I put away the small amount of groceries for today. Milk on the top shelf, all the vegetables in the drawer, cupboard for the bread and....damn it was quiet in here.

Get a hold of yourself Yuy. The quiet's fine. You don't need an innane, useless distraction like Duo's broadcast.

It really was amazing how quickly Duo had found the right job for himself after the war. Quatre had a hand in it, I suspect, since Winner Enterprises had just acquired a production studio. From all reports, sponsors loved his eclectic music mix of everything from pre-colony recordings to the newest hypnobeat. Listeners adored him, he was the friend next door and the man everyone wanted to sleep with. Winner Enterprises was happy, not only was Duo popular but he could run his own equipment board and make spot repairs, dispensing with the need to pay a technician and assistant.

I forcibly stopped myself from moving toward the 'cast unit, but just thinking about his show made me want to hear it.

All right, so he was good at it. I was still doing what I was good at too, wasn't I? There were always missions to be attended to. As much as everyone said they wanted peace, there were always those who didn't, and would need to be stopped. Relena was more than holding her own in the political arena, and Sally and her Preventers were a visible presence for peace. It was she that handed me, and sometimes the other pilots, the missions where an invisible, non-lethal force was needed.

Annoyed, I realized I was checking the clock again. 7:12. I sat down on the couch with the paper, trying to strengthen my resolve. I really didn't need to hear Duo's voice. Involuntarily, the side of my mouth lifted in a twisted smile. I wasn't very good at convincing myself.

The 'cast unit was on before I could stop myself.

Duo's rich voice filled my small apartment, and I felt myself relax. Ironic really, I wanted to be upset with him for my own reactions, but once I was listening to his smooth tone it didn't seem to be such a big deal.

I made my dinner, eating because it was time rather than because I was hungry. As I cleaned up the dishes, honesty forced me to admit to myself I couldn't care less about the music, or the news, or even just what it was Duo was saying. It was early, but I turned out the lights and lay down on the couch anyway, listening in the dark made this feel more personal.

As the show progressed, Duo's speech became silkier and more intimate. A by-now-familiar tingle that was at once exciting and soothing flowed through me. The flush on my skin was deepening along with my breathing as I let his voice wash over me like a velvet caress until the end of the show. Once again, sleep would be a long time coming.

This has got to stop.
Part One - Quatre

The decor in the Grey Swan was only there to remind the diners how important they were, I decided. It wasn't often I had to wait for a lunch meeting long enough to notice it. Even being Winner's CEO didn't buy more hours in the day. Duo and I rarely had time to have lunch together anymore, but one thing hadn't changed; he was always late. I was more than half-convinced he did it on purpose, he was always telling me I should take time to be alone. I scanned the room from my table near the window.

As if summoned by my thoughts, Duo came striding through the restaurant. His green silk shirt and stark black jeans should have looked wildly out of place in this bastion of corporate narcissism, but he carried himself with such a sense of assurance about him that people often found it easier to shift their expectations rather than change him. Not a single other person I knew would have been able to charm the matre'd into letting them walk through the tables unescorted.

I tamped down my grin as he reached the table. Lunch with Duo was always an uncomplicated joy. Our friendship was another thing that had never changed; gentle teasing wrapped in warm respect and the knowledge we would always have each other's back.

"Mister Winner." Duo slid into the waiting chair. "An excellent choice of dining facility." His voice was grave, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. So that was the game, was it? "How nice that the head of the company owning my production studio invited me to lunch."

It took me a second to work through that one. He definitely lost points for confusion in that sentence. I raised my eyebrow and he acknowledged it with a tilt of his head.

"Is it that unusual?" I countered. "We do have lunch occasionally."

"Once per quarter?" Duo countered.

"Of course not. I'm never that organized when I choose an employee to bestow my corporate largesse on." Now I had to acknowledge an awkward sentence.

"At least your secretary didn't call me to cancel this time," Duo continued relentlessly. I winced, and gave him that one with a rueful grin.

"I'll have you know," I said archly, "I had my calendar on write-protect for this lunch."

"Really? And that makes it safe?"

"As safe as possible, Mister Maxwell." He looked surprised at the honorific. My point.

"You shouldn't put too much faith in electronics, Quatre." Duo fairly purred with a predatory glee.

I laughed, in genuine delight at the prospect of searching my computer over the next few weeks for the results of the informal challenge. Content with a draw, I gestured for the waiter, who appeared almost instantly to take our order.

"Have you heard from Sally lately?" I asked, as I settled back into my chair.

"No, not for awhile. I read about that business in Africa, though." A leftover battalion of Alliance troops were using the forest to hide an arms manufacturing plant. The Preventers shut them down, but weren't able to pinpoint either the buyer or the supplier.

"I'll have to contact her." I looked around carefully. The odds anyone would be eavesdropping were slim, and the odds anyone here would care even slimmer. Some habits were ingrained too deeply, however. "I've got news about a fireworks run on the Red Line." I subconsciously dropped back into our wartime code for an illegal shipment of ammunitions on the Earth-Mars supply route. I wanted to alert the Preventers, to avoid compromising my source. Sally would be an acceptable risk.

Duo whistled under his breath. "Yep. That's one she should take care of." He fell quiet, brooding. "It never stops, does it?"

We sat in introspective silence until the food arrived, with memories of war and death our unspoken companions.

The rest of the lunchtime conversation continued pleasantly enough. Time passed, as it inevitably does, and we said our goodbyes. Duo left singing some ridiculous song I recognized from his broadcast, and I went back to my office to gleefully try to protect my computer system.