AN:
To Corinna, of course. ^_^ Who else? Corinna has given me the most support of all!!!! Say it with me: _CORINNA_RULES_!!!!
Okays, minna, if you haven't figured it out yet / and / equals Heero's thoughts. Example: If Heero wanted icecream, I could just say that, or I could go
/I want icecream/
if Duo wakes up (I haven't decided what I'm doing just yet ;-) More fun that way) then his thoughts are the same, only I'm gonna make them (at least for now) double slashes // and // – if Duo wants icecrem, I could just say that, or I could go…
//ICECREAM!!!! GIVE ME ICECREAM!!! PLEASE, PLEASE?//
______________________________-
Once they pulled up into a driveway, Heero found himself waking Duo once more, which was all the more difficult when half of his limbs told him it was time to sleep as well. The heater (thank God – Heero was beginning to appreciate this deity more and more) had worked, though it had come out cold at first, and now it was a healthy, warm thirty-seven degrees Fahrenheit in the car. Which, all things considered, was quite comfortable – much preferable to forty degrees below zero.
Giving up on Duo lest he fall asleep in the comfort of his position, Heero finally gathered Duo up like a porcelien doll, with such CARE that it startled even him.
Heero trudged dully through hard, solidified 'slush'. Wiping his feet on the doormat, he turned sideways so as to fit in the doorway, then marched right on in.
No, it was not his home. But it was deserted (he double-checked) and it was seventy degrees – regular tropics – and had everything needed. There was a stove, running water – it was a cabin, obviously deserted for a while (the food was disgusting in its rotting state– perhaps not EVERYTHING needed, but you can't be too picky) and…
Well.
One bed.
Feathery, this one was soft and supple with the down contained within it. If you were to curl up on it, it would shape deliciously to your form as you sank into it. Slightly musty furs topped it – even the sheets were fur. Everything was… natural. It was easy to tell that the walls were wooden logs, and the floor-stones packed together weren't the most beautiful modern tiling, but the atmosphere had a feeling that normal houses and apartments couldn't ever get. It felt… raw. It felt open and like it could only tell truth, could it speak, though safe. And strangely and blessedly warm.
Heero placed his -
/koi/
- friend into this bed, burying him deep in the fur and tucking the edges down like some would do for small children. All the motions – rather like making a bed – felt alien to him. Even though he could do them, they felt – different. As different as things had been lately – sliding in and out of these unexplored parts of his mind, where emotions and, apparently, these caring movements lay.
Delicious.
They felt delicious, like smooth ice cream on your tongue (He shuddered inwardly – /ice cream, at a time like this? That is the sort of thought only Duo would think…/)
It was equally delicious to slide in, after some debate, under the almost uncomfortably warm hides to lay next to Duo. The narrow bed forced his body to press up against Duo's, but his comrade appeared oblivious, save a soft smile in his exhausted sleep.
/If only that was for me. If only…/ Heero curled fingers that were already beginning to warm into Duo's thick, disheveled braid.
/This/ he realized thoughtfully, as though an observer, /is a new emotion. /
And it was, too.
Longing.
Small tendrils of Shinagami's hair curled around Heero's fingers, as though in understanding, and a gasp tore from some warming place inside him. Pressing closer
/for warmth, of course/
the slightly bewildered ex-pilot of Wing-Zero watched his traitorous arms wrap tightly around his charge despite the fact that part of his mind – the usual part – was commanding them to stop. This section of him screamed in horror as legs wrapped around legs, and was shattering the edges of his mind with desparation as Heero's face moved gradually closer to the sleeping boy's.
And stopped.
Abrubtly.
Flinching back, he recoiled in disgust, edging to the side of the bed and tumbling out in his haste.
/That must not happen again./
And he ran.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Shaken, the sweet pilot of Deathscythe managed a difficult breath.
Perhaps he was in a different situation than he thought. Heero had seemed… almost CONCERNED about him. Almost. So he had pretended to sleep – that would seem promising, right? And he had kept his eyes closed and breathing as he was tucked into the bliss of a warm, single bed. However, you could not imagine how hard it was to retain such a relaxed, 'sleeping' state when he felt his cold-hearted savior climb in.
And he could recall the electricity as bodies touched bodies. And knew that it wasn't just accidental brushings in a too-small space; he had seen that touch before. When a couple sat out too late on one of the benches in the halls of the colonies, hands going in all the forbidden places, pausing to emit starving noises. But that was… Not the way Heero touched. Heero's contact was limited to headlocks, breaking your arm, and… Well.
Which is why the slightly elated, breathless face staring out into the colder room from beneath a haven of sheets held such complete confusion.
//Heero? What's wrong? You have _changed_, haven't you? Why did you come to save me, anyway? I'm not fighting with you anymore. Losing me will not affect a war that doesn't exist.
Did you feel that, though?
The rush that I felt? Adrenaline? Fire? Electricity? Hunger? What is it?
… you must have felt it. You created it – you reached for me with it, and it became a part of us.
Us. An interesting pronoun – it implies being paired.
But… surely -//
That thought, wherever it was going, was terminated as Duo receded back into the covers. He could hear thuds as snow was shaken from shoes, and zippers being undone on jackets and boots, then the brush of spandex against spandex that always came when Heero moved.
He had returned. Heero could never leave Duo in such a state – once he had regained control, he had no choice but to go back.
"Duo." Heero kicked the back-board of the bed, trying to wake the boy he didn't know had never slept.
Duo's eyes remained closed, and Heero cursed himself as he admired them – the shadows created by the lashes spreading seductively down the hollowed bridge where the cheekbone began.
The marveling adolescent was considering leaving once more when he finally grasped control.
"Damn you, Duo. Damn you for being so goddammed beautiful." Spitfire leered from the corners of his trademark glare, but if you were to look closely, you would see a sort of untouchable anguish, as well, and perhaps not anger at all but the hollow burn from being forced away from love.
Embittered from being a soulless creature for all those years, he never thought that perhaps.
Perhaps.
Perhaps it was okay to touch – to long, to haunt your way into someone's life and sweep them off their clumsy feet.
But it would have been all to easy. And easy was not how Heero worked. Tortured, he forced himself to remain vigil, trying to regain the willpower he had once possessed. Discipline was a smack in the face as he watched a touchable, kissable boy ride through the lands of sleep, soft lips puckered out into a tempting question. And still, he rested at the foot of the bed, never touching, only watching as every cell begged to be set free, if only a brush against Duo's skin… He would never notice, anyway.
Something prideful within him, eager to tear him apart in order to 'make him stronger', told him that was not an option. So he hovered despairingly near, so close… Ever so often, his fingertips would near the sleeping face of Shinagami, and he would pull them back in a mechanical, commanding motion.
Emotion was so painful. And useless. To him, it was just one more flaw to filter from your mind. But these yearnings would not be filtered, or even temporarily ignored. Lurking near, pulling back again, battling and warring, Heero danced wearily back and forth, never allowing himself to sleep, or to touch… Look, don't touch.
Life is so full of cruelties. Pride is perhaps the cruelest of all. Even the most coldhearted or humble would agree, if they saw the eerie face, bleak eyes shadowed down and worn weak from a new sort of desire and lack of sleep.
However, people will slip, and Heero, though more than the average person, was equally capable, and slip he did. By the third morning, having force fed Duo with a fork, never actually coming in contact with him, he collapsed into a mound created from the power of need.
Fell onto Duo.
And slept.
And all was at peace.
At peace.
Peace.
Sleep.
To Corinna, of course. ^_^ Who else? Corinna has given me the most support of all!!!! Say it with me: _CORINNA_RULES_!!!!
Okays, minna, if you haven't figured it out yet / and / equals Heero's thoughts. Example: If Heero wanted icecream, I could just say that, or I could go
/I want icecream/
if Duo wakes up (I haven't decided what I'm doing just yet ;-) More fun that way) then his thoughts are the same, only I'm gonna make them (at least for now) double slashes // and // – if Duo wants icecrem, I could just say that, or I could go…
//ICECREAM!!!! GIVE ME ICECREAM!!! PLEASE, PLEASE?//
______________________________-
Once they pulled up into a driveway, Heero found himself waking Duo once more, which was all the more difficult when half of his limbs told him it was time to sleep as well. The heater (thank God – Heero was beginning to appreciate this deity more and more) had worked, though it had come out cold at first, and now it was a healthy, warm thirty-seven degrees Fahrenheit in the car. Which, all things considered, was quite comfortable – much preferable to forty degrees below zero.
Giving up on Duo lest he fall asleep in the comfort of his position, Heero finally gathered Duo up like a porcelien doll, with such CARE that it startled even him.
Heero trudged dully through hard, solidified 'slush'. Wiping his feet on the doormat, he turned sideways so as to fit in the doorway, then marched right on in.
No, it was not his home. But it was deserted (he double-checked) and it was seventy degrees – regular tropics – and had everything needed. There was a stove, running water – it was a cabin, obviously deserted for a while (the food was disgusting in its rotting state– perhaps not EVERYTHING needed, but you can't be too picky) and…
Well.
One bed.
Feathery, this one was soft and supple with the down contained within it. If you were to curl up on it, it would shape deliciously to your form as you sank into it. Slightly musty furs topped it – even the sheets were fur. Everything was… natural. It was easy to tell that the walls were wooden logs, and the floor-stones packed together weren't the most beautiful modern tiling, but the atmosphere had a feeling that normal houses and apartments couldn't ever get. It felt… raw. It felt open and like it could only tell truth, could it speak, though safe. And strangely and blessedly warm.
Heero placed his -
/koi/
- friend into this bed, burying him deep in the fur and tucking the edges down like some would do for small children. All the motions – rather like making a bed – felt alien to him. Even though he could do them, they felt – different. As different as things had been lately – sliding in and out of these unexplored parts of his mind, where emotions and, apparently, these caring movements lay.
Delicious.
They felt delicious, like smooth ice cream on your tongue (He shuddered inwardly – /ice cream, at a time like this? That is the sort of thought only Duo would think…/)
It was equally delicious to slide in, after some debate, under the almost uncomfortably warm hides to lay next to Duo. The narrow bed forced his body to press up against Duo's, but his comrade appeared oblivious, save a soft smile in his exhausted sleep.
/If only that was for me. If only…/ Heero curled fingers that were already beginning to warm into Duo's thick, disheveled braid.
/This/ he realized thoughtfully, as though an observer, /is a new emotion. /
And it was, too.
Longing.
Small tendrils of Shinagami's hair curled around Heero's fingers, as though in understanding, and a gasp tore from some warming place inside him. Pressing closer
/for warmth, of course/
the slightly bewildered ex-pilot of Wing-Zero watched his traitorous arms wrap tightly around his charge despite the fact that part of his mind – the usual part – was commanding them to stop. This section of him screamed in horror as legs wrapped around legs, and was shattering the edges of his mind with desparation as Heero's face moved gradually closer to the sleeping boy's.
And stopped.
Abrubtly.
Flinching back, he recoiled in disgust, edging to the side of the bed and tumbling out in his haste.
/That must not happen again./
And he ran.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Shaken, the sweet pilot of Deathscythe managed a difficult breath.
Perhaps he was in a different situation than he thought. Heero had seemed… almost CONCERNED about him. Almost. So he had pretended to sleep – that would seem promising, right? And he had kept his eyes closed and breathing as he was tucked into the bliss of a warm, single bed. However, you could not imagine how hard it was to retain such a relaxed, 'sleeping' state when he felt his cold-hearted savior climb in.
And he could recall the electricity as bodies touched bodies. And knew that it wasn't just accidental brushings in a too-small space; he had seen that touch before. When a couple sat out too late on one of the benches in the halls of the colonies, hands going in all the forbidden places, pausing to emit starving noises. But that was… Not the way Heero touched. Heero's contact was limited to headlocks, breaking your arm, and… Well.
Which is why the slightly elated, breathless face staring out into the colder room from beneath a haven of sheets held such complete confusion.
//Heero? What's wrong? You have _changed_, haven't you? Why did you come to save me, anyway? I'm not fighting with you anymore. Losing me will not affect a war that doesn't exist.
Did you feel that, though?
The rush that I felt? Adrenaline? Fire? Electricity? Hunger? What is it?
… you must have felt it. You created it – you reached for me with it, and it became a part of us.
Us. An interesting pronoun – it implies being paired.
But… surely -//
That thought, wherever it was going, was terminated as Duo receded back into the covers. He could hear thuds as snow was shaken from shoes, and zippers being undone on jackets and boots, then the brush of spandex against spandex that always came when Heero moved.
He had returned. Heero could never leave Duo in such a state – once he had regained control, he had no choice but to go back.
"Duo." Heero kicked the back-board of the bed, trying to wake the boy he didn't know had never slept.
Duo's eyes remained closed, and Heero cursed himself as he admired them – the shadows created by the lashes spreading seductively down the hollowed bridge where the cheekbone began.
The marveling adolescent was considering leaving once more when he finally grasped control.
"Damn you, Duo. Damn you for being so goddammed beautiful." Spitfire leered from the corners of his trademark glare, but if you were to look closely, you would see a sort of untouchable anguish, as well, and perhaps not anger at all but the hollow burn from being forced away from love.
Embittered from being a soulless creature for all those years, he never thought that perhaps.
Perhaps.
Perhaps it was okay to touch – to long, to haunt your way into someone's life and sweep them off their clumsy feet.
But it would have been all to easy. And easy was not how Heero worked. Tortured, he forced himself to remain vigil, trying to regain the willpower he had once possessed. Discipline was a smack in the face as he watched a touchable, kissable boy ride through the lands of sleep, soft lips puckered out into a tempting question. And still, he rested at the foot of the bed, never touching, only watching as every cell begged to be set free, if only a brush against Duo's skin… He would never notice, anyway.
Something prideful within him, eager to tear him apart in order to 'make him stronger', told him that was not an option. So he hovered despairingly near, so close… Ever so often, his fingertips would near the sleeping face of Shinagami, and he would pull them back in a mechanical, commanding motion.
Emotion was so painful. And useless. To him, it was just one more flaw to filter from your mind. But these yearnings would not be filtered, or even temporarily ignored. Lurking near, pulling back again, battling and warring, Heero danced wearily back and forth, never allowing himself to sleep, or to touch… Look, don't touch.
Life is so full of cruelties. Pride is perhaps the cruelest of all. Even the most coldhearted or humble would agree, if they saw the eerie face, bleak eyes shadowed down and worn weak from a new sort of desire and lack of sleep.
However, people will slip, and Heero, though more than the average person, was equally capable, and slip he did. By the third morning, having force fed Duo with a fork, never actually coming in contact with him, he collapsed into a mound created from the power of need.
Fell onto Duo.
And slept.
And all was at peace.
At peace.
Peace.
Sleep.