Title: Blink of an Eye,

Pairing: Heero/Duo,

Warnings: BL, language, old Heero and Duo, hints of illness and life happenings and of things to come, melancholy, sap, old man humor
Notes: This was something I was thinking about writing for 212, but couldn't. So, I wrote it for Valentine's day. Only...it went sort of a different direction than what I initially started it out to do. It's sappy in spots, and it has some things that might cause a person to become distress if thought about. And, yes, this little bit of a story was inspired by five for fighting's 100 years. Now go grab a tissue.

With the faintest whisper of non-silence, he was awake and sitting up long before his body remembered it couldn't do that any longer. His senses told him immediately there was no danger present, even as his muscles and nerves told him he was going to regret his reaction.

"Damnit, Yuy!" he yelled, voice gruff and gravelly. "How many times I have to tell you not to do that. You are going to give me a heart attack."

Heero eased himself down on the edge of the mattress, watching Duo struggle with bedcovers and the waist of twisted pajama bottoms. "Do you want breakfast?"

"Breakfast?" Duo asked, letting go of his fight for the moment. "Old man, you did not just wake me up for breakfast." He was staring at Heero, forcing his eyes to open wide and focus.

Nodding slowly, Heero added, "Eggs and toast?"

"Do I have to make 'em?" Duo was looking at him sharply, eyes suddenly narrowing.

"No, I was thinking about making some for myself and thought you would like breakfast, too." Heero blinked, and reached out to tug on the sheet that'd twisted up under Duo's leg.

"Then I'll have eggs," Duo announced, and now that he was able, moved his legs to the bed's edge. "And toast."

"Good." Heero rose, steadied himself before shuffling across the floor.

Duo watched him, wondering why Heero's pants seemed to droop down the rear. "I'll go shower," he said, pushing up from the bed, and walking with an unhurried gait to the bathroom.

If Heero answered, Duo didn't hear him; the bathroom fan kicked on with the light, drowning all other sounds away. He stood before the sink, blinking against the harsh light, wondering for a half second just who was staring back at him. His hand rose to touch his cheek, its skin wrinkled and peppered with age spots. He snorted at himself, and looked away.

"Old man, dreaming of times long buried." He was mumbling as he turned on the knobs and adjusted the water temperature. His shower was quick, his hands moving with long accustom habit; soap to skin, rinse; shampoo to hair, rinse. The braid that had been his signature, was gone and had been for many long years. Rubbing fingers through the thin wisps that remained, he tried to remember when he'd had it cut. But gave it up when other memories tried to crowd the thought; memories he wanted to forget.

His shower done, he dressed slowly, pushing and pulling clothing on, slipping feet into slippers. He was ready, and Heero had breakfast waiting.

Their apartment was small, a basic one-bedroom with a living and dining room combination and a partial partition between the two and the kitchen. Duo could smell the toast first, and then the coffee. His stomach grumbled and he went to his seat at the table. Heero had already poured a cup of coffee for him, dressed it up as he liked it, and Duo snorted softly. Some things never change, he thought, but drank from the cup.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, both men concentrating on the steady process of food to fork to mouth. Duo dipped a corner of his toast into his coffee, softening the crust. He still had his own teeth, but they were few and his gums ached if his food wasn't soft enough. Toast in his mouth, he sucked the liquid, but couldn't help but watch as Heero's teeth bit down on his slice. White, perfect, almost matching the man's natural ones. Duo dipped his toast again.

"Is that girl coming today?"

Duo nearly dropped his fork. "Girl?" He peered up at Heero, who seemed to be more pushing his eggs around on his plate than eating them.

"The one that shows up once a week. Does the laundry and hides my socks."

"Jennifer," Duo supplied. His eggs were nearly gone, now. He wondered if Heero would let him eat his.

"Well?" Heero was staring at him.

"Wha…" and he remembered. "No, she comes tomorrow." The last of his eggs disappeared into his mouth.

"Think she'll wash my blue shirt tomorrow?" Heero was still staring at him.

Frowning, Duo swallowed. "It's laundry day. She should." And then he leaned forward, staring back at Heero. "Why?"

Heero drew back, his expression settled into less of a glare and more of that smug look Duo remembered from their youth. "I have a date," he announced.

His eyebrows raised. "You do?" Heero nodded. "With… who?"

"You." That smug look deepened.

Duo snorted, and reached for his coffee, but hesitated before drinking. "Don't you think you should have asked me first? What if I was busy?"

"It's for Wednesday," Heero announced.

"And you want to wear your blue shirt?" Duo was back to pushing his fork through the crumbling dregs of his eggs.

"It's my nicest one. Thought you'd like me to dress nice." Heero dumped the remains of his eggs on Duo's plate, but kept his toast. Duo went to work on Heero's eggs, without comment. "It's Valentine's Day," he added.

His fork paused and Duo straightened to look at Heero. "We haven't done anything for Valentine's in twenty years or more. Why now?"

It was Heero's turn to snort. "I need a reason to take you out for a date?" Duo shrugged and went back to the eggs and Heero finished his toast. "Shelly said she'd drive us. Even said we could neck in her backseat." Heero leered at Duo.

"Shelly's a pervert and just wants to watch." Duo stood carefully, and stacked his plate on top of Heero's. "Where are we going?" He carried breakfast dishes to the sink and began to rinse and stack into the washer.

"What? When?" Heero jerked up, head turning toward the kitchen to peer at Duo through the partition.

Duo shut off the water and reached for a towel. "Our date."

"Oh." Heero seemed to slump in on himself, his hands rested on his lap. "You think that girl can wash my blue shirt?" he asked again.

"Yes, I'll have Jennifer wash your shirt," Duo said quietly, suddenly at Heero's side. He helped Heero stand, and walked him to his chair in the living room. "You want to watch that program? The one with that cop you like?" He held Heero's arm as Heero lowered himself into his chair.

Waving Duo away, Heero settled back in the chair. "Not right now." His eyes closed, but Duo knew he wasn't sleeping. Heero didn't take naps.

At his own chair now, Duo peered across the room to the table and his cup of coffee. Or what was left of it. With a silent snort, he sat and reached for his glasses and the paper. The morning ticked on; Heero not sleeping in his chair and Duo reading. He lowered his paper to watch Heero, and his expression softened. With a barely murmured, "neck in the back seat," he went back to his paper, but wasn't reading.

He could remember the times from their teens when they'd been passionate lovers. A casual touch or a heated look would ignite and privacy couldn't be found fast enough. Even as their lust settled, moving into their twenties and thirties, sex and coupling were frequent occurrences. It wasn't until the cancer was discovered, the long days of waiting, and the even longer weeks of realization on just what the loss meant, that sex was the occasional event.

"Not your fault," he mumbled, refusing to look in Heero's direction again. Instead, he pushed his glasses off his face, wiping at his suddenly moist eyes. "Damn fool. Would rather give up… you can't…" His lips pressed together, and he sat with the paper rattling from one hand, his glasses tumbled to his lap, wiping his cheeks free of tears as they spilled.

Heero snored and jerked himself upright, and Duo shook the paper straight. Heero looked around in a sudden awareness, only to pick up the remote and click the television on. "Missing my program," he said, turning up the volume.

When his face was clear, Duo folded down the paper, and dropped it to the side of his chair; his glasses were replaced in their case on the side table. "You want some more tea, Heero?" he asked, and was almost surprised his voice was normal, aged with a querulous vibe. Heero's hand waved him away, too intent on catching up with the story of the show.

Duo lifted himself up from the chair, his slippered feet making shuffling steps over the thin napped carpet. Once in the kitchen, he poured himself a glass of orange juice and drank it standing at the sink. It wasn't noon yet, and he was already thinking of lunch and looked at the meal calendar taped to the cabinet door. His lip curled; he hated the way the kitchen cooked fish, and wondered if he could handle a peanut butter and jelly, or if Heero would make him more eggs. Maybe a tin of soup.

Heero's program was in the closing credits and the station announcing the next show when the expected knock came. Duo had started to rise, but Heero beat him to it; Duo chuckled softly. Heero liked Shelly, the girl (though Duo knew she was nearly half his age, and nowhere near a girl any more), who was their 'caretaker'. Their keeper, Duo called her. She made sure they took their medicines, made sure they ate lunch and dinner, and made arrangements for doctors and tests and, apparently, necking sessions in the backseat of her car.

Heero followed Shelly to the kitchen where she dropped of a small bag of groceries, and he helped her put them away. Duo let his head fall back, let his eyelids drift shut and let their voices wash over him. Shelly would keep Heero entertained until the goons came in to deliver lunch trays, until she would ask them both personal questions about health and bodily functions, take their temperatures and blood pressure. When she'd tell Duo to stop putting salt on his food, and tell Heero to eat more.

It was the same routine they went through for fifteen years or more. It was comfortable, and Duo felt safe in it. Heero was safe in it. He was smiling when a gentle hand touched his knee.

"Duo." It was Shelly, kneeling by his chair. "I had the cook make you that pasta dish you like for lunch. Is that alright?"

He could only nod, wondering how she knew. A moment later, he was craning his head around, trying to find Heero. "Interfering old man," he muttered, but he was smiling slightly. The hand squeezed his knee, and he turned back to Shelly.

"How about I take care of business first, that way you can take your nap right after lunch?" She was smiling, and Duo noticed how pretty and straight her teeth were, and he was nodding. "Good," she said, and rose to her feet to pick her bag up from the door where she left it.

"Heero's taking me on a date," he announced, when she returned, and began rolling up his sleeve.

"I know." She was smiling softly, adjusting the cuff. "I think it's very romantic."

The blowing noise Duo made was about as opposite of romantic as it can get. "He just wants the sex." And Shelly laughed, her eyes flashed up from the BP readout. "Where are we going?" he asked, more on the practical.

Shelly mused softly, flipping open Duo's chart and writing a quick figure down. "Some place that has a low-sodium menu." She rolled up the cuff, and slipped off the stethoscope. "You had eggs for breakfast. Did you add any salt?"

"No." Duo was scowling, and turned away. "Heero made 'em, and he knows not to." He pulled his arm from her hand, and jerked the sleeve back into place. "A little salt's not going to kill me. All this fuss will."

"Duo." And she sat back with a sigh. "Okay, fair enough." She closed the chart and stashed it away. "Anything I can get for you before dinner? Everything's all right?"

He was about to ask about Heero, and to see if Shelly would try again to talk Heero into seeing the oncologist. But he closed his mouth and fought against the clench in his gut. The doorbell rang, but Shelly still sat at his feet, watching him. Waiting for him to spill his guts, he knew.

"Door," Heero called from the bedroom, and only then did Shelly look away, glancing first to where Heero's voice came from, and then to the door.

"It's going to work itself out, Duo," she said, squeezing his knees again and rising to her feet. The doorbell rang again, and she was calling out, even as she turned the knob, "Coming! Stop being so impatient." And lunch was delivered.

It wasn't until after lunch, after their 'keeper' had left and Heero was watching his afternoon shows, that Duo allowed himself to think on Shelly's words. Maybe it was time, and maybe Heero wanted to let go. He didn't like it, but they'd spent more time together than most people lived. Watching Heero shake with silent laughter, he could almost see the boy he was. Hair still thick, but silver-white, eyes still piercing blue, though Duo doubted he could still bend steel bars. And he almost smiled. Almost.

"Eight-five," Heero said, turning away from the television and looking at Duo. The question had just formed in his mouth when Heero answered. "Years. Eighty-five years in April." Heero was giving him that smut look again, and then he was frowning. "You shot me."

Duo nearly recoiled, but pushed forward instead. "You're still carrying a grudge? Old fool." Duo settled in to glare back at Heero. "Besides, I broke you out of that damned hospital."

"I married you, didn't I? Why would I want to be with someone I held a grudge against?" Heero turned to face the television again.

"You do some strange things, Yuy," Duo grumbled. "You might enjoy the whole…" And he yawned, suddenly, words cut off short.

"Naptime for you," Heero announced, reaching for the remote and pressing the power button.

"I'm not a baby." But, Duo allowed Heero to help him up and shuttle him off to their room.

"No," Heero said, lowering his voice, softening his tone. "Not a baby." Heero was helping him out of his sweater, making him kick off his slippers. "But you still need a nap."

Lying on his side, letting Heero pull the blanket up to his shoulder, Duo grabbed at Heero's hand before he moved away. "Stay with me, Heero," he asked softly.

"Not sleepy," Heero grumbled, but he was already taking off his sweater, and moving around to his side of the bed.

Behind him, the mattress dipped low, and that familiar presence was at his back, an arm draped over his waist. Duo stared unseeing across their darkened room, memories flashing like snapshots of other places, other times of the two of them spooned up close to one another. He felt his eyes sting but willed the tears away.

"Heero, I—I…" want another hundred years…

Heero's arm tightened around him. "I love you, too, Duo," Heero mumbled into his neck.

Duo's hand climbed up to clasp Heero's and he held it. "Love you," he whispered.

"You think that girl'll wash my shirt? The blue one?"

Without losing a step, Duo squeezed the hand in his. "I'll make sure she does, tomorrow."

"It's Valentine's day on Wednesday, you know." Heero's voice was sounding smug, but sleepy.

"I know."

"I've got a date." And Duo felt dry, paper-thin lips pressing against the back of his neck.

He squeezed the hand again. "You just wanna neck in the back seat."

Heero made an affirmative noise, but it was weak and the arm around Duo relaxed. The gentle breath brushing against his neck was soothing rhythm, and Duo let himself drift, letting go for the moment.