Author: LoveyouHateyou
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Rating: NC-15/M
Pairings: Duo + Heero (2+1+2)
Warnings: Swearing. Duo at least is doing quite a bit of this, he just can't help it. References to yaoi, of course.
Disclaimer:I do not own them although I would like that. Especially Duo who is clearly mad, and Heero who can be so tender. All rights with their original owners.
Spoilers: None.
Summary: What happens when the shields come down: the world is full of surprises for Heero in particular, and Duo can be quite an armful.
xxx
What is it with me? Duo has me unsettled and I wonder whether he knows it; he may be superficial most of the time but now that I know what to look for, I catch him observing, watching from behind his silly laugh and bright eyes. He has pretty eyes. No, wrong, they are beautiful, colour changing like the sea, or the sky during a storm. If he knew that he is my inspiration for poetry, I would be sport.
He still annoys me for if I somehow expected that all of a sudden the world had changed and this change was to include Duo Maxwell reformed, I was sorely mistaken. He is as messy and undisciplined as ever, and the initial rush of warmth is wearing off. I did plan on being more patient, gods help me, but he is not making it easy. Nothing is ever easy with Duo.
For some reason, I find it soothing to watch him eat. Not that it is a nice sight, with him stuffing his face in a hurry and gulping down a coke or two - just to keep him hyper, I suppose - but at least I know he has filled his stomach and can handle himself. I have not had another opportunity to touch his hair again, and boy, I am itching to do just that.
"Clear the dishes," I growl over my shoulder. No need to see him rushing up and out without looking back, I just know he needs reminding. Those last few weeks, after I moved him back into our room, have been an eye opener. I learned things about him that fascinate me, and things about myself that have me stunned.
I like him around.
How is that for a change? I want silence and go out of my way to hear his relentless chattering, need a break and go sparring with him, want to weave my fingers through his hair and...
What should I do about this?
xxx
Heero gives me the eye. Okay, I will clear the damn dishes, and I am makin' a fuckin' hard effort to be more tidy and wash and all this. I'll be blasted if he isn't sorta motherin' me, and all I want is to bowl him over and... oh, well, that is somethingI shouldn't even be thinking – he might pry open my brain with this glare of his, and then I'm toast.
He shouldn't be prancing around with nothing on but his shorts. It bothers me. Hell, yeah, it bothers me lots; my sheets get sticky at night an' the whole shit's going on my nerves. I've not gone looking for this, but how can I stop dreams? And I can't deny them, they pounce at me and they're much better than my usual nightmares, stuff him.
"Duo, get your clothes washed, will you?"
He's wearing thin, though he's made an effort to be patient, but then so have I. We're still grating, there's no getting away from it, we're just way too different, and how could a few weeks of confusion change a lifetime of habits good 'n bad.
He doesn't even bother to stop typing as he goes on, "And remember there's a seminar this afternoon. Don't oversleep."
Not 'try to be there', or 'should I fetch you'. No, he orders me around. 'Do this, do that, move your ass, shut up...' Whoah, he hasn't said that for a while; not since I had the good grace to collapse in fronta him if I'm thinking about it. It still pisses me off to think he's asked Wu to shove me back out, like some parcel to be passed around, but I do like hanging about where he is, so I swallow my pride on that one. Let him lead for now and watch where he's taking us. Me and himself.
"Yeah, yeah, what else?"
"Do your hair. You look like a scarecrow."
That gets me. "Man, Yuy, ain't I ever gonna be good enough for you?" And hell will freeze over that instant because he stops hammering about on his bloody laptop and gives me another eyeful. He looks... shocked. Yeah. "Whatcha starin' at now?"
He sets the machine aside on the floor and rises, his eyes never leaving me, his face dark, mouth hard and unsmiling. I reckon I asked for it, and he's going to whack me now. Ouch. I have the wall to my back and would much rather melt through it, like folk in those silly old SciFi flicks, but of course it's not happening. What does happen is his hand reaching up and touching... almost. Stopping short from touching, hovering over my braid before he drops his arm and says, matter-of-factly, "I could not ask for a better partner."
xxx
Duo is thrown now, his eyes growing huge, his smile as well, from ear to ear, freckles dancing on his nose. I am unable to return it, instead try to hide my relief. Why can I not be easier with such things, like him who never bothers to hold back with how he feels? It annoys me, as always.
"Now get going, will you?" I say gruffly. "You're a great pilot but rubbish with timekeeping."
His smile just drops, extinguished, wiped out, and I realise something new and stunning: I can play him like a piano. I never had anyone respond to me so readily, so... depending on what mood I show if any. There cannot be many reasons for this, and the ones I can imagine are all the wrong ones. Despite myself, it makes me tingle. "Hell, yeah," he all but whispers and pushes away from the wall. "I am trash alright."
I am in his path, but he does make no motion to sidestep me; I do not see why I should budge. Yet suddenly I want his smile back, if I only knew how, but thinking was not involved when I lean into him, grab his shoulder and feel his bony frame drape against me for a breathless moment. His eyes are nearly popping from his face, his lips parted in a soundless 'oh'; for all it is worth, he looks as though he would be kissing me any moment.
All I can feel is wonder, and that shocks me once it seeps through to my mind. I remember sharply how his hair felt between my fingers, how light he was in my arms, and how he clung to me in this embrace he had haggled out of me. There is no getting away from it: he felt good.
What am I supposed to do now?
xxx
Heero looks a bit lost, his eyes downcast, lips pale. He needs help now, ne? So I'm gonna give it to him. "Heero?"
"Hn."
His hand heavily on my shoulder, the Perfect Soldier makes no move whatsoever. He is frozen to the spot. So I do what seems logical and simple. He closes his eyes when my lips touch his. He refuses to witness what he probably classes as his defeat, and I will be decked any second, right?
His hand slides down my arm and comes to rest on my wrist, his fingers pressing a little into my flesh, against my pulse. "What is this?" he murmurs, bewildered.
"My hand," I offer nervously, trying not to blurt out 'my soul, stupid, my heart, my everthing.' He has hit me hard, and I bet he doesn't even realise.
He looks up at me, searching my face, biting his lip. "I know that."
"Then why d'you ask?" My damn tongue, sharp and way too quick for my thinking, as always.
He drops my hand and steps back onto familiar territory, anger flashing in his eyes, a flush on his cheeks that deepens as he probably analyses and finds he has lost his composure, his upper hand, his oh-so precious cool. Serves him bloody right for once, though it wasn't entirely my plan, and he's never going to admit it. Still, I'm not gonna complain about the way this goes.
Whatever gave me the nerve to go after him that moment, before he could find time for a nasty retort? To wrap my hands boldly round the back of his neck and pull him into another kiss, a proper one this time, long and deep and wet, with smacking little noises and all. Kiss the Perfect Soldier and die sweetly, Shinigami. I hate his guts, ne? But he is a damn good kisser. He might be startled, yet he tangles back, even now trying to keep the lead, to hang on without accepting he's been taken unawares.
Oh, I'd like that very much, thinking about it, the stuff I've been dreamin' about recently does include takin' him alright.
Wonder what he'd say 'bout that.
xxx
Duo is always good for a surprise, and he caught me out big time. He has a strange gleam in his eyes, there is no shyness about him, and here I almost thought I would spook him. Does he swing this way? And what is it with me? Have we merely been too close for too long? I heard about these things, but they should not happen to Perfect Soldiers, right?
He has the boldness to cup my face between his thin hands and hover over me, the tip of his nose touching mine lightly, his breath mingling with mine. I have to tilt my head back somewhat because he is that annoying tad taller, and yes, it does seem to amuse him for I can spot the sparks dancing in his eyes as he stares into mine.
"Yuy, you don't know whatcha doin'."
Now he is so right, but there is the slightest twang of worry to his light tone. "Whatever." Can I not do better? For some reason, my mind does not work straight right now.
His voice softens, like his gaze, his entire being. "Whatcha want, huh?"
If I knew that, I would be better off. I would be in control.
"Want this?" His eyes glaze over as he dares to plant another kiss on my mouth, but he keeps them open, watching me like a hawk, slightly greedy, and deep down a bit uneasy, but his kiss floods me with warmth and confusion.
"No? Then tell me to stop it," he pants softly, breaking away reluctantly. Instead, my arms end up round his waist, my hands on his rear and fishing for the end of his braid. Unforgivable; I have lost my bearings, and worse, I like it...
"Stop it," I mumble, unprepared for what happens next: he bursts away, stumbles against the wall and bounces back the same instant, whizzing past me and out of the door that slams shut behind him.
Why did I say that? Why do I have to hurt him?
There are not many things that would scare me. I now have to include Duo in this category, and not only when he is in battle mode.
xxx
Heero Yuy sucks. Nothin' ventured, nothin' gained, or somethin' like that usually works for me. Sometimes it falls down though, this being one o'them. He thrashed me big time by saying two fuckin' words, and he didn't even have to raise his voice. Hell, it hurts: where he's been a prat before he's now really getting me. It was a mistake to move back in with him, yeah, yeah, shoulda known, blah blah, and now I'm on the run from him, from myself. The hangar will do just fine as a refuge. It's my hide-out.
Delving into Deathscythe helps, diggin' into its innards is like creeping away from my own. It's such a fine day outside, I've left the hangar gates open for the sun to shine into the dusky hall and it's doing me the favour nicely.
If only I weren't such a silly sucker for a bit of kindness. I don't need it, made my way without it alright, I'm tough enough to cope, so what? Heero Yuy is not that special, is he? True, he hasn't graced anyone with his particular attention before, not to my knowledge and I'm pretty good at observing, but I'm his team mate after all, so it doesn't mean anything. It doesn't. So get a life, boy.
I'll have to climb into the machine to get to the hydraulics pump for the left leg that I meant to check over. The mechanics come askin' me to help when that kinda job's on the books 'cos I'm so thin I can slip into places they can't reach without dismantling a good deal of armour plating and other parts. They don't care 'bout school anymore than I do, and look, they know their stuff.
The plating feels cool and smooth; I always imagine his hair feeling just like that – it has this bluish gloss, like burnished steel. Oh man, focus now, loosen this bolt, take washer off, find lever for pressure valve, watch gauge go to zilch... It wouldn't do to get shot at with pressurised hyd liquid, it burns like hell on your skin and when it gets into your eyes. It's almost there, so I give the tap on the tank an impatient twist.
Whack.
xxx
I knew Duo would not turn up, not after storming off in a huff. He is not going to get away with skipping class, however. We are a team; he needs to grasp that I want to rely on him. That I do. Need him. So I walk from the Training Centre through the summery park to the field with the launch pads and the hangar.
There is this rumbling and clatter of heavy stuff falling in the hall – gate wide open, that can only mean he is here, don't I know him rather well...
I can smell the reek of blood before I see it, spattered all over the concrete at the foot of Deathscythe. And there he lies like a broken doll among scattered tools and parts; the raised platform of the maintenance lift has a dent in its bannister – it is not difficult to guess that he has plummeted from there onto the hard floor deep below. He is sprawled in a spreading pool of his own congealing blood, engine oil and hyd liquid, and he does not respond when I pull up his eyelid. His braid is caked with blood, and he lies so very still, his limbs twisted at strange angles.
I thought I was yelling into the intercom console, but all I manage is a croaking noise, "Paramedics to the hangar, now!" Pilot down. How often have we said, heard this during battle? Why does it mean something very different now? Why does it burn through me with a force that nearly chokes me? Why can't I control my shaking hands?
I do not dare moving him but know where I can touch him and where not, so I stroke his back, his braid, one of his arms that seems sound, and a tiny whimper floats from his open lips as I keep chanting, "Hang on in there, Duo. Hang on, for heaven's sake. I need my partner."
xxx
"Duo? Hey, Maxwell, open your eyes!"
Heero Yuy cannot help barking commands at me. I'm his scratchtoy. My head hurts, and I wish he'd leave me the fuck alone. There is so much noise around me, it is pounding in my temples as something clatters, blackness falls, a rain of coldness and steel batters me, I'm tumbling and falling and then the light's out. No, really out, I can't see even as I try to drag my eyes open 'cos he's ordering me around again. Okay, he's my team leader after all, so I better... oh, that hurt, burns, hell what happened?
"Seems you didn't wait for the pressure to go down entirely." He sounds disapproving. So now I'm no good at that either. "It could have happened to anyone though," he goes on. Did he say this? "Apparently the gauge was faulty. I didn't think you'd make such a mistake anyway."
I wouldn't!
"That's what I just said." His hand alights on my brow to wipe away sweat and damp hair, a sparse gesture but knowing Heero Yuy I can place it – it's mindboggling and my head sure is about to explode. "Because you're the best at this kind of work."
Acknowledgement, from him. I must have died and gone to Heaven.
And suddenly his face hovers above mine, his eyes dark and narrow with something damn close to pain, his breath puffing against my mouth. "You idiot," he chokes. "You fell all the way from the platform, a storey above the ground, all your damn tools raining down on top of you, what were you doing? The paramedics said you must have been lying in your blood for a couple of hours before I found you, and lucky I wanted to fetch your sorry ass for a lesson."
His words are not nice, but his tone doesn't match them; it's soft and anxious.
He presses his cheek against mine, his breath tickling my ear. "Damn you, Maxwell, but you're doing something to me and I have no clue what to do about it." Blunt as always. Heero Yuy isn't fond of subtleties, they cost time and effort, something he doesn't usually spare for personal matters. Suits me fine 'cos I only wanna hug him close and get another taste of him, sod his stupidity before. Come to think about it, he probably doesn't know any better, and if he did, he couldn't help it anyway. Hell, I don't harbour grudges; I'm greater than that.
I cannot lift my arm, and I am pinned to the bed and motionless. "Plastercast," he mumbles, sensing my twitching. He must be on his knees by my bedside for his hand to hold mine so tightly and his dark head resting in the crook of my neck now. Heero Yuy on his knees for me, and his voice an irritated, soft drawl in my ear, "Just stay still, baka, and heal."
I'll do my level best, and then you wait.
xxx
I think I got a bit cross with the paramedics when they wanted to shear off Duo's braid to bandage his head. In the end they merely shaved the patch on his skull that needed stitches. I thought he might have joked around 'where there's a will, you'll find a fuckin' way too'. How true. I would not have struggled had it been my own hair; I am used to follow orders and submit to necessity.
Perhaps that is not always a good idea.
Wufei kindly offered to share lecture notes with me and jot down whatever important things come up in the seminar. I cannot concentrate and tend to spend more time in the sickbay than elsewhere these days. Given, I take the textbooks along, but they will sit on his nightstand unread while I watch him. Sedated, sleeping in a way that scares me for he is so utterly still, it resembles death.
He has taken a bad knock to the head and a few other things are broken, but it was a lucky escape, the medics told me, and he will mend. He is tough. His nights are unpleasant, when the sedative wears off somewhat to allow his body to come up for air and slowly return to life, but then his mind fills with nightmares again. It helps to hold his hand. No one will watch me, anyway, so I am fine.
Wufei has given me strange glances, and I wonder whether he can see things I am missing. There was no time to ask him though, so he just jumps into the breech as we always do for one another, and makes sure I do not miss out on the lessons. It might not be a bad thing that Trowa and Quatre are not with us for the time being; the chibi is too inquisitive and Trowa way too lucid for my liking. I prefer to figure things out for myself first.
Although they might just know what is going on because they have been together for a while. No, this is plain nonsense. It is different for me and Duo. We are team mates. He needs guidance, and it is my job to give it to him. That is all, right?
That is all.
xxx
They gave me crutches, and for once I feel like an idiot, hobbling about with splinted legs and some kind of corset round my chest. He's been doing my hair for the last coupla weeks 'cos I cannot wash it myself, and he was rather keen on seeing to it. Not that he has stopped bossing me about, or his teasing, or occasional flaring up at the mess in my corner. But he knows I have seen him worry 'bout me, and fair enough, he doesn't deny it.
"Hold still," he commands, pressing a hand on my shoulder firmly to make me sit back on my chair. He's gone to some trouble to re-arrange his desk. So now I can look out of the window at the park with its pond and meadows full of flowers and beautiful old trees that sway in the summer breeze. To entertain me while he is carefully raking his fingers through my damp tresses, trying to untangle them with as little tugging as possible. "Man, Duo, just for five minutes – hold still!"
He does sound unnerved now, his precious composure slipping, and he doesn't bother hidin' it. Thinkin' about it, he's thawed quite a bit recently. Methinks it's not my fidgeting though which makes him edgy, and that emboldens me to grope for his wrist. He pauses, then keeps straightening out my hair, a bit slower perhaps than before, quite content to have my fingers on his wrist travelling with his every motion.
He can be incredibly tender. Does he know that his hands betray what he's thinking, nah, feeling, behind this stoic face o'his? It makes me warm and woozy, so I close my eyes and let my head drop back.
It lands in his crotch. I'll be damned if he isn't hard.
He freezes, my hair between his fingers.
I have unhinged him. My mouth goes dry as I can only whisper, "Still wonderin' whatcha wanna do 'bout it all?" My reckless, stupid tongue.
Stony silence. Oh my.
He doesn't strangle me. He leans down, seeking and meeting my eyes with a dark, questioning gaze. "I don't like games."
xxx
Duo caught me out here. There is no point in pretending otherwise, and he knows. His head dips back before I can shift, his eyes fly open wide, and then a broad smile settles on his face. His gaze fills with light, his entire face brightens, his body shivers as he brings up his arms around my neck and...
Well, the baka does kiss me, his hair filling my hands, his head rubbing me where his touch sends streams of heat into me. More precisely, into my crotch. Even though he made me uneasy before, I did not think this could happen, I find it a tough job to be thinking at all right now, with him arching against me with a sensuality that shocks me because it is so... honest. "I'm not playin'," he breathes into my mouth.
He tastes of cigarettes and coffee, bitter and a bit sweet as well. I never kissed a bloke before, and now I do not either because it is him doing it. He must be having a deathwish. So why do I let him go on? His tongue dips into my mouth, hesitantly, prodding for more, gently, a silent question, and I half close my eyes. It seems answer enough for him, for he pulls me closer, down against him, and our lips lock, my hands clench in his hair and damn him does he make me sweat.
I have never been so blown. My groin hurts. I am so taut I could shatter. He smells good, of pine needles, of summer and heat, and a bit of desinfectant from his bandaged wounds. He feels good, his skinny form all hot and pliant, and he looks happy, worried and so very hungry. Am I doing this to him?
And may hell have his pretty butt because he breaks away, gently, and shoves me back, pressing the hairbrush firmly into my hand. "Please," he whispers, trying to catch his breath as he coyly lowers his head, offering me his pale neck and hunched shoulders. His way of saying, take your time, think about it, I want you madly but you need to want it too? Perhaps. He does not lie. Gods help me, but I hope that I am right here.
I straighten my back and try to level my breathing, to calm down enough to be able to finish his hair, to slow the mad rush of emotions that drown me to a stream I can swim along with. Or dive in and drown. In Duo Maxwell, resident baka, my team mate and pain in the ass. This could get so literal.
We stay silent, the soft sliding of the brush and the rustle of our clothes the only sounds in the warm stillness of our room. When I tie off his braid with an elastic and smooth it out over his back to contemplate my work, he reaches back and grabs my hand. "Thanks," he says, heaving himself up with my arm as support.
It is always a moment of tiny regret when I am done with his hair and have to let go. This time, I hold him a bit closer, a little longer than necessary before he sighs, smiles and says, "I wanna go for a walk. See ya later, yeah?"
So he has to do some thinking too, and as I watch him hobble out, I find myself praying fiercely that he might come to the right conclusions.
Just what are they?
xxx
I have fallen for the Perfect Soldier.
It couldn't have been worse, could it? We don't match. He grunts, I blabber, he is precise, I am slapdash, he is tidy, I'm a fuckin' mess. But we both wanna be on top, so to speak. We're both stubborn as hell though it shows in different ways. Like he doesn't wanna see what's good for him, and I cannot see why he won't admit it. He has been suffering miserably during the last few weeks, but here I can't help, he's got to figure it out for himself, come to terms, one way or another.
I'm dreading 'another'. I want him. Madly. With every fibre of myself, in every possible way, though I know he's going to hurt me 'cos he's so stuck up with everything, way too serious, completely incapable of enjoying anything without letting go.
I haven't learned to hold back, he hasn't learned to let go. Now what's worse? At least I'm having fun, most of the time. I go over the top, come crashin' down and try again. That way I feel alive at least, though it does get painful and occasionally, a bit much. I burn out, and that's real shitty, but it doesn't kill. So there, take the bad stuff with the good.
He can't. He's so afraid of getting bruised that he refuses to have fun. I'd be damned if I were willing to pay such a price for being left alone. It comes as a surprise to find that he's got no confidence in himself, that's why he's stonewalling everyone out and tries to prove himself to be the tough guy. I got lots; perhaps I can help him with this, but there's no fun without a flipside. And no, I don't want him to hurt, so how am I gonna sort this out?
I got no idea as yet.
xxx
Duo has healed. I can tell from the way he bounces about again, as though nothing at all had happened. Nothing. I wish, do I not? I lie awake at night, listening to his breathing, knowing he does not sleep either. I have learned that he keeps himself awake because he is afraid of his nightmares. I know my touch soothed him before. Perhaps he could sleep if I would touch him.
I would like that. See him drift off while I smooth out his hair around his shoulders, splaying it on the pillow and running my fingers through it. Pull the blanket back up when he tosses it off, and tuck him in. He needs someone to sort him out, and I happen to be around, ne?
Yeah, he has been on the streets, he is a survivor, he is no wuss, fine. I know that. My heart tells me something else. I would like to rip it out because it hurts for no reason. I am not sick, but I have been unable to conquer this weakness of mine. It has long hair and mad eyes with a silly grin.
He tries to act the same as always, but he knows I have learned to see through him alright. And so, in some rare moments of stillness, when the dinner dishes are cleared and we sit in silence in our room, me typing, he staring out of the window, he is himself. Smiling softly even when I look up and meet his dusky gaze, or handing me the hairbrush without a word and closing his eyes to let me do his braid.
If he were a girl, I would have to say I am in love.
But he is no girl. He is my team mate, we are both tiptoeing around what bothers us, and I still do not know how to handle this. For once, I wish he would take the lead from me.
xxx
Heero is not going to make the next move. We have few options, one of them is to do nothing. Agony, yet safe. The other is me doing something. But what? His shields are down, I know that though he is as calm and composed as ever. I know from the way he takes the hairbrush from me whenever I offer it and slides it through my hair with a gentleness that turns me into putty, or from his tone when he growls his orders at me. No more yelling, or teasing, or ratting me down.
I have to live up to this. So I try to learn the way he wants me to: going to class, being punctual, tidy up now and then. There's no denying that I am a mess, but I'm doing my best, right. Distract myself with whatever comes in handy, for example lie on my back in the meadow in the evening and counting the stars, or dissecting the weapons panel in Deathscythe. Anything, and all I see is him. It's driving me nuts.
What do folk do when they're in love? They sleep with one another. But he's a regular bloke, right? I don't care who I sleep with as long as I like them. This is different: it matters. And while I've never been shy, I worry now that it could all go wrong.
Well, someone's gotta do it. I'll kiss him, and see what happens.
xxx END Chapter 2 xxx