Enjoy!

We Were Promised Jetpacks

Ships With Holes Will Sink

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

He was running late.

Beyond late.

His first mistake had been taking a sleeping pill the night before.

Mistake number two: he had passed out on the floor in front of the TV in a position that he had regretted the moment he had tried to move, which had been around roughly two o'clock in the afternoon.

Mistake number three: waking up at two o'clock in the afternoon.

Which meant he was screwed.

He always left before twelve.

Always.

And there was a damn good reason for it too.

If he didn't, he would get to have a nice, awkward moment with Trowa and Quatre, in which they would all dance around the pink elephant in the room, or, in other words, the fact that he disappeared every day off to who-knows-where.

Well, he knew.

And, on top of everything, he couldn't find a clean shirt.

He grabbed one laying haphazardly on the floor and sniffed it. It wasn't the best, but it definitely wasn't the worst.

Barely pausing to tug the shirt on, he raced out the door and to the kitchen, intending to grab a piece of toast as inconspicuously as possible and disappear in a similar fashion.

But, as always, the universe had other plans.

There, leaning innocently against the kitchen counter was the last person in the world he wanted to see.

Their gazes locked.

He bolted for the door.

He wasn't fast enough.

"Duo."

He wanted to die.

"Trowa! Hey, man, what can I do for you?" Duo put forth cheerfully, but with a hard edge to his voice. The brunette stood between him and his freedom, and Duo was not in the mood to deal with an interrogation. The last thing he needed was to be even later so gramps could bitch that much more.

"I'm coming with you, today," he deadpanned with a casualness that made Duo want to punch him.

"And just where exactly are you going with me, huh?" he challenged, barely masking the irritation in his words.

Trowa stared him down, unblinkingly.

"Neither of us would benefit from Quatre's involvement," he said, finally, the unspoken threat clear.

Duo gritted his teeth. It was a low blow, but effective nonetheless. The last thing he needed was Trowa provoking Quatre to dig even further into his business.

"It's not like you to make threats, Trowa," he told him, dryly.

He blinked back.

"The threat is only effective if you've got something worth hiding," he told him simply.

Duo scoffed. Trowa was beginning to pose a serious threat to Wufei in position for 'Duo's-least-favorite-gundam-pilot-of-the-year.'

"Fine, do whatever the hell you want, see if I care," he announced, with bitter resignation, shouldering past him. "I'm in a hurry, and if I end up late because of you, you get to listen to my lecture."

And they were off.

Duo had a plan.

It wasn't a particularly good plan, but it was the best he could come up with on the twenty minute power walk to Locke's.

It was already after three, right? So, when they would get to the mechanic's shop, Alice would be gone, and he could use the excuse of working under 'Locke' as the perfect alibi. While exploring the city, he had come across the shop and gotten himself some sort of pseudo job to keep himself busy (and nothing else), and viola! He had a brilliant excuse that would keep both Trowa and Quatre (after he got wind of it) off of his back for a good while.

The plan was flawless.

He could even leave Trowa outside to give Curtis a little heads up on the situation. Maybe if he made up some lame excuse like Trowa had followed him or something, gramps wouldn't be too peeved, or, at least not peeved enough to make a scene in front of Trowa, which was his main concern.

He nodded his head determinedly. Going in first definitely seemed like the best plan. The more 'surprise factors' he could eliminate, the greater the chances he would come out of this unscathed and with a solid alibi.

The day was looking up.

He turned down the familiar gray alleyway and caught sight of the unforgettable neon pink sign.

He turned back to Trowa and motioned for him to stop.

"Wait here, okay? I gotta make sure everything's cool with the boss man before I bring your nosy ass in there," he told him, not making any effort to hide his irritation with the situation.

He set out across the alley and approached the familiar steel door. He took one last glance at Trowa's lanky figure leaning inconspicuously against the far wall.

"Don't move," he reminded him before slipping quickly inside.

He nearly got mowed over.

"What the hell?" a voice cried, as Duo's back hit the door with a loud thump after he avoided a crash course with what looked like a wall of cardboard.

"Are you incapable of entering a door like a normal person?"

Duo blinked. The cardboard was speaking to him.

"What are you, some kind of ninja? Because sneaking around in broad daylight doesn't look suspicious at all."

It was a box. He was staring at a large cardboard box.

"It's not like you haven't been coming here for the last week, or anything. You're definitely not wanted here."

"Alice?"

Her sarcasm wasn't hard to miss.

"No, it's Santa Claus. Wanna sit on my lap and tell me what toys you think you deserve?"

"Wait, Alice?" he asked again, disbelieving.

He panicked. She wasn't supposed to be there. She was supposed to be gone—long gone—as in, not there—as in, not standing in front of him trying to juggle a massive cardboard box.

"Yes, it's Alice! Jeez, did you not charge your hearing aid, today?" she cried, shifting the box restlessly.

"But—you're not supposed to be here—it's past three."

"I know that, thanks," she huffed, irritably. "My bike broke, and I'm running late, like really, really late."

"But-"

The box shifted, and Duo heard her make a distinctly unhappy noise.

"Okay, so if you haven't gotten the hint already, I'll try to dumb it down for you. I'm trying to get out the door you're currently blocking. Please kindly move before I drop this lovely weight on your foot," she told him with sugared sweetness.

"Wait, you're going outside?"

"Outside, as in the other side of that door? Yes, yes, I am. Now, hurry up and move."

"What about the back door?"

"What about it?"

"Why don't you use it?"

He could imagine the eyebrow raise she was giving him.

"Because, I'm standing less than a foot away from this door."

"Well, babe, that can be easily solved," he declared with forced coolness. He reached out and took hold of the box, twisting so that he could pull the box and Alice towards the bead curtain.

"Wait, what? What is wrong with this door?" she protested, yanking the box back.

Duo jerked it back to him. "What's wrong with the back door?"

A tug-of-war ensued.

"Nothing, except the fact that it's in the back and I'm in the front next to the front door."

Yank.

"Well, if you go to the back then you'll be in the back next to the back door."

Tug.

"But I'm not going to the back, so I won't be by the back door."

Yank.

"Well, if you would just let me carry the box, we can go to the back and go out the back door."

Tug.

"But I don't need you to carry the box, and I don't want to go out the back door!"

Yank.

"Come on, it's not that big of a deal."

Jerk.

"If it's not that big of a deal, why can't I just go out the front door?"

Yank.

"Because."

Tug.

"Because why?"

Yank.

"Just because, now come on."

Tug.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

She let out a loud cry of frustration, startling Duo.

"This is officially the stupidest conversation I've ever been a part of! I'm carrying my own damn box, and I'm going out whatever door I feel like going out of!"

And with that, she stomped on his foot, yanked the box out of his hands, and threw herself out the door.

Duo froze.

Well, fuck.

Lead by the overpowering urge to stop the train wreck that was about to become his life, Duo crashed his way through the door.

"STOP!"

A loud crash followed his shout, both sounds reverberating off the high walls of the alley.

Under normal circumstances he would have rushed to help Alice gather and pick up the scattered contents of her cardboard boxes, but, as these were not normal circumstances, his eyes, and indeed what felt like every nerve of his body, were fixed on a figure farther along the street that had just begun to move.

That was it.

Duo had an overwhelming impulse to throw up; however, at the same time, he felt as if his entire stomach had just disappeared, leaving an empty, gaping vacuum inside of him. His entire, poorly constructed peace was splitting apart at the seams.

Part of him, though, remained optimistic. It whispered to him that maybe Trowa still didn't see her. Maybe….maybe….maybe…

But he knew that there was about as much of a chance of Trowa missing the mess Duo had just caused than there was of Heero showing up at that exact moment doing the cha-cha and handing out flowers and hugs.

His feet appeared glued to the ground as he watched Trowa slowly approach. He was screaming at himself to move, to push Trowa away, to grab her and run, anything, but his legs didn't so much as budge.

The damage was done. No magic wand could be waved to change it. No band-aid could be used to fix this.

Not wrongly did Duo get the distinct, nauseating impression that it was all out of his control then. Everything could go bad and wrong, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about any of it.

And that scared him – terrified him in fact.

His body tensed. Trowa had knelt down in front of her. The interaction was innocent, polite even, helping her collect all her stuff like that, but Duo couldn't help the itch he had to punch the clown – repeatedly.

The pair of them worked silently, depositing everything they could reach into the boxes. The interaction seemed so natural that Duo wondered—and hoped—that maybe she hadn't even noticed Trowa. She hadn't seemed to give him even an eye flicker of acknowledgement. In fact, he watched with trepidation as she picked up the boxes, everything safely inside, and righted herself, looking as if she was going to walk away without even saying thanks. He had never wished for something to be truer.

And then the prick opened his mouth.

"Need some help?" he asked in a deceivingly casual and collected voice, holding out his hand.

The sneaky bastard had neglected to return one last item—a large wooden spoon. Duo wasn't stupid. Trowa did it on purpose. He wanted her attention. Stupid clown.

She had started at his words, and for a moment Duo was afraid that the mountain of boxes would topple over again and give him more time to get her attention, but, of course, he reacted fast enough to pluck two of the boxes right from her arms.

Alice looked nearly as startled as Duo—for different reasons of course. The two had finally locked eyes, and Duo had the urge to stomp his feet and throw a tantrum.

Despite all his efforts, despite everything, they had…Trowa now…and then he would…

The atmosphere suddenly shifted. Whatever trance Alice had been in was broken, and her gaze became sharp as she looked Trowa up and down.

Finally, with an equally sharp voice, she declared flatly, "No." She paused before adding with a cold look, "especially not from strangers."

Duo was certain that had Trowa not been holding her boxes and wooden spoon hostage, she would have turned on her heel and marched defiantly right past the brunette.

He fought the urge to cheer.

Then the scene became a standoff. Two wills fighting against each other. The tension between the two was practically visible; Duo shifted his weight anxiously.

Trowa was making no move to give back the boxes and spoon; meanwhile Alice's hands were far too full to try to take them from him, forcefully or not. The end result was neither moved. Instead, they sat there staring each other down.

Alice was attempting what Duo figured she thought must have been an intimidating glare; however, the vision of her juggling the overly large box with her flaming hair frizzing and flying in every direction was such a comic sight that it had the effect of making her look like a pissed off furry animal with its hackles raised –non-threatening and slightly adorable.

Meanwhile, Trowa was just staring with those lifeless eyes of his, which, as he knew from experience, could get rather creepy after a while. Duo shivered as he looked him over. Trowa could be a pretty freaky guy when he wanted to be.

"Duo!"

He was so startled that someone was actually addressing him directly he nearly toppled over. He had gotten so used to simply watching everything play out, it was as if he had forgotten he was actually there himself.

"Here!" he called out, tripping his way down the steps. He paid particular attention to not allow his eyes to drift over to Trowa and his eerie stare.

He came to a stop next to her. "What's up, babe?"

Never taking her eyes off Trowa, she replied, "Can you grab my boxes from this guy? My hands are a little preoccupied."

"Yeah, sure thing."

It was inevitable then.

He tried not to look up. He tried to keep his eyes fixed on the brown cardboard. He tried. He really did. But it was almost as if Trowa's eyes had their own gravitational pull. And so, against his best efforts, Duo found himself the recipient of Trowa's sharp, calculating gaze.

And for what felt like the millionth time, no one spoke. They sat, watched, and waited. For what exactly, Duo wasn't sure. What he was sure of was that he couldn't seem to tear his eyes from Trowa's piercing ones. Whether it was out of guilt or some subconscious urge to punish himself, he didn't know. In fact, he didn't really seem to know anything then, except that he sincerely wished with all his being that he had never even woken up that morning.

"Okay, this is bloody ridiculous! I'm already running late enough, as is. So, if one of you would kindly carry the boxes—at this point I frankly don't give a damn which one of you it is—please follow me and try to keep up."

And with that final declaration, she marched past the pair of them, chin defiantly high.

Both boys turned to watch her retreating back as it disappeared around the corner. A few moments passed in which Duo wasn't exactly sure what he should do. There was no way he could try to talk his way out of this one. He knew words would not be enough to get him out of the fifty foot hole he had just buried himself in. Sure, they would be a start, but they certainly wouldn't be a fifty foot rescue ladder. And, far more likely, words would simply make what was looking like his grave even deeper.

So, in shorter terms, he was screwed.

And, as if to prove his point, Trowa turned his stare back on Duo causing every muscle in his body to tense.

There was no going back then. He had dug his grave and now he was going to lie in it. He would face whatever Trowa could throw at him. He wouldn't apologize, and he wouldn't regret.

With new resolve, Duo stuffed his hands in his pockets, widened his stance, and gave Trowa his own hard stare.

The silence spiraled on.

For once, Duo promised himself that he would not be the first to speak. He had nothing to say—which was in fact a lie because he did have quite a lot to say to Trowa, mostly along the lines of him being a nosy bastard who deserved every last headache and sleepless night this mess would give him. But Duo resolutely clamped his mouth shut in a hard line and donned a serious, no-bullshit face.

Then, to Duo's great astonishment, Trowa broke eye contact. The great-unfeeling-steel-faced-no-name-solider had just averted his eyes under his own, Duo Maxwell's, burning gaze. Duo felt a parade was in order.

But then Trowa moved forward with steady, sure steps, and for a fleeting moment Duo was sure he was going to be punched. However, the lanky ex-pilot simply came up next to him and stopped. They were standing shoulder to shoulder then, mere inches apart, both facing opposite directions.

Duo was tempted to sneak a glance at his face, but his own pride stopped him. He wouldn't give Trowa the satisfaction.

And, then, something clattered noisily to the ground. Trowa, without another glance at Duo, started forward, and, before Duo even had a chance to act, had disappeared around the same corner she had vanished behind moments ago.

And just like that, Duo was suddenly left alone with his thoughts, which were so packed into his head that it felt as though a colony of bees had decided to make its home there.

Somehow he expected the entire thing to be far more…apocalyptic. He didn't really expect the world to implode on itself or something, or for an explosion to knock the colony out of orbit, but he had anticipated…something more? Yelling, screaming, punching? He wouldn't have been surprised if Trowa had decked him then and there. Maybe on some level he deserved it too.

He supposed it was stupid of him to think that the world was going to end just because whatever little juggling act he had going on had been broken. But he still couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of disappointment he got when he looked around the empty alley.

Then his brain seemed to kick back into gear.

He had just left her and Trowa alone. Together. Alone.

His stomach did somersaults just thinking of all the stuff Trowa could slip that would ruin the fragile truce that had just barely settled on his and Nicole's—Alice's—whoever's—relationship.

He suddenly remembered the noise and looked down. There, lying on the pavement, was a wooden spoon.

He let himself indulge in a grim, crooked smile for a moment, before he snatched the utensil off the ground and tore around the corner after them.

Maybe he and Trowa understood each other better than he thought.