A/N: Big thanxs 2 everyone who reviewed. You know the drill by now. None of 'em are mine, not even Duo. Slight shounen ai, 1+2, heavily implied 3+4. And R&R if you wish to live, puny mortal (in the nicest possible way). PS: I had to put this up PDQ for fear of the raft of Dark Crystal's staff.
Checkmate
Chapter 2: Discussion
"There you are, Duo!" Quatre cried as I walked into the kitchen. "I thought maybe you'd got lost between wherever you were and here."
"Shaddap, Winner." I growled. I wasn't in the mood for banter. Quatre's eyes widened in surprise and Trowa, standing behind him, glared at me with his one visible eye.
"Sorry." Quatre said meekly. "Are you in a bad mood or something?" I shook my head.
"Not exactly. It's a long story." Not one which I was going to tell Quatre in front of anyone, not even Trowa. Trowa got the unspoken message and half-smiled.
"I'm going. Gossip all you like." he said quietly, before sauntering out. Quatre turned to me, looking desparately curious, and handed me a bowl of potatoes and a knife.
"Peel those, 'K? And tell me this long story."
I dumped the bowl on the nearest surface, picked up a potato and began to peel it. "I was playing chess with that damn computer of yours."
"And winning."
I nodded and grinned faintly. "Of course. Anyway, I'd just finished winning for the eighty-third time when Heero walked in."
Quatre said nothing, but I could see he was trying not to smile. "And?"
"And I played chess with him. Winner, no pun intended, takes all."
He looked as confused as Heero had. "All what?"
"That's exactly what Heero said. Loser had to do what the winner said for 24 hours. I thought it was gonna be a breeze."
He shook his head in mock disappointment. "You play chess with the Perfect Soldier and you think it's gonna be a breeze? You poor fool. So what's Heero told you to do that you don't like?"
"You're too damn perceptive, has anyone ever told you that?"
He looked down at the miscellaneous goo that he was stirring (it smelled better than it looked, thank God) and smiled as if at a private joke. "Many times. But carry on."
"Before I tell you, can I just stress that I had absolutely no idea what was gonna happen? And that I had no part in it?"
Quatre froze and looked up from the goo with eyes like saucers. "Is this what I think it's gonna be?"
"I don't know." I stared down at the potato, grateful for the excuse to not look at Quatre. "Probably."
"So tell me, then." He sounded impatient. When you've managed to get Quatre of all people to sound impatient, you know that whatever you're talking about is either fascinating or about Trowa.
"He..." I kept looking at the potato, not daring to meet Quatre's eyes. "Nyergh. Um, do you have to know?"
"Well, since you've told me this much it's only fair to get to the end of the story. C'mon, Duo, it can't be that bad." he said gently. I made some strange noise, which I think he took to mean 'yes it is'. And it was, goddammit. "Duo, you're a Gundam pilot. You've probably lost count of the number of people you've killed. You fight in worse battles every day than most people would hope to witness in a lifetime. Is it really that bad?" I said nothing - he knew the answer, damn him. "Just say it."
"Easier said than done, but here goes." I concentrated very hard on peeling the potato, my voice barely audible. "He... kissed me."
I could practically hear him grinning. "Great! Why is that a problem? I thought you liked him."
"I may have the merest beginnings of a crush on him." I said stiffly. "But I don't even know whether he likes me or not, or why he did it, or what the hell else he's gonna make me do. We still have about 23 hours and 50 minutes left, dammit, what's he gonna do with all of those?"
Quatre shrugged. "Probably nothing too bad. It'll do you good to quit denying to yourself that you like him."
I glared at him. "I was hoping for sympathy. What if he doesn't like me, anyway? What if -"
He smiled slightly. "I think he's proved that he likes you already. Why else do you kiss someone?"
"I don't KNOW!" I wailed, throwing a peeled potato back into the bowl and starting on another one. "If I knew that, d'you think I'd ask you?"
"He likes you, I tell you."
"Doesn't."
"Does."
"Doesn't."
"Does."
"Does what?" said a familiar voice behind me. Heero, sneaking up on people as usual.
"Yaahh!" I jumped about six feet in the air. As I did, my hand slipped and the knife slashed straight across my palm. "Oh, shit!"
Quatre was at my side in a New York minute, all concern and sympathy. "Wow, that looks bad. Get it under the tap quick." I complied, wincing as the cold water hit the wound.
"Don't sneak up on me like that again, man!" I said to Heero, trying not to look at all the blood going down the drain. "I know the whole Perfect Soldier thing is hard to quit, but I could have done myself an injury there." He was wearing that strange expression again, but said nothing.
"Duo, you have done yourself an injury." Quatre said mildly.
"Whatever." Damn, it hurt. I hoped I wouldn't need stitches - I've never liked hospitals, and the last thing any of us needed to do was draw attention to ourselves. Quatre caught my wrist and examined the wound carefully.
"It's definitely not good. I don't know whether it'll need stitches, though. What d'you think, Heero?"
Heero joined Quatre, both of them staring at my hand. Me? I was looking the other way. "Hey, it won't need stitches. C'mon, dude, this is Shinigami we're talking about here. You can't sew up Death."
"Shut up." Heero growled, grabbing a towel and pressing it to my hand. He turned to Quatre. "Don't know about stitches, but he'll definitely need first aid. It's probably not as bad as it looks, but still..."
"I am still here, you know."
Heero gave me the Famous Yuy Death-Glare [TM], which didn't faze me at all since I get it directed at me maybe eight times a day. "I told you to shut up."
"Duo, go with Heero." Quatre turned to Heero. "You can sort it, can't you?"
"Of course. I know where the first aid kit is."
"Good. Could you ask Trowa to come in here and help me on your way out, please?"
"Hn."
"He means yeah." I said helpfully.
"Thanks." I wasn't sure whether Quatre was talking to Heero or me, but I didn't get a chance to ask him because Heero grabbed my wrist and dragged me out of the kitchen. As we went past the living room, Heero poked his head round the door and grunted something at Trowa. Trowa grunted something back (why are they so damn QUIET??) and Heero nodded and resumed walking.
"What did you say?"
"Said you'd had an accident and told him to go help Winner."
"Oh." We went up the stairs in silence, Heero marching ahead and me trying to keep up. His grip on my wrist was getting kind of painful. When we got to our room he shoved me in, followed me and shut the door behind us.
"Sit down." As I sat down on my bed (I'd covered the only chair in the room with clothes) he dragged a duffel bag from under his bed and took a large first aid kit out of it. I looked down at my hand and saw that blood was soaking through the towel, even though Heero had folded it about six times. Oh, shit. Heero glanced over and his eyes widened. "Oh, shit."
"Thanks for that." He shot me a warning glare and walked over, holding a bottle of something, huge wads of gauze and a roll of bandages. I looked at the bottle apprehensively.
"If that's rat poison..."
"Shut up already. It's antiseptic."
"...Oh." I seemed to have been saying that a lot recently. He sloshed antiseptic onto my hand and I winced. "That hurts."
"If it didn't, I'd worry." Heero? Worry? That'll be the day. He pressed a wad of gauze to my hand and started to bandage it, alternately glaring at me and doing that funny expression. I was too distracted by the small matter of having inadvertently sliced through a few veins to be freaked out. When he'd finished bandaging he sat down on his bed, facing me and wearing a scarily determined expression. "I want to talk to you."
"Uh... OK." Oh, hell.
"What happened earlier... um..." He trailed off, looking uncomfortable.
"Yeah, what the hell was that for, anyway? I mean, was it some kind of joke or what?"
"No." He didn't seem keen to elaborate. Usually a conversation with Heero is practically a monologue. I have no idea how he and Trowa manage to communicate.
"So why, then?"
"Because..." He was staring at his sneakers. I stared at them too, but I couldn't see what was so interesting. "Hey, why the third degree?"
"Because I want to know." Geez, he's dim sometimes.
"But I don't have to tell you. Anyway, you still have 23 hours, 48 minutes and-" he looked at the clock- "40 seconds left of doing what I tell you. And I'm telling you to lay off."
"But..."
He gave me a warning glare. "And I've told you to shut up about fifty times already, and you haven't. I thought you never lied."
"I didn't lie."
"You said 24 hours. I told you to shut up and you didn't. Do the math."
I thought about this, then changed the subject. "You said you wanted to talk to me."
"Yeah. I wanted to say... um."
"Hurry up. I have to go back and help Quatre, remember."
"No you don't. You're injured."
"Stop changing the subject."
"Did I tell you to shut up?"
In the absence of any kind of witty retort, I stuck my tongue out at him.
"Anyway, I..." He groaned in frustration. "Oh, forget it. Stay here and don't move your hand unless it's absolutely necessary."
"But..."
"Shut. Up." he snarled.
"But where are you going?"
"To help Winner." He got up, walked halfway to the door, paused, walked back and stood over me with that damn strange expression on his face.
"Now wha..." Before I could finish talking, he leaned over and kissed me again. I pulled away, wide-eyed, and he walked out without a backward glance. "Oh, hell, like my life's not confusing enough."
~TBC
Checkmate
Chapter 2: Discussion
"There you are, Duo!" Quatre cried as I walked into the kitchen. "I thought maybe you'd got lost between wherever you were and here."
"Shaddap, Winner." I growled. I wasn't in the mood for banter. Quatre's eyes widened in surprise and Trowa, standing behind him, glared at me with his one visible eye.
"Sorry." Quatre said meekly. "Are you in a bad mood or something?" I shook my head.
"Not exactly. It's a long story." Not one which I was going to tell Quatre in front of anyone, not even Trowa. Trowa got the unspoken message and half-smiled.
"I'm going. Gossip all you like." he said quietly, before sauntering out. Quatre turned to me, looking desparately curious, and handed me a bowl of potatoes and a knife.
"Peel those, 'K? And tell me this long story."
I dumped the bowl on the nearest surface, picked up a potato and began to peel it. "I was playing chess with that damn computer of yours."
"And winning."
I nodded and grinned faintly. "Of course. Anyway, I'd just finished winning for the eighty-third time when Heero walked in."
Quatre said nothing, but I could see he was trying not to smile. "And?"
"And I played chess with him. Winner, no pun intended, takes all."
He looked as confused as Heero had. "All what?"
"That's exactly what Heero said. Loser had to do what the winner said for 24 hours. I thought it was gonna be a breeze."
He shook his head in mock disappointment. "You play chess with the Perfect Soldier and you think it's gonna be a breeze? You poor fool. So what's Heero told you to do that you don't like?"
"You're too damn perceptive, has anyone ever told you that?"
He looked down at the miscellaneous goo that he was stirring (it smelled better than it looked, thank God) and smiled as if at a private joke. "Many times. But carry on."
"Before I tell you, can I just stress that I had absolutely no idea what was gonna happen? And that I had no part in it?"
Quatre froze and looked up from the goo with eyes like saucers. "Is this what I think it's gonna be?"
"I don't know." I stared down at the potato, grateful for the excuse to not look at Quatre. "Probably."
"So tell me, then." He sounded impatient. When you've managed to get Quatre of all people to sound impatient, you know that whatever you're talking about is either fascinating or about Trowa.
"He..." I kept looking at the potato, not daring to meet Quatre's eyes. "Nyergh. Um, do you have to know?"
"Well, since you've told me this much it's only fair to get to the end of the story. C'mon, Duo, it can't be that bad." he said gently. I made some strange noise, which I think he took to mean 'yes it is'. And it was, goddammit. "Duo, you're a Gundam pilot. You've probably lost count of the number of people you've killed. You fight in worse battles every day than most people would hope to witness in a lifetime. Is it really that bad?" I said nothing - he knew the answer, damn him. "Just say it."
"Easier said than done, but here goes." I concentrated very hard on peeling the potato, my voice barely audible. "He... kissed me."
I could practically hear him grinning. "Great! Why is that a problem? I thought you liked him."
"I may have the merest beginnings of a crush on him." I said stiffly. "But I don't even know whether he likes me or not, or why he did it, or what the hell else he's gonna make me do. We still have about 23 hours and 50 minutes left, dammit, what's he gonna do with all of those?"
Quatre shrugged. "Probably nothing too bad. It'll do you good to quit denying to yourself that you like him."
I glared at him. "I was hoping for sympathy. What if he doesn't like me, anyway? What if -"
He smiled slightly. "I think he's proved that he likes you already. Why else do you kiss someone?"
"I don't KNOW!" I wailed, throwing a peeled potato back into the bowl and starting on another one. "If I knew that, d'you think I'd ask you?"
"He likes you, I tell you."
"Doesn't."
"Does."
"Doesn't."
"Does."
"Does what?" said a familiar voice behind me. Heero, sneaking up on people as usual.
"Yaahh!" I jumped about six feet in the air. As I did, my hand slipped and the knife slashed straight across my palm. "Oh, shit!"
Quatre was at my side in a New York minute, all concern and sympathy. "Wow, that looks bad. Get it under the tap quick." I complied, wincing as the cold water hit the wound.
"Don't sneak up on me like that again, man!" I said to Heero, trying not to look at all the blood going down the drain. "I know the whole Perfect Soldier thing is hard to quit, but I could have done myself an injury there." He was wearing that strange expression again, but said nothing.
"Duo, you have done yourself an injury." Quatre said mildly.
"Whatever." Damn, it hurt. I hoped I wouldn't need stitches - I've never liked hospitals, and the last thing any of us needed to do was draw attention to ourselves. Quatre caught my wrist and examined the wound carefully.
"It's definitely not good. I don't know whether it'll need stitches, though. What d'you think, Heero?"
Heero joined Quatre, both of them staring at my hand. Me? I was looking the other way. "Hey, it won't need stitches. C'mon, dude, this is Shinigami we're talking about here. You can't sew up Death."
"Shut up." Heero growled, grabbing a towel and pressing it to my hand. He turned to Quatre. "Don't know about stitches, but he'll definitely need first aid. It's probably not as bad as it looks, but still..."
"I am still here, you know."
Heero gave me the Famous Yuy Death-Glare [TM], which didn't faze me at all since I get it directed at me maybe eight times a day. "I told you to shut up."
"Duo, go with Heero." Quatre turned to Heero. "You can sort it, can't you?"
"Of course. I know where the first aid kit is."
"Good. Could you ask Trowa to come in here and help me on your way out, please?"
"Hn."
"He means yeah." I said helpfully.
"Thanks." I wasn't sure whether Quatre was talking to Heero or me, but I didn't get a chance to ask him because Heero grabbed my wrist and dragged me out of the kitchen. As we went past the living room, Heero poked his head round the door and grunted something at Trowa. Trowa grunted something back (why are they so damn QUIET??) and Heero nodded and resumed walking.
"What did you say?"
"Said you'd had an accident and told him to go help Winner."
"Oh." We went up the stairs in silence, Heero marching ahead and me trying to keep up. His grip on my wrist was getting kind of painful. When we got to our room he shoved me in, followed me and shut the door behind us.
"Sit down." As I sat down on my bed (I'd covered the only chair in the room with clothes) he dragged a duffel bag from under his bed and took a large first aid kit out of it. I looked down at my hand and saw that blood was soaking through the towel, even though Heero had folded it about six times. Oh, shit. Heero glanced over and his eyes widened. "Oh, shit."
"Thanks for that." He shot me a warning glare and walked over, holding a bottle of something, huge wads of gauze and a roll of bandages. I looked at the bottle apprehensively.
"If that's rat poison..."
"Shut up already. It's antiseptic."
"...Oh." I seemed to have been saying that a lot recently. He sloshed antiseptic onto my hand and I winced. "That hurts."
"If it didn't, I'd worry." Heero? Worry? That'll be the day. He pressed a wad of gauze to my hand and started to bandage it, alternately glaring at me and doing that funny expression. I was too distracted by the small matter of having inadvertently sliced through a few veins to be freaked out. When he'd finished bandaging he sat down on his bed, facing me and wearing a scarily determined expression. "I want to talk to you."
"Uh... OK." Oh, hell.
"What happened earlier... um..." He trailed off, looking uncomfortable.
"Yeah, what the hell was that for, anyway? I mean, was it some kind of joke or what?"
"No." He didn't seem keen to elaborate. Usually a conversation with Heero is practically a monologue. I have no idea how he and Trowa manage to communicate.
"So why, then?"
"Because..." He was staring at his sneakers. I stared at them too, but I couldn't see what was so interesting. "Hey, why the third degree?"
"Because I want to know." Geez, he's dim sometimes.
"But I don't have to tell you. Anyway, you still have 23 hours, 48 minutes and-" he looked at the clock- "40 seconds left of doing what I tell you. And I'm telling you to lay off."
"But..."
He gave me a warning glare. "And I've told you to shut up about fifty times already, and you haven't. I thought you never lied."
"I didn't lie."
"You said 24 hours. I told you to shut up and you didn't. Do the math."
I thought about this, then changed the subject. "You said you wanted to talk to me."
"Yeah. I wanted to say... um."
"Hurry up. I have to go back and help Quatre, remember."
"No you don't. You're injured."
"Stop changing the subject."
"Did I tell you to shut up?"
In the absence of any kind of witty retort, I stuck my tongue out at him.
"Anyway, I..." He groaned in frustration. "Oh, forget it. Stay here and don't move your hand unless it's absolutely necessary."
"But..."
"Shut. Up." he snarled.
"But where are you going?"
"To help Winner." He got up, walked halfway to the door, paused, walked back and stood over me with that damn strange expression on his face.
"Now wha..." Before I could finish talking, he leaned over and kissed me again. I pulled away, wide-eyed, and he walked out without a backward glance. "Oh, hell, like my life's not confusing enough."
~TBC