This is probably the longest set of chapters in this story.

-9-

I don't want to bore you with the details of the biggest drug bust of the year. Duo, clever L2 native that he is managed to bait the ring leader while doing very little. He traded a few kisses and a hand job. Damn. Must've been a helluva hand job because Taggert brought him to the "boss", who presumably would have required more than what Duo gave Taggert. Duo wheedled the drug first, relying on his good looks to push the drug king into giving in. Well, good looks and a very convincing description of how he was willing to pay. Stupid prick had his jeans around his ankles when we swept the warehouse, cursing Duo as he cuffed him.

Duo was uncharacteristically silent in the Preventer wagon that transported us and the rest of the UC team back to HQ. It worried me a little, but I knew that nothing worse than what he told us about transpired. I could only assume that he was feeling grimy and stressed out from his part in the operation.


We were in the shower at headquarters. Duo was in the stall next to mine with his back turned to me. At first I just stared at him, floundering for something to say. I finally went with the old reliable. "Scobee's?" I asked. He turned to me as if he just realized I was there and where he was. He favored me with a crooked grin. "Yeah-be at your car in ten, okay?"

"Affirmative." I was greatly relieved. Duo was the only person I knew whose health, mental and physical could be gauged by his appetite.

Duo was on his second burger. I was amazed yet again by his ability to pack away the food. I told him so. He chuckled a little, the familiar spark returning to his eyes. "Sister Helen used to say that I had a hollow leg for food. Wish I did-would've been useful during my time on the streets."

His eyes dimmed a fraction then. I knew bits and pieces of his childhood on L2. Sounded horrible, but I had the overwhelming feeling that he needed to talk, so I asked about it.

"Ya know," he shrugged a little too casually, "we didn't get much-we scrounged for food wherever we could. Some of the kids sold themselves, yeah. There weren't a lot of choices. Ya did what ya had to. Nobody wants to die."

When Duo is overly stressed he reverts to L2 parlance. "And this assignment reminded you?"

"What?" He was indignant. "Hell no! I never sold myself, Yuy-Solo took better care of us than that."

"Sorry, I didn't mean......"

"Oh. Hey," his expression softened, "I know you didn't. Thanks for listening. This case, this damn case made me feel dirty. Not that I never did what I did before, just I......I want to do those things with someone I care about." He said this last with a scarlet face. And then I remembered the conversation I overheard. Duo wanted loving.


-10-

About a month later we were commended for that drug bust and Duo told Une in no uncertain terms that he would not be going undercover like that again. Evidently Une had already heard the same speech from agent Wynters.

Duo was in a good mood after having told the commander off so we went to the Preventer gym for a quick basketball game.

"Yuy, you're slipping-I'm ahead by four baskets," Duo panted as he attempted to steal away the ball. I shoved past him and one lay-up later I was only down by two. Duo laughed and chased me down the court. It was great to see him like this: cocky, spunky and happy. To think it was because he was spending time with me. Oops, where did that come from?

I watched as Duo drank from a bottle of water. His throat rippled enticingly while he drank, spilling some down his chin. I continued to watch him and my belly flared with an unaccustomed heat. As I eyed him, taut belly, muscular arms and shapely legs I felt myself stir. What????? I was aroused for the first time in forever and it was because of Duo Maxwell? I faked an excuse about a forgotten appointment and got myself the hell out of there.


At home I paced furiously. I was impotent with women, but not with men. That didn't seem right as I tried to picture good looking guys being intimate with me. Then I imagined the same things with Duo and it's a wonder I didn't spontaneously combust. But my little pal had awakened, well and raring to go. Unbelievable.

When I walked into our office the next day, Duo greeted me as if nothing weird was going on. I remembered that from his perspective nothing weird was going on. Still, I took my seat and booted up my laptop, not wanting to face him.

I had been working for the better part of an hour when I realized that my partner had been speaking to me. "Hn?" Real intelligent, Yuy.

"I said I'm going for coffee, do you want anything?"

Yeah-you naked, spread out on my bed. Oh dear god. "Tea would be good, thanks," I managed in a surprisingly steady voice. He gave me a little wave and ambled casually out the door.

When he returned he placed my cup of tea on the corner of my desk in deference to my computer. I mumbled my thanks and took a tentative sip. It was the right temperature, hot but not scalding and a hint of honey. It touched me that he was attentive enough to know how I took my tea. That was Duo all over: considerate, attentive and caring. Why hadn't he found someone? More importantly, how could I get him to "find" me?

I got home that night slightly frustrated, a bit horny and formulating a plan. It was crazy, I know-Duo was straight, for one thing or at least I believed he was, so why was I bothering? Because, ever since I admitted my attraction to myself it was as if a dam had burst loose, feelings of affection and desire rushing all through me and settling in my groin.


The following week I resolved to woo Duo; for what it was worth I'd never wooed anyone before and I imagined it to be similar to what we were already doing minus the romance and sex.

On Monday I treated him to lunch at Scobee's. He was surprised but delighted-I think. It was a start and we had a really good time.

It rained all day Tuesday so I invited him to see a special art exhibit at the museum on BC art forms. I really learned a lot that evening, a lot about art and about Duo. We were in a gallery filled with Expressionist paintings when Duo gestured to the holo-painting of The Scream, by Edvard Munch. Duo eyed it, lost in thought when finally he turned to me and said, "sometimes I feel just like that, when I've had nightmares. The one I have about Maxwell Church in flames is the worst, ya know? It was the only home I'd ever known, and it was gone," he snapped his fingers, "just like that. I can't believe that I did all that I did during the war, it seems so surreal. I like this painting. It makes me feel, even if the feelings are remorse and anger."

I did not know what to say to that. "They say good art evokes an emotional response. Maybe that is what the artist intended, like a form of therapy."

Duo laughed at that. "Yeah-looking at these paintings is somewhat therapeutic, hell it's cheaper than Dr. Rodgers!"

I smiled at him and he bumped me companionably as we made our way into the next gallery. I admired him in that moment: he was a testament to resilience and perseverance. I was never more attracted to him.

Wednesday I did not see him after work. I was foiled by Relena. I came home to find her guarding my apartment door. I sighed heavily. "Hello, Relena, what are you doing here?"

"Heero," she sounded petulant, "must you seem so unhappy to see me?"

I stuck my key card into my door. The green light blipped and the door slid open with a quiet swish. I gestured toward her. "Ladies first," I said as I followed her inside.

Relena had herself arranged prettily on my burgundy suede sofa. It was the only piece of furniture I owned that she approved of. She was sipping daintily at the glass of chardonnay I offered her. She had been strangely quiet the whole time and I finally lost patience. "Relena, are you going to tell me why you are here?"

"Well, I have something to tell you, but I feel it's a bit awkward."

What could she have to say? Was she ill? Had she committed some sort of crime? Worried, I frowned and told her, " just say it, Relena. How bad could it be?"

"All right-if you insist. I hope it doesn't upset you, but-I'm getting married."

Upset me? I wondered if it would upset her if I got on my feet and did a happy dance? "That's great! I mean-congratulations, Relena. Who is the lucky guy?"

The question is met by a frown. "He is the treasurer for X12765, we met several months ago at the inter-colony economics conference and we really hit it off."

"That's great-he sounds.......great! I am really happy for you. When's the wedding?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Heero," her voice was ice, "you don't have to sound so very pleased!"

Huh? I know I still need work on my interpersonal skills but I had thought that congratulations was the right response. Relena seemed downright angry with me.


I recounted Relena's visit to Dr. Rodgers.(I know I had officially ended my sessions with her but this seemed like an emergency. Relena was pretty upset last night and I have two shattered wine glasses to prove it).

"Why do you suppose that your ex-fianceé was angered by your response to her impending marriage, agent Yuy?"

"I don't know doctor-as I already told you I was positive that I reacted appropriately."

The doctor's eyebrows arched minutely. "Hmm. Well, I think perhaps Ms. Peacecraft-Darlian was hoping for a different response altogether."

"Hn?"

She smiled and it felt a little condescending which irritated me. If I lived to be a hundred I would never understand women. "Agent Yuy, I believe your fiancée was anticipating that you might react jealously."

What? "What? Why should I be jealous?"

"Many men react as such, when they find out a former girlfriend, or in your case a former fiancée is with another man. Personally I think it taps into an evolutionary instinct-man protects his territory, so to speak. You were I believe, supposed to get jealous and reconcile with her."

I rolled my eyes. That was so not going to happen. Ever.

It was Thursday. Duo agreed to wait for me after my appointment was over. I strolled down the corridor to the elevator and spotted him leaning against the wall. "Duo."

He looked up and the smile he gave me made my heart swell. "Everything go okay, buddy?"

"Yes, fine." I did not need to say anything else, and Duo did not seem to need me to. That was one of the things I liked best about him; our silences were rarely awkward, we could just "be" around each other. Oh yeah, I had it bad and I needed to figure out how to do something about it.

The movie was stupid-an action flick with nothing but plotless explosions. Even Duo thought so. During the movie he whispered to me, "Hilde once told me that if a filmmaker made a movie with nothing but car chases, explosions and shots of big boobs and called it Kaboom, they'd make a mint!"

I laughed while he proceeded to improvise the lousy excuse for dialogue. He was far more entertaining than the film was.

I got home after dropping Duo off at his place. That had been weird. I felt like something was missing, heh, maybe the goodnight kiss. I wonder what would have happened if............Well, I drove home feeling rather anxious.

I feel compelled to state that I had no intention in discussing my new found orientation with the therapist. I don't think it is necessary to analyze it: I am gay. End of story. Okay, and I lust after my best friend. What's to analyze?


I booted up my trusty laptop and did some research.

One of the things I researched on the internet was how to get tickets to a rock concert I was sure Duo would want to go to: Crippled Grapes. I know-the name is ridiculous, but they play a classic style rock Duo says he likes, a lot.

On Friday after lunch I surprise Duo with the tickets. For a scary moment it seems like he's going to ask someone else to go with him. He asks me, almost shyly if I want to go and the look on his face is priceless when I say yes.

The concert is on Saturday. Most of the morning is spent on the net trying to make sure I have all my info correct. I'm really nervous-I never had a real date with a guy before. Okay, I know calling it a date is premature, but that's what it feels like.

By noon I'm a bundle of nerves so I go for a run. Exercise always calms my nerves. I find myself at a coffee shop near Preventer Headquarters and I stop in for a chai. "Yuy," Wufei startles me, "what are you doing here on your day off?"

"Just out for a run, Chang. I decided I wanted a chai."

Wufei grimaces. He can't stand those "fancy" teas, but he does like a good Colombian blend. He takes a table toward the rear of the shop and invites me to sit with him. I feel a little self-conscious; my run was a good 5k, I'm probably stinking.

We chat briefly about work and Sally. Wufei is taking her to an opera tonight-the BC classic Aida. He complains but there's no sincerity to it, he is clearly smitten with Dr. Po. In an uncharacteristic show of nosiness he asks, "how is your love life, lately, Yuy?"

I ponder why he asks such a thing, then realize I have yet to answer. "Nonexistent," I answer honestly. He raises a fine eyebrow at my answer. "Really? I thought you were dating all those different women?"

"None of them suited."

"Hmm. I wonder."

Obviously he has something on his mind. I wish he would just say it. He takes a sip of his coffee and it maddens me. Can anyone be direct? "Have you got something on your mind, Chang," I ask tersely.

"No-not really," he says nonchalantly. "Except-perhaps you are seeking companionship in the wrong places. Perhaps it is nearer to you than you know. If so, know that your friends are your friends and that acceptance is part of that friendship. Oh-look at the time. I must be off. Have a pleasant day, Yuy." And with that parting statement he quickly exits the shop, leaving me to wonder at that bit of inscrutability.

It's evening and I am getting ready to pick Duo up. He wanted to meet me, but I know that he hasn't found a car he likes yet and that means he would be taking the bus so I insisted. He didn't argue too hard.

I dithered about my clothing; how to wear something that was nice, but attractive in a subliminal way? I didn't want to be too obvious about my intentions. When I was finally ready I took an appraising look at myself in the hall mirror. I had settled on a new pair of jeans and an aqua tee shirt, appropriate concert wear, but subtly sexy in the way my musculature showed. I mentioned before-I am a fitness snob. But I am not vain, not really. I scrutinized my face in the mirror looking for any stray zits or hairs. Yeah, I'm nineteen-I break out occasionally, hell anyone with hormones does, just some more than others.

Relena used to go on a mad pimple search before she went out, especially if it was during that time of the month. I knew to keep my distance then. Everyone did, even Pargan. In Relena's case I swear PMS means psychotic maiming sociopath. It's weird how thoughts of her surface in my mind every now and then but I suppose that since we were going to get married it is only natural that she'd gotten under my skin a little bit.

I found out after her little visit that she called off the wedding. I guess Dr. Rodgers was right, it was only a ploy. Perhaps Relena could benefit from her counseling.

I returned my attention to my reflection. I am not naturally hirsute but I do on occasion grow this wild mad scientist hair above my right eyebrow. I don't usually notice it until I have the sensation of a hair in my eyes that I can't get rid of. Then I remember it and pluck it. It grows pretty long and is so fine it's nearly translucent. Thankfully there is no sign of it tonight. I also do a check to see that my nose hairs are not unsightly-I mean who wants to be close-up and personal and see an ingrown mustache coming at you? Not that Duo and I will be getting up-close and personal, but I don't think I should gross him out on this pseudo date that only one of us is aware of.

Fleetingly I wonder if women go through this check before a date. Women are much more refined in my opinion. They probably look over their hair and makeup, check for runs in their stockings, things like that. The last things I checked were my fly and to make sure I didn't have a booger in a bad place. Hey, I'm a guy-I fart, burp, and scratch myself. But not on a date.


Duo is ready to go when I pick him up. He looks fantastic. He is wearing a pair of tight black jeans and a tattered tee shirt, black of course, with rips and tears in interesting places. His hair is in a loose ponytail. I wonder if he went through the same check of appearance but I refrain from asking.

The arena is packed when we arrive, the place loud and vibrating with pre-concert energy. We make our way to our seats and I watch as Duo's eyes grow wide. We're not in the front row, we're actually in the front row of the second section, but I'd say that my partner is duly impressed. "Floor seats? Dude, you rock," he says excitedly. I smirk at him. That is the idea. I know that part of it is how expensive the tickets were-not that expensive things impress Duo. I hope he understands that I really want him to enjoy this, and hell I can afford it. The Preventers pay a very good wage which is only right. Law enforcement is dangerous work, and as such deserves a decent salary. It amazes me that the BC work attitude prevailed so long. The people who performed the most vital jobs like teachers and police officers were paid less than film stars or fashion models. Somewhere along the line someone had the insane idea to pay people what they were worth. Of course, like in Preventer, recruitment standards were raised to weed out those merely looking for a fat pay check. Another mind boggling thing was something I read in an old history book.

Evidently public education was designed to keep the working class the working class. It's a good thing that all changed or Duo and I would not have done so well after the war.

Duo is telling me something-about the band we're here to see. I try to concentrate and get my mind off of these weird tangents but I am nervous. I want everything to go perfectly. Even though this isn't a date. And Duo doesn't know how I feel about him.


Two hours later, two curtain calls, and partial hearing loss on my part prompt us to leave the arena. We hang back for a few minutes in order to give the crowd a chance to disperse; no need to feed my cop paranoia just now. Duo is thrumming with energy and excitement, chattering about how good the concert was, how hard it rocked, that sort of thing. I feel excited too, but for a different reason.

We walk down the street. It is warm out and migrating concertgoers create a smoky atmosphere, alcohol and cigarettes and cannabis cloying in the stagnant air.

I want to go home, preferably with Duo, but he has other ideas. There is a bar near the arena and it is already packed. This is so not my scene. Duo tries to talk me into going in the bar but I hesitate trying not to show my discomfiture. He is not dense-well, not too dense. He gets it and shrugs saying that we can just go home. I relent because he looks so crestfallen but I suspect that a good time will not be had by all.

I hate it when I am right.