Dreams of Bliss

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Author's Notes: I came up with this a few nights ago. I hope that you guys like it.

Rating For This Chapter: R

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"Heero, damnit, get off the damned computer, already!" Duo said, rolling over on his bed, looking at the Wing Pilot, who was still typing away, staring at the monitor.

"Hn."

"You know, some of us are trying to sleep clunk-head!" He yelled, throwing a pillow at the back of Heero's head.

He caught it in mid-air, and dropped it, all without stopping the clickity-clack of his typing. "duo, if it bothers you so much, then why don't you go sleep on the couch, or in Wufei's room?" He asked in his monotonous voice.

Duo sighted, "I can't sleep in his room! He has this "American-phoobia or hatred or something. He'll kill me!" He then rolled over, and picked up a gun from underneath his bed, taking a quick glance at the clock before turning back around. "Get off of that thing now, or I will put it permanently out of commission."

"Do that Maxwell, and see what happens."

-BANG-

The monitor fell apart, landing on Heero's hands, though he didn't move, or make a noise when it hit. Turning his head, he looked at the Deathscythe pilot, boring a hole into him with his glare.

Smirking behind the barrel of the gun, Duo eyed him. "Now what, Mr. Perfect? You can't type anymore...now what are you going to-"

He was cut off by a sharp punch to his face, knocking him back on the bed with a fierce blow, the Wing piolot on top of him in a second, banging his hand against the headboard to unarm him.

"Heero...ow! What the fuck?"

The gun clattered to the floor, as the braided one felt his arms being pinned above his head. 'Shit...' he thought, as Heero's ice-cold eyes looked into his. They seemed...not human...mechanical. "...Heero...let go..." He said quietly, moving his wrists slightly in Heero's iron grip.

"I'll decide what I'm going to do, Maxwell...you broke my computer..." Heero looked him over, and put both his wrists in one of his hands, taking the other one, and moving it down the other's chest.

"Fuck your computer, Heero! Let me go, you fucker!" Duo exclamed, squirming frantically. "Get the hell off me!"

A crack sounded as Heero slapped him in the face...hard. It felt like his eye was going to explode. "Shut up, baka...you shouldn 't have tempted me." Grabbing his throat, he squeezed, making Duo cough, and strugle harder against him.

"Heero...I'm sorry...get off..." He said between coughs, struggling, his eyes sparkling with fear in the dark. What the hell was he doing? Smirking, Heero squeezed tighter, pushing his face closer to Duo's. Then, to the other's astonishment, he betgan to press his leips to Duo's slowly, then harder, his tongue beginning to flick inside...

~*~

Beep...beep...beep...beep..beep...bee--

Opening his eyes, Duo shut the clock off, pearing up at the ceiling, and sighed. He could still feel Heero's hands on his wrists, his mouth against his own...his taste...

These dreams had been coming to him about once a week. They always had elements of fear in them, and they were always about Heero. He looked fromt he ceiling over to the other bed in the room. Sure enough, the Wing pilot had already got up, made his bed, (perfectly, he though) and left the room. Yawning, he got up, and padded to the ajoined bathroom, looking in the mirror.

"Hey handsome." He said with a smirk, reaching for the brush. He looked bedraggled, his hair a mess. He had to fix this before going downstairs, where he could already smell coffee brewing.

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Heero sipped on his coffee, looking down at the paper in his hand. The headline read, "Gundam Pilots Still At Large". The article was a bit interesting, but the paper was from Oz....he knew it, because it kept referring to it's employees as "Our Personelle." That was their code-word for themselves. Apparently they thought that the Gundam's were a menace that should be stopped, and were enlisting volunteers to work for them. "Pathetic..." Heero thought, as he turned the page.

The sound of showering came through from upstairs. "Must be Duo..." Heero thought, as he scanned the rest of the pages of the magazine, and took another sip of his coffee. He always drank it black...Duo, on the other hand, always drank it black with heaps of sugar. This always made him hyper-er than hell, but he always insisted that it helped him with the missions, so Heero didn't complain. He had made the beverage extra-strong this morning. Unlike Duo, Heero didn't actually need to have coffee to function, but he did enjoy the hot, earthy drink in the morning...especially if there was no time for breakfast. It was Duo's turn to make breakfast this morning...though he was already up and in the kitchen. They took turns, because, in Heero's point of view, it was more efficient, and quicker for each of them to take a turn. They had been living together for about a week, him, Duo, and the rest of the pilots, and they all took turns...The rest of them weren't up yet, of course...but it was still nice to know that someone else was there if he should need help with one of the missions, or something. They hadn't had a mission in about a week, and were getting a bit restless, feeling a bit useless in this safehouse. There had to be more to do in this war...though it seemed that they were being made out to be the bad guys in it. Sighing with his thoughts, he took another sip of coffee, hearing the shower turn off. In a few moments Duo would be downstairs, looking for his coffee. Folding the paper, he got up, and fixed his fellow pilot's cup, placing it in front of his usual chair, and began to fix everyone else's cup as well...if they weren't up by the time it became cold, it was their lookout, and they could always microwave it if they wished it hotter. Going back to his chair, he picked up the paper again, beginning to scan over it once more, leaning back in his chair.

~*~

Whistling, Duo brushed his hair out once more, and began to braid it, his hands working quickly, as he gazed in the mirror. He was still naked, letting himself air-dry. He always did this as he would fix his hair...it made him feel...natural...sort of. Smirking, he admired himself in the reflection. Yes, he was a bit vain, but, hey, when you looked this good, why shouldn't you be vain? Tying his braid off, he went to his and Heero's room to look for some clothing to put on, still whistling to himself, a random tune. Finding a black tank-top, and some black cargo pants, he put them on, then sat on the bed to tie up his shoes, his braid falling over his shoulder to the floor. Straightening, he flipped his hair back behind him, and sauntered out the door, grabbing the edge of the railing, and sliding down it, seeing Heero. "Hey-yah, Hee-chan!"

"Hn."

Sliding into his seat, he took his coffee, and gulped it down. "Hey, that was good! I think I'll get some more!" He said happily, as he stood up, and went over to the machine, pouring himself another cup. "So, did you sleep good?"

"Hn. You kept tossing and turning, keeping me up."

"Oh, sorry, man, must've been dreaming." He said, his face flushing softly, as he sat back down. "So, who's turn is it to fix breakfast this time?"

"Your's, baka."

"Great."

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TBC