October 23, 2001
pairing: 2x1
When Duo came back from a meeting with his financial advisor, Heero had supper simmering on the stove.
When she'd changed, there had been a sort of iffy period where she'd refused to cook at all, not wanting to feel like she was submitting to a domestic mold. But there was something warm and transcendent about the tiny motions of the knife slicing tomatoes, the way the papery skin of the onion chafed off in her hands. The kitchen smelled spicy and of playful work; Heero could get lost in the bright waves of color, the scents of things boiling and broiling, a feeling that she didn't really understand. It was creation and it was chemistry; it was all the things she had thought were menial and oppressive to women.
But that feeling! It was deeper and it called to a place inside her. Women didn't belong chained to the hearth, but maybe there were some people who were born to create in any way that they could. "Smells good," said Duo, loosening his tie. "Why do I feel like we're some couple straight out of a bad black and white sitcom?"
Heero never knew exactly what to say to Duo's banter, so she usually settled for a soft laugh. "I have no idea," she said, but she was lying. Those television shows always showed a static family, two kids, a dog, a hard-working husband, a loving wife. But permeating all of that was comfort, and at that moment, it had wrapped around Heero with tender arms.
"You wouldn't believe what Dickie told me," said Duo, bending over to nab a strip of chicken from the sizzling pan on the stove. His white shirt pulled tight against his back, tight across his broad shoulders.
The shape of his figure, leaning over the stove gingerly, struck Heero as strangely right.
"Duo," she said, because there were no other words. Her heart jumped into her throat and dissolved into dust, and Heero was made aware of a great vacancy there. Becoming female had made her more aware of the spaces inside a person, how sometimes there wasn't any or there wasn't enough. And sometimes, there was just the right amount.
"What? Sorry," he said, and swiped another piece of chicken.
"No, it's--" Heero rubbed her neck awkwardly, hyper-aware of the blush spreading across her face, the clenching of Duo's hands at his hips. Duo had beautiful hips, an athlete's hips, the kind that swiveled smoothly and seemed to have a life of their own. His hands, too, were artfully beautiful, knuckled and veined in a mess that should have been ugly.
She went to turn the heat down at the stove, but ended up resting a hand on one of his hips. Heero didn't want to look at him, didn't want to see the confusion written in a severe mien. If she pressed just a bit, she could feel his bone, the slight padding of muscle and skin. If she straightened her fingers, she could rest her thumb just to the left of his spine.
His body was hot beneath her palm. Heero breathed in slowly and pulled away. Duo didn't say anything, but she knew that he was thinking it, thinking _something_. She wanted to know, but she wanted to be able to touch him again and if perceived innocence would allow it, she would stay with that tack.
"I'm going to take a shower," said Duo hoarsely. "I'll be down for supper in half an hour." He took the stairs two at a time, and Heero couldn't help but wonder if he were touching himself, thinking of her and her hand on his waist.
Duo knocked her over one morning when he'd overslept his alarm. "Shit!" he cursed, his hair flying in wild tendrils from his loose braid. "Heero, are you okay?" She blinked at the proffered hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet.
"Fine," she said, and then he rushed out the door, but the feel of their bodies pressed completely together, nearly lips to hips and hips to knees, stayed with her.
Heero was starting to believe that he would be a girl forever, and it really wasn't that bad of an idea. Maybe he wasn't as strong as he had been, but his first crush, his first offering of emotion, had come while he was a girl. In his mind, emotion and his new body were inextricably connected. There were tradeoffs to both sides.
"Do you wish you were a guy again?" Duo asked him one Saturday night. They had gone to Blockbuster, lamented the lack of good new releases, and rented every horror movie they had been able to find. They would never finish them all, but Heero didn't mind, and he suspected that Duo didn't either. Being almost midnight, Heero could just imagine Relena and Dorothy working the boys at some bar and smiled.
"No."
Duo raised an eyebrow. "Not one bit?"
"It's still me, I already told you that," said Heero, rolling her eyes and curling her legs beneath her. On screen, Michelle Pfeiffer was about to go underwater in the bathtub.
"Yeah, but--" Duo blushed. "I mean, isn't it kind of weird, like... Like, before. You liked girls, right?" Heero nodded. "I mean...now that you're actually a girl... Like, being something that you were attracted to before."
Heero paused thoughtfully, then said, "Attraction is chemical. And it's not like someone attached my head to a girl's body. It's like. I really am a girl."
"As in you like guys," said Duo.
"Kind of," said Heero, staring straight ahead at the television. Don't ask, please just leave it alone, she thought silently. Meanwhile, Michelle was trying to make her eyes expressive and failing miserably.
Contrary to popular belief and the many books she'd read, it was nearly impossible to express any clear emotions with the eyes; a glitter could be the lamp's light reflecting, a smile could be boredom. She didn't really put much stock in people who thought they could read your whole life in your pupils.
"So what kind of guys do you like?" said Duo, stretching an arm out behind her, as if they were high-schoolers on a date at a nickelodean. "Tall guys? Really beefy, strong guys?" He pretended to flex his muscles. "I bet you anything you're into skinny white guys that you could beat up with your eyes closed."
"Not exactly," said Heero, weighing the consequences of throwing all caution to hell and saying, 'My type has long hair and dark blue eyes and big, big hands...' "Sort of in between."
"Right," said Duo, not even bothering to feign interest. "I generally like blondes." Heero's back went straight, but Duo didn't seem to notice or care. "Really curvy"--Heero thought of her own slender-bordering-on-skinny frame--"with big round eyes"--Heero's eyes were slanted and they crinkled into moon-slivers when she laughed--"and a nice smile."
Heero knew that her smile was awkward and shy at the corners, that her eyes were small and strange and her own hair was a deep brown. She thought maybe that Duo was trying to tell her something.
Then she felt a hesitant hand slip under the blanket she'd snuggled under, pushing her shirt up and resting on her bare stomach, moving with her breath. His fingers stroked her belly lightly, sending shivers down her spine, but she forced herself to remain still.
"I--generally--like blondes," said Duo. Heero didn't know when he'd shifted closer, but Duo's face was a foot from hers, which seemed like a lot in theoretical terms, but when his eyes were lasers on her face and his hand was rising and falling with the tide of her body, it felt very close.
She was afraid he would kiss her; she was afraid he would pull away, pretend that the touch of their skin was a mistake and let his apprehensions crush this tiny, helpless creature between them. "Duo," she said, and then he moved to kiss her, never breaking eye contact.
The sound of breaking glass shattered the romantic atmosphere; the girl had taken Michelle Pfeiffer's place and shoved Harrison Ford into the mirror. "Um," said Heero, feeling a little breathless as Duo pulled away, their lips having been inches from touching.
"Look," began Duo.
"No, wait," said Heero, shushing him with a finger pressed against his lips. She could see the slight jerk of his mouth, wondered if he'd wanted to suck on her finger like the syrup that morning at breakfast. Calling upon every ounce of courage she had, Heero spoke quickly before she could think and stop herself. "I don't know about you, but I wanted to. Want to."
Duo inhaled deeply, running a hand through his bangs. He was sprawled across the end of the couch, taking up as much space as possible without touching her. "Okay," he said, a bit gruffly. "All right."
They didn't kiss that night, but when they'd just finished Scream 3 and were heading upstairs, he caught her wrist and pulled her into a tight embrace, his face buried in her neck, trying to inhale the goodness of her scent. His hands stroked her back slowly.
"That's really romantic," said Relena, giggling. Dorothy had gotten them into one of the best Indian restaurants in the city, and they were currently nestled into a booth in the corner, discussing Heero's lovelife. "Duo's so cute."
"Hey," said Heero, glaring at her.
"Yeah," said Dorothy, "you're taken, Miss Relena." Relena laughed again. Heero was almost positive that the two girls were playing footsie under the table. "And I've got a sneaking suspicion that Duo is too."
"Well," said Heero, trying hard not to smile and failing miserably, "I guess you could say that."
Since they both knew it was coming, Heero and Duo danced around each other for days. Heero, for one, was determined to enjoy the chase, since Relena claimed once you were caught, the fun was over and the serious stuff began.
One night, Heero made dinner and set out candles. She had changed into a low-cut dress that was a touch too big, and during the second course, she leaned over until she was parallel to the table.
"Jesus," said Duo, leaving no doubt that he had taken the opportunity to look down her dress. "Jesus." He coughed and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "You could have, y'know, asked me to pass the salt." Heero shrugged innocently.
"I can take care of myself," she said.
But that wasn't to say that Duo didn't get her back, coming downstairs for breakfast shirtless and dripping wet, the hard muscles of his chest smoothed and elongated since their days as pilots. "Good morning," he said, smirking as she had to manually close her jaw.
There were other things too, but those were less intentional and more entirely accidental.
Sort of like the time Heero had been in the bathtub, indulging in a princess activity with a long soak in mineral salts, and Duo, still holding his briefcase, burst in soaking wet and half- naked, obviously looking to take a shower. "Um--!" said Heero, sinking down until water splashed her collarbones.
"Oh shit," said Duo, covering his eyes. "Shit, shit, sorry-- I didn't mean to--"
"I know," said Heero, equally mortified, "it's okay, seriously, Duo. It's fine. I'll be out in a second." Duo made a strange groaning noise and fled.
So even though they were torturing themselves, it was a kind of pleasurable torture, the drawn-out fun kind. It was fun to go on long walks with bottles of soap and have bubble wars, laughing and sputtering at the same time, pretending not to notice as Duo's hand brushed hers.
Heero didn't know really how it happened, then, or why Duo had chosen that particular moment. After all, they'd had so many opportunities, purposefully missed, and the one he capitalized on was rather mundane.
But Heero still didn't complain when they were making dinner together and she was leaning over the stove, inspecting the color of the chicken, and he suddenly grabbed her and whirled her around in circles of circles until she was dizzy. Then, while her head was still spinning, he kissed her, pressing their lips together carefully.
He kissed her slow and easy, open-mouthed but without tongue; he kissed her with one hand against her cheek and another holding her neck, a proper distance between their hips. He kissed like everything was strange and sterile except for them, kissing in mountains of ash. He kissed like a boy in love with a girl in love with a boy, tenderly, in the backseat of a Chevy with the lights of Lover's Lane low around them. He kissed like she were beautiful, a beautiful thing, a thing he wanted to devour and then lick clean from the sides of the bowl.
Duo pulled away, searching her face expectantly.
"Um," said Heero, and he obliged her with another kiss.
So, kissing.
There was a lot of kissing over the next few days, and actually, despite Relena and Dorothy's warnings that all men were fast movers, no groping. Sometimes Duo's hand would stray a little high on her side or a little low on her back, but before she even knew that she'd stiffened, he would shift so she was more comfortable.
It was very awkward at first. Sometimes Heero would want to kiss Duo, like when Duo had just gotten back from a meeting with the committee that was going to take over the running of his foundation and he was tired and crabby and wanted to eat and then sleep. He was irresistible when he was slightly annoyed, exhaling loudly as he turned over the day's events in his head while he stared at the television screen. Heero especially wanted to kiss Duo then, but there was a kind of unspoken ritual that they followed when they kissed that would have been violated.
The way the ritual developed had been purely by accident. They had been watching television and Heero, who never could seem to focus on the show when Duo's arm was brushing just so against her back, saw him move out of the corner of her eye and turned her head. Duo, who had actually been reaching for the remote, saw her move and thought she wanted him to kiss her, but at the same time, Heero saw that Duo hadn't been about to kiss her and turned her head away, embarrassed.
Then they both laughed, blushed and kissed.
The next time they had tried kissing, it had been in the kitchen, where all the best secrets were revealed, and Duo sidled up to her with his hands behind his back, a shit-eating grin pasted on his face, and said, "I'm just letting you know that I'm going to kiss you now."
Heero turned bright red, but said, "Okay." Then he did, and he tasted good and thick like vanilla ice cream. The next time, as sort of a joke, Duo did it again, and then again, until it felt weird when they tried to kiss without it.
Heero was beginning to think that they were going to have to inform each other of their intentions for the rest of their relationship. Then one day, while she was mashing potatoes with the little grid-iron stamp, out of nowhere, he kissed her neck gently, saying, "Do you know how sexy you are when you're all domestic?" Heero's eyes flew open and Duo's hands moved south, stating his intentions as clearly as if he'd spoken them.
Heero hadn't really thought that their first time would be on a kitchen floor with the gravy bubbling on the stove above them and the television on in the living room spitting car-backfiring noises, but that made it sort of better. It wasn't the romance novel ideal of sex and it wasn't terrible. Just...very Duo.
"So," said Duo, lying on his back beside her, the soft hairs on his legs tickling her calves. They were both panting slightly; Heero knew she was smiling and didn't try to hide it.
"So," she said, and turned on her side to give him a long, sweet kiss.
There were lots of advantages, Heero discovered, to having a steady boyfriend. It was sort of like having a dependable secretary that could type your letters and fax your memos and give sex on demand, but without having to pay him. "You're my secretary," Heero said once as she tried to decide between ESPN and MTV. Duo shot her a quizzical look, but seemed to accept it as another quirk in his lover's character.
"I'm serious," she said, settling on a hockey game. "You do it all."
That made him laugh, a short, hard bark that was shocking and dazzlingly cute all at the same time. Heero had pretty much decided that most people were innately contradictory, never one thing or the other. 'It's called human,' Relena had said, and Heero had to agree with her.
"You're cute," said Duo, nuzzling her neck.
"Is that supposed to distract me from my hockey game?" said Heero, purring softly when the soft skin of his cheek rubbed against a sensitive spot. "I need my--ahh--daily dose of unrestrained violence."
"Really," said Duo, and then he started kissing her ear and her throat and Heero pretty much forgot about all the sweaty men in shoulderpads.
Sex was only one part of it, even if it seemed to take up a majority of their free time together. Heero found that she _wanted_ to do nice things for Duo and that they gave her an achey sort of satisfaction, which was strange.
Like the time Duo came back to their apartment, grinning trimphantly. "Done!" he cackled, grabbing her for an impromptu celebratory dance. "Done, done, done! I thought I'd never get the entire thing off the ground and running, but it's done." Then, as if all the energy had been sapped from his body, he leaned against her, making her support all of his body weight. "Thank God," he said, and Heero understood that it wasn't just the foundation that he was thankful for.
"Come on," she said, slowly unwinding their limbs. "You must be exhausted." Duo winked at her.
"My good little housewife," he said, snickering as she smacked his butt playfully. "You're way too good to me, you know that?"
"Of course," said Heero, leading him upstairs and into the bedroom. It had been Duo's room, but, by all rights, it belonged to Heero as well since she slept there.
...And even if a whole lot of sleeping didn't get done in there, it was the principle that counted.
"What's going on, babe?" said Duo coyly. "If you wanted to ravish me, you should have just asked."
"You're such a _man_," said Heero, and they laughed. The word had an extra edge of irony for both of them. "Take off your shirt and lie down." Duo did so, blinking as velvety oil was poured onto the small of his back. Some of it ran down the sides of his torso and Heero had to hurry to catch the droplets before they touched the bedspread.
"Fuck," she swore, straddling him so she rested atop his buttocks.
"Mmph," said Duo.
"Hush," said Heero, kneading his back hard, rolling her eyes as he made overexaggerated moaning noises. "You're so tense. You shouldn't work so hard." Duo snorted at that. "What?" she demanded, pausing to pour more oil into her palm. "You've worked hard enough for one lifetime."
"So've you," said Duo, and Heero stiffened a bit; his tone was only half-teasing. "When're you gonna settle down with a good- looking, funny, smart, dependable guy?"
Heero bit her tongue, then said, "As soon as I find one like that."
Duo sighed breathily. "You've got one between your legs right now."
"Duo--"
"Just kidding around, babe." Duo paused, his voice muffled, before saying, softly, "Maybe we should get a bigger apartment or something. You know."
"Maybe," said Heero, blinking as Duo's back popped loudly. "But I kind of like the one we've got now. It's cozy. Sort of homey, I guess. But if you want to--"
Duo flipped her, pressing one thigh between hers, staring down at her with their faces less than an inch apart. His gaze was unflinching and bare, as if he were trying to strip away her clothes and strip away the outer edges of her soul. One hand brushed the curve of her breast, and even though they weren't really hers, somewhere between shopping sprees and finding Duo she'd grown into them and made them hers. When she slept with Duo, it was really her. It wasn't hormones and it wasn't any physical that she could point to, it was his large hands and his crooked smile and how it seemed he tried to eat her up with one look.
"I love you," said Heero.
Duo didn't say anything, but when he kissed her, it was with an inexplicable shadow of sadness; when he finished making love to her, he stayed inside her, his head pillowed on her chest, lulled to sleep by her heartbeat.
Heero turned back into a boy on a Wednesday.
Duo moved out on a Friday. Heero hadn't asked him to, and Duo hadn't explained why, but sometimes there wasn't a need to say things like that.
It had happened overnight again, and Heero had freaked out for a moment before calling Relena on his cell phone. He whispered into it while smoking one of Duo's stress-cigarettes in the bathroom. Relena had understood right away, and when she arrived holding a plate of cookies for comfort food, it was more than Heero could bear.
Heero had learned how to cry as a girl, but while he'd lost everything else, that translated across the barrier. It was sort of comforting; sort of familiar.
Even things with Relena and Dorothy were strained; he tried going out clubbing with them once, just to cheer himself up, and ended up depressing himself more. He wasn't one of the girls anymore; he was of the silly little _men_ that floated in and out of their lives like the tides, counting out the time.
He bundled up all his girl stuff in a big brown box, just heaping the clothes and the boots and the halter top that Duo had hated in there, adding the makeup and the dozens of shades of nail polish. Relena had been openly crying as he ceremoniously handed it to her, feeling as if he'd just lost one of his best friends. Dorothy didn't cry, but she couldn't bring herself to speak either, and that was a sort of consolation.
"Here," she said, grabbing a random shade. It was a soft pink, a color that had gone beautifully with his old self's skin tone. "You keep it," she said, wiping a tear away. "It's a souvenir from a really great vacation." They kissed him on the cheek.
Then Relena and Dorothy were gone, and with them went the last vestiges of all those lazy afternoons spent watching TV with Duo, dancing with the girls, learning how to wax his legs, being bought drinks, falling in love.
Heero couldn't bring himself to throw the nail polish away, even though he knew that he should. He kept it on the dresser in his room; he'd moved back when Duo left. It hadn't even been a week, and already he was forgetting the scent of Duo's skin late at night, the feel of his tongue sliding over the curved shell of his ear.
Heero didn't cook anymore, resorting to microwave meals and ramen. Sometimes, though, he'd open the cupboard to look for a clean bowl and, tucked away in the back like a forgotten song, would be the shiny steel of his pots. When that happened, he closed his eyes for a moment, letting fragments of memories come back to him. When all else left him, he would still have those images
--duo snatching pieces of chicken from the skillet--
--red sauce boiling and the front door opening--
--laughing kissing, duo's hand on her waist--
and the warmth they gave him, tenderness that he missed very much.
After a while, when Heero really started believing that Duo wasn't coming back, he stopped eating anything that used a bowl, and then he stopped eating at home entirely.
Duo came back on a Saturday. He showed up empty-handed at the door of Heero's apartment, without even I'm-sorry-flowers or Please-forgive-me-chocolates. He showed up on a rainy Saturday, dripping water on Heero's welcome mat. He looked at Heero hesitantly, as if he could barely stand the sight of him, as if the familiar face made him think of other, happier times.
"Hey," said Duo. "How you holding up, man?"
They both winced.
"Pretty good," said Heero, still keeping the door only slightly open.
"Can I come in?" said Duo, holding out a hand in supplication. The sight of that familiar, callused palm, the lines that had learned the bumps of Heero's spine, was too much. Heero shook his head silently, not trusting his own voice, and moved to close the door.
"Hey," said Duo, sticking a foot in the crack. "You can't. I just. You can't just finish it like that. Not after." He swallowed. His eyes glittered; Heero waited. "Not after you made me love you and then you told me that...that you loved me."
Heero tried to push him out of the doorway, to make him go away, stop speaking, _anything_. "I can't hear this," he said, shrinking into the safety of the apartment with its TV dinners and the empty bedroom. "Duo--"
"Wait," said Duo, grabbing Heero's wrist, and _jesus_. They froze at the contact, that simple touch bringing back half-remembered dreams of lovemaking and kisses and shy embraces at the stove. "Wait. Can you just. I practiced this," said Duo desperately, finally forcing his way inside. "Can you just hear me out?"
He shut the door behind him, frowning at Heero's silence. "You said that you loved me, and I hope it was true, because I love you." Duo whirled around and looked at Heero, as if waiting for some sort of confirmation. "Did you hear me?" he said, taking a tentative step forward. "I still _love_ you. I want to _be_ with you. I want to cook _dinner_ with you. I want to bite your ear until you squeak and make you laugh that stupid, awful laugh and--" Duo exhaled loudly, sending his bangs flying upward. "I want to do everything with you," he said, slowly, gravely. "I want everything with you."
"Stop," said Heero, and he stood, meaning to throw Duo out of his apartment and out of his life for good, forever, no more of his bad jokes and lame humor and lean golden muscles under white Oxford shirts. He really meant to, but somehow the "throwing out" turned into passionate kissing, Heero's arms winding around Duo's neck.
Trembling, Duo's hands sank into Heero's hair, stroking the soft strands there. His tongue met Heero's jerkily, as if touching another boy's saliva would burn the tip of it. They pulled away slowly, their chests touching.
"Heero," he said. Heero opened his eyes to see Duo staring at him as if he'd never seen a boy before in his life. "Jesus, I've never done this before--" Heero chuckled at him, and stood on tiptoe to give him another kiss.
They didn't do more than kiss that first night, or the next night, or the next. "Relearning period," said Duo, rolling his eyes as Heero plucked the salt from his hand and applied a bit more to the meat they were cooking for supper. "Seriously, babe. You're all angles now; we need to fatten you up."
"Right," said Heero, but he didn't object when Duo kissed the spot just behind his ear. It was really par for the course.
"So you're gay, or what?" said Heero over dinner.
Duo considered for a moment, drawing out the chewing of his bite of chicken as long as possible. Finally, he said, "Bi, I think. I mean, I'd say that it's just you, but I don't think you've really got the power to change something like that."
"Hey," said Heero, nudging him gently with his toe.
"I mean," said Duo, winking, "you're--um--really hot, but it's more like. It was always there." Duo rolled the words around in his head one more time, then nodded. "Yeah. I just didn't know it then. I might never have known," he said.
"So I guess we're lucky," said Heero.
"Lucky and freaky," said Duo. "I don't know how many people figure out that they're attracted to their best friend the way I did."
"Hey," said Heero, smiling as Duo entered the living room in a ratty tee-shirt and baggy jeans. "Basketball's on. Jordan's knees look sort of wobbly." Duo grinned and plopped down on the couch next to him. Duo hated Michael Jordan with a passion, going so far as to put up a mini-shrine of MJ voodoo dolls in their kitchen during the playoffs.
"Oh man," said Duo. "This I gotta see."
It was during the first few minutes of the third quarter that Heero first noticed it. Duo's hand crept around Heero's back and pulled him closer, his thumb stroking Heero's bare shoulder. "Duo."
"Yes?" said Duo. A smile itched at the corners of his mouth, and before Heero could say anything else, Duo was upon him, kissing him feverishly. They sank into the cushions of the couch, Duo tugging his own shirt over his head and throwing it down. "Heero..." Duo shifted his hips and their budding erections rubbed together, sending little tremors down Heero's body.
"Shit," said Duo, jerking away, and for a moment, Heero couldn't speak, couldn't even breathe. They hadn't had sex since Heero'd changed, and Heero had just attributed Duo's lack of interest to nervousness, but maybe, maybe--
"Duo?" said Heero.
"Shit," said Duo, grinning, "just surprised me."
"Are you sure it's supposed to go there?"
"Positive."
"But--"
"Duo, do you see any other place it could go???"
"...Good point."
Then, when Duo was only a little bit inside him and shivering over him, dripping sweat onto Heero's chest, he let out a low moan. "Heero," he said, looking at him with eyes that were slightly dazed, "it's. Sort of."
"We don't have to do this now," said Heero, lying through his teeth. His whole body trembled with anticipation. "If it's too weird, we can just. Um."
"No," said Duo, biting his lip. "It's just. Tight," he said hoarsely, "so fucking tight." With that, Duo pushed the rest of the way in, slumping down to rest completely atop Heero, trapping the dark-haired man's cock between their stomachs. Duo moved a few times, almost experimentally, then let out a long sigh.
"I could get used to this," he whispered, leaning down to kiss Heero's breath away.
"Oh!"
"What. Are you okay?"
"Well. You could...maybe do that again. A little harder."
"You're bossy, babe."
"O-Oh~!"
"Holy shit," said Duo, closing his eyes as he let his head drop to the pillow. "That was. I woulda become bi a lot sooner." Beside him, Heero nodded sleepily, burying his face into the big muscle in Duo's arm. "Are you still awake?"
Heero shook his head.
"Heero," said Duo, touching his shoulder gently. "I just wanted to give you advance warning, I guess." He coughed. "I love you, babe. You're not getting rid of me, ever. Okay?" Heero made a soft mumbling sound. "Okay," said Duo, moving carefully, laying his head down on Heero's chest.
"Okay," said Heero, and as he was falling asleep, he felt strong fingers on his back and soft lips brush just once over his forehead.
He slept, and the next morning there were no surprises at all.
End
the end. ^_^ finally.
so: notes.
[1] huge thank-yous to anibe, kat, b-p and anyone who's ever written
a gender-switching fic. you guys are amazing inspirations.
[2] i wrote different parts of the fic listening to different songs
(mostly *nsync). so i guess you could call it the soundtrack:
It's Gonna Be Me, NSync
What It Feels Like For a Girl, Madonna
This I Promise You, NSync
Up Against the Wall, NSync
If I'm Not the One, NSync
No Strings Attached, NSync
Girlfriend, NSync
Two of Us, NSync
Something Like You, NSync
thanks for all your support. ^-^
Bianca
Please send comments to: weirdsisters@hotmail.com