Notes: Thank you to Tina for bein' a beta!
General Warnings: Yaoi, angst, bits and pieces of sap slipped in. References to infidelity.
This Part Specific: They smoke pot.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing
Duo answered the door and grinned. Trowa was leaning against the door frame, holding a box of art supplies in one hand and a bag of pot in the other. He laughed, tugging Trowa in and shutting the door. Trowa flopped on his couch, setting his box on the floor and the pot on the table.
"You got papers?" He grinned, and Duo winked.
"Nope. No pedigrees here," he laughed, flopping next to him and handing Trowa a pipe. It was glass, the Cheshire Cat, and Trowa'd bought it for him for his birthday, last year, to celebrate their costumes. It was his favorite, and Trowa packed it and handed it to him, letting him have first hit. He inhaled with a smile, sinking back against the couch. He turned, resting his head on the arm of the couch, feet in Trowa's lap.
"Shit, this is good," Duo grinned. Trowa always had the best stuff, and Duo was never really surprised, not when Trowa was also a mercenary. Trowa took the pipe from him, taking his own hit and grinning, unable to help being smug, just a little. He handed it back to Duo, shaking his head.
"I'm not giving you a foot rub again, Shini," Trowa teased. It was dangerous, he knew, the sounds Duo made were erotic, and they were supposed to leave that night on L2. They were supposed to be walking away like it have never happened.
"Well, fine," Duo pouted, inhaling, then holding the pipe over his head, expression impish. Trowa growled, playfully, leaning to grab it, and Duo arched, holding it farther and grinning, blowing smoke in to Trowa's face and giggling. He was lost the moment he looked down, Trowa knew, with Duo flushed and giggling, eyes impish and beautiful, and he leaned down to kiss him, hand closing on his wrist.
The noise Duo made was surprised, sliding in to a moan as he kissed back, the hand not holding the pipe cupping the back of Trowa's head, and he pressed upwards against him and panted as the kiss broke.
"We should paint," he swallowed, and Duo nodded, setting the pipe on the table and moving to set up the space. The painted together once a month, and when Duo stripped off his shirt and turned to see Trowa do the same, he shivered, eying the muscles moving under Trowa's skin, the tattoos and the way his hair fell over his face. Their gaze met, and crackled, and Trowa was on him, kissing him and he slid his hands over his back and in to his hair and tugged, hard.
They only got paint on each other, that day, their skin splattered with primary colors and the long strokes of Trowa's fingers on Duo's thighs, hand prints on Trowa's back. They laughed, and kissed, and Duo circled Trowa's nipple slowly with the paint brush, lips curving at the way he moaned.