Author's Note: wow, this was... uh... a oneshot I wrote on the train back to Virginia. Sitting awkwardly next to an old lady. And it is THE SMUTTIEST thing I have yet to write. Sort of. Well, kind of. My smut is always kind of more subtle and reflective of the plot anyway. But she would always sigh and wiggle around and I would think "ahhhh! She can see me writing gay blowjobs!" and I would want to knock her out of her seat like Bowzer and stretch my legs out in peace.

yeah, uhh, also, writing in pen leaves little room for serious editing. aaand, I don't really give enough of a shit to revise. But, maybe some of you will enjoy?

-Onions

RIDE
a oneshot by Onions Make Me Cry
For a time, Earth and sky became a uniform blur, beautiful and vast and empty, stretching on forever on all sides. Duo dozed with the swaying rumble of the train, buried in his pile of coat and baggage like a nesting bird. Earth traveling did it to him. The slow, rakish churn of the shipping freight lulled him in his nest of filthy rags, groaning assurances of scenic felicity as the wind whipped at his bangs and stung his forehead. Unlike the coldly uniform embrace of outer space, Duo took special delight in the naturally occurring weather here. In some places the land was still run by somewhat rudimentary forms of service, tried and true methods having shown (at least to the locals,) the caliber of tradition. The habits of tradition were a disputable issue in this modern era, but for the time being, the American was content to sit and merely let the scenery go by.

A bird shot past like a meteorite, flying opposite of the westward-bound freight cars. Duo watched it turn into an inky black dot, and then turn into nothing at all, through heavy lidded eyes. This was his sixth day traveling like this, as a stow-away, wedged underneath the ladder of a boxcar on the sizable shelf there, meant originally for ship workers and surveillance construction. Sprinkled along the next few cars, a smattering of other penniless young travelers clung to the iron, and rode on the roof of the chain, dirty and glorious and free as well as tired and hungry to boot. They shared their resources as well as their friendship, and Duo never lacked for the company. It was only at night in the silent stand-still of the shipping yards that his friends melted into the dark, and out of all reach. With guards and conductors scouring the lines for hitchhikers, it was no small wonder. Duo was fortunately amongst those to understand the fine art of getting lost quick, and therefore was never far from the minds of his wandering companions.

'Where are you going?' a boy had asked him the day before yesterday. A filthy boy, with cutoffs and a ragged mullet named Dirtbag Mike.

Duo had smiled at that. A warm, toothy expression full of anticipation and desire. 'I'm meeting a friend.'

Pine trees were tangling with underbrush now, creating a wall of dusty green to the left of the tracks. Power lines strung in undulating bows to the right, striping the blustery blue sky with strips of pure black. They were getting closer to Fourth Quarter. Duo would bid his newfound companions a fond farewell there, and make for the Karolin shipping yards and hop the 152 bound for D-I34. It would be three more days of cold iron and whipping wind before he met his destination.

'must be some friend, for you to go all this way alone, huh?' Dirtbag Mike had laughed, whistling low. Duo whistled back then, grinning for all he was worth and chewing on the fluffy sweetness of a strip of dried apple. 'Man... you have no idea.'

The steady clack of wheel on tracking put small jolts of anticipation in the American, that bright Autumn day. He watched the land and counted his minutes, biding his time with a reverent patience.

Every passing day was bringing them closer together.

The little plate metal '3' had fallen off door number thirteen, though it still left a faint red weatherworn mark in the cheap wood. When the desired face at last swung open the warping plank that separated the room from the walkway, the American couldn't help but laugh a little.

"You look like shit." Heero mono-toned, brilliant and beautiful in a sage blue sweater.

Duo put out dirty fingers and jiggled the door knob a few times, raising an eyebrow at the boy just across the threshold. "Why aren't we in room 12?"

A cheap joke of theirs, for when they met like this... 01 and 02. Numbers meaningless to most other people.

"It was already taken." Heero's face was as blank and unresponsive as the greying sky. Even after all the years, in that the boy had never changed.

Duo snorted. "What, you couldn't have worked some kinda Yuy magic?"

"No."

Duo rolled his eyes, but a dismissive shrug ended the idea, and silence took them. With a heavy thud, the American dropped his baggage to the cheap pavement walkway. Behind them, a mother hauling a crying child by the hand yelled after a running boy in slurred spanish, then disappeared into the office. Birds sang, cars honked their horns, and the day went on. When Duo at last returned his gaze to the other boy, a tiny, sneaking smile was playing at the corner of his blushing lips. All the world dropped away and grew lost, and his smile became everything. "Did you miss me terribly?"

A tiny twitch, and Heero's cold expression warmed a fraction of a bit.

"Yes."

They greying sun was hiding it's face behind the faraway cityscape when door number thirteen finally closed, and locked behind it's inhabitants.

It was the thinking that would be the end of them. The second pause would blow their frail alliance to the wind like scattered dirt, and the fragile thread-lines of their faithfulness to one another as anything besides comrades in war would forever be split in twain. It was that notion, feared and hidden from even within their own minds, that always stilled the American when they were together, and made him quiet. It made an impulsive man out of Heero, and a compliant subject of his object of attentions. They thought of nothing together, for long hours, often times deep into the night, and when they would wake the next morning in bed sheets still crusty with the residue of taking no consideration at all, they would discuss nothing, but always sit together outside and drink coffee. Except when it was raining, and then the idle act was moved inside to the cover of the kitchen.

They agreed totally and completely with one another. Neither of them spoke of taking second thoughts, and because of it they slept in the illusionary safety of never having to give anything up. That nothing was either gained was also a subject of some taboo, though Duo was known from time to time to growl his pleasure on a graphically exaggerated level when parts of their bodies were joined with other choice parts.

Always, the war was with them. It reeked in their skin, and ran disquieting dreams in their minds as they slept. Though the war had at last come to an end three years prior, they both could do little to prevent jumping occasionally at an unexpected noise, or sometimes reaching for a weapon that was no longer there. After such a thing, they would acknowledge it's passing by thinking of nothing again together, and sometimes falling asleep on the couch afterwards. It ran a level beneath their flesh and would always do so. That was also something rarely spoken of. But the damage it continued to wreak weighed many subjects down like a sinking battleship. For Heero and Duo, the end of the war, though a joyous occasion, had been the end of something very important. It heralded the beginning of their uselessness.

Thinking about the rushing landscapes and bittersweet enjoyment of long-distance travel, Duo filled his head with locational statistics and city schematics. He thought about them and drank his coffee, effectively blocking out some of the more dangerous inclinations along the periphery of his senses. Always never very far off, Heero's face remained a blank and uninviting neutral.

Thinking would be the end of them. Death after life had seen to that fact.

"Get out of there."

Duo stared, mid motion and unblinking, from beneath the jet of hot water as it poured down his shoulders and trickled down his body, cooling from the chill that Heero had let in when he'd suddenly ripped back the plastic shower curtain.

"What for?"

Heero's face grew a little harder, and he jabbed a hand in to grab Duo by his arm. One strong yank was all it took to drag the sopping American out of the shower stall, and a few well-maneuvered shoves found Heero pinning the naked boy to the cold plaster wall by the toilet.

"What the hell? What'd I do?" Duo sputtered, his loose hair sticking to his wet body in clinging threads.

"Nothing."

Face full of confusion, Duo pushed at Heero's shoulders, but was unable to break from the pin. "If I didn't do anything, then what the fuck? Let me go!"

"No."

For the space of a few moments, the American looked into Heero's angry-hard stare and was afraid at long last his companion had snapped. But when a knee came up between his legs to push them apart, Duo let his eyes slide shut. His struggling ceased, and his mind grew blind with the rush of wind and the glare of the sun off of rivers and streams and pools of water being passed at high speeds. Water that sparkled like diamonds, flashing bright and hot, as Heero's clinging hands slid down his wet legs, and as suddenly the Asian boy was on his knees.

Heero made quick work of getting down to business, and Duo was hard-pressed to keep himself quiet. Pounding his head back against the cold white wall behind him, he tangled his fingers in Heero's wild hair and thought of the green ribbons trees made as a train passed through forested land. The sounds of wheels on tracking pounded in time with his heart, shooting faster and faster down an endless winding path of earth and wood and sky. Hot lips slid paths of molten fire along his own rigidness, and birds were screaming in the sky as they flew in great, twisting flocks like locusts and lit upon an endless stretch of electrical lines. The burning furnace left him panting, steaming, and always dwelling on the pressure that rose ever higher, waiting for Heero's tongue to at last issue the command and let him blow.

Fingers crept up his chest, brushing the ridged pink nub it found there, and Duo at last let a hiss pass his lips, though he was clenching his teeth. When the skillful fingers turned brushing into pinching, the American racked his fingers harder into Heero's scalp and his hiss turned into a low and painful groan.

The roar in Duo's ears grew louder, and Heero's fingers came away from his chest to slide up the inside of his thigh. Trains were passing one-another, and the roar was deafening as the American began to whimper and bend a little into his shivering legs. Heero's skillful tongue quickened it's pace suddenly and dramatically, and the shrill whistle of passing engines took Duo away from himself. He was no longer a boy, but something hard and hot and heavy, and when his lover strategically brushed against the tight pucker between his cheeks, the noise of it became deafening.

Then the hot mouth came away.

Duo cracked open eyes he hadn't realized he'd been squeezing shut so tightly. They hurt. But not as much as his throbbing erection, still woefully unsatisfied. Giving Heero a heavy, flushed look of dismay and dropping his hands from his hair, he had no immediate reply but to do as he was told.

"What are you thinking of?" Heero demanded, serious even as his face was red with the flush of lust as well.

All thoughts jerking to a sudden halt, the American stared down at the boy on the ground and couldn't stop his surprise from taking a little breath away. "Trains." he replied, in a voice still reflecting his own shock. They didn't ask each other questions like that.

For a moment, Heero's lips drew into a tight line. "Think of me."

"What?"

"I want you to think about me."

"ah." Duo fumbled with his own suddenly jammed line of thought, attempting to wade through the fog to an acceptable conclusion. This wasn't... He couldn't just... Because they'd said... But in the end, the American just gave his lover a halting nod, and watched as Heero slid his long index finger into his mouth and coated it in saliva, battling a sense of nervous anticipation.

When Heero took him into his mouth again, his eyes remained on Duo's face. The American stared back, eyes drooping with lust. But this time, it was the trains Duo fought, pushing them farther and farther away until their screams and groans had melted into silence. The boy's body flushed hot with the danger of it. It's unexpectedness was burning him.

Duo's hair was beginning to dry in warm, wavy tresses of thick chocolate brown, tickling his backside with the motion of Heero's mouth at his hips. A mouth that was deliciously hot and tight, and possessing of a tongue that knew, almost to the point of unfairness, exactly where the standing boy's sweet spots resided. This activity was, after all, something of significant charting on both of their parts, and Heero had never been one to take nothing away from so many learning experiences. His sweet lips traced patterns of experience across Duo's quivering body, and when the American looked in stillness and silence down into the eyes of his lover, the heavy, swirling blue he met there burned him hotter than the fire of any furnace ever could.

Sucking the rosy head with ruthless expertise, the kneeling boy pushed his slick finger through his lover's entrance. That startled a cry out of Duo, and his eyes slid closed again, though this time with thoughts of only the boy in front of him. With unreserved determination, Heero sought out Duo's sweet spot. It's discovery was marked with another startled sound, followed up by a groan so sweet it was almost pained. Heero hit it again, and then again with violent accuracy, slid his tongue up along the slit of the head between his lips, and pulled a jerking orgasm from the body at his mercy... and the boy pushed against the wall ended his astral fantasies with his lover's name loud and pleading on his lips.

Sitting back on his haunches, Heero at last released Duo from his hold.

The shower still ran hot, and the little room was beginning to fill up with steam. The mirror sweated with fog from it, but neither boys seemed to take much notice. The complimentary block of soap in the shower had washed away to nothing when Duo at last slid down to the ground, and stretched his legs on either of Heero's thighs, lagging against the wall in an exhausted haze.

"Trains are overrated." Duo at last announced, and leaned forward to wipe a little bit of sticky cum off of Heero's still extremely serious face.

The Asian boy didn't respond immediately, but stared thoughtfully at his lover and allowed himself to be touched. Ever stony-faced, when he spoke again it was a bit of surprise when his voice was a little vulnerable. "Keep thinking about me."

Duo grinned for lack of a better reaction, still lazy and loose from his completion. "What, again? Look man, It needs me to give it a rest before I can get it up again. Gimmie three minutes or so."

"No, I mean, always think of me."

At that, the long-haired boy's smile slid away, and he stared back in a mirror of Heero's strange and revealing moment of seriousness. Heero stared back, and for long dragging minutes they studied each other, rigid with the shattering of a hundred unspoken agreements.

When Duo spoke again, it was tinted with fear. "I can't settle down."

Heero's face remained steady. "Neither can I."

"I have no place to live."

"Neither do I." Another steady reply.

"I don't have any money. Heero, I don't have shit. Not even two goddamn sticks to rub together."

"Think about it again."

A flash of fright, then the quiet of reflection. "Then... what d'you propose?"

Moving with loving slowness, Heero put out his fingers and ran them with gentle care along the side of Duo's face.

The American stared back. "I can't settle down." he supplied again, this time sounding less resolute.

Heero shrugged, casual and dismissive for once, and in the thick air of the steamy bathroom, he offered a heart-breakingly simple solution.

"It doesn't matter. I'll just go with you."

And when he smiled, Duo's stomach dropped out from beneath him.

"I love you." Duo blurted out suddenly, sounding thick and stupid.

Heero's smile stretched a little bit, soft and knowing and completely precious. The American was left dazzled and dumbstruck, staring back with a disbelieving awe. Bits of hair tickled Duo's shoulder in errant patches as he took his lover's expression in, and it was right there that he finally decided that he would at last give Heero his long since desired second thought.

"Where are we going?" Heero at last questioned, breaking the silence and returning to his regular neutral.

Shaking his head, Duo felt his own smile well up in him, running deep and strong. "... It doesn't matter."

It didn't.

"Heero, c'mere," Duo waved a grasping hand at Heero from the other side of the freight car, wiggling his fingers and clenching at the air with a mischievous grin. "Come meet my friend!"

Heero did so, taking the offered hand and tangling his own fingers together with it's dirt-stained grasp. The day was a bright one, though blustery from the force of a brisk wind. Sun lit and bounced off the newer industrial bolts along the freight line, twinkling in the breeze with a fierce friendliness. The boy presented to Heero was short like them, but a little thinner, and a little filthier, though not by much, and the smile beneath his ragged mop of hair was just as bright and inviting as the weather around them.

"Meet Dirtbag Mike." The American announced with a grin. "Mike, this is Heero."

"Ohhh, so this is the guy, huh?" the boy laughed, whistling low and giving Heero a hearty handshake. "I've heard of you, man. Welcome aboard. Where are you off to now? this line runs East for the next week or so."

Duo shrugged, but it was Heero to offer the reply. "Someplace new."

The American grinned to back it up, squeezed the hand in his. T

he day found them lost in a rush of travel, and for a time, Earth and sky became a uniform blur, beautiful and vast and empty, stretching on forever on all sides.

END
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