Part 1
Shinigami's Flame

My heart pounding, I straightened out my shirt in the men's bathroom of the restaurant I had talked my fellow ex-pilots into coming to. My palms were sweating, and I felt the nervousness overtaking me that had been missing since the last time I had fought in war. Looking down to the small ring box on the sink, I took a slow and shaky breath. Why was I so nervous? I knew that he wouldn't say no. Yet part of me still feared that he would refuse. That he would realize his mistake in loving someone like me.

I'll never really understand why I fell in love with him. He was everything I'd never wanted. Loud mouthed, brash, shameless…and a man. Nothing in him was anything I had ever anticipated for myself. He never stopped smiling, never seemed to take a moment too seriously, and when he started on his rambling, you could never get him shut up. Like a broken toy with the off switch malfunctioning, once he got on a role, it was all down hill from there.

He did everything that should have driven me up a wall and made me want to kill him. The baka had even written on the inside of my Gundam once. But I think that's when I realized that he might actually care…he did it with white board eraser markers, so it was easy to wipe off, and it had read a simple message that seemed to move me so completely. Come home safe. I did want to kill him, but it made me feel oddly warm inside. It was the first time anyone had shown worry over me. Given, he had done it by breaking in and defiling my most precious belonging, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't bring myself to hate him for it.

He irritated me. He rambled and laughed, cracked bad jokes and ate bad food. He took the blame and let the other's push him around, and never once complained. I should have found him weak for it. And yet, despite the carefree mask and his willingness to always be the scapegoat for others rage…I fell in love.

I, Wufei Chang, had fallen madly in love with Duo Maxwell.

I realized it during a particularly long mission, where he and I shared a safe house alone for approximately three months. During that time, I learned things about him that I doubt any of the other's had ever gotten the chance to know. I often stumbled across him, sprawled out on the couch, with The Great Gatsby resting on his chest and the reading glasses he was embarrassed to admit that he needed. The only way I had found out was when I found him asleep with them on, snuggled up with "Great Expectations" and a bottle of sake. I couldn't bring myself to wake him up, but instead had sat and watched him, surprised at the serene and peaceful scene it made. Even just remembering that moment brings a smile to my face.

Behind those laughing violet eyes rested a boy who was beyond any of our wildest expectations. There was more to him than just laughs and jackass remarks. He was a closet case intellectual--a jester with a brain. Intermittently, his loud music would be interrupted by classical or old Chinese style instrumental. The last two he always played low, which I later learned was because he feared being mocked for his out of character choice. I never had the urge to poke fun at him though. Instead, knowing it added to the complexity that was him, and it drew me in. I found that beneath the overwhelming rambunctious attitude of the American was a passionate, burning storm that he was afraid to let people near. He was a paradox--fearful, but courageous. Turbulent, yet calm. But more than anything, there was a strength mirrored by vulnerability that made my blood roar with desire and my heart scream to be near him.

A month into our stay, after the initial annoyances had calmed and we found ourselves settling into a routine that was far too pleasant, I had started to notice him watching me while I was meditating. He tried to stay hidden, peeking through the crack in the partially opened door, or watching from the window when I would do it outside. Where I should have found it annoying, for some reason it was almost thrilling. How many times had I found myself staring at him in secret as he brushed his hair? Stealing peeks into the kitchen as he danced around to his music, making breakfast? Watched him when I returned and saw him sleeping on the couch? To know that even a minor bit of interest was returned left me feeling satisfied.

After about a week of him studying me from a distance, he finally wandered over during one of my longer sessions. I didn't visibly acknowledge him as he sat down next me, but my body seemed to tingle from his closeness. I knew I should have been angry at myself for letting him be so close. For not pushing him away. But I didn't want to. Somehow, it seemed wrong to do that to him. Whenever I had come home injured, even if it was just the slightest bruise, he would be there to tend my physical wounds. It was only a matter of honor to help to soothe his emotional ones in turn, right?

Or at least, that's what I kept telling myself.

He sat beside me in silence for what seemed like an eternity, doing nothing but making a pile of grass as he observed. I began to fear he wouldn't talk. That the quiet would continue. But luckily, my fears were allayed.

"Does that really help to make the guilt go away?" he finally asked. I remember the way he stared at me. Hopeful, needy, sad.

"No, but it makes it easier for a while."

He had paused at the words, looking down to the ground as a soft breeze ruffled his hair.

"Teach me?" he hesitantly requested. I looked to him surprised, and he just gave me the smallest, most strained smile I had ever seen on his tired face, and I knew then how much of a toll this war was taking on him.

The crack I saw in that jokers grin caused my own heart to break a little. That this boy of such a burning passion could feel such a desolate pain, and let himself show it to me, let me know just how trusted I was. No one had ever been so open or kind as to show such a personal part of themselves to me, and I realized then just how much I had come to care for him.

I love you. In that moment, it was the hardest thing to not say…

After two weeks, and many complaints of sore asses from sitting too long, he had finally started to get the hang of it. He became my meditation companion, but more than that, he became my friend. I grew to depend on his company, and to desire the camaraderie he offered to me so willingly. I began to crave his presence. Even his endless babbling after a mission had become a comfort that I dreaded ever living without. His random outbursts, his blaring music, his confident smile and caring eyes…I had fallen in love, fast and hard.

When the mission ended, we were stationed apart. Saying goodbye to him was the hardest thing I had ever done, but I never let on. How could such a passionate boy ever love a person as empty as me? So I went on my way—solo, of course, while Duo went with Heero. There was a sneaking suspicion in my mind that they might become lovers. Duo had told me that he once had a crush on him, and I feared beyond belief that something would come of it during their private time on their mission.

Knowing the two were together made my heart hurt. My mind went wild with thoughts of what they might be doing, and for the first time, I felt jealous as I imagined Heero touching my Duo. Not that Duo knew he was mine, but that didn't matter. Life without the braided menace was slow and boring. Colors didn't have the same flare, food didn't taste as good, and my meditations became an exercise in futility, as all I could think of was the aching emptiness his absence left me with. I kept wanting to email him. Call him. But to what extent? Then, he would know for certain that I felt something for him, and I didn't want to lose him over feelings I thought could never be returned. So I settled myself into thinking that I would have to learn to live without him his light or his humor. Told myself to forget about him.

But every night I went to bed, he was all I could think of. Forgetting seemed impossible. Every day seemed as long as a year without him, although much to my luck, time would speed up, for he finally contacted me. A week after we were reassigned, I received an email as I was scanning through my mission specs at dinner, and nearly dropped my fork.

It was marked from an email address that could only belong to one pilot: Duo. Seeing it, I was filled with the urge to laugh at the absurdity and the one of a kind person that he was. The sender was "Shinigami Pwns Ur Sowl!" and the subject read: "There is a proverb which says whatever you want it to." Shaking my head, I leaned back in my seat, my heart fluttering happily as I began to read it.

Heero's more dull than a comatose with lockjaw. I didn't know a grunt could carry the same meaning as every word in the dictionary…I swear to god he's got some amazing ingenuity! Did you know three grunts, done fast, means he's gotta pee?

Hope you're having more fun than I am. After all, I'm sure the wall has a larger vocabulary than this man. I can't believe I ever had a crush on him. He's about as entertaining as watching dead grass grow.

Miss being around you. Been trying to meditate, but it's not the same without you here. Heero's seriously starting to piss me off, and if he tries to hit me one more time, we're gonna be short a pilot. But hey, I'm sure one of us can pilot Wing, ne Wuffers?

Write back soon, I'm going out of my mind with boredom. I think I've read "Dance with the Devil" (-1-) ten times already, and I'm pissed that I can't find the rest of the series. You know where I put 'em?

Anyways, hit me up later.

Death.

Shaking my head, I couldn't help but laugh out loud, and almost wished Duo was there to hear the awkward sound he made me produce. I was never used to such things back then…but somehow, he made me feel comfortable with it. I still have that letter, tucked away in a small book I constantly write in. (Duo insists that it's my diary…I refuse to keep such a feminine thing though!)

That night, we spent hours writing one another back and forth, and before I realized what had happened, dawn was peeking its way slowly through my kitchen window. I had a crook in my back but a smile on my face as I read the final email he sent me.

I've missed you, man. Keep in contact. I'm heading to bed, and you do the same. I don't want you wearing yourself out. The Earth is great and all, but you can't save it if you're in shitty health. Give me a call if you ever need or anything, even an extraction from boredom.

And call I did. Over the next month, it became a habit. Every night there wasn't a mission, he and I would lounge around and we'd talk. Well…it was him doing most of the talking, but even then, he still managed to get me started on some things.

On a few occasions, he would get me riled over something, and stay quiet for the full fifteen or twenty minutes it took for me to finish my—as he called it—"rants of injustice". Afterwards, I would pause and apologize, to which he would reply, "Don't be sorry. I like hearing you talk." A warmth would blossom in me at those words. A touch of satisfaction so strong, that it was as if I had received praise from the divine creator himself.

Our friendship upheld through the war. We spoke constantly, shared discrete coffee meetings after hours. When he joined the Preventer's, after the Eve War, we tried to have Une place us as partners, but apparently, he was the only one able to cope with the murderous intentions of a certain Heero Yuy. I was jealous still, but I managed to hide it. It was clear their intentions weren't towards each other, especially when Heero began to court the annoying "Princess of Pink," as Duo so titled her. Une was surprised at our desire to work together, as were the others. Apparently, they hadn't noticed our friendship developing. Duo had kept himself locked in his room for our nightly talks during the war, and I was never one to tell anything unless directly asked.

Which is why I never got the chance to tell him of my feelings for him. Why I kept them quiet and made myself content with being his friend. Well, maybe not content, but there was a fear in me that screamed that Duo could never love a man like me. I was everything he wasn't. I was too obsessed with my work, too stressed, too serious. We fought over him not doing his paperwork, and over me doing too much. Many nights, on our weekly Wednesday pool game at the bar, we would make angry quips at one another and threaten each other with colorful forms of death. I never meant it towards him, and I know he never meant it towards me. It's just nice to be able to be angry at someone, and know they're not going to hate you for it later.

That, and he can come up with over a million and one ways to use the words "douche" in a sentence. I never knew I could get so many bloody noses from references to feminine hygiene products.

From the very start of our friendship, neither of us dated other people. I never understood why he didn't…apparently, I was too blinded by my own "dumb fear", as he puts it, to notice what he felt. Then again, so was he. We both held back, too afraid to admit to one another our emotions--to afraid to shatter the perfect way in which we fit into each others lives. But secrets like that can't be held for long, and the way we finally learned of each other's feelings wasn't by some fear of losing each other after a mission, nor by near death experience. It wasn't a miraculous revelation or even a night of dramatic arguing. Instead, we were stumbling home from the bar on a Saturday night, after watching a hokey game at a pub. I will never tell him, but I really do hate that sport. I only began to watch it because of the way he reacted to it—so heatedly. Next to him, watching him scream at the players, I could feel his flame and fire as if it were my own, but only better. Because it came from him.

We stopped over a bridge, studying the city lights as he leaned his weight against the railing and against me, panting from laughing so hard over some cheesy remark about how "Chang" rhymed with "Wang". Not that he hadn't made that connection before. It just never got old with him. I was feigning my annoyance as I inhaled his trademark scent of floral shampoo and cologne, my hand resting on his lower back, my arm itching to wrap fully around his waist. His nearness was wrecking havoc on my body and my senses, and I remember staring out into the dark, swirling water below us.

"Stare into the abyss too long, and the abyss will stare into you…" Duo spoke the quote from Nietzche as he stared up to me, calming down. His chin rested on his fist, violet orbs watching me with that curious gaze. "What you thinkin'?" he wondered.

"How much I love you."

The words were out so fast, that I couldn't stop them. I'm not sure who was more surprised…me, or him. But judging by the fact that my mouth was the only one hanging open, I dare to say that it was me. Quickly, I moved away from him, shaking my head.

"I'm sorry, I…I shouldn't have said that," I stuttered, feeling a flush form on my cheeks. Dazed, he watched me, lips slightly parted and head tilted a bit to the side.

"Do you mean it?" he wondered, voice barely above a whisper. All I could do was nod. The smile that broke his lips was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and stood to rival the sun in it's brilliance. Stepping towards me, he moved his arms around my waist and pulled me up close to him, our noses touching. Standing only an inch taller then him, it wasn't much of a feat for our lips to meet as he pulled me into the first real kiss I ever had. We held on to one another like the life support we had become. His fists tangled into my back, and I grasped at his braid, afraid to let this moment end.

"I love you too," he murmured against the touch.

I don't remember how we got home. But that night was the most passionate of my life. Every inch of his body I tasted. Every centimeter of his soul I savored. Nothing had ever felt so perfect—so right—as my perfect death, held in my arms for the first time. Our bodies fit like missing puzzle pieces as we strived to be closer. I remember wanting to crawl inside of him. But having a part of me in him was well enough.

We moved in to a new apartment together only two weeks later. At work, we had to force ourselves to pay attention to our projects, or risk losing ourselves in a kiss or maybe more. His fire consumed me. It was chaotic, uplifting, yet peaceful and cool, and for once, I never wanted to be alone again.

They say that feeling only lasts for the first few weeks of the relationship. But even after three years, we never could get enough of each other. It's hard to count the number of times he's talked me into defiling Lady Une's desk, the locker rooms, the shower, the Preventer HQ's gym, doctor's office, and so many other places at work. A few times at night, he's gotten me into the slides at the local park…I never knew "recess" could be so much fun.

It's like a fairy tale romance. Only filled with smut. And coolwhip. Oh, so much coolwhip.

I felt a flush take my cheeks as I remembered our first coolwhip loincloth. Coughing, I forced my mind back to where I was. Looking into the mirror of the bathroom, I straightened out my hair, which I had left down for this occasion. Duo liked it best when it was down. I knew I couldn't stay hiding in the restaurant bathroom forever, so I picked up the ring, tucked it into my pocket, and made my way back out.

There he sat, hair braided back in all it's chestnut glory, smile bright and beaming as he stared at our friends. My soul cried in it's joy at the beauty that was him. The utter perfection of my lover. Violet eyes looked to mine as I made my way back to the table, pausing by his chair. Quatre watched me curiously, as did Duo, both noticing the slight shaking in my hands.

"You okay, Wu?" Duo asked, reaching out to rest his fingers across the back of my wrist. My skin prickled at the sensation, and I nodded, giving him a small smile.

"I just…I have to ask you something," I replied. Heero watched with a quirked brow, Trowa's eyes gleaming with the knowledge of what I was about to do. Trowa, another of my close friends, had helped me to pick out the ring after carefully extracting the information from Duo of what the American's favorite jewelry style was.

"All right…what's up?" Duo wondered, brows furrowing. I could tell he was worried about my demeanor. Taking a slow breath, I lifted my chin. This was it. I slowly kneeled down before him, struggling to make it look fluid and perfect, but still I stumbled slightly. For all my practicing that I had done the night before, you would think I didn't even know how to walk. Carefully pulling the box from my pocket, I looked up to him hopefully as the eyes of other diner's turned to watch. I could see the knowledge slowly registering in the sweet, violet orbs as his mouth parted with shock. Pink stole his cheeks, and his hands moved to clutch over his heart

"Duo…will you marry me?"

I'll never know why I fell in love with him. He was everything I never wanted…but I know why I love him, and it's exactly because of that.

I love Duo Maxwell, and there's not a thing in this world I would change about that.

(-1-) Dance with the Devil is part of the Dark-Hunter series, written by Sherrilyn Kenyon. It's the book where character Zarek comes from, who made a slight cameo appearance in "When Memories Die" Chapter 7. They're supernatural romance with a hilarious twist to them to break up the seriousness of it, and some of it just seems so much like what Duo would read.

This is only going to be two parts. One through Wufei's eyes, the next through Duo's.

Oh, yah...I do not own Gundam Wing.