Revised November 5, 2001
Standard Disclaimers apply: We do not own these puppets.
Director's Cut: I went ahead and cut things, revised poor sentence structure, took out stuff, and put in all the cute little extras that I didn't know to or didn't have the energy to the first time around. ^_^
It wasn't every day that a guy got to spend some quality time with his significant other. The syrupy smell of oil permeated the air, coloring it with a serious air of work that begged to be broken. Duo had pretty much quietly assigned himself to the task of keeping Heero Yuy from mentally going to pieces, and if that included manhandling him into a break, so be it.
"Hey Heero," Duo called, moving nearer to the quiet Japanese pilot, arms tucked behind his head, braid swinging back and forth like a pendulum. "Wanna go pick up some spare parts with me?"
"You can do it by yourself. There's no need for me to go with you."
"You know you need some more filters for Wing's cooling system--your control panel's completely fried. It's a fire hazard. And, just between you and me," said Duo, nudging him with a chuckle, "you look a lot better onscreen when your face isn't a pile of molten slag."
"Duo. I'm really busy right now," Heero said automatically, eyes never leaving his Gundam as he snapped two wires apart, testing the rubber with his thumb. The American's face contorted into a scowl as he shoved his cap over chestnut bangs and almost stomped from the hangar--almost. Because he was a man, and men most certainly did *not* sulk or stomp about like children.
Shinigami be damned; he was tired of killing and of nearly being killed. What had seemed a token battle, a just cause and a pretty facade, had mutated into one of the largest and most devastating wars the world had ever seen. It was one of Duo's guilty little secrets that he sometimes made himself watch CNN coverage of battle sites for hours straight, hands spasmodically clutching his hat.
"Hn." Heero turned away from Duo's prying eyes and continued cutting and retaping wires uselessly. Heero was going to need a complete overhaul of the motherboard, as well as some kind of upgraded cooling system that would keep his Gundam from catching fire again. He ignored Duo as he stomped past, the soles of his boots making banging noises that echoed throughout the room.
Heero sighed, reaching for his socket wrench, when he realized that it wasn't there. His hand groped around blindly for the tool, and finally he tore his eyes away from the wires, scanning the platform he stood on for the familiar metal shape. It hung delicately on the diameter of one of the bars supporting the platform. Sighing, he laid down on his stomach, one long arm dangling over the edge, fingers quivering as he reached for the wrench and just missed.
Heero climbed over the railing, locking his feet between two bars, and swiped at the wrench. It trembled in place for a moment, then fell, dropping three hundred yards down to the cement floor.
"Fuck," said Heero, blinking as the word echoed back at him.
He started to climb back over, then froze as the platform creaked. Looking down, he could see the dent in the fragile piping that supported his weight, slowly folding over onto itself.
His last conscious thought was of Duo, of the baka smiling down at him and giving a great belly laugh, hands on his slender hips, violet eyes shut in amusement.
Baka, he thought, then felt a sharp pain in his temple, draining away the light until he was swirling around in darkness, trapped in a whirlpool pulling him towards nothingness.
"Do you like scary movies?" hissed the voice.
"Who the fuck is this?" said Duo, glaring into the receiver as if he could kill the person over the wires. Then he checked Caller ID and blanched.
"Heero?"
"Oh, shit!"
"Ah ah ah, ah ah ah ah, ah ah!" sang Duo, clapping his hands over his heart. "Ah ah AH!"
"Oh Duo," breathed Prince Heero. "It _is_ you. You're the girl from the beach; the one who saved me when I was an arrogant ass and nearly drowned. I knew I'd find you one day, my precious mermaid."
Duo smacked Heero upside the head as he tried to embrace him. "I'm a boy," he said hotly. "A _boy_. Do you see any seashells on this flat chest?"
"I dreamed of you.
"Of your long hands, kissing me with your fingertips.
"Your bruised lips, falling over my body in shadowed acquaintance."
His hands played over the taut surface of the drums, long fingers tapping lightly and often, creating a rhythm to match the rapid patter of his words. His large blue eyes were smoke-heavy, outlined in kohl, peering out at the audience. Lips painted with red rouge turned black in the colored lights, painstakingly forming every word.
He was looking at one person in particular. Short brown hair flopped lazily over his eyes, giving a view of only slight shards of deep blue. He wore all black, making the vibrant color of his eyes stand out even more. Some people called that shade Prussian, but it was really closer to black flecked with dancing shards of blue. Witch eyes, Quatre had called them once.
The people around him snapped coolly, some nodding their heads, others watching impassively as he took a seat beside Heero. "Did you like it?" he asked, swiping Heero's coffee and taking a large gulp.
Heero shrugged, letting his gaze fall upon several unsuspecting patrons. "They think we're together," he noted, seeing the knowing looks the patrons were throwing right back at him. Duo's face fell behind the white ceramic mug. "You were fine," he added, eyes trailing a slender blonde in long skirts as she followed another blonde with forked eyebrows out of the club. That one was just setting herself up for heartbreak, he thought, with no small amount of satisfaction.
Duo watched the path of his eyes and tried a pale smile. "Why is it bad that they think we're together?" he wondered aloud. Heero's eyes dropped from the blonde girl and focused on him, the emotions there undecipherable.
They sat like that for several minutes, eyes locked and searching the other's soul. And found it wanting. "Because we're not," Heero finally said, and slapped a dollar bill onto the small circular table before walking out of the club.
"Hey, Heero!" he called, the bell of the door jingling merrily behind him. Snow graced the sides of the cobblestone streets; he plowed through the banks, not caring that he would end up wet and cold with possibly nothing to show for it, nothing but frostbite and pink fingers and red cheeks. Duo saw his figure, hands in his pockets, heading towards Bank Street. He passed through circle after circle, pausing briefly under every streetlight.
He jogged down a side street and found himself standing in front of Heero, blocking his path forward. "Why aren't we together?" he demanded, resisting the urge to reach out and cup Heero's cheek. "I could be good for you."
'Jesus,' thought Duo. 'Did I just say that?'
Heero looked away. Finally, he said, "I don't think of you that way."
"That's bullshit!" cried Duo, one hand coming out of his coat pocket to slap the silly Japanese boy and instead stroking his face gently, the leather chill against his skin. "What about the poems I found in your dresser drawer? Yeah, that's right," he snapped, seeing Heero blink in surprise, "I violated your trust, went through your stuff. You can kill me later. I had to know." His eyes were glazed over in desperation. "So what about those poems?"
"D-Duo," Heero stammered, raking his hands through ice-stiffened hair, "those weren't for you." He breathed a soft sigh, watching the white frost clouds of his breath float away to the darkest star.
"No!" said Duo. "*Perceptions belied/The darkest stars of night to life/As I to you*." Heero shook his head, frowning. "*Violet eyes, reborn in the chrysalis/All the rest is between myself and the open sky.*"
"You memorized them?" asked Heero incredulously. "I mean; they weren't good, at all, completely clichéd--"
"Stupid," sighed Duo, eyes suddenly shadowed. "I'm in love with you." He took the two steps between them and captured his face between his gloved hands, slowly bringing their faces together. His lips brushed over Heero's, an offer extended. It would be up to Heero to accept.
"Duo," Heero said, resting his forehead on Duo's, "I have to go." Contenting himself with one last kiss, he pulled away, walking into the mock darkness of the inbetween-streetlights. Duo did not follow.
"But mum," said Duo, pouting adorably. "I want to dance!" As if to reiterate, Duo began to shake his little chibi hips and tap his cute twelve year old feet. Bopping his head music that only he heard, Duo closed his eyes and surrendered to the boogie beat.
"Go, Duo!" yelled Quatre as he did exercises at the bar.
"Oh Duo," said Heero, his eyes starry. Heero himself also sported a pair of pretty pink ballet shoes. "You're such an amazing dancer."
"I'm going to be a bally dancer one day," said Duo, rather smugly. Then, sidling up to Heero with a mischievous grin pasted on his face, he said, "You want to be my boyfriend?"
Heero's face fell. "I'm not a poof," he said, and skipped off in his little tutu to practice at the bar with Quatre.
"We are the Toros, mighty mighty Toros!" said Duo, delivering a high kick to wow the judges with a panty shot.
After, Heero, captain of the Clovers, caught Duo as he was walking off the mat. "You think that a single panty shot's gonna be enough?" taunted Heero. "Well, girl, you got a-NUTH-a thing coming."
"Yeah?" said Duo, standing on tiptoe in his Keds sneakers.
"Yeah," said Heero, snapping three times in the way those girls with ultra attitudes do. "Don't throw the competition just because you feel sorry for us." They both looked at Heero's team, a sorry mess of old men with gray beards and little boys dressed in red caps and vests. "Bring it," said Heero.
"Oh believe me," said Duo dramatically, "I will." As he turned to walk away, he tripped and fell over a stray pompom.
"Help me, Ornery One Hirobi," said Duo, his hair done up in two plaits wound in cinnamon buns around his ears.
"I cannot fail a mission," said Heero, and drew his lightsaber in a way he thought was sexy, just in case Prince Duo had cameras watching him.
"Goodnight my angel," Duo sang over the mike, grinning at the crowd. His adoring fans, some sporting Duo's trademark red bandanna, swooned. They were falling over themselves for the opportunity to touch, to talk to Duo Maxwell, international pop-singing sensation. He'd just finished his first hit single and the last of his set, "Goodnight Angel". It was always a crowd pleaser; it was as if they sensed that Duo put more feeling into that one song than the rest of the set combined.
He turned to his drummer, who was trying to slip behind the backdrop silently, and giggled on the inside. "We can't forget about our lovely band! Qua~atre-sama, where are you going?" Quatre glared from beneath a large fluffy bang at the mike, clutching his Fender closer to his chest.
"And Trowa, on the bass guitar." He waited for the applause to die down before starting again. "Wu-man! Who could ever forget you? You're my best friend, Wuffie!" He ran up to the dazed Chinese man and gave him a huge hug, making a face as his keyboard rocked uncertainly between them.
"And last, but not least, our silent, tall, dark and handsome drummer, Heero!" He winked at the Japanese boy. The audience screamed its approval--Duo and Heero went way back to first grade, and they knew the drummer better than any of the other band members. It was a sort of seniority thing; anyone who couldn't get next to Duo usually tried getting there through Heero.
"Goodnight, L-2!" he shouted, then jogged off the stage. They would clap for another ten minutes--he was used to it by now. He ran into his dressing room and changed quickly; the security guards could only hold the screaming girls off for so long. The walls of the tiny closer were papered with glittery posters, all reading absurd things like "DUO + SHARON = 4EVER" and "I HAVE A WEDGIE!"
As he wiped the sweat of the previous two hours from his body, Duo couldn't help but wonder where Heero was, if it were too late to catch up with him and invite him out for a drink. 'Just a drink between friends, some buddy-buddy downtime,' Duo thought as he tightened the band at the end of his braid.
"You're not fooling anyone," he whispered at his reflection.
Duo emerged from his dressing room just in time to see the Japanese boy disappear into a cab to take him back to their hotel. "Wait up!" he yelled, waving an arm frantically. Heero motioned towards the strange long-haired man who sprinted towards the yellow taxi--the driver simply smiled.
"Man," he sighed as he flopped onto the vinyl seats, "that was one hell of a concert. I nearly died when that girl threw that leopard-print bra onto the stage--I'm just glad it didn't catch on. I can see it now: DUO MAXWELL CONCERT A SECRET STRIP CLUB."
"Yeah, well, you're not the one that got hit with it," said Heero, trying not to laugh.
"Duo Maxwell?" The cabby turned around and stared in shock at the leather-clad boy. "Are you Duo Maxwell?" He nodded. "My daughter's got posters of you all over her walls. Can't stop talking about you, and when your songs come on the radio--" The driver shook his head in amazement.
"O-Oh, thanks mister," he said, nodding as he listened to the driver rant about how hard it was to find the Duo Maxwell dolls and pencil sets. They were both relieved when the familiar white and gold décor of their hotel appeared around the corner.
"Thanks, man," Duo said with a cheer he didn't feel.
They trudged to their rooms, Duo following Heero inside the drummer's large suite and plopping unceremoniously onto his bed. Even though Heero hadn't even slept in it yet, Duo knew that if he pressed his nose to the sheets, they would smell like Heero.
"What do you want to do now, lover?" he asked, half-teasing, half-hopeful. They both knew he was unabashedly bisexual. It was one of his charms; there was no one quite as comfortable with himself as Duo, and no one had the ability to make others feel uncomfortable with that same comfort as much as Duo did.
Duo crushed easily and hard; after all, it was hard to find someone trustworthy and cute, so when Duo happened to stumble across one, especially one in the band, the results had the potential to be disastrous. Wufei had nearly quit the band after the braided maniac admitted he thought the Chinese boy had a nice butt. That had been an interesting mess; Duo had taken it back, only to have Wufei become insulted, thinking Duo thought he had a below average ass.
"Stop playing, Duo. I'm tired." It was meant as a dismissal; instead, Heero found himself pinned beneath the violet-eyed singer, wrists held tightly to the bed. Rolling his eyes, he yanked his hands away from him, rolling out from beneath him. The bed was bouncier than either had expected, and they both went tumbling onto the floor.
The floor, Heero realized, was very uncomfortable, but arching away from it would mean pressing himself _into_ Duo.
"I'm not playing," said Duo, his voice huskier than it had been during the concert. That was one of management's chief concerns; Duo's voice had changed a lot since he'd become a sixteen year old pop phenom, and all the new muscle definition and the facial hair was starting to show. Heero was suddenly very aware that, despite his growing masculinity, Duo had very long lashes that brushed against his cheeks, and that those blue-violet eyes framed by those long long lashes were fixed firmly on him.
"Stay with me tonight," he said, raining light kisses over Heero's neck and face, hands reaching under his shirt to tweak his nipples. Heero felt his body arch towards him instinctively, and pulled away, tugging the hem of his shirt back down.
"Duo." The braided boy looked mildly annoyed at his efforts being thwarted. "We're good friends. We shouldn't do this. It's. We just shouldn't," finished Heero, propping himself up on his elbows.
"We could be better as lovers," he insisted. "For more than tonight." He began to crawl over to him, his braid hanging over his shoulder like a thick rope. "More than a one-night stand."
"You don't know what you're asking," Heero said.
"Show me," insisted Duo.
"There's someone else--" 'Jesus!' thought Heero as Duo ground his hips into Heero's.
Duo snorted. "Who? Relena?" Heero jumped as the American planted a wet kiss on his nose. "You." He poked Heero's chest. "You're mine." He pounced again. And Heero...well, how could anyone resist an offer like that?
After, Duo lay curled into him, legs twitching occasionally, arms wrapped securely around Heero's waist. The Japanese drummer laid awake and stared at the ceiling, the certain doom of dawn approaching. Everything would be different in the morning. No matter what Duo had said, or the sweet promises he'd whispered in Heero's ear, they both knew about media and scandal sheets. Heero closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the one night they could have.
_And I, eee eye, will always, love you, ooo ooo ooo oh, will always love yooooooouuu..._
"Oh, Heero," said Duo, rubbing a hand up and down the big muscle in Heero's arm. Heero had carried him through a throng of people so eager to touch Duo that they ripped parts of his costume away, although not enough for Heero's tastes. "You're such a sexy bodyguard. You even saved my tinfoil sequined crown." He planted a gentle kiss on Heero's cheek, grinning as they strode off into the night, bodyguard and body, er, guarded.
_...ooooooooooou ou ou...I will always...luh huh huh huh, huh ha huv...you oo oo..._
"I am the Ghost of Christmas Future!" moaned Duo. "Scrooge McYuy, if you do not change your ways, a griev--a greviou--" Duo paused. "A horrible fate will befall you!" he groaned.
Heero, who looked completely adorable in a nightgown and little white cotton cap replete with pointy end, glared at him. "You're out of order, baka," he said. "I'm supposed to be visited by the Ghost of Christmas Past first."
"That's entirely besides the point," said Duo. "The point is that you don't get a lot of chances in life, buddy"--he swung a chain at Heero's head to illustrate--"and you'd better start taking advantage of them while they last!"
"What are you talking about?" said Heero, glaring for all he was worth.
"You know," said Duo, smirking.
"I really don't."
"Do too!" said Duo, and oops, it seemed that Heero had somehow enraged the Ghost of Christmas Future, since his chains were vibrating and glowing. "Don't tell me that you don't know, mister. You're just being a big poo."
With that, the Ghost of Christmas Future flounced off with a loud rattle and Heero woke.
"Aagh!" Heero jerked as a bucket of cold water splashed onto his face. "What are you trying to do, drown me?"
"You fell," Duo said, enunciating the words in disbelief as if tasting them. Then his eyes lit up with laughter. "_You_, O Mighty Gundam Pilot, fell! The incredible, stoically silent, extraordinary soldier falls off a piece of scaffolding!"
"Everyone makes mistakes," said Heero, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.
"So," said Duo, crossing his arms over his chest triumphantly. "You admit that you _are_ human." A sneaky smile spread across his face, and Heero knew, with mind boggling accuracy, that Duo was going to drag him on a field trip to the small town to buy Gundam parts.
"No more than you are," said Heero.
"Well," said Duo, as he pulled Heero to his feet, "you've really told me. Struck to the heart, bud."
"Of course I did," said Heero as they walked towards the door.
"I was being so sarcastic it hurt," said Duo.
"I knew that," said Heero, and when Duo wrapped an arm around his waist, he didn't protest at all.
The End
[1] I make fun of Scream, The Little Mermaid, Billy Elliot, Star Wars, The Bodyguard, Bring It On and A Christmas Carol. O_O; Serious stuff is all me.
Bianca
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