Disclaimer: Not mine. Do I need to say it?

Note: This chapter is mostly back-story, so I hope it's not too confusing! If you're interested in flashback chronology (is there even such a thing?) the second flashback takes place the day after the one in chapter 10, which finished with Quatre saying that Duo should tell Heero how he(Duo) feels….

The Finer Points of Hair Care:

I suppose it was too much to hope that Heero would have a bouncy, boisterous, tail-wagging dog, instead of a canine killing machine. Honey was big and black and seemed to be composed mostly of teeth.

There was an awkward moment when we walked in his front door and I realised I just - could not do this. Could not be sociable or polite or even half-way civil to him or his scary dog, which all too obviously would have liked to connect its teeth to my throat. My leg had started to ache and I just wanted to lie down. I think I mumbled some excuse about being tired, and he seemed perfectly happy to accept it, taking my jacket and offering to carry my bag upstairs.

The room at the top of the top of the stairs was your typical spare room, pretty much; the repository for all the stuff you don't want to live with on a daily basis, but can't quite bring yourself to throw out. Twin beds adorned with flouncy quilts in a truly awful shade of peach and a few other pieces of mismatched furniture. Splashy watercolours on the wall, and a few hideous ornaments that looked suspiciously like they might have been gifts from Relena in her pink phase.

There was a tiny en-suite bathroom that had obviously been made by putting up a couple of partition walls in one corner. A pile of neatly folded towels by the sink unit, a toothbrush still in its wrapper, and a little wire basket in the shower holding an assortment of hair products.

Heero had been expecting me. Had either known or guessed all along that I would end up here.

Deep breaths, Maxwell.

I turned on the shower, full blast, locked the door and subsided into the corner by the little hand basin. He'd bought me organic herbal shampoos, and a conditioner scented with camomile. When the water had run for a couple of minutes, I crawled over to the toilet. There wasn't much in my stomach; I'd refused food on the 'plane and hadn't eaten since breakfast the previous day, so it didn't take too long to empty it totally. I did a bit of dry retching, rinsed out my mouth and slunk back into my little bit of space.

He'd always had a thing for my hair.

Being Heero, the Perfect Soldier, that had originally manifested in pure insults.

Long hair was effeminate, ridiculous, an absurd vanity that a committed soldier should have no time for.

Then it was impractical; too conspicuous on under-cover missions. It made me too recognisable, too memorable.

It was too dangerous in a Gundam seat; it could snag on something. Too risky in a fight - giving the enemy something to grab on to.

We'd beendoing the under-cover thing in some exclusive boarding school the first time he actually touched it. He damn near tore my head from my shoulders in the process.

He, of course, was the perfect straight A student, the one who signed up for extra classes, and was running the chess club and the computer club and the martial arts club after two days.

Mr. Popular, with all the girls sighing after him and all the jocks wanting him to be on their team.

I was the reject, cursing my luck in ending up with him for an indefinite period.

With Trowa, we would have been outsiders together, waging a silent, surreptitious war against the establishment. Quatre would somehow have made it all better, cajoled the other kids into accepting me as their new best friend, and coaxed me into good behaviour and the pretence of fitting in.

Heero ignored me, except to read me the riot act when I got into too much trouble.

We'd been there nearly two weeks when I skipped my history class one afternoon and went from a stroll. I hadn't imagined there'd by anyone else on the far side of the playing fields, where a river formed the boundary of school property, but there were three of them, all in the top class, all athletes, lounging on the river bank, smoking, bored, ready for trouble.

There was a fairly brief exchange of mutual insults; I think they might have left it at verbal abuse if I'd kow-towed to their exalted status, but I'm not very good at grovelling. I knew just who these guys were and what they'd done; I'd seen some of the younger kids just fall silent when they walked past, or try to look invisible. I'd heard the rumours about a thirteen year old boy who'd hanged himself in the showers, and two others who'd left the school following nervous breakdowns.

And after two weeks of being on my best behaviour, and sharing a room with Heero, and putting up with his silences and insults and criticism, I was frustrated and spoiling for a fight.

They didn't know what hit them.

I had two of the bastards on the ground and was in the process of doing the same to the third; he was in the boxing club and putting up a fairly good fight, when someone grabbed my braid and yanked. Hard.

It was Heero.

'What the fuck is your problem?' I yelled at him. 'Where do you get off, thinking I can't look after myself? I don't need you babysitting me, you asshole!'

'Duo', he said it so very quietly, and it was the fact that he'd actually used my name for the first time that stopped me dead in my tracks. 'I thought you were going to kill them'.

Oh. it was - a compliment. The first time he'd ever so much dropped a hint that I wasn't a total waste of space. Heero Yuy had actually paid me a compliment and I couldn't stop the smile blossoming.

'Well, you didn't have to tear my hair out by the roots, did you?'

'I keep telling you, it's a liability in a fight.'

'Only with people who fight like girls.'

'A good soldier uses any weapon available.' The bastard was smirking at me but, oddly enough, he never once criticised my hair after that.

In fact, he started to touch it. It started off as a way to catch my attention, or get me to shut up - he would reach over and give it a tug. Then it kind of got so he did it all the time; I don't know if he was even aware that he was doing it, but he would walk past me and flip my braid over my shoulder, or sometimes reach out to smooth a strand that had escaped.

I guess we started being friends after that. He began to use my name, instead of Maxwell or baka or the perennially-popular h'n.

That phase had lasted for a month or so and confused the hell out of me.

Friends.

Yeah, right.

It was my leg cramping that jerked me back to the present. The little bathroom was freezing; the hot water had long since run out and what was coming out of the shower was ice-cold.

I fumbled in my rucksack for an extra sweater and socks. Damn, my jacket was still flung over a chair in the downstairs hallway. With my cellphone in the pocket. And as I opened my laptop bag, I remembered the machine had been left behind in Goa. Damn. I really wanted to talk to the guys, and Trowa, but I wasn't sure that I could go downstairs and face Heero again, not feeling like this.

It was nearly eight o'clock. Not all that late, but legitimately late enough that Heero might understand if I didn't go back downstairs. Might assume I'd just fallen asleep. Yeah, right. No way was I going to sleep tonight. I didn't think I was physically capable of crying any more, but the mood I was in, there would definitely be nightmares, and I didn't want him to hear that.

It wasn't that particularly hard to stay awake. The room was cold but I somehow couldn't quite bring myself to get under the shiny peach quilt. I could hear Heero moving about downstairs, and his 'phone rang incessantly, making the dog bark.

I had way too much in my head to relax, and I was starting to feel hungry. I did, at one point, consider sneaking downstairs to raid Heero's kitchen, assuming he had anything worth eating. He probably survived on protein shakes and dried tree bark, anyway. And even if I managed to avoid Heero and the dog, he doubtless had some crazy security system installed. Laser beams in the refrigerator, probably, so no unwanted house guests could steal his sushi.

I took a couple of antibiotics instead, washed down with tap water. I'd probably get cholera or something. There was nothing in the bathroom worth eating. I looked at the little selection of toiletries until citrus-scented soap and herbal conditioners started to sound appetising.

The first time he'd washed my hair, he'd used camomile conditioner.

It was the first time the four of us ever stayed in the same safe house.

Heero had arrived late the previous night, and had been up at daybreak, doing perimeter checks and scaring away the local wildlife. Trowa was confined to bed with a leg injury - nothing too serious but Quat had decided it was a good chance to keep him in bed and fuss over him a bit. By way of adding a bit of credibility to this, he'd made up a list of stuff he needed from the drugstore, and I'd volunteered to go shopping. Of course, once Heero heard this he decided it wasn't safe for me to go off alone…

'You don't think you overdid it a tiny bit, Quat?'

We were in my room, I was still recovering from a shoulder injury and he'd offered to help me with my hair; not something I can really do one handed. I was sprawled face down on my bed, revelling in his touch. The guy has a whole tribe of sisters, he can brush hair like an angel, the way Sister Helen used to.

He only laughed and l could imagine him trying to look innocent; I think I was being a bad influence on him. 'I have no idea what you're talking about, Duo.'

'Yeah, sure you don't. I was there, Q. I saw you batting those big, blue eyes at Heero, saying how worried you were about poor, brave Trowa's injuries, and how I'd volunteered to fetch medical supplies for you, but that you didn't want me going off alone since you'd heard there might be OZ forces in the vicinity…'

'Well…' I could hear the smile in his voice. 'I thought it might be a good idea for you two to spend some time together. You don't mind, do you?'

'Don't be silly, Quat. I'll be good to get out of the house for a bit. Give you a chance to spend some private time with your flexible buddy without us two hanging around and cramping your style!'

'Duo!'

''What, Quatre? The guy worked in a circus, right? I bet he's all supple and bendy in the right places, huh? Makes up for the fact that he only has one eye and doesn't really know how to talk and...Ow! Quat, that hurt!'

'Good.' My comb is an old metal one that I found somewhere or other. Actually not the most effective comb in the world as some of the teeth are broken. On the other hand, it's a fairly effective weapon, and Quat had given me a good sharp swat with it.

Of course, Heero had to chose that precise moment to walk in and yeah, it was all totally innocent, but to an observer it probably looked - less so. With me stretched out face down and Quat kneeling over me…

He didn't even have to say anything; just shot Quatre Death Glare Number 5487. I think in those days Quartre was more intimidated by Heero's glares than he was by OZ and he just mumbled something and ran for the door.

'Heero, that is not acceptable! Quatre was just helping me get ready.'

'H'n. He has Barton, if he wants to play with someone's hair.'

Oh. I probably should have yelled at him some more for the way he'd treated Quat, but my mind was whirling in all kinds of unexpected directions.

He was acting like he was jealous. And it was just possible that our sneaky little master tactician had set him up to feel just like that…Hmmm.

'Duo, I'm sorry. I'll apologise to Winner later.'

'Apology accepted, I guess.' How could I not? Heero looking at me, seeking my forgiveness, my approval. Air in the room thick with flying pigs. Oh well. We'd obviously all fallen through a worm hole to some weird, alternate universe so I might as well risk it.

'Now that you've scared him off, someone's going to have to help me do my hair.'

I doubt if Heero had ever used a comb in his life; his hair certainly showed no evidence of it, and the Yuy method of hairdressing consisted of sticking my old comb into the tangled hair on top of my head and yanking it down. I screamed and Heero froze.

'I thought -I thought that was the way it was done.'

'Not exactly, 'Ro.' I gingerly reached one hand up and felt my scalp, surprised to find any hair at all still attached to my skull. 'What you need to do is start lower down, just take a handful of hair at a time, and work out any knots or tangles in that before you move on to the next bit. OK?'

'Copy.' God, he sounded like he was accepting some mission.

This time, he was being obsessively careful not to pull or even snag any hair, giving each strand its own individual attention. It was - incredible. Heero Yuy focussed entirely on me. Then he started to follow the comb's movement with gentle strokes of his other hand.

'It's beautiful, Duo. Why don't you ever wear it down?'

I had to grin at that. 'For all the reasons you used to nag me about it, remember? It gets in the way, it catches on stuff, it attracts way too much attention.' I snagged a hair elastic from around my wrist. 'You'll have to help me with braiding it; I can't do that with one hand either.'

'What do I have to do?'

'Divide it into three sections, try to keep them equal and then you sort of fold them over each other...Oh! Like that...How the hell did you learn how to do that?'

'Odin took me sailing a couple of times. He taught me how to make knots; it's not that different.'

'Oh? You're comparing my hair to some smelly length of rope?'

'No. Of course not! Just the technique is similar. Can I have your hair elastic? We probably should get going if we're to be back before dark.'

Heero buckled himself to the driver's seat of the old pick-up truck he'd arrived in, and ran his eyes down Quatre's list of requirements from the drugstore.

'H'n. I hadn't thought the extent of Barton's injuries warranted such precautions.'

'Well, now'. I grinned suddenly, all right with my world. The four of us were together, and safe, and I had Heero Yuy to myself for a couple of hours. 'They don't, not really, but it's a nice excuse for Quat to keep him in bed and baby him for a bit.'

'That's very devious of 04'. He sounded quite approving.

'Yep, he can be a tricky little bastard when he wants. And Heero, his name's Quatre. Quat, if that's too hard for you. How would you like it if I called you 01 all the time?'

'I like you calling me number one.' He angled a sneaky, sidelong glance at me and I groaned, knowing he wanted me to.

'That seriously sucks, 'Ro! How long've you been waiting for me to set that up for you? Weeks?'

He kept his eyes on the road, but his perky, pleased little nod nearly made my heart melt. He was happy because he'd managed to make a joke.

'Why doesn't Winner just tell Barton how he feels?'

Winner. Uhhhn! Still, any name was better than a number, right?

'He could. But - he doesn't really know how Trowa feels about him. And he's scared that if Tro knows how he feels, then he - Tro - won't want to be his friend any more.'

OK, I'll admit to being a wee bit...disingenuous here; although Heero didn't know it, Quatre and Trowa had actually come to some sort of understanding. I wasn't quite sure what it was, but they seemed perfectly happy and that was the main thing, wasn't it?

So, really, I was using them as a test case to sound out how Heero felt on a few things.

At that stage, I wasn't sure if he was even gay. If I was being honest with myself, I wasn't totally sure if he was even human.

'So 04 prefers to indulge in delusions about a remote fantasy object?'

'That's - kind of cold, Heero. The thing is...you know Quat really likes Tro, don't you? And right now they have a really close friendship, something I don't think either of them has ever had with anyone else before, and maybe the possibility of something else. Sure, Quat would freaking love that something else, but he's also terrified of putting his feelings out there, and that Tro won't return them or that he'll be disgusted or he'll freak out and shoot him or whatever and then I - he won't have anything at all.'

'Direct is better.' Heero said impassively and my forehead fought the urge to connect with the dashboard. I'd have more luck trying to seduce Wing.

'Probably.' I muttered. 'Heero, you've spent a fair bit of time with Tro, haven't you? On the last couple of missions? Has he ever mentioned Quatre to you?'

Yeah, or have you ever had any nice cosy little chats about how you feel about me? Huh? Huh?

'We talk about our missions. Nothing more.'

Right. Figured.

'Weeeelll. Maybe the next time you're talking, you could just, y'know, drop Quatre's name into the conversation and see what Trowa says?'

'How exactly do you suggest I do that?'

'Oh. You know. "So, 03, what do you think of those new Mobile Dolls the Ozzies are using. And, while we're on the subject, that Quatre Winner sure has a cute ass, hasn't he?"'

'Duo!'

Yes! Managed to get a reaction. Score one for Duo.

'What?' I turned to look at him, eyes all big and innocently inquiring. 'You don't think he's got a cute ass?'

'I never said that.' Ah. There was a very faint blush staining those perfect cheekbones, but otherwise he looked quite composed. Hmmm. Oh, dear God. Don't let him have a thing for Quatre. Please.

'If I agree to this...intelligence gathering, what do I get out of it?'

'Um, the satisfaction of knowing you're helping to bring two lonely hearts together?'

'And?'

We were stopped at traffic lights by then, and he turned in his seat to give me one of those incredibly blue glances.

'What - what do you want?'

'We can discuss that later.'

'Oh.' Silence for a bit as we turned on to the freeway. 'Heero. Would you mind if the two of them hooked up?'

'Only if it jeopardised our mission in any way. I think Barton at least is professional enough not to let that happen. And I have read studies which claim that soldiers will fight better if they are protecting something they love.'

'Well, sheesh, 'Ro, that's not very romantic.'

'Is that what you want from me? Romance?'

'Dunno.' The scenery outside suddenly became absorbing; all those rail fences and the crops growing; well, there was green stuff in the fields that I didn't think was grass. Oh, shit. Was he - flirting with me? Trying to freak me out? Was I totally misinterpreting everything he said? Deep breath, Duo.

'You don't mind that they're, you know, both guys?'

'I'm not homophobic, no. And Duo, if you want to know whether I'm gay, you could just ask me. You're not very good at being subtle.'

Oh. Passing through a little village now; supermarket, church, diner, cluster of wooden houses with flowery gardens. Wonder what it would be like to grow up somewhere like that.

'Are you?'

'Are you

'I asked first.'

'But you want to know more.'

Shit, wasn't that all too freaking true? Well, I wasn't going to play his little mind games any more. Back to looking out the window. Bastard. Fuck. Well done, Maxwell.

'Duo. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to upset you.' His hand closed over mine; it took a minute for us to figure out the logistics of hand-holding and then realised our fingers laced together perfectly, that Heero's palm could curve around mine like a welcome. 'I am gay. And I know that you are. I thought we were just teasing each other.'

In the drugstore, he went missing while I was getting the prescription filled.

He wasn't at the magazines browsing some new issue of "Soldier of Fortune'; he wasn't in the health foods section stocking up on vitamin supplements. I'd gone through the whole store, searching for him, until the only two aisles left were Feminine Hygiene and Hair Care.

He was standing in the latter, frowning at the assortment of different conditioners.

'Which of these do you use?'

'Um, none of them, actually. I just get whatever shampoo is on special in the supermarket.'

'Unacceptable. No wonder your hair has so many tangles and split ends. In future, you are going to take better care of it.'

I followed him down the aisle, in a state of total shock, as he threw bottles and jars and packages into his basket, carefully reading the ingredients and instructions on each, before unscrewing the lid or cap to sniff it, all the while lecturing me on how important it was to use the correct product for my hair type and colour.

He was throwing out all these weird phrases like 'hydrating' and ''multi-dimensional shine' and anti-volumising' and 'ice shimmer' and 'protein strengthening' and God knows what which were necessary for long hair. Apparently, I had to start using shampoo made from juniper berries, and dried nasturtiums and root ginger, as they were appropriate for my colour.

I didn't have the heart to tell him that half the time, if I'd run out of supermarket-shampoo, I used a sliver of laundry soap, or else just kept it tied back….

'Heero, listen. I don't need all this stuff. And no way can I afford it.'

'I'm getting it. No, don't be silly. It's not my money; just funds I've stolen from OZ.'

OK, it may be hard to believe but I wasn't always a hacker - Heero got me in on it. It was a hobby to him, playing with Oz bank accounts. Half the time he didn't even steal the money, just moved it around to wreck their heads.

'Duo, please. Let me get this for you?'

'Um. OK, I guess. But on one condition, right? You'll have to help me with my hair 'til my shoulder gets better.'

'Acceptable.'

'That means you'll have to help me wash and dry and everything.'

'Everything,' he said slowly. ' I am quite aware of that…'

SHIT!

The sky was actually starting to lighten by this time; almost six am. I didn't think I'd really slept, just dozed off for a bit.

Heero was tapping on the door, calling my name.