(and Straight on 'Til Morning)
The air is heavy, thick. The spicy taste of anticipation palatable, yet still clean like newly budding grass, but with all the olfactory sensations flooding me, it's still calm. Warm calm, even though it's the middle of autumn and the constant air stream that characterizes this region is still flowing, caressing my skin like a lover's breath. The quiet isn't in the feel of the air, but the sound of it. The whipping wind doesn't carry any noise, just motion. It truly is an odd combination of sensations, and one that I wasn't familiar with until I got here.
I didn't know much about this place until we were sent to destroy OZ's Intelligence Core for the Americas.[1] Even then I couldn't get that far past the incessant rain and imposing trees. The perpetually green conifers were the only thing to cut into the unending grey sky. It seemed like the entire region was color coordinated. Green trees, grey sky and buildings, black water...everything matched in some odd, mundane way, but back then I wasn't going to comment.
They call Seattle the Emerald City. My partner explained it was a reference to a children's book. Something about an enchanted metropolis at the end of a long journey where a great wizard lived who could make all your dreams come true. After a few cracks about a man made of tin, which I didn't understand, he allowed the subject drop.
The name didn't fit though. Not really. Seattle wasn't magical; it was big, dirty, and overcrowded. It reminded me too much of life on the colonies, it's claustrophobic; there's an overwhelming trapped feeling, and even with all its "friendly people" you still get this impersonal feeling in your mouth after all dealings. No, Seattle's too metropolitan to feel like a hometown, which the residents would like you to believe. It was a good place to get lost, which was how we used it. We lost ourselves in the crowds, blended in to the best of our abilities, slipped back out again, blew the base, stole a car, and ran south. To the north is Canada, with its well-meaning border patrols and extradition treaties. To the south is Oregon...Portland to be exact, another large city to blend into, used to tourists, transients, and travelers with other destinations on their mind. The plan was to hide in Portland until the search up north had toned down a bit, extricate Deathscythe from the bottom of Puget Sound in the dead of the night while I took a red eye, and meet up again on a Sweeper ship in California.
All went well. We stole a car from the base, took it south to the state capital. Stole another from a video store (idiots were asking it to be stolen by leaving the car unlocked and running in the parking lot [2]), dropped that further south, near a national park dedicated to a volcanic eruption [3], and then we were in Portland four hours later, in time for an early morning check in and bath before sleeping the day away.
We abandoned the third car as far from our temporary housing as possible, leaving it outside a wrecking yard, but not before switching the plates with one of the dead automobiles inside the lot. We had switched plates on every car we'd borrowed; it served to throw them off our trail a little while longer. Surprisingly enough, we found a public transit station nearby. After investigating the map of something called MAX [4], we decided that it would work to lose our tails, as it went everywhere within the city limits, including the international spaceport, and out to suburbs called Beaverton and Hillsboro. It would widen their search area enough for us to slip through and divert their attentions from up north.
For the most part the mission went well. We made it out with minimal injury, the base was destroyed, the Gundam was retrieved and we made it to the ship without many problems. The only...kink in the plan was we became enamored. Portland is...interesting. The people are laid back, not in that granola-eating, flannel shirt-wearing way the region is associated with, but in a cosmopolitan, open-minded way. Yes, they have their fair share of coffee shops, which the natives are addicted to in the most disturbing manner; they also have the rain and trees that blend into the area like a well-decorated backdrop. But there's bridges; seven to be exact, that run down the middle of the city, displaying every imaginable structure of architecture that can convey vehicles from one side to the other, and a copper-colored building in the middle of the downtown area that varies the landscape like nothing I've ever seen before in a cityscape. There's no need for monstrous towers to be erected for ascetic value, like the Space Needle, that serve no purpose then to be a tourist trap; here the beauty is in the architecture of useful buildings. There were almost as many parks as coffee shops. You practically threw a rock and you hit another patch of the city covered in green with carefully planted, well-aged shade trees and interesting statues.
It's an odd place. A strange mixture of East and West; native and foreign; antique and modern all wrapped into one corner of Earth they called a city complete with the eccentricities that stigma carries. Duo found a restaurant where the servers prided themselves in being the rude. I discovered a surprisingly decent sushi bar, where the orders are delivered on a model train, just walking distance from our hotel.
We had a week to discover the oddities of the city. We went to all the touristy attractions, like the four story bookstore that takes an entire city block[5]. Their shelves were still filled with the massive paper volumes, even though they had electronic book devices and download terminals. The place smelled different then any other bookstore then I'd been in; it smelled...intelligent. It probably had something to do with the musty pages of antique tomes. I almost assumed I could get smarter just by breathing, like some old spell could weave in your brain carried along on molecules.
I know it sounds silly, but as analytical as my fifteen-year-old brain attempted to be back then it still got carried away on flights of fancy. I blame it on the book Duo bought me when the mood strikes, but really has more to do with a childhood sans friends and normal relationships. Children's minds make up people to share their lives. I had two, not that I ever told anyone about it, but they were there. I didn't need to talk with them, just their presence made me feel better because they were only for me. I didn't tell anyone about them, at least not until after the war, not because I was scared people would think I was insane, but I was afraid of someone taking my friends from me. That was before Gundams and real people who considered me worth their time.
It was an idea that took some settling once it sunk into my apparently thick skull. The book was a good first step to hammering the idea home. It wasn't anything special, he hadn't gone out of his way to find a first edition, just a simple electronic copy, something I'd be familiar with while dealing with the unknown. I would have preferred one of the paper books. The yellowing pages carrying words in actual ink, not the sharp white with black pixilated letters, but I suppose it was for the best. Electronic books are more durable, a paper copy wouldn't have survived the war. He handed me the bag as we headed back to the hotel just saying, "I hope it has the pictures. The pictures were the best part."
It was a lazy night. Duo went through his photos from the zoo while I read. The book went quickly. It was far below my reading level, but still enjoyable, although I almost hit the braided baka for the Tin Man comment he'd made, instead I placed the book in front of him and said, "If I'm the Tin Man then you're the Scarecrow." He laughed. It made me feel good to make him laugh, but I brushed it off; it would have made me feel good to make Trowa laugh if I didn't hurt so badly at the time[6].
His demeanor shifted then, his feet made their way onto the table and crossed and his arms moved behind his head as if to balance him while he tilted the chair back. "So if I'm the Scarecrow and you're the Tin Man, then who's the lion?" he asked leering over at me.
"You're not insulted?"
"Nah. The Scarecrow's the smartest character." His smile got bigger then. "So who's our brave coward?" "None of us are cowards."
"No, we aren't, but it doesn't mean we don't have a Cowardly Lion in out midst. So who do you think it is?"
"Trowa."
"I was gonna say Wufei."
"Wufei is brave, he doesn't run from a fight."
"Well neither does Trowa, at least that I've seen."
"But Wufei's bravery isn't a facade."
"And Trowa's is...hm...I might have to give you that one, Heero. I haven't spent the time with the guy you have, but I'm gonna keep my eye out for an amazingly brave act from him. 'Sides Wufei is more like the Wizard."
"Toto." That got another laugh out of him.
"Toto? Dude, don't let him hear that."
"Beneath the bark and bite he's nothing but a lapdog."
"Ooh, really don't let him hear that. I think he'd cut your nose off."
"I'd like to see him try." He started laughing harder, threatening to spill him from his chair.
"'Kay, does that mean Quatre's Dorothy?"
"No, Glenda. He's a moral compass, much like she was." He stopped laughing for a moment, nodded his acceptance.
"Man, I'm gonna have to buy you books more often. You're amusing."
A few days later we left and separated, going to different parts of planet again on our way to finishing that war, then another, but something about that one city stuck with me. It was virtually untouched by the fighting with nothing more than a spaceport to draw attention. The only evidence that battles were raging elsewhere were newspapers and casual conversation in the many coffee shops.
I occasionally found more electronic books during the wars, presents, each one taking me over or through someplace fanciful, like falling down rabbit holes or wandering through wardrobes [7], and transporting me to someplace wonderfully magical. They were quick, cheap escapes, but welcome. I found myself rereading them when things too stressful. I still do at times, but now I own paper copies of each, they all sit on the second shelf to the right. [8]
I know that was a bad joke, I blame those on Duo too.
After the second war I felt a need for green trees and grey skies somewhere deep in my soul. Somehow in my wanderings, I found myself here again, where the wind always blows and it rains at least once a month. And somehow it feels more like home than anywhere before. I settled down. Got a job at OMSI [9] working at the mobile suit exhibit. They thought I was more than qualified without the degree. We just opened a Gundam simulator where children can battle mobile suits, dolls, or other Gundams. It's very popular. Occasionally I get a kid who comes up and asks for my autograph. I always acquiesce; if they've spent the time to know what I look like, they deserve it.
I was happy in those early days. Happy, but alone. My "friends" stayed around, still not saying anything, but just being there. I was content with imaginary people, books, and Holst playing to stave off the silence. The problem with Duo's presents during the war was they were the first parts in series. I got the rest and devoured each with the same fervor. I found more of the like and read them too. I was down at Powell's so much the employees knew me by name and welcomed me as I walked through the door. I even found that some of my favorites had decent movies made out of them. So I got myself a player and television and bought copies. It really shocked Wufei when he noticed musicals in my small collection of disks, and I was lightly teased about it.
Somehow he ended up in Portland; I'm still not sure why, and in a coffee shop with Sally Po, both wearing Preventer uniforms. That's what shocked me first, it wasn't often that this area saw UESN's best and brightest, but it wasn't until the barista greeted me that I noticed more.
To say there was animosity between Chang and I during the last war is an understatement. I wasn't exactly sure why he seemed to hate me so much. Some small part of me thought he'd heard about my Toto comment and he was coming for his pound of flesh. Whatever it was that triggered his anger, it had vanished by this point, and he was nothing but glad to see me, although it was until after a certain amount of admonishing from Sally that he stopped using my surname. I didn't mind the formality but acquiesced, offering him the same courtesy in return. After dinner with the pair, a tour of my apartment and a job offer, Wufei and I exchanged contact information and they left. That night I let my "friends" go out on a date; they didn't arrive again until way after dawn.
I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised by the knock on my door barely a month later, but in truth I was. Even more, I was taken back to be greeted with sparkling cobalt eyes complete with rain soaked chestnut hair falling into them and a cocky smile. I don't think I'll ever forget the first thing he said to me since peace broke out. "You bastard, you moved here without me," he declaired while brushing past and entering my home.
The apartment's nice. Much nicer than I should have, but siphoned funds can do wonders on a fixed income. This biggest luxury I afforded myself was a view of the river, specifically my favorite bridge, the Morrison. I have a prefect spot for watching the evening lights or the bridge rising from the picture window in the living room. The apartment is also on the waterfront, so on lazy afternoons I can watch fishing boats float past.
It was the window that drew him first. "Great view," he added, dropping his duffle bag near the door and moving to inspect it more closely before flopping out on the window seat. My window seat, in my favorite spot. "So ya got an extra room or am I gonna hafta look for my own place?"
The question was precocious at best, but I suppose only Duo Maxwell would invite himself to live with someone. Or maybe it's only something that he would try with me. Either way, I didn't get a chance to answer before he was up again perusing the book shelves, reading titles of paper books as his eyes swept over them. "Ya know I wouldn't have thought you'd like the ol..." He paused a moment before his face brightened, lit with something akin to childish glee. He raised a hand, reaching for something...something on the second shelf to the right with his still dripping fingers.
"DUO, DON'T!" Perhaps it was a little harsh of a reaction, but those were my books. My special books and I was...horrified. Horrified is definitely the best word for it.
He flinched back a little, but his hand still hovered, reaching for my precious tomes, but his face gaped at me, almost like I'd struck him. I hadn't meant to be so brusque, but I panicked, just as he started to. I could see flashed of flight or fight dancing behind his eyes, he was preparing to leave, and as exasperated as I was with his brashness earlier, I really didn't want him to go.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I wanted to share all those special books with him. The ones that he didn't turn me towards. I wanted him to explore the amazing chocolate factory with Willy Wonka. I wanted to push him onto platform 33 1/3. I wanted to laugh with him about elephant ankles and chicken skin. And to do any of that I'd needed him to stay.[10]
"Duo, you're dripping on the floor and you have to be getting cold. Why to you go to the bathroom to clean up?" It was the best I could come up with. Some bastard mix of pleading him not to leave and inviting him to stay while addressing why he shouldn't touch my books.
Some of what I said filtered through and I saw a spark of recognition, whether it was the offer or the explanation, I couldn't tell you to this day. I don't think he could either. But he accepted with an, "oh sorry" and asked me to lead the way to the "commode."
"If you'd like to take a shower, you're welcome to," I added to the invitation while grabbing an extra towel out of the hall closet.
"Ya sure man?"
"I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't," I replied opening the door of the bathroom and handing him the towel. "Feel free to make yourself at home."
Its odd how many people say that and don't mean it. What they're really saying is "make yourself at home as long as you're going to eventually leave." That wasn't what I meant.
"Thanks Heero." He smiled at me again and even though I wouldn't have admitted it at the time, even my toes melted a little. Just a little, not anything to go looking at china patterns over, but definitely something different than pure friendship. Then he shut the door and I was "alone" again in the big empty of my apartment proper.
I didn't have to think that it was really too big for just me, I'd already hashed all that out. I didn't think about how I'd really wanted a roommate; I just picked up his bag and moved it into the spare bedroom. The one I should have made into an office, but out of sheer perversity turned into a guest room instead. It wasn't like I had guests, but just in case...
It quickly became Duo's room. Just putting his duffle in there laid his claim to it. I almost thought about getting a little plaque for the door with his name on it, but decided that was taking everything too far. I did give in to the urge to unpack his things as I heard the shower turn on. He didn't bring much with him; the small dresser fit everything. All in all, he was unpacked in a matter of minutes. I shoved the empty luggage into the closet, and went to the kitchen to make tea. Duo needed something to warm him up.
Ten minutes later, the tea was cooling on the coffee table and Duo was opening the bathroom door. "Heero...umm...my clothes are kinda wet and I left my bag out there...could you maybe bring me something...?"
I smirked, even though I knew he couldn't see. "They're in the room across the hall from you."
"Oh, 'kay. Thanks." I waited, listening to the faint tromp of masculine feet across carpeted floors and Duo's door closing. Then there was the frantic scrabbling and the door rattling open again. "Heero, there's nothing in my bag."
"That's because I put them away. They're in the dresser."
"Oh, and I suppose you did that to be a good host." His voice might have been sarcastic and defensive, but there was a certain amount hurt behind it.
"No," I replied smugly. "A good roommate. Now get dressed Duo, your tea's getting cold."
It took a moment for the door to close again, but it did. As much as I would have liked to see his pole axed expression, I abstained. It wasn't necessary. The smile when he came out was more than worth it. I was definitely glad to be sitting down for that one.
He settled in the armchair across from my seat on the couch and took the tea with a "thanks". Before we even got the chance to lapse into silence, comfortable or uncomfortable, I stood and walked back to the shelf.
"Which one were you looking at?" It was a simple question. Not anything to difficult, but it caught him off guard. That was something I learned from him. Keep them off balance and you can get what you want. From him, I wanted nothing more than friendship, at that time at least.
He waited a minute before setting his cup down and moving over beside me. A tentative hand reached out, going for a book I would have thought he'd read before. "I didn't know there were sequels."
"There are thirteen in all."
"Really!?" The excitement was palpable. "Are they all about Dorothy?"
"No."
"Can I...?" I didn't answer, just picked The Marvelous Land of Oz off the shelf and motioned for him to sit down.
That was the start of it. Duo's been here for almost three years now. What was once just "my" place has turned into "ours". My "friends" have taken an extended, albeit well earned vacation in the Caribbean, and we've gone through my entire library of books several times already. Somehow, neither of us is bored yet. Every night before bed, we take turns reading a couple chapters of whatever current selection we're plowing through. It goes slower this way, but I like listening to him read. He uses different voices. He says that's how Sister Helen did it. I even found the style creeping into my own narration from time to time. After our chapters are done, we kiss goodnight and head in to our separate rooms.
Yes, you heard that correctly. We kiss goodnight and sleep alone. That's why I'm sitting in the cold flood walls watching the river flow by while the sky is threatening to unload its heavy burden.
Technically Duo's my boyfriend and has been for something near nineteen months, but neither of us has used the term. We really haven't gone past kissing and cuddling. I know, teenage hormones.but it's been a slow process. First, our friendship grew, and along with it those moments when I felt like every nerve was on fire from a simple smile. I should have realized back then how much I cared, but hindsight is twenty/twenty, as they say.
It was on a night much like this when we first kissed. Times before the storm are an oddity here. There's usually a perpetual mist in the air, but that day was just like this one, dry and only threatening to soak anyone who dares to be outside. We dared. It wasn't anything exotic, just a walk. Sometimes you just want to get out and sometimes you want company while you do it.
There's a nice park within walking distance. They're really nothing more than trees and tracks of grass that run along the river. It's hidden by office buildings from the busy streets, so it's usually very quiet. The entire thing was peaceful. Dark sky, light wind, Duo's braid flapping in it. I don't know why he blamed me for grabbing it. I blame in on primitive instincts, the kind you can only repress for so long before they start popping out. It wasn't as if I was trying to pull his hair out; I just wanted to give it a tug so he'd pay attention to me. That's really all I wanted. So when he turned around with a glare and warning declaration of my name I couldn't help but smirk. Then he got that look on his face. The one I'd only seen a few times before and more frequently since. It's the one that promises mischief and more than a little fun, and he delivered both in the form of a kiss.
I know he was trying to get a rise out of me; that wasn't anything unusual in those days, but I don't think he got quite the rise he expected. I know he didn't expect me to meet that kiss, but I was eighteen and the faceless star of my wet dreams was starting to take the shape of my roommate, so I explored. It took a moment but there were hands and tongues roaming languidly and not all of them mine.
It's interesting. Kiss is a simple word with four characters, three letters, but the actions are.complex at the best of times. At the worst they're awkward. We've had our fair share of awkward kisses and far more complex ones. That first one was definitely complex. Complex and long, and somewhere in the middle the rain started to fall, not hard, but gentle and cold. It wasn't like either of us cared at that point. Well at least I didn't, I can't vouch for Duo. Hell, by the time I noticed that it was raining, my legs were somewhere between water and Jell-O. I would have stood outside through a tropical storm for a repeat of that. I still would.
That was nineteen months ago, over a year-and-a-half, and what am I doing? I'm sitting on cold concrete, numbing my ass, and trying to figure out how to ask him to spend the night. Not for sex; just to be there. I'm not ready for that very final step yet. I feel clumsy enough the few times we've taken our necking to the making out level. I'm never sure where to put my hands. Duo keeps laughing at me saying I think too much, but he knows what he's doing, he doesn't have anything to worry about.
How do I know he's experienced other than a few personal encounters? Well, before we started being a couple we were roommates, and I knew what kind of noises came from his room during dates. I've made breakfast for most of the people in there with him and hardly any of them seemed unsatisfied. I can't say I wasn't a little jealous, but at the same time I couldn't bring myself to simply jump into bed with him because I had no idea what to do. The mechanics aren't something I have questions about, it's the.ascetics of the act; the kissing and touching, the little things that make everything even more enjoyable. I have a few more months of research before I can even think about trying oral sex.
Duo's been really patient about all my inadequacies. We've discussed it several times. If things become too frustrating for him, he borrows some of my "research materials" to relieve the tension. I'm not quite sure why he's waiting around for me, and I'm a little scared to ask. I don't want to find out that he's just staying with me so our friendship isn't ruined, because that isn't the case with me. I hope that it isn't because what we have is comfortable and easy. What I have with him means so much more than that. Exactly what, I couldn't say, but definitely more than comfort and friendship. I wouldn't have waited nineteen months to move anything to the next level if it didn't.
The problem is, I've been out here for an hour and am not any closer to coming up with a solution for my problem than I was this morning before work. Duo should be home by now. Hell, he's probably watching me from his spot by the window, but I'm not ready to go in yet. There's still a load of bingo balls shifting around in my stomach. I really have no reason to be nervous; it's not like he'll tell me to go to hell. This isn't a big thing, but it is. It's just sharing a bed. Inviting him to stay in my space, the space that's been mine for the last four years. Every other place in the apartment has elements of him in them, except my room, and even in there Duo's had an influence. I keep all those books that he gave me during the war in my nightstand. He found them once and got another of those smiles that make my knees give out. I think he was pleased.
A large drop of water darkens the concrete next to me and I look at it thoughtfully. That's how the rain here starts when the amount of moisture in the air is zero. Big, heavy drops. And you know all the thinking I've done hasn't helped me out much, but then again it has. Maybe the rain's a sign that the time is finally right, that everything I'm worrying about is nothing more than nonsense. But I still don't have a plan of attack and I'm not going in without one. Although if I wait too much longer, I'm going to be soaked when I do finally return to the apartment. Hell, if I leave now I'm still going to be wet. Maybe Duo's usual plan will work better; just go with the flow and hope everything works out. I just hope my luck holds true.
I think I'm wet to my underwear, but at least I'm home in the nice warm apartment and something smells really good. Duo must have gotten his weekly pound of coffee. There are defiantly perks to living with a Starbucks barista.
That job started as work to get him by until something better came along. It paid and was just up the street. Seeing as he didn't have a car that was a very important component. Then he discovered that it was something oddly fulfilling and enjoyable. It was nice to see him come home from a day of work tired but excited, especially after all those weeks of just going to his job and coming home without anything piquing his interest. And yes it took some wheedling just to get him to apply. He kept making comments about the evils of designer coffee up until he was through coffee school. Yes, Starbucks has coffee school to teach their "associates" how to make the universally identical drinks. It wasn't until his first day was over that he warmed up to the idea of a life in food service sector, that and he could wear black to work.
"Hey Yuy, you're dripping on the floor, go get cleaned up." I knew he'd be sitting in the window seat, he loves watching the rain, but I didn't expect him to be wearing black slacks and a white shirt. No matter what he thinks, he looks good in white. He thinks it makes him look pale, but it brings out his eyes. "And don't you even think about it, buddy boy. I'm warm and dry so you get your soggy butt into your bedroom and put on something dry before you dare come over here, but when you're done I expect a hello kiss and make it a good one 'cause I brought home breakfast."
Yet another Starbucks perk: free pastries. I'm surprised we don't get fat off of the cheap lattes and muffins. They don't come in low fat, low calorie.
I didn't notice the music when first walked in, but KGON[11] was playing softly. Duo has a thing for classic rock; not that I mind. There's something about the beat I relate to on a base level and occasionally the whiny but poignant lyrics strike a cord in me, but usually I just write it off as Duo music; unless he's singing, then I listen intently, although I never show it. Wouldn't want him to get an inflated ego or anything.
I do remember the first time I heard the song. I was picking Duo up from work one night and it was playing on one of those evil Starbucks mixes, that month they happened to be trying to sell a genre of classic rock called alternative. I'm not sure what that music is an alternative to, but that's what they call it. I remember taking note of the song as I sipped on my drink, which I'm still not sure what it was but it didn't taste bad, when Duo and Janey, his co-worker, started singing along. I suppose after hearing the same thing thirty odd songs repetitively for weeks they could learn the words to them all, but something about this one in particular really caught me. Hell I even think about him every time the stupid thing plays.
"I will buy you a garden where you're flowers can bloom," And yes, I do sometimes sing along. I actually like the blasted song.[12]
Changing is an uneventful thing. At least I have a few pairs of clean jeans left, but we have to do laundry soon. I'm running out of underwear and although I could go without, I'd prefer not to. I've gotten accustomed to having that third layer of clothing in case Duo gets a little out of hand. Although socks, we've both decided, are something that we can do without, at least inside the house. It has nice carpet, which feels wonderful between toes.
This time I remember to empty the pockets of my cargo pants. I wouldn't want to lose another bus pass because it went though the wash. Besides, I need to dry out the rest of my money. There's nothing worse then paying for lunch with soggy bills, except for not having any bills because you forgot your wallet at home. As for the bus pass.well Duo doesn't work as close anymore.
It all happened when he got offered a couple hours at a different store about fifteen minutes away because one of their shift leaders quit with no notice. So he went, not because he needed the money but because he was bored; only Duo would go to work because he has nothing better to do.
Even though it deprived me his company for dinner, everything turned out for the best. He was offered a promotion, which meant a full-time position and a nice pay raise. So that temporary job making designer coffee turned into something close to a career. The problems with the job is the commute and the community. The road from Lake Oswego to Portland is winding and only two lanes, which no one seems to want to drive the speed limit on.
Lake Oswego is an interesting part of the metro area. Unlike the city proper, the population around this man-made lake has the same attitude as most of the people in Seattle, they're nice because it's assumed that they will be. For the most part, they are self-important, thinking they should get special treatment just because they have a little money. Some of them are elitists, and they give a bad name to the entire community. I heard the place referred to as "Lake Osewer" or "Lake No Negro," but for that really is hold over from earlier times. The whole attitude is decent, although the occasional pseudo-socialite does manage to make their way into the mix and ruin everything. It is a façade though, and easy to see through. The odd thing is they believe in it; they actually believe in their masks. It's just bizarre.
The first thing I notice as I walk out of my bedroom is that he's still staring out the window. It's times like this that I think there's something more going on then just random kissing and the occasional dates. At least it makes the thought of spending the night together sound more.enticing, especially with that white shirt.
No, no thoughts about sex, at least not right now. Fuck, all I need is more masturbation fodder at a time when I'm trying to not spend the night alone.
"Nice and dry now?"
"Yes."
"Comfortable again?"
"Yes."
"Good." He still hasn't looked away from the window. The parking lot lights glow off his skin and reflect in his eyes. Oh, he looks good. "By the way, Janey sent a thank you present for getting rid of that worm she had."
"She didn't need."
"Yeah but that would have cost her an arm and leg to take in and debug. Besides she wanted to suck up to the little boss' boyfriend. It's on the shelf over there. It's amazing she actually found one that you haven't read." I smile as I move to the shelf, the second case to the right as usual, where the blue paperback is lying on its side. Janey likes to call Duo the 'little boss' because he's shorter then her. Of course, she's a massive woman, the kind you need to climb to conquer.
"You helped with it also."
"Yeah, but you did most of it. I didn't have the time to help that much, so I let you take all the credit. It's not like I won't get to enjoy it too, unless you feel like hogging it the first time through." The Phantom Tollbooth; I haven't even heard of it before. I hope it's good.
"No, we'll read it after we finish The BFG.did you just call me your boyfriend?"
"Well.not really.that's just what Janey said."
"Oh. Okay." Shit.
"But I'm not averse to the using that title. In fact I kind of like it if.Did you just say something?"
Let's take that back. No shit. Not bad. All good. "Nothing important."
"You sure? Because I can shut up and le."
The living room isn't that big, it's an apartment after all, but I crossed it in half the normal time and.shut him up. He said he wanted a welcome home kiss, and I am giving him one he won't forget. I might not forget it either. He smells like he always does after work, a mixture of Duo and espresso, and he tastes like sweet and wet drip coffee[13]. It's the blend I like too, although I never can remember the name. It's smooth but has that extra little hint of bitterness that mixes well with sugar.
This kiss doesn't break, it ends, slowly. I know he understands why I did it from that smug bastard smile on his face and the light fingers tracing along my cheek. That kiss left me looking for something more solid for support than my legs, but his cup of coffee is still in the same position and not a drop has spilled. I guess I need more practice.
"So you like the title boyfriend?" he asks, that damn smile not leaving his face.
"Yes." I reply laying my head in his thigh as I slip onto the cushions he's abandoned for the sill. The fingers on my cheek thread up into my still damp hair.
"You're going to get my pants wet." Not moving my head, I look up at him trying to say how not amused I am with that comment. "Okay Tin Man, I get the picture. Sheesh, you think a boyfriend would be more considerate." I huff in response. He's really one to talk.
I know he's just using the word to reassure me. My thoughts are an open book to him these days; hell sometimes I think he can get into my head and carry out conversations. This time he's saying, "God Heero what did you think we were? Friends with benefits? You don't just kiss with a person for a year-and-a-half without being in a relationship. Hell, we even date. We've talked about having sex for Christ's sake. If that doesn't constitute boyfriend status, I don't know what does." Yes, my logic and consciousness has taken on the voice of my significant other and it doesn't bother me one bit.
He just sighed. Not the 'I'm frustrated that there isn't something more' kind of sigh, but the kind you do when you're happily petting a cat after a long day or sliding into a warm bathtub when the rain has soaked into your bones or after that first sip of coffee on a cold morning.
"Did you eat dinner yet?" he says softly.
"No, did you?"
"Yeah. Are you planning to?"
"Maybe."
"Heero you need to.Never mind, I'm not in the mood to fight with you."
"Good."
"I brought some videos home for tomorrow." One of our rare mutual days off.
"Okay."
"But don't forget we need to clean."
"Aa."
"Because Quatre and Trowa are going to be here on Wednesday."
"Aa."
"And we still need to go get a hide-a-bed."
"Or a futon."
"We're still discussing that, oh wondrous boyfriend of mine."
"Aa."
"And don't forget that you're taking me into OMSI before it opens on Monday."
"Nani?" I ask in mock horror. We have a date for him to see the simulator, which I haven't forgotten about.
"Bastard," he says with a playful swat to my head. "You just don't want me to kick the ass out of your Gundam."
"In your dreams Maxwell." I have more recent practice than him and he knows it.
"Just give me a few Tauruses and a couple mobile dolls and I can wipe the screen with you."
"Hn. We'll see."
That's the only effective way to end that particular conversation. We both know he's the better pilot; I told him so during the Marimia incident, but it doesn't mean that I'll concede until we fight. It's only fair.
Then it's quiet again. The comfortable quiet that seems to permeate our relationship. There's no need to fill this kind of silence, just cherish it. Then again, I'm not done talking. There's still something that needs to be said and it deals with that futon/hide-a-bed issue.
"Duo, how would you feel about changing our routine tonight?" I can smell where his thoughts went with that one.
"What kind of change?" he asked tentatively. At least he still has presence of mind enough to be timid about this.
"I thought that maybe we could read in my room tonight."
"Oh." That isn't the reaction I was expecting especially with a disappointed tone. Duo, you know I'd offer more if I could, but you'd be disappointed with me right now.
"And then maybe you could.sleep over?" At least that made him laugh.
"And just sleep?'
"Yes."
"Only if you eat dinner, Tin Man."
"Ryokai."
The End
1. I-Core, this intelligence center for the American army, is located in Tacoma, Washington, just south of Seattle.
2. If you haven't seen it, yes this happens, even when the store has on outside box.
3. Mount St. Helen's national park. It's large, with several parking lots scattered about different observation points in the park.
4. MAX (Metropolitan Area Express) is the light rail system that Portland's developed.
5. Powell's Book Store is a Portland tourist attraction. It's the largest book store west of the Mississippi with four stories in total (at the main store) and books on every imaginable topic (they even have Japanese manga).
6. Episode 12. This conversation takes place between episodes 14 and 17.
7. Respectively, Alice in Wonderland and The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.
8. Bad Peter Pan reference (if you didn't get that from the title).
9. Oregon Museum of Science and Industry.
10. In order: Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, Harry Potter and the whatever, and the Ramona books (yes a girl's series, but I think he'd like them).
11. KGON is Portland's classic rock station. It's been around for almost thirty years now (as the same station) so it'll survive the second coming. KGON is as much Portland as rain and Everclear are.
12. For those of you who don't know, the song is "I Will Buy You a New Life" by the aforementioned Everclear.
13. In case you don't know, sweet and wet are both coffee terms. Sweet, naturally, means with sugar or sweetener. Wet means with cream or milk.