Third Time's the Charm (Sort of)

by waterlilylf

Duo discovers that meeting people - one person in particular - is so much easier in his head than in real life. Especially as that one other person seems determined not to notice him, whatever he does...1 x 2 get together.

2. Chapter 2

Note: Many thanks, as always, to the amazing Kaeru Shisho, for editing and support, and to everyone who was kind enough to review the first chapter.

Fourth Date (Sort of (According to Heero)):

To bring an overnight bag or not, that is the million-dollar question. With any other guy, it would be a given. My boyfriend of three weeks, and seven (though only four according to him) dates, has invited me to his house for dinner. With any other guy on the planet, I'd know exactly what would be on the menu for the night, and no, it definitely wouldn't be food.

With Heero... I honestly don't know. Dinner could mean just that.

Fizz it. I'd even packed a little bag. (Very nice. Yves St Laurent overnight case.) And then I started to wonder if it looked a bit presumptuous. Duo the sex maniac, wanting to jump on him. I'm quite certain that he wants to jump on me at some point, but so far, he seems happy enough to do the dating thing. And lots of kissing. I'm not complaining, but...

But.

Even a little more would be nice.

'What do you think I should do?' I ask my bedroom at large. The case ignores me. Smokey heaves a deep sigh and sinks his head on his paws.

'Oh, it's so easy for you,' I grouch. His little bag is already packed, with some food, and a bone and a couple of toys because I'm not sure how dog-friendly Heero's house will be. Hmm. It was lovely of Heero to ask him along, but I can't decide if it's just because he thinks Smokey will enjoy an afternoon in the country, or if he means me to stay the night, since I won't have to go home to look after my dog.

And yes, I do realise what an idiot I'm being, thank you very much, obsessing over something that really isn't very important. I just don't want him thinking that I'm trying to cadge an invitation to stay over, or move in, or that I'm a really forward person. But if he did mean for me to stay over, will he think I'm weird if I don't even have a toothbrush with me?

Oh, the pressure.

I could just ask him, of course. If I could figure out a way to do it without coming across as a skank who's only after the one thing.

I let myself fall back on the bed, pillowing my head on Smokey's back.

Stop overthinking everything, Duo, you fluffhead, I order myself. He'd just said dinner. Not dinner followed by wild sex for dessert. I'd quite like the wild sex, actually. If it was on offer.

Right. No bag, I resolve firmly. I pull myself up off the bed, straightening my clothes. I look good anyway. Off-white, slouchy linen pants and a dark blue cotton sweater. A bit more casually preppy than I'd usually go for, but perfect for a lazy, sunny afternoon. And I know Heero likes blue. I faff around a little bit for a few minutes, and then decide just to go down and wait for him, and of course he pulls up outside exactly on time.

Smokey's only been in Heero's car twice before, but he leaps into the back as if he's been doing it his whole life, curling up on the blanket Heero's put there for him, as I slide into the front. It's silly but I love the fact that the passenger seat is still the way I left it two nights ago, in a slightly reclining position, and the radio is set to the station I'd chosen. It's like I'm getting into my own car.

'Hey, cookie!' I let my hand brush his arm as I click my seatbelt closed, and slant him a demure little smile, watching his eyes darken, knowing exactly what he's thinking. Exactly what I am - the memory of why my seat got tilted back in the first place; most of the time, Heero does a pretty good impersonation of a Vulcan, all cool, analytic logic and no pesky human needs or emotions, but every so often there's a seismic shift under his skin, followed by all kinds of tsunamis and volcanic eruptions. 'How was work? Did you do lots of amazing statistic-y things?' (I really have to find out exactly what he does.)

'Absolutely,' he tells me solemnly. 'Did you do lots of amazing things with words?'

'Yep,' I say proudly. 'I killed off an utterly obnoxious fashion designer using kitchen appliances, and then I celebrated by writing some really kinky sex.'

'Really kinky?' He lifts an eyebrow.

'Whipped cream and everything,' I assure him.

'Ah. Food sex.' He says it so neutrally I can't work out whether he might be keen on the idea or not.

'Food sex,' I agree.

For two people who really don't have a lot in common, we actually always have lots to talk about. (Well, we do now, but the first few times we met, we could barely string coherent sentences together. I wittered on about anything that came into my head and he mainly just stared at me, as if I might vanish at any second, and he wanted to memorise everything about me.) I tell him exactly how the murder was carried out, and he, being a far more detail-oriented person, asks about a couple of things I hadn't even thought of, and I realise I may have to do a little re-writing. He tells me about how he found a glitch in some new computer programme, and complains about his boss who'd missed it, and I make him laugh by inventing some messily gruesome ways to kill the guy off. (I'm thinking my next book might end up being set in a bank.)

It's lovely. Perfect. The two of us driving through a hazy golden afternoon. Heero sticks to the coast road for the first thirty minutes, and then pulls inland.

'I didn't realise you lived so far out of the city.'

'Nearly there,' he promises, taking a right off the main road. 'Just another ten minutes or so.'

I've been dying to see his house, and it's nothing like I'd imagined. I thought he'd go for something modern, but it's like an old farmhouse and it's gorgeous; pale gold stone that gleams warmly in the late afternoon sunlight.

'Oh. Wow!'

'You like it?' he asks, giving me a pleased little smile.

I nod enthusiastically. 'I love it!' It's amazing actually; not just the house, but the whole setting. Fields leading down to a forest, and the glimmer of the sea in the distance. There's even a horse and a donkey in the field closest to the house, and they raise their heads as the car stops.

'They're yours?'

'Yes. Want to meet them?'

'Sure. I didn't realise you had pets.'

I slip on Smokey's leash, and the three of us stroll over to the gate; five of us, really, as the horse and donkey amble over to meet us. The horse is fairytale-lovely, pure white, and the donkey's like a fluffy teddy.

'What are they called?'

'Duo Maxwell, this is Gundam Wing Zero.' Heero introduces us formally, reaching out to pat the horse's neck. 'Gunny for short. He's nearly twenty-eight, and I've had him since I was sixteen. And this lady is Doris; Trowa got her for me a few years ago, so Gunny would have a companion. Horses don't like being alone.'

'Twenty-eight, wow! He's older than me.' I hadn't realised horses lived that long, but then I know absolutely zilch about them. That could be young in horse years for all I know. 'Can you still ride him?'

'Not really. I take him around the property sometimes, just because he likes getting out, but he's pretty much retired. He's very gentle, if you want to pet him.'

'Oh. OK.' I've never touched a horse – never any animal that's not a dog or a cat - but I carefully loop Smokey's leash around the fencepost, and tentatively stretch out one hand. Heero shows me how horses like being scratched and then Doris makes a weird donkey sound and shoves in under Gunny's neck to get her share of the attention. 'She's adorbs! I love that you just keep them as pets. Have you had Gunny for long?'

'He was my sixteenth birthday present from Jay, actually.'

'Nice present,' I comment.

'Very nice, yes. I think Trowa suggested it, it was the only time he ever seemed to know about me having a birthday.'

I'm not sure what to say to that. I haven't met Professor Jay yet, but I don't like the little things Heero's let slip about him. He sounds like the original mad scientist. I never had birthdays growing up either, but then I hadn't had a guardian who was supposed to take care of me.

'Shall we go in?' Heero asks, as Doris and Gunny wander off down their field, with Smokey looking after them wistfully.

I nod, and he leads me around the side. It's fabulous; to the front, there's the facade of the old house, but at the back, there's a massive extension that's pretty much all windows. He must be absolutely loaded to have a place like this, I reflect. I'd guessed he had a fairly well-paid job, but this is amazing.

It's equally fabby inside; all the ground floor seems to be taken up by a massive open-plan kitchen / living room with two walls that are floor to ceiling glass, looking out over the valley. The other two walls are painted dark blue (I'm perfectly colour co-ordinated – I hope he doesn't lose me!) and dark grey slate surfaces.

'Did you design this? Or get a decorator or something?'

'I had an architect to help me plan the basic layout, but I did most of the interiors. Wufei helped with the colours, he's really good at that sort of thing. Do you like it?'

'Totally! I'd love a kitchen like this!'

'You like cooking?'

He sounds a bit surprised, which I suppose isn't all that surprising. I've told him that I've had some food-related issues in the past. Plus, I possibly don't come across as the most domesticated person ever.

'I love it. This room's amazing, Heero. I'm just a bit worried that I might blend in with the walls too well, and you wouldn't be able to find me.'

'I don't think there's any danger of that. Even if I can't see you, I'm sure I'll be able to hear you,' he teases, and then pulls me in for a kiss that he maybe doesn't mean to be quite so thorough as it ends up being. We end up with me pressed against the table, and him pressed against me, with that look on his face that he gets sometimes, like some magical thing's just happened to him.

'Oh, I honestly love it.' I smile up at him dreamily, hoping it's obvious I'm not just talking about his taste in interior decorations, and that flows naturally into more kissing that's interrupted only by Smokey whining and scraping at my leg, bored. He's not used to having to compete with anyone like this; in the two years since I've had him, I have been out with a few guys, but no one I ever introduced him to.

Heero gives me a pleased little grin when I tell him this, bending down to ruffle Smokey's ears. 'I'm honoured then! I'll just go upstairs and get changed. You can look around a bit if you like.'

'Definitely!'

I spend the next ten minutes exploring, not just Heero's living room, but his taste in colours, in furniture; his hobbies. I know he plays the guitar, and that he like reading, especially classic sci-fi novels, and sure enough he has a whole wall covered in book-shelves (although a rather distressing number of them seem to be about numbers) but he also has a piano, a pair of binoculars by the window sitting on a stack of books about birds. There's a massive TV and tonnes of old Japanese horror movies and straightaway my mind is having this lovely little fantasy of the two of us curled up on one of his massive couches, watching a film together and eating popcorn with Smokey lying at our feet and a Christmas tree in the corner – whoa, where did that come from?

I've only only known Heero a few weeks. Isn't it a bit early to be planning our first Christmas?

Luckily, he comes back downstairs at that point and the sweater he's wearing (I swear, it's the colour of mustard, and I'd bet my braid that that he it's made from some horrid synthetic fabric) is pretty much enough to kill off any fantasies. I have got to find his bedroom at some point this evening, and accidentally destroy every single item in his wardrobe. (Well, possibly not those spandex shorts he wears for exercising. I quite like those.)

'Shall we go outside for a bit, and let Smokey run around?' he suggests, happily unaware that I'm planning sartorial genocide. 'We could have a drink on the terrace before sunset.'

'I'd like that.' I pull myself up onto one of the stools, and watch him taking out plates and cutlery. 'No one's ever made dinner for me before.'

'Truly? I thought you'd have people lining up to take you out.'

'Oh, going out, yeah,' I acknowledge. 'But you're the first person who's ever actually cooked for me.'

That gets me a quick kiss in passing as he crosses the room. 'Don't get too excited about it. It's nothing much, just tuna steaks and salad.'

'It sounds great. Is there anything I can do to help?'

'It's fine. Everything's done, more or less. I just need to grill the fish, but I can do that on the barbecue outside when we're ready to eat. Maybe you could get me a glass of wine, and whatever you want for yourself? Glasses in the cupboard there.'

'Sure.' I take out the half-full bottle of New Zealand Pinot Grigio for him, and select organic apple juice for myself, wondering if he always has such a selection of juices or cordials, or if he got them specially for me. He takes out some little cartons of nuts and olives, and we settle on the terrace.

He grins at me over the brimming glass I hand him. 'Are you trying to get me drunk?'

'Just enough so you won't be able to drive me home,' I tell him frankly.

When he stops laughing, he leans over and kisses me. 'Duo, just so you know, I have absolutely no intention of driving you home. I thought I made that clear when I asked you over. Or was I too subtle?'

'I don't do subtle, just for the record. You'll pretty much need to hit me over the head.'

He taps my head, very gently. 'I'd love you to stay over. If that's what you'd like?'

'Oh, I would! I just wasn't sure if bed and breakfast were part of the deal for tonight. Now, I won't have to carry out my nefarious plans to sabotage your car, or get you sloshed.'

'No nefariousness of any sort needed,' he tells me, laughing quietly. 'That's.. ..all right with you, isn't it?' he asks quietly. 'I don't want to feel that I'm rushing you or anything, and we haven't known each other that long.'

Huh. Talk about crossed wires. Here's the thing. I've sort of got the impression that Heero hasn't had a tonne of experience with the whole relationship thing, although he's obviously got some. He's very much the type of person who likes being in control, so I've been leaving it up to him to set the pace. And apparently he's been leaving it to me.

'No! No rushing.' I say hastily. 'It's fine. It's great. I want to stay. Honest. You are totally not rushing me,' I repeat, just in case he didn't get it the first time. 'And, anyway, this is the seventh date. It's perfectly proper for us to spend the night together.'

'Fourth,' he contradicts.

I wrinkle my nose at him. 'For someone who works in a bank, you're not very good at counting,' I say loftily. 'It's seven.'

He holds up one finger. 'The first time: definitely not a date. That was you picking me up.'

'And then I asked you to come and have a drink with me and you said yes and then we kissed. How exactly is that not a date?' I clink my glass against his, grinning. 'First time I ever picked anyone up in a bookshop!'

'You did it very well, for a beginner,' he teases. 'Very smooth.'

'More than I can say for you,' I retort, settling back in my chair, and nudging Smokey away a little bit. It was cute when he was a pup, having him curl up on my feet, but not so much now that he's fully grown, especially on a hot day. 'You were determined not to be picked. Totally oblivious. Very bad for my self-esteem, Mr. Yuy.'

'Not in the least oblivious,' he corrects at once. 'Just... not believing you could be remotely interested in me. I...still can't, sometimes.'

'Seriously?' We have talked a bit about this before, and he's implied was how he'd felt, but...wow. He's perfect. He's successful and smart, and super-rich, judging by this place, and utterly stunning, and a shiningly decent, good person. How in the world can he not have thought I'd be into him? Anyone would be.

'Well, I was interested,' I promise him. 'Still am, and, FYI, that first time was a date.'

It's not the first time we've had this conversation; we both have very different ideas on what a date consists of. Once upon a time, it would have meant sex for me, but now it's pretty much any time we've been together (except that evening when we had dinner with his two best friends; that totally didn't count. We do agree on that one not being a date.) like the first time, or the morning when I just happened to run into him and his friend Relena at the supermarket and went for coffee after.

For him, it has to be a more formal, planned-in-advance arrangement where he collects me from home and takes me somewhere, ideally a place where he's already made reservations.

'Was it now?' he asks idly, setting down his wine glass, and sliding his chair closer to mine. I'm pretty sure the whole date-or-no-date conversation is about to be forgotten, and then Smokey leaps up with a volley of loud barks, and Trowa Barton walks around the corner of the house, accompanied by a grouchy-looking brown and white bulldog.

Shizzle. If it had to be one of his friends, why couldn't it have been Wufei? Or that nice girl Relena? I don't think I like Trowa that much, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't like me either. I think there might be a tiny bit of resentment on my part there too; the first time I ever saw Heero, he was accompanied by both of Trowa and Florence, and I'd just assumed they were a couple, accessorised with the obligatory unusual breed of dog.

'Hey,' he nods at both of us, not exactly looking over the moon to see me ensconced at the table, and hands Heero a cardboard box. 'I didn't think anyone would be home. Did you actually leave work at a normal time?'

Heero makes a face at him, and I have a sudden vision of them as little kids. Cute. 'Duo and I had plans.'

'And Duo apparently has magical powers.' Trowa comments, handing him a small cardboard box. 'Here. You said at the weekend that you were running out of vitamin supplements for Doris; I was taking Flo for a drive and I thought I'd just leave them here.'

'Thanks, Tro.' Heero bends down to pat the bulldog, which pants up at him, and looks very marginally less grumpy. 'Can I get you a drink? A beer?'

Oh, please. Why not just ask him to stay for dinner while you're at it? This, even by Heero's stringent standards, is an Official Date, with all the boxes ticked for Official Datedom. Do we really need a third wheel? (Obvious answer: resounding no.) Trowa quite correctly refuses the first time, but then he nods when Heero presses him, asking for a beer. Heero takes off back inside to get it, and then it's just me and Trowa and the dogs.

Joy. It's hard to tell whether Trowa or his scary-looking dog is least impressed by me. I remind myself firmly that I'm an outgoing, likeable, people person who can charm the socks off anyone if I put my mind to it, and give Trowa a winning smile.

'I forgot you had a dog. What's his name?'

'Her. Florence.'

'Oh. That's different.' I reach out a hand, and the dog curls her lip at me, just as Trowa shakes his head. 'Don't touch her, Duo. She's not very good with people she doesn't know.'

Like her owner then, I think sourly.

'She was a rescue dog,' he adds, in a slightly warmer tone. 'She was abused by her last owner, and she doesn't really trust strangers.'

'Poor thing. That's so sad.' I take a hold of Smokey's collar, since he's looking interested in the new dog, and then fling the ball, and he takes off like an arrow after it. 'He was a rescue dog too,' I comment, just for something to say. 'In the shelter, they told me that some idiots got him because they saw a puppy on some TV show, and thought it was cute. Never thought he'd be more than a cuddly toy to play with when they wanted to. I got him when he was nearly three months old, and he'd never been for a proper walk, never got to play outside properly. He's really having fun here,' I add, sitting back down and picking up my glass. 'I live in an apartment, and he misses having a garden.'

'They're not exactly an ideal breed for living in an apartment, are they?' He says it fairly neutrally, but it's clearly a criticism of the stupid, flitter-brained idiot who got a big dog and doesn't have enough space for him to run around.

'I wasn't living there when I got him,' I tell him sharply. 'I had a house then, with a big garden.' Even though it's been almost two years, and I have a very nice apartment these days, it still hurts when I think of my beloved beach house, my dream house. If I told Trowa that we'd both been homeless and lived out of my car for weeks at one point, he'd probably report me for animal cruelty. 'And he gets plenty of exercise.'

'He does look very fit,' Trowa concedes, bending down to Smokey as he runs past, and my wonderful, fabulous dog totally blanks him, walking straight past to collapse on my feet.

'We do agility training,' I say, bending down to rub Smokey's belly, and hide my surprise that I think Trowa Barton's sort of complimented me on my dog-care. Who'd have thought? When I straighten back up, he's unabashedly gawking at me. It's an expression I've got used to seeing on Heero's friends, like they can't quite figure me out, and they definitely can't figure out me and Heero being together. 'What?' I demand, and he just shrugs, and directs his gaze out over the fields.

'Lovely day, isn't it?' I say finally, inanely, just because the silence is getting a bit too oppressive for me. (Seriously, Duo? Talking about the weather? How sad is that?) Heero's hands-down the quietest person I've ever met, but he does speak sometimes, and I'm pretty good at filling silences anyway. It's different anyway: I know he likes me. Speaking of Heero, what the blazes is he doing inside? Brewing the beer himself?

Trowa's one of Heero's closest friends; I should make more of an effort with him. I'm just quite clearly not the sort of person he thinks Heero should be with; some professional with a steady job, and a good background, and degrees coming out of his ass. Someone who's the very opposite of me. Still, I suppose he's just being a bit on the protective side, and I can't really blame him for any of that. In his place, I probably wouldn't want Heero dating me either.

We'd first met the previous week, on what Heero and I both totally agree wasn't an Official Date, but he'd wanted me to meet his friends. It says something the trainwreck that my life used to be that the evening didn't even make it into my list of Top Ten Disastrous Nights Out (no Russian prostitutes, hard drugs, knives, or bruises afterwards) but it was definitely in the top twenty. Wufei had saved it, pretty much single-handedly. Heero and I were still at the point where we weren't exactly articulate around each other, and Trowa apparently hadn't been able to make up him mind whether he wanted to spend the meal glaring at me, for having the gall to be dating his friend, or just staring, so I'd spent the whole evening with the two of them gazing fixedly at me.

Wufei had been a bit guarded, but he'd made a huge effort to be friendly and welcoming, and we'd spent most of the evening talking to each other, and he'd sounded genuine when he'd said he hoped to see me again soon.

Oh, Heero, please come and save me, I think desperately. I'm no good at silence; I can do it with Heero sometimes, but that's totally different. Not like this disapproving person, who's probably Googled me and didn't like any of what he found. I end up babbling about who-knows-what until my darling boyfriend finally – finally – comes back out.

'Did you go all the way to the Czech Republic to get that?' Trowa asks, grinning at him as he takes the glass of beer. He looks totally different when he smiles.

'Sorry,' Heero sits down and smiles at me, before looking over at Trowa. 'Wufei called when I was inside.'

'Oh?' Trowa glances up. 'Everything OK? Not another email?'

Heero just shrugs; I have a feeling that if I wasn't there, they'd be talking about whatever's clearly wrong. He's never said anything specifically, but he's let slip a couple of bits and pieces, and my friend Devon, who knows them all (he had a bit of a fling with Trowa once) has filled me in on a couple of other things. I know Wufei's recently broken up with someone, that it was a pretty awful break-up, and I think the ex-guy is maybe putting some sort of pressure on him.

I know there was some sort of issue the previous week. I only know that much because Heero had cancelled dinner with me at the last minute, and he'd obviously felt he had to give some sort of reasonable excuse. I think he'd half-expected me to throw a hissy fit over it, and to be honest, I might have with anyone else, but I liked that he wanted to be there for his friend.

Heero and Trowa do a sort of silent exchange of grim looks, and I'm about to excuse myself to go to the bathroom or something to let them talk, when Heero speaks. 'He didn't sound too bad, actually. Sally's turned down his resignation again (Who? What?) but he sounded fairly calm about it. He wanted to know if we're interested in tickets for an exhibition next week. It's a history of firearms; apparently they've got some blunderbusses on loan from a museum in London and a collection of 18th Century duelling pistols. Would either of you be interested?'

I nod enthusiastically; I'd more or less go anywhere he suggested. (No, be honest, Duo. You'd go literally anywhere. I'm totally sunk.) Actually, I have no idea what a blunderbuss is, but I can look it up. When I find out how to spell it.

'Yeah, sure. 'Fei was talking about it last week. Sounds pretty interesting.' Trowa drains half his beer in one gulp, pauses and then knocks the other half back for good measure.

'Are you all right?' Heero asks.

'Yeah. No.' He puts the glass down heavily enough that both dogs jump, and then sighs. 'I had to put down a Shetland pony this morning; a little girl's pet. Some bastards opened the gate of her field, and she got on the motorway. I fucking hate people, you know that?'

'That's awful, Trowa,' I breathe, and suddenly feel guilty for how I've been thinking about him. He'd just been having a really, really bad day, and he'd probably wanted to have a private chat with Heero, and then he'd had to put up with me blathering about whatever nonsense came into my head.

'It is.' He actually graces me with a slight smile, as he stands up to go. 'Heero, thanks for the drink. I'll leave you guys; sorry for barging in like that. Duo, I'll see you next week, yeah? 'Fei and I will probably go for something to eat first; if that workaholic you're dating is working late as usual, you can come with us if you like. '

'That'd be good,' I say, gobsmacked. Maybe he doesn't dislike me all that much after all. 'You could stay for dinner,' I blurt. 'If you liked. I'm sure we've got loads.'

Trowa gives me his first real smile ever. 'Thanks. But I think your boyfriend would poison me if I accepted. I think this is the first time he's ever left work early in his life, so he probably wouldn't appreciate me hanging around.'

'You know you can stay if you want,' Heero assures him.

'I know, yeah.'

Heero stands up and walks him around the corner; while they're gone. Smokey follows them for a few paces, then turns back and looks at me, whining uncertainly. It's an Aussie Shepherd thing; they hate the members of their flock not being all together where they're easy to watch.

'I know,' I say quietly. 'He'll be back in a sec. ' I throw his ball a few more times, and try to process what's happened. Maybe Trowa doesn't hate me; maybe I was just being a bit over-sensitive. I look up at the sound of Heero's footsteps coming back. He throws the ball Smokey dashes over to drop in front of him, and then pulls me into his arms.

There are times when I want to send tulips and a muffin basket to whoever taught Heero to kiss. (And I have some pretty definite ideas of who it might have been.) Of course, there are other times when I want to kill him; I don't like the idea of anyone but me touching Heero, my Heero.

'Wow. What was that for?'

'You. That was nice of you asking Trowa to stay, but I'm very glad he didn't.'

'Yeah. Me too.' I lean up and press my lips against his jaw, slowly brushing kisses against his skin. 'I just felt sorry for him. I mean, he'd obviously had the day from hell. You know, I didn't think he liked me, actually.'

'What? Duo, he'd run away with you if he could; he thinks you're incredible. Why in the world wouldn't he like you anyway?'

Whoa, rewind. Trowa thinks I'm incredible? What the fizzle? I come out with the first thing that comes into my head. 'Well, you know, I'm me.'

'I know that, yes.' Heero looks at me, clearly puzzled. 'I very much like that you're you. Why would that be a problem?'

'Heero,' I snap at him, frustrated. 'I told you about me.' I'd told him in one massive info-dump on our third date, in a do-or-die spirit of getting it over with, and seeing how he reacted. If he was going to take it hard, better to end it before either of us got in too deep. Deeper, for me. I wasn't proud of a lot of the things I'd done, but some of them had been for basic survival, and some of them had been because I'd been a stupidly-infatuated idiot who'd believed anything that Solo had told me.

I'd ended up telling him pretty much everything about me. In retrospect, I'd felt just a bit sorry for him. We'd had dinner in an amazing Thai place, and he'd suggested going for a walk around the harbour. He'd probably expected more easy conversation and a bit of discreet making out and instead he'd got most of my life story, while he held me and stroked my hair; even about Sister Helen and the gang of kids I'd lived with before the Maxwell Orphanage.

'Duo.' He sits down, pulling me on top of him, and gives my braid a little tug. 'How would Trowa know any of that? And it's none of his business anyway.'

'There's this thing called the internet,' I tell him, gritting my teeth. 'There's all kinds of stupid sites about celebrity gossip. There's quite a lot of stuff about me. People I've been with.'

Not that I'd ever been much of a celebrity, but I'd dated a few guys who were pretty A-list; I'd been to some crazy parties and there's some stuff out there I'm really not proud of. And I definitely hate the thought of Heero seeing any of it.

'I don't think Trowa's ever looked up any of those sites in his life. He's not interested in that sort of thing. The only thing he'd care about is if you were unkind to an animal!' There's a note in his voice I'm not quite sure about. I don't know Trowa at all, but I'm starting to know Heero. He's into doing research. And I'm suddenly certain that he's looked me up.

'You're right,' I say slowly. 'It's not really anyone else's business, is it? But it is yours. You've been reading about me, right?'

'Oh.' He actually blushes, just a little bit. 'The first time we met, that waitress, she mentioned a picture of you. A black and white one. I looked it up.'

'Um. OK. And?'

'I still can't believe you,' he says in a sudden rush. 'That you're real. That you're here. With me. And I think we should eat now.'

He tips me off, very gently, not before I can tell that dinner isn't really his priority right now. Definitely not mine either. And I know him well enough by now to know it wouldn't be too difficult to change his mind, but I know he wants to take things slowly, needs to feel in control, so I just pin on a dainty little smile and offer to help. In any case, I've spent a fair part of my life being hungry, for one reason or another. I make a point of never refusing food.

I'm incredibly touched that he's gone to a lot more trouble than he'd claimed earlier. There are marinated tuna steaks, and vegetable skewers, and six different salads. It's all amazing. We keep the conversation light; our pets; some hiking trails around the house; holidays; books.

'Oh,' he says suddenly. 'I finished the first book, I forgot to tell you.'

'Yeah? What did you think?'

'Well,' he grins, teasing. 'There were rather a lot of inconsistencies in the plot, but it was fun. I liked Connor a lot. Very practical.'

Practical. Huh. Is that the sort of person he likes? I'm possibly the least practical person on the planet. 'You didn't like Gil at all?'

He gives me one of those soft little smiles. 'Of course I did. He's adorable.'

'That's more like it, Yuy,' I say loftily. 'You did get that he's based on me?'

Heero rolls his eyes. 'I did get that, yes. Who's Connor based on?'

'No one, really. He's just someone I imagined.' He'd sort of been the anti-Solo, actually. Someone kind and honest and straightforward.

'I assume they get together at some point?'

'You'll have to buy the next book to find out,' I tease.

'Will I really? I was hoping for a signed copy from the author.'

'The author has a dog to support,' I say soulfully. 'And a wildly expensive clothing habit to maintain.'

'I did notice both of those things. All right, I'll get it tomorrow. It might buy you a button.'

'Only half a button, probably.' I wrinkle my nose. 'Designer clothes aren't cheap. I could probably find a copy at home, if you really wanted.'

'I really want,' Heero says at once, and yeah, he's not just talking about books. That's pretty clear, just from the way he's looking at me.

'I should probably say,' he tells me abruptly, leaning down to slip Smokey a piece of fish. Dogs are so useful when you just need a second's break from a conversation. 'I don't ... have a lot of experience. I don't want you to be disappointed.'

'Heero. You're kidding, right? You basically just have to look at me, and I'm melting into a puddle of goo. There's no way in the universe you could disappoint me.'

'Really?' The look on his face makes me want to wrap him up in a blanket and cuddle him for the rest of his life in front of an open fire. Sort of shy and pleased and proud and embarrassed all at once.

'Is it not obvious?'

'I can't believe you're real.'

'I am. You can pinch me if you want,' I offer obligingly.

'That wasn't what I was thinking of.'

'No?'

'Were you thinking about full on nudity and the exchange of bodily fluids? And, just so you know, you're supposed to say yes.'

'Quite possibly.'

'Quite possibly,' I mimic. 'I'm not sure I like those odds, Mr. Statistician.'

'Very definitely.' he adds hastily. 'Absolutely certainly, in fact.'

'Better, Heero,' I approve. 'Way better, actually. And, um, in the interests of full disclosure, it's been quite a while for me too. But I kind of remember there are a couple of parts that are meant to slot into one another. And that sometimes it's fun just getting to the point where you're ready to that. Between the two of us, we could probably, you know, figure it out.'

'Hn. You think?'

I shrug, smiling at him, into his amazing blue eyes. There's desire there, oh yeah, but also humour and concern and just a hint of clouded uncertainty. 'I'm fairly sure, yeah. Want to give it a whirl?'