Title: Maximum Pulse
Author: Switchblade003 Sanyu-Kumiko (Collaboration)
Chapter 7: Pretty Braided Bedbugs
Status: Complete; open to revision.

Something was snoring like a buzzsaw, and it wasn't him.

Hiirou groaned, rolling over and slapping blindly at his alarm clock, and after he pulled his head out from under his pillow he realized that the noise wasn't coming from his nightstand. It was coming from the other side of his head, and he rolled over to investigate. In the mid-morning sunlight shoving its way through his closed windows, he found himself staring at the sleeping countenance of his best friend.

Under normal circumstances, he probably would have pushed the boy out of his bed and then demanded upon pain of death that he leave immediately, but after he remembered what had happened the night before, he decided that it might not hurt to let him sleep a little bit longer. Once the idiot woke up, he'd yell at him for not being able to hold his liquor, but for now, he was content to watch him sleep.

"Hiirou, you're losing your edge," he muttered to himself, and then sighed. Hugging his pillow under him, he lay in the warmth of his sheets and mused on the past few days. His life had been growing steadily more complicated, and while he wasn't all too comfortable with that, there wasn't entirely much that he could do to stop it. That was the wonder of having friends, he supposed.

His relationship with the Changs was pretty simple. He worked for them, and in exchange they gave him money and a place to sleep at night. He was closer to Wufei than Meiran, but that probably had something to do with their similar personalities. Quatre was pretty much the same. He'd only known the kid for a few days, and while he seemed genuinely kind, he hadn't earned Hiirou's trust yet.

Duo, on the other hand...

He'd spent so long constructing walls around himself, barricades so high and thick that most people gave up after a while, and while he'd been so preoccupied trying to keep Meiran and Wufei and the girls out of his heart, Duo had managed to chip away at his shields and slip in undetected. When he'd shown up, he hadn't regarded the boy as a threat, really. His biggest and perhaps best mistake had been in underestimating the power of stupidity.

The mechanic was the complication, he supposed. There was so much tension between them--personally, professionally, sexually... Most of the time he could ignore the American, or pretend that he wasn't listening to his inane chatter, but there were times like yesterday when he wanted to listen, wanted to help. Hiirou, however, was very aware of his shortcomings, and they included basic interactions with others. As much as he wanted to be an emotional support for Duo at times, he knew that the mechanic was going to need someone a lot more expressive and outwardly sympathetic than himself.

That knowledge bothered him. As he watched the boy's chest rise and fall under his sheet, he frowned. "What are you doing to me?" he murmured, and he almost expected the youth to answer. When Duo failed to repond, Hiirou frowned.

Physical affection was another of his shortcomings. He could hit people easily, lash out in anger or defense, shout and curse, but being gentle with someone... He'd probably never hugged another person since his parents had died five years ago. It wasn't something that he was naturally inclined to do, and it was frustrating. He had hormones, and impulses, thoughts, just like any of his peers. Hiirou's problem was in acting upon them.

The Japanese youth rolled onto his stomach, propping himself up on his hands over the boy in his bed, and he gazed down at Duo silently. His ponytail had come undone sometime over the course of last night, and his long chestnut-brown hair was everywhere, contrasting against the immaculate white of Hiirou's sheets, practically glowing in the renegade sunlight that had snuck in through the mini-blinds. He had long eyelashes, as well, and Hiirou wondered briefly it was a coincidence. He cocked his head to the side, studying the boy. Duo was so much more aesthetically pleasing while sleeping. His words took attention away from his features, and it was a shame.

The mechanic was really a handsome guy. His features, despite outward suggestion, weren't too effiminate. Duo was about as masculine as they came, but he still retained some random and unplacable boyish qualities that caught Hiirou's eye, and held it. He didn't bother trying to stop himself from running his fingers down the side of the American's face, or tracing the still contours of his lips. It was a rare opportunity that Duo held still for this long, and he was going to take advantage of it.

About ten minutes into his physical exploration of his friend, something loud echoed up from the kitchen, and the boy jumped in his sleep. Hiirou froze. Then, without delay, one irritated violet eye squinted open, and after a moment of focusing, Duo groaned loudly. "Please tell me that I didn't get drunk and have sex with you."

Hiirou stifled a laugh. He had expected anything but that odd comment. "You didn't get drunk and have sex with me," he reassured, monotone, and Duo chuckled, his voice low and thick with drowsiness. He reached up with both arms and slung them lazily around Hiirou's bare waist, pulling the other youth down on top of him.

"Good," he mumbled, burying his face in the side of the delivery boy's neck to escape the sunlight. Hiirou decided that he sounded half-disappointed. "But I did get drunk." After a few minutes of silence, he peeked up from his hiding place to look at his comrade. "I have a brilliant hangover, right now," he announced.

It was Hiirou's turn to chuckle. "Serves you right. You drank enough to kill a small kindergarten class."

Duo shrugged weakly, yawning, then wincing at the motion. "Don't whisper so loud. It hurts."

"You sound pathetic," Hiirou breathed into his ear, watching the volume of his voice, and buried a hand in the boy's thick hair, rubbing circles into his scalp. Duo relaxed underneath him, and he propped his chin up on one hand, mulling over the events of the past evening.

He remembered the garage assholes showing up and ruining his night. He recounted punching a few people, and then that damned cop. And he was struck with something that he'd heard Duo mumble, about 'slow-assed cops'...

"Duo, do you remember anything that happened last night?" It was a long shot, but he had nothing else to go on.

The mechanic frowned, arching into his touch subtley. "Yeah, I 'member gettin' into a fight with the bastards from uptown..." he trailed off, and Hiirou prompted him with a nudge. "And that cop. I think I've seen him before."

So he did remember the illustrious Officer Merquise. "Hey, wait a minute." The American's eyes sprang open, and he hissed as the light hit them, squeezing them closed once more. "That's the same damned cop that pulled me over and then took off after Wufei at the last race."

Recognition hit Hiirou like a ton of bricks. That cop was the same one that had tailed him during his second race. He hadn't been reading too much into it! That asshole had his tags, his make and model, and a physical description of both he and Duo...

The delivery boy slammed his fist into the pillow beside his friend's head and groaned. They were so royally fucked.

"Duo, we've got a serious problem on our hands."

0334AMEST30Oct04