Warning/Pairing: Language, Heero and Duo, Post-Endless Waltz

December 10th

Writing Letters

I found him sitting on a beach flirting with a girl in a bikini. His hair had been cut short, chin length, and I wondered about the loss of his braid. He gestured as he spoke and the girl laughed in response, touching his arm casually.

He wasn't wearing black either, though I suppose that shouldn't have surprised me. We were on a beach in the tropics. Instead of the black I was used to, he was wearing swimming trunks and a pink and yellow Hawaiian shirt.

I always knew Howard was going to rub off on him one day.

The girl in the bikini looked at me as I approached and I could tell she thought I was going to try and pick her up. I ignored her and shoved my hands farther down in my pockets.

"Hello Duo."

He stopped talking mid-sentence, his back suddenly rigid. Then he turned and scowled.

"Shit."

I smirked. "Oh good, you haven't forgotten me."

Five years is not so long. The last time I saw Duo Maxwell, he was slung over Trowa's shoulder and I was racing away, guns firing behind me.

Now he was glaring as if he'd like to put a bullet in me himself. It certainly wouldn't be the first time. I glanced down at the girl and Duo flashed her a fast smile. He made some comment about enjoying the rest of her vacation and then stood up, brushing the sand off his shorts.

I followed him up the beach, wanting to reach over and touch the ends of his hair. I'd never told him how much I liked to watch it hair in the sun. When the light hit it right, it glowed in streaks of red and gold.

"What're you doing here, Yuy?" He pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his shirt pocket and slid them on.

"You get Quatre's invitation?"

He didn't say anything, just kicked a piece of drift wood. The beach was becoming more rugged and there were houses dotted along the coast tucked up between rocks and the trees.

"You won't go." It wasn't a question and I knew the answer.

"Never do."

I nodded and we didn't speak again until we stopped in front of a small bungalow. He marched up the steps and shouldered open the screen door. "Welcome to my bit of paradise."

"Is it really?" I couldn't help but ask. If he really had found happiness then I'd turn and leave, but something Wufei had said . . .

"Ah well." He tossed his sunglasses on the table and shrugged again. "Sometimes anyway."

. . .something Wufei had said made me think I had a chance.

"What are you doing here Heero?" He offered me a bottle of beer from a small fridge and I took it with a nod of thanks.

"I never go to Quatre's party either."

The house wasn't very large. We'd walked into an open front room. The kitchen area was on one side and a wooden table sat against the window on the other. Straight ahead was a small living area and I could see a couch and the corner of a desk. I assumed another door in there led to the bedroom and bathroom.

I liked it. More than anything I wanted to stay.

Apparently Duo expected a lengthier explanation and was standing there holding his own beer staring at me with a puzzled look on his face.

"It's Christmas." I told him.

He snorted in disgust and pulled out a chair at the table. "It's Christmas every year."

"I've always been busy before." It was true. The last five years I'd spent Christmas in L1, Africa, L4, New York and last year, Russia. I'd seen more hotel rooms than Christmas cards.

"You could write." He informed me, arms folded defiantly.

In defense I pointed out the obvious. "You never did."

"I didn't owe me an apology."

Right. I'd always meant to do that.

I'm sorry I decked you and then left. I'm sorry I never got back to you. Sorry I didn't tell you that I've always wanted to jump your bones . . .

Might be better to hold off on that last one. At least until he stopped gripping his beer bottle so tightly.

"You know, ironically it's Wufei who writes the most. I get these obnoxiously healthy emails. On good days they read like Preventer recruiting advertisements. On bad days he threatens to quit his job and move in with me."

That seemed like good place to jump in.

"I quit my job at Preventers. Can I move in with you?"

He looked up sharply and I met his gaze without flinching. I was serious. It'd just taken me a damn long time to figure out.

"What the fuck, Yuy."

So I told him. It took four more bottles of beer and the sun had set before I got it all out. The years alone. The time spent watching friends and their families get together and always feeling a little left out. How I realized one night as I lay in a seedy hotel room in some backwater town in Mexico that I really didn't like my job. And I missed my best friend.

And then I told him that I'd always wanted to jump his bones.

He didn't say anything for a long time. Just sat looking at me, occasionally taking a pull from his bottle. Finally he stood up and disappeared into the other room without a word.

I'm familiar with the sound that personal devastation makes. It's a ringing in the ears. I sat at that small wooden table, with my head bowed and couldn't hear a damn thing except a solid numbing scream. I nearly jumped out of the chair when I felt his hand on my shoulder.

"If you're going to stay, you'll need a new wardrobe."

I looked stupidly at the blue Hawaiian shirt he was holding out to me. And then I blinked up at him. "I can stay?"

"You're such an idiot, Heero." He told me. "All you ever had to do was write."