It's been years since I wrote these two. I missed them. This fic was practice for me trying to write them again. It's set vaguely post-series and kind of rambles all over the place (my GW fic always seems to unless I start with a specific goal in mind) but I enjoyed writing it.
The glitter and babble of party atmosphere was still not a situation Heero felt comfortable in. Light glinted through the glass chandeliers above, reflecting off of glasses, mirrors, and jewelry in a confusing dazzle. An unexpected flash of light could come from any direction, making him automatically prepare for action and try to identify the source.
The pop of a champagne cork was like a gunshot to his already sharpened nerves. He already knew what that sound was, but knowing wasn't enough to stop the instinct that wanted to re-assess possible threats and available cover.
It had never been so stressful when he was at a party for a reason. Having some plan of action, or–even better–something to do with himself would have made it bearable. At least that would have given him the opportunity to channel some of the tense energy that kept mounting any time someone made a sudden move toward his position.
Right now he was less than a wallflower. He was staying vaguely overshadowed by one of the cheerfully decorated trees lining the walls of the huge hall, his position chosen to be as inconspicuous as possible without making his concealment obvious by skulking along in the shadows. He noticed people's eyes sliding over him every so often, dismissing him as part of the scenery. He probably looked like part of the deliberately low-key security, which suited him. There was only one person he expected to attract attention from, and even then. . . right now he would prefer to spot the other first.
Now that he was here, Heero wasn't entirely sure what had possessed him to want to come. He would be seeing Quatre in a little over week in any case. It was something about the way Quatre had sounded when he set up the meeting that made Heero want to see him now. He had been nervous. Not frightened or distressed that Heero could tell, but nervous enough that he hadn't been able to hide it.
Whatever it was, Quatre insisted on meeting him in person to explain. Was it too important to risk their call being traced? What information could be so vital that Quatre needed to speak to him privately, face-to-face, but still not be so pressing that it could wait until the new year?
Of course he trusted that Quatre would not be so careless as to let something really urgent wait. There was also the fact that he sort of wanted to see Quatre himself, not just speak to him over the phone.
This was the one place he knew he could meet Quatre. This seasonal gala was also a charity event, and he knew Quatre had made a habit of putting in a donation under his name. Why his name, Heero had no idea, since this would be the first time he had actually bothered to answer the resulting invitation. At least he appreciated not having to go to the trouble of sneaking in.
Heero hesitated a moment when he finally spotted Quatre in the crowd. It had been so long since he had seen the other boy from the back, and he told himself he didn't want to give up his position until he was completely sure. If he'd known exactly what he intended to do once he actually met with Quatre it would have been different.
Then Quatre turned, as if he could sense someone staring at his back. His gaze darted along the wall, and Heero was sure of the moment when Quatre spotted and recognized him where he was standing.
He let Quatre come to him, taking the time to study his friend's behavior. For a moment it seemed Quatre was going to avoid him. He finished his conversation, moved a few steps toward Heero's position, and allowed himself to be waylaid by a woman wearing far too much jewelry. She seemed intent on introducing him to a half-dozen different people, and Quatre spent an unnecessarily long time shaking hands and speaking to them.
That first interruption turned out to be the longest one. Quatre liberated a passing server of two champagne flutes and made his way toward Heero. He kept letting himself be stopped by what seemed like every group of people he passed, but only for a minute at a time. Each time this happened he would glance over at Heero, as if checking to be sure he was still waiting.
That was exactly the reason Heero would prefer to let Quatre come to him. Quatre always attracted too much attention in this kind of situation.
"I didn't expect to see you here," Quatre greeted when he finally reached Heero, "but I'm glad to see you finally made it."
Quatre passed one of the flutes to Heero, who accepted it without any particular interest. He was more concerned with Quatre. He was in what Heero thought of as his businessman persona, his public face. Heero knew him well enough to see the unconscious confidence under that polite and precise attitude. Whatever had been troubling Quatre to the point of making him nervous, he seemed quite capable of handling himself.
Not perturbed by Heero's silence, Quatre tapped his champagne flute into Heero's to produce a high, ringing tone.
"Cheers." And then, "How are you feeling?" Quatre asked, his voice pitched low under the chatter and laughter around them. "You're a little tense."
"Hm." Heero tried not to be unnerved by the comment. Of course Quatre would notice his scrutiny and study him in return. He touched the champagne flute to his mouth and pretended to take a sip to satisfy Quatre's toast.
"You wanted to speak to me about something," Heero said, after taking a moment to deliberately relax the tense muscles in his shoulders and back. "It must be important if you have to tell me in person. I thought it shouldn't wait."
The effect that statement had on Quatre was worth noting. He kept his back straight, his head up, but he reached up with his free hand to fiddle with his cufflinks, momentarily acting as if he was more interested in that than in Heero. He was sure of himself, resolved, but still nervous. At least, that was how Heero read it.
"It's not particularly important. It's just very. . . personal."
Personal? Did that mean as opposed to business-related? Would Quatre be this calm if he was in some sort of 'personal' danger? There had been at least one case of a disturbingly persistent stalker in the past that Heero knew of, but Quatre's attitude didn't seem to fit.
Heero watched Quatre finish his champagne, drinking as if he intended to keep his mouth busy until he could think of what to say. That betrayed his nervousness more clearly than any fidgeting, and now Heero's curiosity was making him tense for action again.
"I'm sorry," Quatre indicated Heero's champagne flute with his own empty one. "You don't drink."
Not that Quatre would have forgotten that. Heero wasn't going to offer it to him if it meant he would take even longer to make himself clear. Instead Heero nonchalantly tipped the contents of his champagne flute into the stand of a nearby decorative tree.
For some reason this made Quatre laugh. That was fine with Heero, if only because of the way it made him visibly relax and the way his whole face seemed to light up.
"I've gotten off to a bad start. Let me give you a ride home."
Heero gave him a short nod of agreement. It seemed obvious that Quatre was really asking for a moment alone, to express himself in private.
Their way out of the room was significantly faster, as Heero acted as a bad-tempered block to keep anyone from accosting Quatre directly. Still, it seemed to take forever. Quatre had to stop to pass off the empty champagne flutes, to thank the hosts, to wait for his car to be retrieved. . . he had tried to take even longer by introducing Heero, but Heero was having none of that. He was about ready to drag Quatre outside and be done with it, subtlety be damned.
"Did you drive yourself?" Quatre asked once Heero was situated in the passenger seat. He hadn't said anything of importance the whole way out, just friendly greetings and goodbyes and gently teasing Heero for pouring his drink into a tree stand.
"No."
"Then did you get a ride here? Do you need to tell anyone you're leaving?"
"I walked."
"You're usually so subtle," Quatre commented.
"If you would just tell me, I could walk back too."
That made Quatre go silent. The silence didn't lift most of the way back into the city, leaving Heero with his curiosity and the rush of wind for company. Quatre was driving a convertible, windows and top down, but he didn't mind the wind. The night air wasn't too cold, and felt wonderful after the heavily scented air at the party they were finally leaving behind.
Quatre finally pulled over on a scenic overlook and parked. He still didn't say anything for a minute, and when Heero looked over at him he found Quatre had his head tilted back, face turned up to look into the sky.
"They look so different from Earth, don't they?" Quatre sighed. "The stars."
"It's only the atmosphere."
"I know," Quatre answered, turning to face Heero at last. Something in the way he said it made Heero wonder if they were really talking about the same thing. "You didn't come all the way out here just because I wanted to talk to you?"
"I did." Why else would he bother? Quatre was the only thing he had been interested in at that party. He never would have gone if not to see Quatre face-to-face.
"I'm sorry. I never meant it to be this big secret. I just wanted to take you out for a nice dinner and tell you properly."
This wasn't what Heero had expected. No request for help. No bad news. Just Quatre, looking nervous and a little guilty, his changing expressions softened by the light of the full moon.
"I'm in love with you," Quatre explained. Only those words, spoken soft and clear.
Heero had no idea what to do with this information. Here had been expecting something bad, even dangerous. He had imagined Quatre was in need of his help and had come all the way to Earth just to see him a little sooner.
"What do you want me to do about it?"
"Not a thing." Quatre was smiling as he said it, and Heero could not fathom why. "You don't have to do anything."
Heero was silent, watching Quatre smile at him. All of his earlier nervousness had vanished. This wasn't completely outside of his experience, but he was still taken off guard by it. It seemed strange for Quatre to just declare something like that and not ask for anything in return.
"Would you like to join me for dinner?" Quatre offered, "If not, I can just drive you back."
"Why did you tell me if you don't want me to do anything about it?"
"I just wanted to tell you. I don't think love should be a secret." Quatre looked away and suddenly he was smiling wryly to himself instead of at Heero. "I admit I did want to see how you would react."
How had he reacted? He hadn't exactly encouraged Quatre. Heero merely felt puzzled about the confession. How did Quatre come to a conclusion like love? What had he expected to come of it?
"Are you interested in dinner?" Quatre offered a second time. "I'm not asking to make it a date."
The concept of dinner with Quatre being a date hadn't actually occurred to Heero. He watched Quatre start the car again with the sudden feeling that he didn't like the idea of 'love' changing anything. His friendship with Quatre was a stable, comfortable point in his life.
"It's too late for dinner."
"I know, but they usually don't have very satisfying food at parties like that." Quatre seemed to take his comment as a brush-off because he changed tack and asked, "Are you staying at a hotel?"
"No. I'm taking a shuttle back at oh-five hundred."
That left more than enough time to eat with Quatre before he had to check in, but Quatre didn't call him on it. Instead he actually said, "Isn't that cutting it a little close?"
"I could have changed the reservation if you needed me."
After that there was little sound but the rush of wind and the low purr of the engine. The scenery flicked by too quickly to see in the dark, and finally Heero tilted his head back to look at the stars instead. They didn't move, no matter how fast Quatre drove.
The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable. It was a normal, middle-of-the-night silence. It reminded Heero of the two of them traveling together, one driving while the other tried to sleep in the passenger's seat. He had no inclination to sleep now, even though there was little to occupy him. Heero watched the stars, watched the wind whip up Quatre's hair, never really looking at the scenery around them.
"Which airport are you going to?"
Quatre waited until they were back under the lights of the city to ask, not disturbing the peace of the wind and the stars. Now that they were back with streetlights and buildings rising high on either side Heero was reminded that he didn't want his visit to be quite this brief. He sat back in his seat, arms crossed, and remembered that he hadn't exactly refused Quatre's earlier invitation.
"Memorial," he answered Quatre's question. It felt strange to say the full name, because he shared the name of the person it was named in memorial of. "What did you have in mind for dinner?"
Quatre glanced at him and gave him a quick smile. "We'll see what's open."
They settled on a small twenty-four hour diner near the airport. The interior was comfortable enough. A wooden counter jutted into the room like a narrow 'V' with seats along each side. On one side there was an aisle with rows of orange booths and large windows behind looking out onto the street. The other side was backed by a plain wall. Quatre led the way around to sit on the side with the wall behind it.
The other customers all looked like they were either on their way to the airport or waiting to pick someone up. Heero surveyed them automatically. Two businessmen with coffee and papers, only one of them still wearing a suit jacket and tie. One professional-looking young woman with a severe haircut. A pair of older women sharing a piece of pie, one occupied in making origami with her napkin. A family with two young children in a booth near the door. One child was asleep in his mother's lap while the other, a tiny girl in a bright blue dress, was keenly occupied with crayons and paper.
There only seemed to be one waitress working. Her long hair was up in a pair of pigtails that made her look younger than she probably was. She was fresh-faced and cheerful in spite of the hour of the night and her tired customers.
Nothing special. No one particularly worth watching. Heero could tell that the two of them were nothing out of the ordinary to the waitress, either. That allowed for a level of relaxation that Heero could still appreciate.
Quatre ordered french toast and ham in spite of the fact that he had wanted dinner, and ate most of Heero's fries. Heero just had a sandwich, one with a heavy slab of cold roast beef that tasted good after a long night, and accepted Quatre's fruit salad in payment for the fries. Quatre was one of the few people Heero would have permitted to casually take food off of his plate. It was comfortable sharing a meal with him.
Their conversation remained light, wandering through topics that didn't really change. They simply took the time to get caught up with one another's lives once again.
Work was the same. Once again, Heero remembered Quatre's long-ago offer of a job, his comment that Heero had always been brilliant with computers. Heero had found a job in computer security on his own skills, avoiding both Quatre's company and his direct competitors. It had seemed like an important thing to do at the time.
The charities Quatre talked about were the same. Heero got the same feeling as always listening to him, that Quatre wanted to give more of himself than a simple monetary donation.
Quatre was describing a light show being planned to celebrate the new year. He mentioned once again that there would be a space for Heero if he wanted to come. Nothing strange in that. Quatre always made space for his old friends, even if they rarely took him up on it. That would have been the time to confirm if they were still meeting on the fifth even though Quatre had already said what he wanted to say. Neither of them asked. Neither of them really needed to ask.
The word 'love' was never mentioned.
A few of the other customers drifted out. The businessman sitting closest to them loosened his tie and ordered more coffee. Heero watched in silence as Quatre licked salt from his lips before picking up his napkin.
There was a sort of slow clarity in simply watching his companion. It made no difference if he was standing in the middle of the chaotic glitter of a party, or titling his head back to look at the stars, or leaning against a worn wooden counter with half a fry dangling between his fingers. Quatre held himself with an unconscious grace that drew Heero's attention.
Heero equated his preoccupation with lack of rest. He had experienced it before, going without sleep for long enough that he forgot the feeling of needing sleep and his mind became curiously wooden and clear all at once. That explained his muddled thoughts on mundane things.
Someone came to collect the family in the end booth. Heero found his thoughts interrupted by the piping voice of the little girl.
"It's tomorrow now. Can't we go see Grandma?"
Quatre pushed up his sleeve and they both looked at his watch. Sure enough, the twenty-third of December had ticked away into the twenty-fourth without them noticing.
"Are you tired?" Quatre asked. He must have noticed Heero's preoccupation.
"I'll get some sleep while I'm waiting for the shuttle."
"Will you be able to sleep in a crowded place like that?"
Trust him to remember Heero being a light sleeper, and that it was especially true when Heero was around other people. Heero didn't respond as Quatre picked up their check.
"I have a room in the airport hotel," Quatre told him as they prepared to leave the diner.
Quatre didn't even have to phrase the offer as a question. Heero knew exactly what he was saying. He accepted with a silent nod.
The air outside was crisp with the feeling of Earth after midnight, but that was the only noticeable thing. The smells of oil and exhaust and the eternal rumble of noise and glowing lights kept the city from feeling too different from home. Nothing grabbed Heero's attention the rest of the way to the airport, even when they retrieved his bag from a storage locker and made their way to the promised room.
Heero slept for two hours on Quatre's bed. After a little while he wasn't even aware that Quatre was there in the same room, working quietly on his computer. There was only the blank blackness of sleep. Or at least that was all Heero remembered later.
When Quatre's voice roused him it was to the smell of fresh coffee. Quatre placed a mug of coffee on the bedside table the moment his eyes opened.
Heero sat up and stretched before gratefully taking the coffee. For a moment he sipped silently at it while he watched Quatre yawn and rub at his eyes. The coffee was black and sweet, the way Quatre always made it.
"I think I'll take a turn trying to get some sleep."
"You could have joined me."
It wouldn't have been the first time they'd shared a bed. They had slept back-to-back plenty of times out of necessity. Quatre had never before blushed quite so spectacularly at the suggestion, though.
"I wanted to give you some time to get used to. . ." Quatre trailed off without saying exactly what he meant, but Heero could guess.
That explained how Quatre could come out with a confession like love and then proceed to act normally after. He wanted his confession to sink in without being so insistent about it as to make things uncomfortable between them.
It hadn't sunk in. Just the idea of Quatre looking at him sideways and saying the words, 'I'm in love with you,' or idea of Quatre blushing because of him. . . none of it seemed quite real yet.
Heero stood, setting down his coffee and curling his fingers under Quatre's chin. He had never been particularly good at interrogation, or even conversation, but he wanted to know if this was real. Could he possibly have dreamed Quatre saying those words?
It had to be real. Quatre leaned in to meet him, his mouth coming so close to Heero's that Heero thought he felt the lightest brush of skin against his lips. The feeling was so soft, it might have only been Quatre's breath.
Heero was the one who removed all doubt, meeting Quatre's mouth with his own. The unfamiliar feeling of sharing a kiss burned the moment into his mind. Quatre's lips were soft, dry and warm against his. Heero felt them part slightly just as he was pulling back again.
Kissing Quatre didn't give him any answers. It just left Quatre staring at him for a moment before giving him a faint wistful smile and stepping away.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that," Quatre apologized softly. "That's not why I offered to let you-"
"I know."
Heero crossed his arms and looked pointedly away from Quatre's nervous face. He didn't regret meeting Quatre's kiss.
"Are you alright?"
Why wouldn't he be? Heero didn't answer. Instead he took a last drink of the coffee Quatre had brought him and set the empty mug down again. He still wasn't sure how he wanted to act, let alone how he was supposed to react to Quatre now. There was only one thing Heero was still sure of.
"I will see you next year." Hopefully in less than two weeks, but still next year.
Quatre gave him the same smile he had when they'd first agreed on that meeting. More than anything else, that expression steadied Heero.
"I'll look forward to seeing you."
Heero collected his bag and prepared to leave. Quatre saw him off with cheerful reassurances, and without ever touching him. Knowing he would see Quatre again soon made it easier not to say anything.
He would let this new knowledge sink in, as Quatre apparently wanted. Maybe then he would know what to do with it.
As he waited under the bright lights of the flight lounge, with the low thrum of early-morning activity slowly growing around him, Heero was reminded of the party he had attended only a few hours earlier. He wanted to look up and see Quatre again, a familiar landmark among the glitter and noise.
Even as he thought of that, Heero was aware that his familiar friend was not so familiar all of a sudden. He needed to understand Quatre before they met again. All he knew now was the ghost of the feeling of Quatre's lips pressed against his own. That sensation told him that whatever Quatre had meant by love, it was real.