Disclaimer: The GW boys do not belong to me.

Note: Many thanks, as per usual, to Kaeru Shisho. Best wishes to Dyna, on her birthday.

Cross My Heart:

(Heero's POV)

He's late.

His shuttle landed fifty seven minutes ago, according to my watch which, unlike the wall clocks at the port, is accurate.

So where is he?

Not here, that's where. Damnation. Flipping my 'phone open, I speed dial 03.

'What is it this time?' my friend, half a world away, asks wearily.

'It's Duo. His shuttle landed almost an hour ago, and he still isn't here.'

'Yuy.' Trowa says it around a massive yawn. 'It's his first time to visit Earth, right? Immigration takes forever. And there's probably a massive queue. He'll be there soon. Stop freaking out because he's a bit late.'

'An hour!'

'You've got nothing to be nervous about. You've been dating him for weeks. You've met him, for fuck's sake. That puts you way ahead of me. Quatre might take one look at me and decide he never wants to be in the same room as me, let alone date me.'

Quatre.

It always comes back to him somehow.

'I doubt that,' I try to sound reassuring. 'He sounds positively smitten.'

'Yeah, with a voice on the 'phone, and a couple of photographs he's seen. He mightn't be so keen once he actually meets me.'

'He's crazy about you. Duo says so. And you have it easy, Barton. He's coming to live in Paris anyway; Duo's moving halfway across the world to be with me. What if he hates it here? What if I don't make him happy? Oh, God.' I let my head slump forward on to my knees.

I should have stuck to my original plan. Deviation from carefully laid out, painstakingly constructed strategies is always a bad idea.

Since meeting Duo Maxwell, I've been doing it more and more.

I'd known he was gay since before we'd even met, courtesy of several of the managers of the L2 plant, who'd gone out of their way to inform me that Odin had selected 'that queer, Maxwell' to partner me on a project. They'd also assured me that if Maxwell made one objectionable comment to me, put one foot out of line, he'd be fired so fast he'd go straight into orbit.

It took me a couple of weeks to realise that Duo had probably been given that information as well; it took him that long to start acting naturally around me.

Duo's being gay had never been a problem. The problem was that I'd been so sure he had a boyfriend. The screensaver on his computer was of him and a very attractive blond man.

When I'd asked, Duo had just said that Quatre was his 'friend', and I'd assumed that meant boyfriend. They lived together. Most of Duo's evening or weekend plans involved Quatre, somehow or other. They were always planning to go to a movie, or a new restaurant, or listen to a live band somewhere.

Duo had asked me along, a couple of times, once we'd started to become friendly. I'm not that much of a masochist. I got to work with him five days a week, sometimes Saturdays if we were busy.

That was enough, without tagging along on his outings with Quatre, seeing them together.

Finding out, finally, that Duo was single had been a revelation; an epiphany. I'd never allowed myself, really, to admit how I felt about him. It would have been wrong; that acknowledgment. He wasn't mine; I wasn't allowed to feel anything.

Even I did.

Once I knew the truth, I could start making plans. All promising employees of Lowe Enterprises in the Colonies had the chance to spend time on Earth. Duo was about as promising as they came. He was brilliant, enterprising, resourceful, with a rare combination of mechanical know-how and computer skills. That he hadn't already been offered a post on Earth was downright insulting and I'd made sure that his credentials landed on Odin's desk, the day after my little conversation with Duo's friend Howard.

Phase one of my mission activated.

It had all gone – awry, after that. Not wrong – dear Gods, no; Duo had kissed me! – but not according to plan.

I hadn't meant to tell him about how I felt, not at the beginning. It hadn't seemed fair. If Duo were to leave his home and friends, I wanted him to make the decision purely on its own merits.

It had seemed like a logical, even praiseworthy, scheme. He had to be very sure what he wanted; not influenced by the sudden entry of a new factor into the equation. Making a declaration of love, out of the blue, wasn't fair to him.

He didn't know I was gay. He didn't know how I felt about him. He might feel some sort of pressure to comply, given that my stepfather was his boss. He might even have felt it was trying to exert influence on him. There might be no attraction whatsoever on his part. He might, perfectly naturally, have decided he didn't need romantic entanglements when he was already contemplating such a massive change in his life.

So the plan had been to say nothing. Once he got to Paris, and settled in a little, that would be different. I could start to…woo him. Trowa laughed like a drain when I used that term. I still can't see why. It seems like the perfect term. The dictionary definitions of the word all match exactly to how I feel about him. I want to seek his favour, affections, and love. I want to win him.

It hasn't stopped Trowa, over the past few weeks making increasingly annoying references to my 'wooing Duo'. He's such an idiot sometimes; an Indiana Jones Wannabee with a fixation on Duo's best friend.

My Duo, who will very shortly be stepping out of the Customs Area and into my world.

The plan both failed and succeeded magnificently.

I'm still not entirely sure what happened, despite having replayed the scene in my head many times. I told him that Odin had asked to see him, and I think he was a little nervous to be summoned into the CEO's presence, because he started babbling about ravens and ancient deities but his eyes were fixed on mine, and I'd suddenly realised.

He had feelings for me.

Duo teases me about that now, saying that his feeling for me had been dancing around his head in giant neon letters since the day we'd first met.

I sometimes think I don't have a very high level of emotional intelligence. Trowa laughs when I say that too, so maybe it's not true.

According to Duo, he's been in love with me from the start, and that if I hadn't been as thick as mince (a phrase I had to google), I'd have seen it the first time we'd met.

After that, it was all velvet. Another Duoism. There has been kissing and declarations and some dating, and now he is in Paris, assuming he ever gets through customs.

'Heero,' my best friend says softly and I realise I've forgotten all about him. 'Stop stressing about this, OK? He's mad about you. Quatre says you're all he talks about; Heero this, Heero that, Heero's a walking sex god…'

'Duo said that?' I blurt before I can stop the words. 'Oh, God, Trowa, I have to go. There are people starting to come out.'

I've imagined the first moment I see him so many times. It's probably influenced by those awful Hollywood romances Relana insists on dragging me to, with soft music playing in the background as he rushes into my arms.

That's not how it happens. I don't even see him at first; he's following a group of backpackers, looking down as he juggles his bags and a sheaf of paperwork and a small stuffed frog. Then he looks up, eyes searching the crowd for me, and smiles.

He looks tired; no surprise after such a long flight. Tired and apprehensive and very unsure.

'Heero. Hey. Thanks for coming to meet me.'

'Hello. I like the frog.'

'Cute, huh?' He waves it in my face. 'Goodbye gift from Howie and Hilde. They got me one of those floppy hats too. A beret. But I didn't know if people here actually wore them or I'd look really stupid. Wow! This is really France! I can't believe I'm here.'

'Nor I,' I tell him softly. I want, so desperately to touch him but he's grown up on a colony where that sort of display between men is not a good idea. I'm not sure how he'll react if I reach out now.

'It's …. really good to see you, Heero,' he ventures finally.

'For me too. To see you. Obviously. God, sorry. I'm babbling.'

'You're nervous too.' He says it like it's the greatest miracle imaginable. As if I'm not utterly terrified by all of this; by the fact that this beautiful, vivid, captivating person is suddenly in my world.

'Of course.'

'Oh, hey. It's OK. I'm shit scared as well.' He, in the end, is the one who touches me; just a hand on my left arm, and somehow that catapults us both into a hug.

He is really, truly here. Warm and solid and real and in my arms.

'Is this all right?'

He lifts his face from my shoulder. He's blushing but his smile is a glorious thing. 'It's great. Really. I've been looking forward to this ever since I got on the shuttle. Ever since you left, actually.'

'Me too. I am so glad you're here.' I move to kiss him, just a quick peck on the lips, and he jerks back. 'Sorry. God, I'm sorry.'

'No, don't be,' he assures me hastily. 'It's just, you know. Not used to doing this sort of thing in public. Take me somewhere a bit more private and you can do that all night.'

'Right.' I relieve him of a couple of bags, tangling one hand with his in the process. 'Can I do this?'

'Yeah. I guess. It's nice.' He's smiling now, as I lead him through the crowded Arrivals Area. I've made up my mind where to take him. I don't want to leave him in some anonymous hotel room on his first night. I'm taking him home.

Duo does most of the talking as we walk to my car; the flight, his farewell lunch with his friends Howard and Hilde; all the sights he wants to see in Paris.

'I can't wait to take you sightseeing,' I promise, piling his bags on the back seat and opening the passenger door for him.

'Nice car,' he approves, settling in comfortably, and grinning over at me. 'Tinted windows and all. I guess this counts as a private place. You think?'

'Oh, yes.'

Kissing Duo, feeling his lips dance against mine, I can't even remember why I was so nervous about seeing him again. In truth, I can't remember much of anything, especially not when he scrambles into my lap, and his hands start to move down my body.

'Duo,' I manage finally. Speech is not an easy thing; not right now. My hands are twisted in all that incredible hair, somehow loose and flowing over both of us with the little elastic tie flicked on to the floor; his are stroking between my legs, each touch a swift surge of pleasure that is never quite enough. 'Please…please stop doing that.'

'Oh!' He is back in his own seat in a sudden blur of hair and crimson-cheeked mortification. 'Fuck, Heero, I'm so sorry. I never meant …I'm sorry, OK?'

'No. No, I liked it, I liked it a lot. Really. I just don't want our first time to be…like this.' I hold his gaze, trying to make him understand and exhale when he finally nods.

'Yeah. You're right. Too rushed and all. I guess I just got carried away.' He tosses his head, all that hair tumbling over his shoulders. God, he's so beautiful. 'You sort of have that effect on me, y'know?'

'I feel the same.' I reach over, capturing one of his hands and tracing the lines on his palm.

'You do?' He blinks through the thicket of hair that's hanging over his face. 'For real? You always seem so damn in control all the time; I was wondering if you really did want me…like that.'

'I want you.' I've always tried to be so gentle with him, letting him set the pace, giving him time to say if he's uncomfortable with anything I do. And he thought it meant I wasn't interested. An impression I plan to correct immediately. He actually squeaks when I haul him back on top of me, and then my mouth is over his.

'I want you,' I repeat firmly, touching those swollen lips with one finger.

'I guess you do.'

I can't even begin to catalogue the emotions darting over his face; desire and need and affection and a hint of shyness. That's new; he's usually been the one to initiate physical contact. I know he's had other lovers; in fact, he's probably the more experienced of us both.

'Was that too much?'

'Hell, no!' he denies swiftly. 'Sort of…unexpected, maybe. But good. You're the one who wanted to take things slowly.'

'Not exactly.' I give him another, much less demanding kiss, and let him slide back into his own seat. 'I just didn't want to pressure you into anything, not until we knew each other better. And you told me you're nervous too.'

'Not about the sex,' Duo gives me the gift of one of his glowing smiles. 'All the other stuff. You know. Fitting into each other's lives. I guess we still don't know each other all that well, do we?'

'I want to get to know you,' I say, just a little tentatively, and he nods, squeezing my hand.

Driving Duo through the streets of Paris is every bit as pleasurable as I imagined it would be. More so, in fact, because he has one hand on my thigh, and every so often I can reach down and squeeze his fingers. As I'd expected, he is utterly enraptured by everything; letting me rediscover my city's beauty through his eyes. He comments on things I haven't even noticed; an elderly couple strolling hand in hand, the first spring buds unfurling on chestnut trees; a tiny gargoyle hunched over the roof of a building.

'Not a hotel then?' He questions when I pull up outside my apartment block.

'No. Home. Is this all right? I can take you to your hotel to sleep later, but I wanted to show you where I live first.'

'I'd really like that.' I've shown him a couple of photos, but he still exclaims over the high ceilings, the tall sash windows, the fireplace; the view of the city.

'How did you ever cope with leaving all this to live on a hole like L2?' He demands, turning from the window.

'I'd only lived here for a few months before I moved.' Wufei and Zechs had been with me the first day I'd seen this apartment. Listening to them rave about the view, and the floor space, and the Art Deco features, it had been easy to imagine living here. Later, when I'd moved in alone, the place had seemed ridiculously big for one person.

It will be perfect, now that Duo is here. I smile at him, and then tug him into my arms. 'Also, there were certain consolations on L2.'

'Huh.' His pouting lower lip is an invitation to another kiss. 'I'd better damn well have been the only consolation.'

'There was one consolation on L2,' I echo obediently. 'But he did make it worthwhile.' It suddenly occurs to me that I am being an atrocious host. Duo has crossed the universe to be here; I haven't even offered him a drink.

He just laughs when I start to apologise. 'What I'd love would be a shower, if that's OK? And to change clothes.'

'Of course. Aren't you hungry?'

'They fed us pretty well on the shuttle actually. Maybe just a sandwich or something?'

I can hear the shower running as I head into the kitchen. Duo's absurd frog is perched on the corner of an armchair; he's dropped his rucksack by the side of my bed. His jacket is slung over the chair in the hall. All tiny, tangible reminders that he's here.

Of course, he hasn't said that he wants to stay the night. Perhaps he would, after all, prefer a hotel for his first few days. He might decide he needs a little personal space; some room to think.

I won't be disappointed if that's what he wants, I tell myself sternly. I have to understand how new all of this is for him. A new city, a new life; a new boyfriend. Anyone would need some time to adjust to it all.

Even though he's claiming not to be hungry, I prepare a meal for him. It's oddly soothing, going through the motions of tossing greens for salad, whisking eggs for an omelette, slicing a baguette.

It's nice, doing all this for someone other than myself.

Duo's hair is still slightly damp when he emerges, pulled back into a ponytail instead of the usual braid. He's changed into a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants; surely the least provocative clothing in the universe. The pants just sit on his hips, though, and the t-shirt is threadbare cotton, worn through in places just enough to show a hint of skin.

'Mr. Domesticated,' he teases, taking a place at the kitchen table, and accepting the glass of white wine I pass him.

'I've cooked dinner for you before.' I pour the egg mixture into the pan, tilting it carefully.

'Well, yeah.' His eyes are bright, glancing everywhere around my kitchen, alighting here and there when something catches his interest. The tacky fridge magnets Trowa has sent me from the places he's been to; the framed photograph of Wufei and I, graduating from the Sorbonne; the pair of Japanese watercolours that my mother had painted.

'But that was a kind of showing-off-for-your-new-boyfriend thing. This is just you, in your kitchen.'

'Do you like that; just me in my kitchen?'

I carefully divide the omelette in two, sliding the halves on to two plates, and carrying them to the table.

I like having Duo like this, relaxed and sipping wine in my home, one foot curled beneath him on the chair, little damp tendrils of hair clinging to his skin. His hair smells of my shampoo; he's used my toiletries. Surely that means something.

'I like you a lot.' He takes his first forkful, making appreciative sounds. 'I like seeing Heero Yuy without the fancy suits and the spreadsheets and the flunkies kow-towing to him all the time.'

I clink my glass against his. 'That doesn't happen so much here. Most of the people at the Paris office remember me from when I was a little boy, usually causing trouble. I tend to get reminded of the time I poured coffee into Odin's computer when it wouldn't start and I thought it needed caffeine, or set off the fire alarm because I wanted to see if the sprinkler system really worked.'

He laughs. God, I love this. Even if he decides he wants to sleep at his hotel, if he never wants to see me again, I will have this memory, of Duo eating at my table, and laughing at me.

'This is you, right?' he says suddenly. 'This is Heero away from the office. A guy who has silly magnets on his fridge and photographs of his friends, and a shelf full of cookery books.'

I nod, because I suppose it is, and then I have Duo, my lovely, laughing Duo, abruptly in my lap.

'Please stay here tonight,' I beg him, tilting his chin so I can gaze into his eyes. 'I have a guest room. I just don't want you to leave.'

'Duh.' He tucks his head into my shoulder. 'Not planning on leaving, you dope. I'm like a stray cat; keep feeding me and you'll be stuck with me.'

'Good.' That would be most acceptable, I decide, stroking his back and feeling a shudder of pleasure course through him. He is utterly delicious in my arms; a warm, pliant weight leaning against me, letting me run my fingers through his hair, over his body.

He is – asleep. I should have known. He's claimed not to have been sleeping lately because of 'excitement'. Looking at his face closely, I can see shadowed smudges under his eyes. My poor darling; of course he's exhausted. Well, that settles the question of where he's going to sleep tonight. He's in no condition to be driven around Paris.

I'm so careful lifting him, but his eyes still blink open as I stand up. 'Mmm. You're a sexy beast after all, 'Ro. You carrying me off to ravish me?'

'Perhaps.' I smile down at him. 'Can you keep your eyes open?'

'Sure,' he says indignantly, then almost dislocates his jaw with the effort not to yawn. 'Uh, maybe. Oh, shit, you're gonna tease me 'bout this for the rest of our lives, right?'

'Every single day,' I promise, relishing the prospect. The rest of our lives. How wonderful that sounds. I kiss him, very lightly, when he starts to mutter an apology. 'Don't worry. Saturday's a far better day for ravishing anyway.'

'Yeah. Heard that.' His eyes have closed again, but his mouth curves in a drowsy smile, and I suddenly realise I can kiss those lips whenever I want. In private, anyway. Duo and I can kiss for the rest of our lives.

He lets me lower him on to bed, lifting his hips obligingly for me to slide off his sweatpants, and I tuck him carefully under the duvet,

'C'mere, 'Ro. You can't let me sleep alone my first night here. Please.'

He could, I think, charm anyone in the world with that smile, and that look of entreaty.

As I wrap myself around him, keeping him safe on his first night on Earth, his eyes open again, one hand straying to touch the gold cross he wears around his neck. 'Stay with me?'

'Always. Stay with me?'

'Yeah.' He takes my hand, placing it carefully on his chest. I can feel the slow thud of his heart, beating under my palm, for me. 'Always. Cross my heart.'