Vital Signs

The heat was rising in the small compartment they had managed to sequester themselves in as the alarm continued blaring inside the base. The locker was barely large enough to fit a small child, but Trowa and Heero had slid in together as smooth as silk when the alarm was tripped.

Had to be Noin, Heero thought, annoyed. That's what happens when you take too many people on a stealth mission.

Heero attempted a glance at Trowa, but they were pressed against each other too close for him to see more than the glisten of sweat where Trowa's ear met his jaw, the pull of thread on his OZ uniform. He'd be more annoyed than me, Heero thought, eyes fixated on the slide of flesh showing Trowa's slow swallow.

Trowa had been a mole in this base nearing a year, and only because Heero had asked him to, since he had preferred to not be at the beck and call of the Preventers. However, even though he was in OZ regalia, his current security clearance was nowhere near enough for him to be caught walking around this area during high-alert. At least Heero was in his normal tank top and spandex attire. Trowa, on the other hand, was probably not faring the heat as well. Or the fact that all of his work was most likely undone, but Heero was pretty sure Trowa was used to that.

Trowa had built a lot of things only to destroy them. Different names and different lives.

But, Heero noted, feeling the other boy's steady heartbeat reverberating in his chest, he's regulating his temperature just like I am.

Heero was just about to suggest taking off his coat, but Trowa had already begun the motions. The space wasn't providing much leverage, but he had managed to contort himself enough to get most of the top buttons undone, as Heero pushed himself as far away into the small corner as possible. Their breathing and the whispering of fabric on fabric sounded incredibly loud, as suddenly the alarm went off but the red lights continued flaring.

"Heero," Trowa's voice filled his ear, "I can't unbutton the last few."

And Heero's fingers were already between them, deftly unbuttoning and pulling away the heavy uniform coat.

Trowa's white undershirt felt cooler against him, against all logic, and he focused on the soft stickiness of Trowa's cheek as it bumped – feather-soft and wary, even now – against his own skin, as he wrestled the coat off himself to bundle against his back and fill the rest of the small compartment.

Trowa stilled, pulling back as far as he could, to look down at Heero, "Are you alright?"

They both were trying to look at each other, but Trowa only managed to get his nose caught in Heero's hair, and Heero found himself still addressing the other's neck, confused, "Why?"

"Your heart is beating faster,"

Heero's eyebrows furrowed, but it was true. And so was this, "Yours is, too."

The taller boy blinked, leaning his head back to breathe the air above their heads. It was a useless gesture, he knew, but some illogical part of him felt like the air would be cooler outside of their tangled limbs, "I was worried about your heartbeat," he offered as an answer, but he wasn't sure.

Heero wasn't sure either.