Feels Like Home

By Shikata ga nai

~*~

"Those pants look excellent on you."

Heero made a face. "They don't suit me."

Sylvia turned him around with an arm to see the heavy khakis from all angles. They fit beautifully. "It's just because you've never worn anything like that before," she insisted. "They'll be good for everything. Buy them."

Heero looked at himself in the mirror one more time. I suppose they're not that bad, he thought with resignation. "Fine," he conceded, and shut the door of the change room to put his jeans back on. So far, they'd found three t-shirts, a white dress shirt, a tie, a pair of dress pants, two pairs of jeans, and the khakis, all reasonably cheap. Heero figured he was done, having spent a little less than $200, which he would be paying back as soon as possible. He hated owing people anything.

He stepped out of the change room with the pants draped over his arm, and discovered that Sylvia had apparently been swallowed up by the industrial blue carpeting. She had been standing right outside the stall when he shut the door, but had somehow vanished completely in about forty-five seconds.

"I'm over here, Heero!" she called from a wall display across the store. "I just remembered something else."

Now what? Heero thought tiredly, weaving his way through the store towards her. He had really begun to hate clothes shopping. There was nothing interesting to look at.

She turned towards him with an armload of white and plaid. "You need socks and underwear, too, I bet." She handed him two six-packs of white socks and eight pairs of boxers. "They're all on sale, too," she chirped. "I love Christmas."

Heero blinked in surprise. It was December 2nd, today. Almost a year since the war ended. He stared at empty space, not really thinking, but at the same time remembering.

"Sorry, what?" He shook his head a little as he snapped back into reality.

"I said, let's go pay for these."

Heero followed in a daze as Sylvia made her way to the cash register. They got there just as the person ahead of them left, and the cashier immediately started adding up the cost of the clothes.

"That'll be $215.37," the lady said cheerfully. Sylvia handed her a card, while Heero memorized the number.

"Thank you, and have a Merry Christmas," the cashier trilled. The two young people smiled and left with their bags of clothes.

"I love that store," Sylvia said happily as they strolled through the tinseled mall. "It's not very often that you can get all your shopping done in one stop like that."

Heero stayed silent, glancing occasionally at people or stores as he walked with bags in both hands.

She frowned at him. "I was trying to fill the silence. You know, start some kind of conversation? You're supposed to talk, too."

All he did in reply was raise an eyebrow at her. She sighed and started digging through her purse for her car keys instead.

***

Heero's nice new clothes helped him find a job at a warehouse that was only a ten-minute bus ride from Sylvia's apartment building. Every morning at 8:30, he was there promptly to start his day of heavy lifting, and even though his shift only went until 5:00, he found opportunities for overtime about twice a week. The only day he didn't work was Sunday. He spent most of his Sundays sleeping, running in the park nearby, or occasionally doing something with Sylvia, at her insistence. She got tired of his being completely antisocial, and on Sundays or in the evening after work, she would drag him to a movie with her close friends, or to the zoo, or to the local pool and gym for a workout, which was more interesting to him.

Heero came home on Friday, December 21 with a paycheck that brought his debt to Sylvia down to $50. When he walked into the kitchen, she was sitting at the table with the telephone in front of her. She looked pissed off.

"What do you mean, you can't go?…Dammit, Dave, thanks for the entire day of notice!…No, I don't think I'll find another date before tomorrow night." She sighed, listening to the voice on the other end of the line with her forehead propped on a hand. "Yeah…Yeah…I'm sorry, I just...Tell your mom I said get well soon. Okay…bye." She hung up the phone and swore at it.

Heero cleared his throat a little awkwardly, and she looked up in surprise. "Oh, hey, Heero."

He handed her the check, already endorsed on the back. "What was that all about?"

She stood up and stretched, straightening out her back with a sigh. "That was Dave. He was supposed to be my date for this society Christmas party tomorrow night, and he just cancelled on me." She gestured shortly at the phone with the check, still annoyed. "A friend of my grandma's is hosting it; it's like the zillionth annual. I was invited, of course, and this is one of those things that you need an escort for." She saw Heero's confused expression, and elaborated. "There's a lot of dirty old men in attendance, but if you have someone with you, they leave you alone."

"Oh, okay then," he said awkwardly.

She fumed. "Where the hell am I going to find a date at this--" She stopped short, and a brilliant idea gleamed in her eyes. Heero got very nervous all of a sudden.

"Heero!" she cried excitedly, justifying his nervousness. He started looking for an escape route, but she grabbed his hand, clasping it in both of hers.

"No, don't go! Please, please, please, Heero, you have to come with me!" she begged. "I need a date! I'll never find one in time! No, it's no big deal! You just dress up and laugh at all their bad jokes! You'll be fed! There's free drinks!"

"I can't dance," he said.

"You don't have to. Or I can teach you. Please come!"

He was about to say it wouldn't be a good idea, but he did owe her one. He looked at her and his gaze locked onto her bright blue eyes, wide with hope and apprehension. Something about that gaze broke his resolve. "I'll go," he said.

The words were hardly out of his mouth when she cheered and looked at the clock. "Yay! It's 6:00 now. You need something to wear. Maybe if we hurry, we can rent you a tux for tomorrow. I hope there's still some left." She herded him out the door before he could second-guess himself.

In the third tuxedo rental shop they tried, there were still a few ensembles to choose from. In ten minutes, Sylvia and the elderly shopkeeper had him in a black tuxedo with a white cummerbund and white tie. "Damn, Heero, you look fine," she said. The portly old man agreed with her. "It's a very nice image," he chortled.

"What do you think, Heero?" she asked.

As hard as he tried, Heero couldn't think of anything to say against the outfit. It fit perfectly. He looked distinguished, which he supposed was a good thing. He blocked all of the sudden, unbidden images of Quatre's butler out of his mind and said, "I like it."

Sylvia grinned. "We'll take it," she said to the shopkeeper.

They hurried home and hung up the tuxedo in Sylvia's closet. She went into the kitchen and ordered pizza on the phone, then went into the living room and confronted her stereo. It was a high-tech piece of equipment, with several speakers placed strategically around the room. There was a 100-CD storage rack standing upright on the floor, and she rifled through it efficiently while Heero watched with interest.

After less than a minute of searching, she pulled two cases out of the rack and stuck their CD's in the disc changer. A melodious waltz trickled into the room, and Sylvia stood in the middle of the floor and held out her hand for Heero to take. He got up and took it, confused. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"You said you don't know how to dance. Now you're learning to waltz, at least, so you'll have something to show off tomorrow night."

Heero raised another quizzical eyebrow, his new favourite expression, but allowed himself to be led around the room while Sylvia taught him to waltz. It was easy, and after a pizza break, she taught him the two-step, the fox trot, and the Macarena. Hours later, they collapsed side-by-side on the couch, worn out, and she rolled her head to the side to look at him. She smiled tiredly. "You'll knock 'em dead, boy," she said, and patted his hand lightly.

**********