Warnings: language, yaoi (male/male sexytiems)

DISCLAIMER - I totally don't own Gundam Wing, but I do borrow that little corner of Animeland a lot. Without permission.


Recommended music for Team Work, Part 1 - "Love Alone" by Thriving Ivory


NOTES: We are now entering what I call the "calm before the storm." Lots of details have to get worked out before the epic action starts up.

MANY THANKS to Solace Requiem for reading through the first draft of "Team Work" and fangirling with me. You are awesome, woman. Like, SRSLY.


Team Work – Part 1 (Duo POV)

"Oh… my… God!"

"What!?" I demanded, slightly alarmed. The last time I could remember Hilde using that tone I'd been very reluctantly sharing the boy's sex ed pamphlet with her. (Hey, she'd insisted!) She'd gaped, grimaced, and then proclaimed her intent to marry a girl. We'd been in fourth grade at the time.

So, the Tone was cause for concern. My knee-jerk reaction was to check my fly, but no. Everything was kosher. Even if my pants were gaping open and the mouse was out of its house, my long, wool coat was covering it up. In that moment of mindless panic, I'd totally forgotten that I was even wearing it. Sheesh.

But if Hilde wasn't horrified by my boybits dangling in the breeze, then that just begged the question—

"What the hell are you oh-my-Goding over, woman?"

"Him."

She didn't even have to point. Her awe-filled gaze led my focus straight across the parking lot, over the sea of snow-dusted cars, toward my ride. Trowa was leaning back against the side of the car, his arms crossed over his chest, his nose and cheeks reddened by the chill. Down jackets weren't supposed to reveal trim, muscular figures – I was fairly certain of this – but if Hilde was seeing the same thing I was, then that brand new winter coat of his was a Joe-Schmo-camouflage fail.

"Somebody's got a new boyfriend," she concluded. "Yum."

"Boyfriend, huh?" I tried to sound nonchalant. Yeah, I considered myself Trowa's boyfriend, but I was so not ready to be official about it. As in, "Hey, I'm Duo. Nice to meet ya. And this is my boyfriend, Trowa."

I suspected my anxiety had its origins in a remark that Thomas had made while I'd watched Trowa get a haircut: "You're choosing a difficult path, my lord. People are not going to understand if you make your relationship with Trowa Barton known. Think very carefully. Do you want to be fighting their prejudices as well as the issues that come with running a corporation?"

He was right, dammit. I wanted to be with Trowa, but the issue of us being together was more than just how it would look to people. There would be consequences involved. Big ones. Shit, I didn't want to make our lives more difficult. I was up to my Adam's apple in "difficult" already.

And then Hilde's second remark filtered through. "Yum!?" I coughed. "Oi! What would Dorothy say if she caught you ogling some guy?" Thank God she had a Thespian Club meeting today after school, otherwise she would have been standing here with us and she was even scarier than Hilde.

Hilde rolled her eyes. "She'd ogle with me, of course! I may not be all that interested in getting down to the gooey filling, but I can appreciate a delicious chocolate coating just as well as the next woman."

Although she wasn't as terrifying as Dorothy, Hilde still scared me sometimes.

"Oh, yeah," she volunteered, still ogling my boyfriend. "Somebody's expecting to get laid tonight."

"Eh?" I squeaked.

"Duo, grow a brain. Only a guy who expects to be well compensated for it would be a gentleman in this weather."

"Uh… really?"

She gave me a disbelieving look. "Tell me you'd drape yourself all over an ice-encrusted vehicle like that in the dead of winter out of the goodness of your heart."

"I might," I contrarily argued.

"You're abnormal."

True.

"Hey, wait a minute!" she gasped, her eyes widening with sudden enlightenment. "Isn't that your car?"

I fought the answering smirk. "So it is."

She turned to me and, ignoring the waves of students streaming out of the building behind us, demanded imperiously, "Explain."

At last, I let the smirk out to play. "You work it out if you're so smart," I dared her with every last juvenile bone in my body. "Since he's not invisible to you now."

I saw it in her expression when it clicked. "Oh… my… God! That's Trowa?"

I winked. "See ya tomorrow, Hils."

"What!? You're not going to introduce me?"

"It's freakin' freezing out here! You think I'm gonna keep him waiting just for you?"

Chuckling gleefully, I dashed off, leaving her standing on the school steps gaping and gawking. Oh, vengeance was sweet.

"Former girlfriend?" Trowa asked by way of greeting.

I rolled my eyes. "Hilde," I summarized. "If you're not in the process of freezing your balls off, I'll introduce you."

For a moment, he looked like he was seriously considering social pleasantries over a man's prerogative. "Fuck it," he growled and held out his hand for the car keys.

Given that he was standing (rather proprietarily) next to the driver's side door, I guessed, "I'm thinkin' this means you passed."

"With flying colors."

I dug the keys out of my pocket and tossed them to him before I jogged around to take the shotgun seat. "Not hard to do given the drivers in this city."

"Yo!" he objected.

I smirked again. I was getting a lotta use outta my signature smirk this afternoon. He unlocked the doors and I plopped into the passenger's seat, waiting until he'd turned over the engine and the heater was warming up before demanding, "So, fork it over. Let's see it. Gimme gimme gimme…!"

Sighing and shaking his head at my impersonation of a toddler with grabby hands syndrome, he shifted his hips up off the seat in a move that captured my complete attention. Retrieving his wallet from the back pocket of his new, winter-weight jeans, he deftly plucked the laminated plastic card out of its slot and held it out to me.

I snatched the driver's license with a flourish and peered closely at the photo. "Dammit. You're photogenic even at the DMV. I may have to hate you on principle."

"You may have to?" he queried as I handed the license back to him. He wiggled in the seat as he put his wallet away.

"Yeah. There's a seventy percent chance of meaningless hate according to the latest forecast."

I couldn't see his smile through the fall of his bangs, but I sensed it was there. "I can do a lot with thirty percent."

"Just so long as you don't do it in a parking lot, you're in with a chance," I replied, glancing at one of the guys from the swim team as he strode past, performing a classic double-take at seeing me in the passenger's seat of my own car.

"Copy that," Trowa replied.

I laughed. We buckled our seatbelts and Trowa drove us home. Home. Wow, it was hard to believe that Trowa had been living with me for something like two weeks already. Although, we'd been so busy that I guess it was inevitable that time would fly. I really, really had not been prepared for bringing him home with me. I'd been intending to talk to my dad about it before I started cleaning out Solo's old room and boxing all his stuff up, but I hadn't gotten around to it before we'd left for Laos, so guess what was waiting for us when we arrived? Yup. Fun with cardboard boxes.

That first night, I'd felt like an absolute loser when I'd had to tell Trowa that his jetlagged ass could have the couch or my bed and I'd sleep wherever.

"Then you'll sleep with me," he'd said. "Where's your room?"

It'd been weird having someone in my bed with me. I kept expecting my dad to knock on the door and find me flat on my back, being body-glomped by my softly snoring boyfriend.

And then there'd been a whole scow-load of other things to worry about. Like when I was gonna have to give my notice at the Super Mart, and what was gonna happen with the company now that I was maybe-sorta-possibly in charge, and how soon Trowa'd be able to get his driver's license, and then there was the issue of getting him warm clothes and enrolled in that GED prep school I'd looked into and—

"Duo, breathe," he'd whispered at me that first night, rubbing his cheek against my shoulder.

"Sorry," I'd answered and forced myself to come up with a step-by-step plan. After that, I'd managed to fall asleep.

The next day, after he'd insisted on reconnoitering the entire freakin' building from roof to basement, I'd dragged Trowa to the mall where he'd found a warm coat, some jeans and sweaters and whatever else. I'd used my credit card. If he wanted to pay me back later, he would. I didn't really care one way or the other. It was a drop in my debt ocean until I had access to more funds.

After we'd loaded the shopping bags into the car, Trowa'd hesitated to close the trunk, staring down at his new stuff like he was watching evolution in action.

"What is it?" I'd asked, wondering at that look on his face.

Eyes downcast, he'd mumbled, "All this won't fit in my rucksack."

I'd grinned. "It's not supposed to."

He'd looked up, a hesitant smile playing on his lips.

"Allow me the honor of introducing you the most exciting invention since clothes," I'd sales-pitched. "It's called 'the dresser'."

"Goof," he'd accused and slammed the trunk shut before getting in the car.

We'd swung by the Super Mart on the way home so I could pick up my schedule and beg some boxes. Trowa and I had crashed the moment we'd dumped the loot from our expedition onto the living room floor. The next day, we'd dealt with cleaning out Solo's room.

"I can do this by myself," I'd offered when Trowa had followed me down the hall after our morning consumption of rancidly dirty coffee.

"Would you rather be alone?"

"Well, no, I'd rather be with you, but what kind of loser makes his boyfriend clean out his own room before he can move into it?"

Trowa'd put a hand on my arm and stopped me. Turning me around, he'd gathered me close in an affectionate hug. For a guy who'd been raised by a bunch of mercs, he was well-versed in the art of being cuddly. Or maybe he was an expert because he'd shared close quarters with a dozen guys all his life. Or, hell, maybe he was finally letting his inner child live out a dream.

"I'm not an expert on boyfriends," he'd confided. "But I've no complaints with this one."

"That's good," I'd mumbled into the weave of Trowa's grey turtleneck. "Because this one could do with a boost of confidence. He doesn't know his ass from his elbow."

He'd chuckled. "I could help him with that." To illustrate, he'd smoothed one palm down the center of my back and stopped right on my tailbone. "All he has to do is ask," he'd rumbled sexily in my ear.

I'd cleared my throat. "They say it's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission," I'd remarked randomly. Or… not so randomly.

"So it is," he'd agreed after a long moment.

When I'd moved away, he'd dropped his arms. I still hated myself for feeling relieved. And I still hated myself for putting him off, day after day, night after night. He was waiting for me to bring up the subject of blood tests. He was waiting for me to tell him I wanted him. I just… I just couldn't say the words.

And I had no idea why.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Trowa asked at a red light.

I startled. "Huh? Oh, I was just thinkin' about all that crap we cleared outta Solo's old room." It was Trowa's room now but he had yet to actually sleep in the bed. Somehow, he ended up snuggling up with me every damn night and I ended up waking up with a raging hard-on every damn morning. At least there was the conspicuous wet patch of drool on the shoulder of Trowa's long-sleeved T-shirt to humiliate me into not starting something.

"He was interested in the Orient," Trowa observed.

No doubt about it. Most of the stuff we'd boxed up had been figures, models, and books on epic Asian stuff. There was one thing I didn't get, though, and that was the 500-piece jigsaw puzzle of some forest in Japan. Solo hated puzzles. And he'd always been more interested in the ancient buildings than in their surroundings. But whatever. It was probably just a leftover Christmas present that he'd ignored. That didn't explain why it'd been sitting in the middle of his bed, though.

With a sigh, I made an effort to not think about my brother. It wasn't every day that a guy passed his driver's test.

"Hey, let's stop by the Super Mart and get something for dinner."

Trowa tilted his head at a quizzical angle that made me want to nuzzle his throat. "No tins of pasta tonight?"

I grinned. "Hell, no! An' no microwave dinners, either. Only the best for you, baby."

His curiosity was palpable. "Hm?"

"We're goin' for frozen pizza!" I enthused, doing my slick punk rocker impersonation. Trowa barked out a laugh. I loved that I could make him laugh, but I also loved that I could coax a chuckle from him, too. Those chuckles of his were damn nice.

When he parked, I put a hand on his arm. "Keep the engine hot. I'll be comin' in fast with the goods."

That won me one of those aforementioned chuckles.

Even though I'd joked about it, I really did wanna give him the best. I chose two of those fancy, ten-dollar pizzas that you bake in the oven, two pints of Ben & Jerry's ice cream, a can of plain Pringles (because I knew he'd gag on all the other flavors), a bag of real sourdough pretzels, a container of cream cheese (for the pretzels), and a two-liter bottle of dry ginger ale (which was the only soft drink I'd gotten him to admit to liking). Oh, yeah. We were gonna celebrate in style.

I swiped my credit card at the checkout and dumped the bag in the backseat. "Hit the gas, man," I ordered as I buckled myself in. "Ice cream's melting!"

"Code red," he remarked drolly, but he didn't waste any time pulling out of the parking lot and navigating us back the apartment. I raced him to the elevator and down the hall to the front door.

"Hey," he protested as we crossed the threshold. I was intent on getting the loot safely stowed in their respective refrigeration units so I'd already taken two steps in the direction of the kitchen.

"What?" I bitched playfully, "You're gonna make me take my shoes off indoors, honey?"

He hooked a finger in the belt loop on my coat, halting my progress. "Where's my kiss?" he murmured.

"Oh," I replied. We'd made a habit of enjoying one of those as soon as we got home and the front door had closed behind us. "I'm not letting you back me up against the wall so you can ravish me this time," I informed him, arms tight around the paper sack I was carrying.

"Fine," he replied. "We'll put that off 'til later." And then his mouth was on mine and his tongue was dipping past my slack lips. Oh, damn. Damn damn damn but he turned me into mindless goo every time he went in for kiss. Every damn time. Without fail. I felt his hand snake inside my collar at the back of my neck and I groaned. It was totally unfair that he could wipe my mind like a reformatted hard drive in two seconds or less.

He took his time charting and caressing the inside of my mouth, drawing my tongue out with his, pushing and pulling, giving and taking. My God but it was almost enough to get me to say to hell with the ice cream. My inarticulate groan was still vibrating in the back of my throat when he pulled back, looking completely freakin' pleased with himself.

Damn but he was hot when he smirked.

"I think we just managed to melt the ice cream," I told him.

"So we're having soup?"

"Hah. Yeah. Cold soup. I told ya dinner would be fancy, didn't I?"

I had to take a moment to summon up the effort needed to get my legs to move correctly, but I made it into the kitchen unimpeded this time. The ice cream was definitely soft, but not past the point of no return.

The point of no return. What an apt description for the line in the sand that I was pretending I wasn't standing on.

I nearly jumped a foot in the air when I felt Trowa's hands on my hips and his breath in my ear. I blinked, coming back to the present. I was standing with the refrigerator door open, staring at the mostly-bare shelves for no reason at all.

"You're distracted this afternoon. Bad day?"

"Eh? Nah," I said, closing the fridge. "A whole lotta nuthin'. Everyone's still a zombie from winter breaks. First days back at school are always like that."

Before I could turn around or pull away, he prompted with obvious hesitance, "That's not what I meant. Did anyone mention your father?"

"Oh. That. Yeah. They knew. Marshall put an announcement in the paper here the day after Christmas." School had been like attending that Goddamn funeral all over again what with all the condolences I'd had to field. Damn it, I shoulda tried out for the baseball team.

"Duo?"

"Yeah?"

"What else?"

It amazed me that he was so persistent at digging into my thoughts. My dad had often had to ferret for the truth. It was weird being subjected to the same procedure from someone else. But he was right; there was something else.

Sighing, I reached out and poked one of the refrigerator magnets into alignment with its neighbor. "Are you sure about doing security work? You don't have to. You have other options." That was the whole point of him coming to live with me. I wanted him to have options, infinite freakin' options. I hadn't brought him to the States so he could endure a rerun of all the crap he'd already lived through once.

He leaned his chin on my shoulder and wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing his interlaced fingers against the top button of my school trousers beneath my coat. "I'm doing what I know," he replied. "Noventa said I could change my mind later."

"And you will say something," I checked, "if you change your mind." It wasn't really a question, but it still demanded a response.

"Of course. You'll be the first to know."

"OK." I prodded another magnet. "I guess it's kinda moot until you get done with school anyway."

"Yah."

I turned toward him. He'd taken his coat off and I grinned at today's sweatshirt. It was the "U of D" one.

"You do know this stands for 'University of Denver', right?" I'd checked that day at the mall.

He'd glanced down at the sweatshirt he'd just tossed over his own arm and grinned softly. "The 'D' is open to interpretation." The hot look he'd given me had clued me in to what he thought it stood for. Well, I guess everyone blushes in the men's department at some point in their lives, so I hadn't let the embarrassment get to me. Too much.

But the writing on his sweatshirt had just reminded me: "Your classes start the day after tomorrow."

"Yah."

He'd taken the placement exam last week so we both knew how much material he was gonna have to cover if he wanted to get his GED this summer. And it was a lot of material. He knew basic math and basic science and he'd read a few classics, which was all they taught over the radio in Africa. There were also my contributions which had been mainly world history and English literature, but Trowa'd never been to a brick-and-mortar school before. "Uh… how do you want to work the study thing?"

"What do mean?"

I shifted guiltily. "I mean, do you want me to help you if you have questions or do you want to see about getting a tutor?"

"The one you mentioned before? The medical student?"

"Yeah," I replied. "She lives downstairs. Real nice."

He tilted his head to the side. "You think I should study with her and not you?"

"Well… I'd feel weird about being your part-time tutor, Tro. It's not, y'know, balanced." I'd done the tutoring thing before. Once. And I'd lost a friend for my trouble. I didn't want to take that risk again. There was nothing I could do that would instantly put Trowa and me on a level playing field when it came to academics – I'd been given advantages that he'd been denied his whole life – but just because I could didn't mean that I wanted to set myself up as his teacher. I was his boyfriend. Well, I was trying to be.

"Ah," he agreed, nodding. "Right."

"Yeah." I was just relieved that he'd gotten what I'd been trying to say.

"And you're going to be busy with the company."

I made a face. Eugh. The company. "Yeah. Weekly video conferences. Whoo-hoo." And then, on top of that, my dad's secretary was gonna be sending over all the files and documents I'd have to read in order to know what the hell we were discussing in the video conferences. Thank God it was the second half of my senior year; I could afford to slack off at school since my winter and spring semester grades wouldn't be factored into my college applications. But cutting back on homework wasn't gonna be enough: just as soon as I had a steady income, I was gonna have to quit my job, too. Marshall had given me a ballpark figure for when that'd be happening. In the meantime, thank God for credit cards. My savings wasn't gonna be able to cover all the airline tickets and incidentals, but it'd stave off the credit wolves for a few months.

"What are you worrying about now?" Trowa demanded softly, looking a little exasperated with me.

"Nothing!" I was being a dick. "Are you gonna tell me about the awesome parallel parking job you did today or do I have the guess?"

I dragged Trowa over to the sofa in the living room and made him give me a blow-by-blow account of his driving test, complete with gestures. It was great. And I no longer felt like an utterly worthless jerk for driving him over to the DMV office this morning on my way to school and just leaving him there to face the glory of American government bureaucracy all on his own. I still thought I should have skipped school no matter how many times Trowa had looked on the verge of threatening to kick my ass.

"I'll call you if something happens," he'd promised after my sixth attempt to persuade him to let me stay and lurk and do the scary boyfriend thing if necessary. "My test starts at eleven. Until then, I have a book to read—" I'd given him my copy of The Indian in the Cupboard just for the "cupboard" value. "—and when I'm done, I'll get some graze and take the train back."

I'd opened my mouth again.

He'd anticipated me. "Yah, I have my passport and money." He'd given me a look. "And if you open your mouth one more time, I'm kissing you right here on the street."

I'd bitten my lip and mumbled, "Sorry."

His slow, sweet smile had made me tingle. "I'll see you later." And then he'd gotten out of the car and walked up to the front doors of the building. This time, unlike at Bangkok airport, he hadn't looked back. It'd made driving off easier, but not by much.

"Whatever possessed you to stake out my car this afternoon, dude?" I asked when he got done with the whole tale and I'd applauded until he'd sketched out a mockery of a bow.

He leaned back against the sofa, kicking his legs out in a sexy sprawl. "I have no fokken idea. Whatever it was, it must have frozen and fallen off. I certainly won't be doing that a second time." He rolled his head toward me and smirked.

I smirked back. "I hope you're not gonna end up needing that whatever-it-was that froze and fell off."

He tucked his chin down and gave me a long, inviting look. "I haven't taken an inventory yet."

That sounded like an invitation. Hell, he looked like an invitation. My earlier hesitance evaporated. An instant later, I was straddling his hips, my hands pinning his shoulders to the cushions. I leaned down and he tilted his chin up so eagerly I felt a zing zip-and-zag down my spine. I kissed him. I kissed him like I'd been wanting to kiss him every day for those three damn years we'd been apart. Here he was, at long last, draped over my sofa and there was nothing between us but a niggling doubt that I couldn't pin down. Well, I'd worry about wrangling it later. Now was for the amazing fact that he was here with me and wanted me.

I tasted every contour and texture of his mouth I could reach with my tongue until his fingers were digging into my thigh muscles through my school uniform trousers and he was making these tiny, needy little sounds that were almost grunts but more like whispered yeses.

When my mouth was numb to the taste of him, I leaned back. His lips were wet with my spit. I reached out to wipe his mouth for him, but he caught my thumb between his lips. I held my breath as he licked the pad and then I groaned when he began a hard suction. "Ooooh, damn," I approved. "I think this still works."

"Hmm," he rumbled, watching me with green eyes gone forest-dark with lust.

Pulling my thumb from his mouth, I grasped his wrists and lifted his hands to my shoulders. "How about these?" I checked. "Are you getting any sensory input?"

I guided his hands down over my chest, marveling at my own daring. Hell, what did I know about fooling around? Only what I'd seen in movies and read in the occasional Biohazard fanfic (which, by the way, I was sure were not representative of actual or even possible sexual encounters) but whatever. It was a place to start.

Instead of letting his flattened palms finish their journey at my crotch, I pushed his hands around to my back and rolled my hips against him. I grinned when he actually cupped my ass and my eyes widened when he squeezed.

"Ungh!" I squeaked, panting. "Those seem to be working."

His fingertips drew lazy patterns on the fabric over my rear. "Uh-hm," he agreed, wetting his lips.

At some point, he'd slouched further down on the sofa and I could see a sexy band of taut skin above the waist of his jeans. I burrowed my hands underneath his bunched up sweatshirt and ran my palms up the hot, muscular territory of his chest until I brushed his nipples.

The effect was electric. He threw his head back, eyes closed and breath hissing out through his teeth as his hips rolled up and he pulled mine down in a hot collision that made me moan.

"I'm pretty sure you're in working order," I panted. "Whatever froze and fell off earlier couldn't have been a necessary component for basic function."

"Duo—" he gasped out softly. "How can you—bloody talk so much?"

"One of my many talents," I responded.

He rocked against me a second time and I shivered, sensing the start of a rhythm. "Uhhh…" I commented, remembering that night in Vientiane with him leaning over me, rubbing against me, bringing me off with his callused hand. My fingers twitched, pinching his hardened nipples as I moved against the bulge in his jeans. He couldn't possibly be comfortable – hell, my trousers were a helluvalot less confining and I was uncomfortable – but he didn't take his hands off my ass in order to rectify the problem. Nor did he even ask me to help him out. He just leaned back against the sofa, his eyes mostly closed but occasionally glittering at me in between soft scrapes from my blunt nails. I watched him back as he wetted his lips, mouthed my name, and guided my crotch down against his time and time again.

"Trowa, baby," I warned him as my skin started to tingle all over. "We're gonna come in our pants if you keep this up."

"You started it."

"You practically invited me to."

"Yah," he admitted. "I did." The last word bled into a groan.

"You close?" I checked.

He nodded once. Beneath my hands, his chest was rising and falling with heaving pants. When I pulled my hands out from under his sweatshirt, he protested softly but then groaned when I popped the button free on his jeans and carefully slid the zipper down. I tugged at the fabric and his length bulged out, pulling his underwear taut. I ran my fingers over him, tracing and teasing before heading for the elastic waistband. I didn't actually make it that far.

He came with a bitten-off shout, pulsing against my hands and dampening the fabric of his shorts.

"Damn," I panted as my own tingles coalesced – one by one – in my belly. "You are so hot."

He opened his eyes and looked at me. I tracked the movement of his tongue as he wetted his lips again.

Ooooh, Christ he was sexy. "I could almost come just from this," I confessed. I was close, but it was gonna take a little more TLC to get the job done.

"Almost?" he rasped.

I nodded and his hands abandoned their post to seek out the fastenings on my trousers. I looked down and watched as his nimble fingers worked at freeing me: button, zipper, boxer flap…

"Ah…" I sighed as he drew my length out from the confining fabric. The air hit my skin and I shivered with relief and reaction and arousal. I threw my head back and nearly squealed when Trowa's fingers traced the vein along the underside. He rubbed that spot just under and behind the head until I was jerking against him in an effort to feel more, more, more—!

"Befokken lekker," he growled in approval.

I would have gotten around to asking him for a translation if he hadn't fisted his hand around me right then and pulled. "Jesus fuck!" I hissed, groaning when he massaged my own wetness into the head, keeping the rhythm slow and his fist tight. His other hand found its way beneath my dress shirt and undershirt and his fingertips danced up my ribcage.

"Holy fucking Trowa baby," I babbled when he found a nipple. I slumped over him, bracing myself up on my hands as I thrust into his grip. He toyed with my chest, watching me with eyes glittering and lips wet. "So hot," I accused through gritted teeth. "Can't stand it." My fingers curled into the cushions. I was so close I could taste it. "Gonna come," I warned him.

"Good."

I shook my head. "All over your clothes…!"

His eyes narrowed and sparkled with approval. He hissed softly, "Yes…"

And then it was happening and I was dying or falling or being obliterated. The rush and the heat and the now-now-now! was just as intense as it had been in Vientiane. I locked my elbows to keep from falling on him and just focused on breathing. Beneath me, he was wiggling and shifting around. It wasn't until I felt something firm-to-the-point-of-steely and slightly damp brush against my crotch that I realized he was hard again. Hard and bare.

I opened my eyes and looked right into his.

"All right?" he checked, his hands pushing at my trousers and shorts, his palms sliding over my hips, skin on skin.

I glanced down and, whoa damn. It was a miracle my school uniform was as splatter-free as it was. I don't think I'd ever come that much in my entire life. And then there was the mess smeared across Trowa's thighs from his first round. And then there was Trowa. This was the first time I'd really looked at him and… and… I swallowed thickly.

"Duo?"

"Huh?"

His hands caressed their way deeper into my shorts. He asked softly, "Can I come again with you?"

The sound of his voice… the question itself… the sight of him flushed with desire and the feel of him rubbing against me… I shuddered and felt a twitch from my supposedly exhausted length. "God, yes."

He leaned up to kiss me and I dared to take one hand off of the back of the couch and work my way beneath his sweatshirt again. I thought about asking him if I could take it off, but the feel of his hardness nudging against me and the slickness of his skin when I rubbed against him drove every thought from my mind. I was distantly aware of grabbing, scratching, plucking, and groping my way across his chest and I could feel his fingers digging into my ass. He kissed me softly with just brief flicks of his tongue, teasing me with the same rhythm as our hips. He nuzzled against my neck, kissing, sucking, nipping. He was gonna leave marks, I was sure, and I suspected I'd feel embarrassed about it later, but I couldn't figure out why.

He pushed against my shirt collar and necktie, trying to burrow deeper. His breath was so hot and his scent was overwhelming and I just wanted to fall into him forever. The second wave, when it came, was smaller, slower, almost soothing. I shuddered and groaned as I pulsed against him, my hips twitching, mindlessly chasing the euphoria that was even now beginning to fade.

Trowa's mouth sealed over my neck and he sucked hard on my skin. An instant later, I felt him let go, felt the dampness of his second release surging up my belly and then dripping down.

I wondered what he tasted like.

I had to close my eyes. The eyes were the window to the soul, after all, and I wasn't so sure I was ready for him to see that thought reflected there. His hands roved up and down my back, guiding me back to the here, the now, and the mess we'd just made.

Hm. I guess Hilde had been right about someone getting laid tonight. Sort of.

"Um…" I really, honestly didn't know what to say.

Trowa's arms banded around me and I gave up on words. He didn't seem to need them and I couldn't string two together. I relaxed against him, my hands seeking out his arms just for something to hang onto.

"Dude," I finally managed, "I'm totally wearing my school uniform."

"I noticed."

"There anything you wanna tell me?" I checked, biting back a giggle. "I promise not to judge you if you've got a thing for guys in uniform. Or school uniforms."

He barked out a laugh. "I don't think it's the uniform, but I'll keep you posted."

"You damn well better," I bantered back, grinning.

While Trowa took a shower, I threw my uniform in the washing machine and then got around to fixing dinner. Our pizzas were on the coffee table, steaming and cheesy, by the time Trowa emerged with damp hair.

I tossed him the remote as I got the ginger ale and a pair of tumblers. Trowa popped open the can of Pringles; I tore open the bag of pretzels and opened the cream cheese. Somehow, we ended up watching professional wrestling, bumping shoulders as we mocked the incredibly fake and sorry excuse for entertainment.

"They can't expect us to take this seriously," Trowa remarked in a tone that had been squashed flat by disbelief.

I snorted. "I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be a parody."

"A bad one."

"Hah! Maybe we're just not drunk enough to appreciate it."

I was sure wishing for a stiff drink the following day. After Trowa dropped me off at school, Hilde pounced and, naturally, her gaze zoomed right to the muffler I'd strategically placed around my neck to hide the hickeys.

"What's with the muffler, Duo?" she teased as I hung my coat up in my locker and collected my books.

"Have you looked outside?" I retorted, ignoring Dorothy's knowing smirk. "It's freakin' winter."

"Nice and toasty in here," she argued.

"I'm anemic."

"Of course you are," Dorothy chimed in with a sly smile, "what with all the blood rushing south."

I felt my face flame. Damn it. Why didn't I have any straight, clueless guys for friends?

"So, how's Trowa?" Hilde badgered.

Rallying my fighting spirit, I gave her wide, leer of a smile. "He's awesome. Thanks for asking." And then I got my ass the hell outta there.

Everyone thought I was coming down with something given my new accessory and the way I'd blush for no apparent reason. They couldn't have known I was remembering last night's sofa escapade so, for all intents and purposes, it looked like I was about to spontaneously combust from bubonic plague or something. Yes, my muffler was my new best friend. I considered naming it. Maybe "Hubert" or "Fritz."

Unfortunately, there was nothing it could do for me when swim practice rolled around.

"You seeing someone, Dom?"

I rolled my eyes and just generally did my best not to hunch up my shoulders to hide the marks. "Butt the hell out, Rod," I replied jovially.

"Do I know her?"

It was funny how he assumed it was a girl given the rumors that had been going around about me for years. "I doubt it."

Before he could move on to the next out of twenty freakin' questions, I finished stuffing my braid up inside my swim cap and left the changing room. Rod Walker was a decent guy, but there was no way I was gonna talk to him about that.

"Maxwell!"

At the edge of the pool, I turned. "Yeah, Coach?"

Coach Otto glanced at my neck. I braced myself for, I dunno, a disapproving look or… something, but I couldn't detect so much as a blip in his expression.

"I'm going to need that doctor's report if you're serious about the state finals in February."

"Oh… right." I'd qualified back at the end of November. My dad had been pretty thrilled about it. I clenched my jaw and nodded. "I'll get a physical and have the results sent over."

He nodded. "Next Friday's the deadline."

Great. As if I didn't have enough to do already. "Got it."

He left me to my warm-up routine. Normally, I loved swimming. Today, I just couldn't get into it. I had too much to worry about. Too much to do. I felt like I was wasting my time when I ought to be studying up for the company video conference this weekend and talking to Marshall about his progress on my dad's will. Hell, I didn't even know if my dad had appointed someone else president of the company!

I could dream.

"So, I guess you're in charge now," Alex Ruthford said as I pulled on my coat at the end of practice.

"Huh?"

Alex and I had been friends once upon a time in elementary school. Then we'd gotten split up into separate homerooms in junior high and he'd started hanging out with Josh Mueller. The guy'd always creeped me out, so Alex and I had kinda lost touch. Having him as a teammate had seemed like a serendipitous bonus back in sophomore year when I'd signed up, but he'd changed from the kid I remembered. Maybe it was Mueller's influence.

"The company," he elaborated, almost glaring at me. "You're in charge now, right?"

"I guess."

"So the headquarters are staying here in New York?"

I shrugged. I really had no idea what the hell was gonna happen. I knew that his dad was one of the top guys at the New York office but I'd never met him.

Alex nodded once, as if I'd just confirmed his suspicions about something, and then he turned away. I booked it the hell out of there.

Trowa was waiting in the car with the engine running. He had a book propped open on the steering wheel and his index finger was already buried under the page he was reading in preparation of turning it. As I got closer, I noticed he was almost finished with The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Another recommendation of mine. Also for the "cupboard" value.

I knocked on the hood of the car as I jogged around. He didn't jerk his head up in surprise, but his mouth curved into a grin. He hit the door locks for me without looking up from the page.

"How was practice?" he asked, closing the book and tucking it into the side pocket on the door before reaching up to turn off the interior dome light.

I was about to shrug and blow the question off, but then I remembered my souvenir from last night. I glared at him. "Revealing."

I'd never seen Trowa bite his lip in an attempt to camouflage a smile before. Interesting. "Oh?"

"Dude. Your innocent and nonchalant routine needs serious work. I can see your chest puffing up from way over here."

"You're not that far away."

"Exactly."

He snorted softly and then glanced my way shyly, his gaze touching briefly on my neckwear. "The marks weren't that bad," he mumbled, attempting to downplay the situation.

"Oh, really?" I reached up and flicked on the dome light back on before pulling my muffler away from my throat and leaning over to get a look at the bruises in the rear view mirror. They'd darkened since this morning. "I'm going to kill you," I informed him. "If you start running now, you might make it to the port authority before I track your ass down and exact revenge."

"I'm open to revenge," he murmured directly into my ear.

I twitched over onto my side of the car and rewrapped the muffler around my neck. I glared at him again. "Yeah, you'd like that a little too much, I'm thinkin'."

"You think too much," he argued back and finally put the car in gear. When he turned the dome light off for a second time, I welcomed the darkness.

I stared out the window, silently contemplating my options for revenge. At the stoplight just a block from our building, Trowa cleared his throat and prompted, "Duo?"

"Hm?"

"It won't happen again."

I blinked. Did he really think I was angry about it? I wasn't. Not really. I was… irked, but I had to admit that the hickeys would undoubtedly up my street cred at school if I played my cards right. Hell, I was pretty sure that it was gonna be around school by lunch tomorrow. If I kept acting embarrassed about it, I'd never live it down. So, I was gonna have to beat my chest like some kind of primeval caveman and smirk my ass off. I could do that.

I let out a sigh. "I'm not mad, Tro."

He glanced at me questioningly.

I glanced at him, a wry grin in play.

He released a breath and stopped strangling the steering wheel. His shoulders relaxed. He ran a hand through his bangs, pulling them back from his face completely before letting them feather back down into place. "Bloody hell, you gave me a skrik," he muttered.

There was that skrik word again. I was thinkin' I knew what it meant, though. I smirked.

The light changed and he drove on, turning off of the street and into the underground parking garage. When we got to the elevator, I hit the button for the floor beneath ours before he could do the honors.

He looked at me, brows expressively arched in question. I just grinned in reply and rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet. "How was your day?" I finally asked.

"Productive," he summarized.

I reached out and flicked the edge of the book binding poking out of his jacket pocket. "Hm, yeah. Looks that way."

He gave me an unreadable look.

My grin widened. "How often did you reread the same page?"

He turned toward me and took a predatory step in my direction. Rather than back away from him, I leaned forward and raised my chin, cocking my brows in challenge.

The elevator began to slow. Trowa paused just out of range and took a quick, cleansing breath. "Tell me one of us is getting ravished when we get upstairs."

I chuckled darkly. "Only if you're good."

The doors opened before he could respond one way or another. I led him down the corridor to apartment 1402, which was directly beneath ours. I knocked and waited.

When the door opened and the man on the other side smiled in welcome, I greeted, "Hey, Miles. Long time no see!"

"Dominic! Yes, it's been ages. How are you?" We shook hands. Miles was actually Rod's elder brother. I had to wonder about that family. Miles Walker and Rod Walker. Thank God their parents hadn't had a third kid or the poor schmo probably would have been named "Kilometer" or "Cain" or something.

"Sorry to drop in like this, but I was wondering if Sally was around."

"She just got back from her lecture." He gestured us across the threshold. As he shut the door, I volunteered, "Miles, this is my friend Trowa Barton. Trowa, Miles Walker. His younger brother's on the swim team."

"Who's here, Miles?" a woman's voice called from the direction of the kitchen.

"Dominic from upstairs and a friend of his."

I grinned and nodded hello to Sally when she came into the room. She made a beeline right for me and gave me a hug.

I patted her awkwardly. With her husband and my boyfriend looking on, I was feeling the pressure to not look too comfortable. "Damn, woman. I know you love your plants, but all I did was water 'em the last time you guys went to Hawaii."

"Duo, silly bean," she scolded me, smiling. Then she turned to Trowa and damned if her blue eyes didn't connect the dots in two seconds flat. I stuttered through the second round of introductions where I'd been Mr. Cool not three minutes earlier.

"It's so nice to meet a friend of Duo's," she approved, shaking Trowa's hand. I was partly mollified by how unsettled Trowa seemed by her warm reception. Not that he looked nervous, but I could tell that he'd withdrawn and was bracing himself. This was his bodyguard face. The one he used when he was in unfamiliar territory but was reasonably certain he wouldn't actually have to pull a knife on anyone.

"What brings you by?" she asked.

"We were looking for you, of course," I teased, drawing her attention away so Trowa could have a minute to collect himself and scope out the scene.

"Oh?"

Miles laughed. "My wife is always in demand."

She smacked him teasingly on the arm.

"Uh-oh," I mused. "That sounds ominous." And it sounded like it was gonna cost me an arm and a leg in tutor's fees.

"What can I do for you, Duo?" she replied.

I took half a step closer to Trowa. "Well, Trowa here has just immigrated to the States and he'd like to get his GED. Of course, the minute I mentioned this awesome lady with mad tutoring skills in my building, he wanted to meet you."

Sally smiled and, when she turned her attention back to Trowa, he looked ready to talk to her. "Where are you from, Trowa?"

I stood by, just in case Trowa needed backup, but let him talk to his prospective tutor on his own. He listed the classes he'd be taking and glanced at me when he got to the part about what he'd need to learn.

"Writing skills," I contributed. "Junior high and high school math. Chemistry, physics, stuff like that. We'll email you a complete list later if that's OK?"

It was.

"Will you be staying for dinner?" Miles asked us as Sally went to get her cell phone so she could enter our numbers and email addresses for future reference.

"Nah, thanks, though," I declined.

"So, Trowa," Miles continued, changing tack, "how did you and Dominic meet?"

Trowa's lips twitched into an expression that was almost a smile. "He dropped in on me in Egypt."

I barked out a laugh. "You mean my braid did," I contributed. Turning back to Miles, I added, "It was a couple of years ago."

"There's a story there," Miles remarked.

"Stop putting the poor boys on the spot, Miles," Sally said, returning to the living room. We exchanged contact information and Trowa and Sally settled on a day and time for their first session. Then it was up to me to get us outta there before we ended up being dinner guests after all. Miles was a helluva cook, but there was no way I wanted to spend the evening fielding personal questions. Besides, I'd have to take off my muffler and wouldn't that be a helluva conversation starter?

At the door, Sally drew me into another hug. "We heard about your dad, Duo. You're welcome here anytime… to talk or commune with the ferns. Whatever you need." Smiling, she nodded toward the forest that was her and Miles' living room.

She didn't say she was sorry for my loss. She just hugged me and then let me leave. I could have kissed her, but she just wasn't my type. Plus, it would've been too much trouble to explain it to Miles. And then there was Trowa; he might have gotten jealous. A jealous Trowa was hot as all hello but it would not have been a very auspicious start for him and his new tutor.

"You're smirking again," Trowa observed as we took the elevator up to our floor.

"Yup." There was no point in denying it. I met his gaze briefly as he looked up from the muffler still wrapped around my neck. "Just, y'know, thinking," I purred, reminding him of the dog house he was still in. I'd said I wasn't angry, which was true, but I hadn't said he was totally in the clear. Actually, I didn't want him to be in the clear. I glanced away, savoring the inevitable.

Trowa growled softly in frustration. "You are killing me," he muttered.

Good.

I took my time strolling down the hall to the door. He hovered as I unlocked it and held it open. The door shut behind us. I tossed my keys on the hall table and my school bag onto the rug. I unbuttoned my winter coat methodically. Slowly, I pulled the muffler off my neck and stuffed it into my coat pocket. He was so tense he seemed to be bracing for some kind of impact.

Well, I aim to please, after all.

I turned toward him and smiled.

"Duo?" he prompted. I'd never heard him sound so uncertain.

My smile stretched wider.

He watched me, wary and tense, a wolf caught in a tiger's territory.

I took a step in his direction. He backed up. I took another. He retreated again. I stalked him in silence until his heel bumped against the wall. Perfect. I carefully unzipped his coat and then reached for the front of his jeans.

"May I?" I sang, tapping out a snappy rhythm against the metal button. Slowly and guardedly, he nodded.

I ran my fingers up and down the front of his jeans, following the line of flesh I was most interested in. "Mmm," I approved as he hardened under my touch.

His hands fisted at his sides, but he didn't reach for me. He leaned against the wall, tilting his head back as his hips hesitantly twitched in my direction.

I petted him through his jeans again and again until he shivered. Taking half a step forward and sliding a knee between his, I leaned in and pressed my lips to his neck in a single chaste kiss. He let out a breath and turned his head to the side, exposing his throat to me, to my lips and teeth and tongue.

I could mark him. He'd let me. My mouth watered as I relished the idea. I opened my mouth and applied a brief, sucking kiss to his skin. He groaned. His hips thrust against my roving fingers.

"Duo…" he whispered. The sound of my name poured out of him like a sonnet, a hymn, a prayer.

My breath caught. My lashes fluttered.

I sighed and leaned away, shaking my head to clear it. When I spied the tender, damp skin of his neck, I knew I couldn't mark him. Not because I didn't want to, but because he trusted me, because I wanted only the best for him, because he was my friend and I loved him and… I couldn't treat him that way. I doubted he'd meant to give me hickeys, not really. They'd probably been the result of a stupid, heat-of-the-moment deal. What I was about to do here and now wasn't nearly as innocent as that.

"Trowa," I called softly.

He opened his eyes and rolled his head toward me.

"I'm not angry," I said, hopefully for the last time.

He watched me in silence. Although he didn't say anything, I could see how much he wanted to believe me. It was there in his visible green eye.

I smiled softly. "Are you gonna touch me or do I gotta beg?"

Before he could either move or reply, I kissed him. Gently but thoroughly, softly but deeply. He groaned and then his hands were on my hips and pressing upward under my coat and school blazer, pulling my dress shirt out from the waistband of my trousers, peeling my undershirt up my back. He thrust his hips against mine as his rough hands surged up my bare skin beneath the layers of fabric.

I tore through the fastenings of his jeans and my trousers, shucked my coat and blazer off as I rode against him, rocking-rolling-thrusting, sharing breaths and swapping quiet moans.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," I confessed against his mouth. "All damn day."

"I didn't mean to leave marks," he replied before applying a quick, biting kiss to my lower lip.

"I know," I replied. "But you can if you need to." The sound of the words made waves of heat shiver inside me. I licked my lips.

He pulled back and, still panting, paused. "What?"

"I'm yours," I reminded him. "But if you need more than just the words…"

Trowa and I were alike in a lot of ways, but we were undeniably different, too. He tried so hard not to show it, but I knew he burned hot. He kept so much buried and under pressure. Deep down, his core was molten just like the Earth's. He tried so hard not to come on too strong, too overbearing, but I sensed the instinct. Hell, he'd shown up at my school the day before just to make me walk over to him, choose him, show my allegiance in front of my friends and classmates. He thought I didn't know what was going through his head, but I could read him like the book that was still in his jacket pocket.

I pressed a kiss to his chin and then another to his jaw. I slouched down so I could nuzzle against his bobbing Adam's apple. The motion rubbed my hip against his exposed length and my bare arousal against the bunched up fabric of his jeans at the top of his thighs. "What do you need, baby?"

He rocked against me. "I need you to get a blood test, Duo."

I froze.

His fingers splayed and then re-curled into fists against my back. He sighed out a word I was pretty sure was an Afrikaans curse. I looked up at the sound of his head hitting the wall with a soft thud! "Forget I said that," he whispered to the ceiling.

"No, I'm not gonna forget," I replied. I braced my hands on the wall on either side of him. I had every intention of getting that freakin' blood test, of being with Trowa, of being his lover and not just his hand job helper. There was still something that was bothering me, though. Something that wasn't right. It was true that I was his, totally and irrevocably, but— "But I need time."

"I can be patient," he offered, his hands relaxing and smoothing down my back, "if you promise to tell me 'no' when I go too far."

This wasn't the first time he'd expressed this concern. "I'm not made of glass," I replied drolly.

"No?" he moved differently now, molding and rolling me against him. "Maybe you are – molten from the kiln."

"Says the kiln himself," I returned and picked up where we'd left off.

For the second night in a row, I ended up having to do laundry. I didn't regret it though. Rubbing and rocking against Trowa in the hallway with the door and passersby only a short stretch away had been the hottest thing ever. He'd pulled me squarely between his widely braced feet and propped one booted foot up on the nearby bench while his hands had guided me roughly against him. And then he'd leaned his head back, offering his unblemished neck to me for a second time.

"Please, Duo," he'd murmured and I'd relented, marking him with one long, hot, sucking kiss.

In the moments just before I fell asleep that night, I curled myself tighter around him, nuzzled his cloth-covered shoulder, and smirked. Somebody was gonna be wearing a turtleneck tomorrow to his first day of classes. Hah-hah! Maybe it wasn't retribution, but – as Trowa liked to say – turnabout was fair play.


OK, so, no notes this time, but I'd like to thank all the wonderful, generous readers who have left feedback and comments and fangirl flailing for me. I cannot express how IMPORTANT your encouragement is in my writing process. So, if you're reading and enjoying "Tomb Raiders", you can make may day a bazillion times better and inspire me to the Nth power by leaving me a note. Even just to say hi. It'd be nice to know that you're out there fan-flailing with me.