Losing my Breath
by the Black Rose
AN: Please note that this chapter contains overt references to cooking and baking raw meat.
Thank you to those who will read it. And I really appreciate the kind reviews. *HUGS* Love, ~Rose
Chapter 2
"Determined" - That was a word for her.
...
Whether out of sheer spite or something else, Relena continued her Tuesday and Thursday morning workout routine.
The following Tuesday after her Saturday evening out, Heero helped her achieve the proper form on static lunges. Proving, once again, that she was far too trusting, she let her new 'friend' help her align her hip and knee…. And then admire those long, graceful legs - shined with perspiration.
"Are you a trainer?" She asked him just before he stole her water bottle again. He took a sip and shrugged.
"Now, you ask me? What if I'm on the list of registered sex offenders?" He handed back the bottle. She took it with narrowed eyes.
"Then I guess I'd get to try out my self-defense classes. I'm studying Krav Maga. The first move is always a groin strike." She started for the door, taking those shapely legs with her.
'Touché.' He grimaced and went after her. "I'm not a trainer. Just spent a lot of time working out."
"Misspent youth, clearly." She held the door open from just outside the fitness center.
"My application to princess school was rejected." Heero exited the building and fell into step alongside her. "Working out was how I coped."
Sunlight peeked out from behind striped clouds and lit the early morning sky. Autumn weather chilled the perspiration on his skin. Soft dirt and mud turned the once white concrete sidewalk a dingy grayish brown. Small channels ran the length of the walk - the telltale sign of a professional lawn edger. A quiet breeze rustled leaves on nearby trees. The air smelled crisp this time of day - before traffic towed its smog into the city.
"Such a shame." The woman beside him glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye.
"What is?"
"That you didn't go to princess school. Could have learned some manners." Her blue-green eyes sparked in the sunlight. And her mouth….
"Overrated. Inefficient. And I look terrible in a tiara." He grabbed her water bottle and took another drink. Because he could.
She huffed and rolled her eyes. "I guess Prince Charming school was all full up on handsome jerks."
Heero handed the bottle back to her, and felt his mouth stretch into a grin. "No, I got in." He held open the door to the apartment lobby, and motioned for her to go first.
"Did you? I doubt it."
They walked the short distance from the entryway to the elevators. She turned left at the wall and entered the stairwell adjacent to the elevator bank. He took a longer stride to fall back into step with her. "Flunked out," he said as they started up the stairs.
"Well, no wonder you couldn't get into princess school."
"As long as you got in, the world will continue to turn."
"Cause I'm such a princess."
"Yeah. You are." He opened the door at the top of the stairs and, again, let her go first.
They emerged a short distance from the entrances to their facing apartments. She walked to the end of the wall, where one hallway intersected with another. The second corridor led to their respective residences.
Relena paused and stood in the center of the hall. Her complexion flushed from their morning workout. Her smart mouth curved up on both sides as one, thin, blond eyebrow arched higher than the other. He definitely needed to watch her - over her. He took a deep breath and counted as he let it out.
She opened the door to her apartment with her back. He felt the strange urge to thank her for her company, but remained silent.
She tilted her head and met his gaze. "Well, thanks for the workout tips," Relena said with a shrug and closed the door.
Thursday, Relena must have arrived a few minutes before him. When he entered the gym, she yelled: "Think fast!" A water bottle flew at his face.
Heero caught it.
"Nice reflexes."
His heart raced like he'd been sprinting on the treadmill. Heero swallowed, took a deep breath and counted to five. The water bottle contorted in his hand, he growled at her: "You don't do that to someone who's seen combat, Relena."
He couldn't stop it; his senses heightened to the point of hyper awareness. The television playing in a low volume behind him grated on his eardrums; the sound of a treadmill in use - sharpened from a low hum to an annoying whine.
The muscles in his neck and shoulders hardened.
"Combat? Oh. Y-you didn't say," she came back into focus. Her eyebrows pinched together into a frown.
He crossed his arms and turned away. Heero closed his eyes and worked through 'finding his breath'. He drew in air, but couldn't hold it. His lungs contracted too quickly.
"You didn't say that. You haven't really said anything. About who you are."
"I'm not like you."
"I know." Her voice sounded soft. He opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of her reflection; Relena's hand hovered near his shoulder for a moment before dropping back to her side.
"Anyway. Enjoy the water." She walked over and grabbed a floor mat from the pegs on the wall - instead of heading to the treadmills. With him.
She knelt down on all fours and extended her right arm and left leg at the same time - exercises he recognized as flexibility work. Heero closed his eyes and tried again. He started by willing his heart to slow down. He had learned to master that ability in the Marines; slow, deep breaths. Focus on the internal sound of his heart beating. Slow. Slow. Watch. Breathe. Listen for the enemy.
But there was no enemy. Not anymore. He opened his eyes; Relena switched to bicycle crunches. Lying on her back, those long legs pedaled in slow, graceful turns. Her blonde ponytail pooled on the mat behind her.
A part of him considered what it would be like, to just dig his fingers into her hair. And watch it slip against his hands. For hours...
His shoulders released. His heartbeat and breathing steadied. If only the 'cure' for his "PTSD" (whatever, every soldier had issues) could be watching her workout - he might have taken the VA doctors up on their offer.
Heaving a deep breath, Heero straightened his crumpled water bottle, broke the seal and took a sip. He threw a last glance at his 'friend', then moved to the treadmill to start his high-intensity interval training.
Friday evening, a knock on Heero's door interrupted his 'lite reading' - cyber intelligence reports he'd received from one of his analysts in Bahrain.
He opened the panel to see Relena - armed with a couple of brown paper grocery sacks and her winning smile. He released the door and stepped back. She let herself in; Heero grabbed the bags of groceries from her and followed her inside.
"You look like a steak and potatoes guy," she said and moved to the sink; she began washing her hands.
"I'm vegan." He set down the grocery bags and leaned back against the cabinets - enjoying the view. Relena wore a pair of short jean shorts and a purple, long-sleeved t-shirt. As she bent over his sink, her rear rounded above nicely toned hamstrings.
"You're a lousy liar." She tossed the words over her shoulder.
"Didn't your apartment come with a kitchen?"
"It did," she grabbed a paper towel to wipe her hands, and turned to face him. "But, I thought it would be nicer to have dinner together."
He ran a hand through his hair. This woman - cooking dinner. For him? He checked his pulse; no, he hadn't died. But, he considered promoting her from princess to angel, anyway. "Make what you want."
She grinned, and retrieved a dark amber bottle with a swing top stopper. "Beer?" She held it out to him.
He narrowed his eyes. "What kind?"
"Craft specialty. IPA. Very hoppy."
"Hn. I'll try it. But, I don't drink alone."
"Good thing I brought a nice lager." She pulled a six pack of beer from one of the grocery sacks. "I can't stand IPA, but it seemed like it would suit you."
'You're starting to seem like you'd suit me.'
He popped open his bottle and headed back into the den to finish reading the report. Pans sang and the burner clicked and then lit. The shtuck! sound of his refrigerator door opening. Followed by the light thunk of glass against plastic when it shut. The metallic creak of his oven door… Heero put away the report, took another sip of his beer, and moved to the kitchen table to watch her.
Relena stood in his galley-style kitchen; the fluorescent light tangling in the long, gold pieces of her hair. It was the first time he'd seen it down, and dry. Her fingers curled a few strands behind one ear.
The IPA tasted cold, not quite icy like he preferred. But the combination of bitter hops with the sweet, clean malt left a pleasant taste in his mouth. She finished cutting something green - which was neither steak nor potato.
"How'd you know what kind of beer I like?"
"Well. I just picked something I'd probably hate," she said as she opened a container of cream cheese, "and figured you would like it."
"So, you hate steak and potatoes?"
"No, that was just the method for beer. Steak and potatoes was a guess based on the military revelation."
Heero nodded and fidgeted with the stopper attached to the bottle.
"What branch?"
"Classified."
She held the knob on his gas stove, clicking it so it would light. "Are you being a jerk right now?"
"Only a little. Doesn't seem to deter you, though."
She made a face at him, and he could picture her, as a child princess - sticking her tongue out at a playmate in her princess castle.
"Not yet."
"Marines." He straightened his shoulders. "MARSOC." He wasn't sure whether princesses knew that meant Special Forces, so he added: "Can't say more than that."
Both her eyebrows rose. She blinked then leaned over the sink to wash her hands, again. "And now you do, fill in the blank?" She wiped her hands on his only dish towel. "For a living?"
"Babysit my neighbor."
She turned to look at him. One hand on that hip, again. "Now, you're being a jerk."
"Only a little." Heero grinned around the rim of his IPA. "Still doesn't seem to deter you."
She rolled her eyes and went back to work. The smell of bacon reached his nose about the same time as the pop! and sizzle hit his ears. His stomach growled.
"I could take my steak, potatoes and yummy IPA and go home." She spoke to the bacon and green things as she stirred them in the pan.
"Only if you plan to let me move in."
Relena laughed. It sounded light and airy - like sunshine parting clouds of rain. She removed the pan from the burner and scooped the bacony-green things onto a plate.
That grin…. He could picture her face: it'd be a softer smile on her lips when he laid her down on his bed and settled over her.
She placed a small plate of bacon wrapped jalapeños in front of him. The tantalizing smell wafted closer. His stomach groaned, and his mouth watered.
"You going to have some?" He wanted to be polite, to wait for her; but, his stomach poked a sharp stick into his gut and demanded food.
"Mmm-hmmm, but still cooking. Go ahead and eat." She moved back to the counter. "Just save me one."
"Just one?"
"I brought, hopefully, enough food."
She pulled two steaks on white styrofoam rectangles from a grocery bag, and set about unwrapping them. Heero bit into a bacon wrapped jalapeño and chewed. The combination of flavors tasted spicy and savory. Easily the best thing he'd eaten all week (which had been a lot of protein shakes and grilled chicken. Hamburger patties. Several hardboiled eggs).
The crack and whir of a pepper grinder caught his attention. She ground a portion of pepper over each slab of meat and rubbed it in. A dash of oil. Heero bit into another jalapeño.
"Not that I'm picky, but how are you making the steak and potatoes?"
"I sear the steak on each side then bake it; the potatoes, I'm cheating. I bought deli-made au gratin potatoes and just have to heat them up."
Heero nodded.
"I assume you eat your steak medium rare?"
"Sure. You like yours well done?"
She shook her head. "No. Medium to medium rare." Relena placed one of the hunks of meat in the sauté pan. The heady smell of a favorite meal twisted his stomach.
"If it wasn't for the jalapeños, I might take mine blue."
"Ick," Relena grimaced. "I didn't realize you were starving." She moved the steaks to a baking pan and bent down to place them in the oven.
"I didn't either." He admired the way her legs looked in those shorts and platform sandals. Her quadricep muscles flexed above her knee; her calf held a light ridge behind her tibia.
'Not until you showed up.'
"It shouldn't take too long." She moved the length of his kitchen - towards him. Those long, lightly tanned legs stepped close enough to invade his personal space; she helped herself to one of the jalapeños.
He caught a whiff of a syrupy floral perfume; not too heavy, but sweet and rich. Heero fought the urge to just wrap his arm around her waist and pull her into his lap.
Relena moved back to the counter near the stove; she leaned against it and bit into the appetizer. A hand waved at her mouth. "Hot." She took a swig from her beer.
'How un-princess like.' Heero smiled. He relaxed into his chair. And tried to wait, patiently, for dinner to be ready.
As she ate, Relena's eyes flitted around his apartment. It shouldn't have been too different from hers - aside from the floorplan. Wood planked flooring in the entryway and living room gave way to a basic white tile in the kitchen. The living room and dining room were all one large area; Heero had removed the (useless) dining room fixture and replaced it with a fan.
His sofa faced a 42 inch monitor mounted on the front wall of his apartment - to the left of the door. A square support post separated the dining-room-turned-den from the entryway; the kitchen table sat on the other side of the door - next to the refrigerator.
The floorplan situated his living room further into the apartment; Heero separated the larger room from the 'den' with a couch facing the opposite direction. A television, receiver and center channel perched on a metal console (above several media appliances and his gaming system); the technology center blocked the view of a stone cobbled fireplace.
Relena's eyes came to rest on him. "So, why no girlfriend?"
His heart thudded outside of its usual rhythm. "Who says I don't have a girlfriend?"
"Well, this is definitely a bachelor's place. With your gaming equipment left out in the middle of the living room." She waved a hand at the headset and game controller discarded atop the coffee table. "And it's Friday night." She sipped again at her lesser lager. "Date night. But, I found you alone in your apartment."
"And here I thought I'd never get to meet the great Sherlock Holmes."
She leaned forward over the kitchen bar; the v-cut blouse revealed the tops of her breasts. "Quite frankly, my dear Watson, if you had a girlfriend, you wouldn't have one, now."
He swallowed the urge to grin. "Oh?"
"Because if you were my boyfriend and you let some other woman in your apartment to cook for you…." She shrugged her shoulders and her mouth crooked up on one side.
"By that definition, wouldn't a woman cooking dinner for a man in his apartment on a Friday night - seem like a girlfriend?"
She huffed. "Maybe." Relena met his gaze and one eyebrow rose. "If the guy in question was a little less of a jerk. Sometimes." She took another sip of her beer.
He held her gaze. "I'll let him know."
