8-Feb-2003
Title: RPS
Author: bonnejeanne bonnejeanne@yahoo.com
Category: yaoi
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: 1 + 2
Spoilers: None
WARNINGS: Heero POV
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing characters and universe are the property of the copyright owners. Our stuff is ours. No money being made here.
Notes: I have my own ideas of what the guys' sunsigns are that isn't canon.
Dedication: This is Sparcck's fault. And probably *not* what Debi had in mind.
"You've got to be kidding."
I couldn't have kept the undertone of near-horrified incredulity out of my voice if someone had held a gun to my head, however it didn't make any difference. She never noticed.
She was too caught up in her own fantasy, which she believed was my reality, and the words continued to tumble from her lips, punctuated with sighs and looks that shifted from infatuation to, uncomfortably for me, a kind of voyeur's lust.
"Oh, at first I had these *juvenile* fantasies about us, you and me, and how you would be my perfect soldier and I would love you and save you... but that was a long time ago!" The last three words were heavy with emphasis. "When I realized what you and he have together..." Another sigh, and another, almost surreptitious flicker of interest. "Believe me, I really do understand!"
My facial muscles were all but paralyzed, blank. "Oh? And what do you understand?"
She rolled her eyes and then shook her head, her expression fondly exasperated. "That you're *soul mates*! That you *complete* each other! You were both Gundam pilots, and he shot you that time, and then he helped break you out of the Alliance detention building, and you fought together and in the middle of all that war and awfulness, you learned to *trust* each other, and you... you love each other more than life itself!"
I managed to swallow without making any noise. I couldn't quite not blink, but she didn't seem to notice.
"It must have really been agony for him that time when you blew yourself up..." she declared, and her voice quivered slightly with emotion.
Groping for some of my legendary self-control, I managed to stand up casually.
"Er...right," I said and looked at my watch. "Hn. I had no idea it was so late. It was good to see you again, Relena, but I have to go now."
"Oh Heero!" she said, and jumped up to give me an enthusiastic hug. Then she straightened her jacket and I could almost see her return to the composed, intelligent young diplomat she had morphed out of when the conversation had taken that last, unexpected turn. But there was an odd glimmer in her eyes. "I understand. It was good to see you. Don't be a stranger! And bring Duo with you next time, okay? I want him to know it's fine."
"Hn." I let the grunt stand for an acknowledgement, guessing she'd interpret it as she desired.
"No fucking way," he said casually when I relayed the invitation. It wasn't said with any heat, just a single shake of his head as he took a bite out of his second piece of pizza, his eyes having never left the television screen where some documentary on modern salvage techniques was playing. And they say *I'm* the one who's all business.
When the program broke for commercial, he tore his eyes from the box to look over finally. "I've heard a few things about it."
This conveyed zero information. No matter what you might bring up in conversation, eight times out of ten, Duo has 'heard a few things' about it. Can you say, listens to gossip? No, just call it an extension of early habits of intelligence gathering... that sounds better. However they both mean the same thing - a Gemini makes a damn good spy for a reason.
"About what?" I asked with Taurean patience. I saw his eyes go to the last slice of pizza in the box.
He reached for it even as he said, "You didn't want this, did you? About this, um, pastime... hobby, call it, that the chicks have these days. You didn't know about that?"
I watched the last piece of pizza disappear and walked back into the kitchen to make a peanut butter sandwich. "No, I don't know about it, what are you talking about?"
"Well it's been around for a while, back to at least the 20th century before Colony, but it's quite the rage at the moment. Females, usually young women, but age is not a barrier, get together in these little cliques and groups and share fantasies about guys doing each other."
I heard him quite clearly from the kitchen. I was certain I had not misunderstood any of the words. Quickly I picked up the knife from the floor where I'd dropped it.
"Peanut-butterfingers," he said, lounging in the archway with a grin.
Licking the smear of brown paste from my thumb, I dropped the knife in the sink and put the second piece of bread on top. After a bite, I said, "That's weird."
He shrugged. "Most cultural fads are at least slightly kinky," he commented.
I considered it while eating the rest of the sandwich.
Then I shook my head. "Nope. Can't see it."
Crossing the tiny kitchen, he leaned close and licked a smear of peanut butter from the corner of my mouth. I blinked. Then he grinned.
"Just because you can't see it doesn't make it not exist," he said. "Usually they select characters in works of fiction as the subject, but sometimes they even construct fantasies about 'cute' male performers or other so-called 'real people'," he added, evidently to evoke just the look of disbelief he got. "Would you like to know..."
"No," I said quickly and with finality.
He was still laughing when I left the room.
So Relena thought we had a romantic relationship.
This concept layered a veneer of unreality over my life for a few days thereafter, until I could get it out of my system.
I guess one of the things that struck me as particularly bizarre was the idea that Duo and I had 'fallen in love' during the war.
When, pray tell, did we have time to do that?
Okay, I realize with hindsight that such an argument, in fact *any* argument, can never convince the 'true believer'. Perhaps had we been so inclined, we might have managed it, but the very idea of what a disaster *that* could have been makes me feel slightly queasy. I spent a large chunk of the war trying to figure out what emotions actually were, and what they weren't. Weirdly enough, I think I managed to get most of what I needed to know figured out. But it took work. Eventually I managed to be okay with the idea that I was never going to be a very 'touchy-feely' kind of person, and have no problems with that.
Oh, I had my fair share of hormones, more than my fair share if Dr. J is to be believed, but they were channeled into some very specific drives, having to do with violence.
In these times of peace, I'm still more comfortable on a shooting range than giving someone a hug. I've been told I'm a *vicious* handball player. Duo won't play me in a closed court any more, he says he gets too many bruises. And he says I have a sick thing about seeing him with those fading circular purple patches on his skin.
I see no reason to comment on that idea.
I just can't see how anyone could look at what goes on between me and Duo as anything.... romantic.
The first time we did it, I remember saying to him, "I didn't know you liked men."
"I don't," he replied. "I like boys."
His smile was the usual, easy, engaging one. You had to look deep into his eyes to see the smooth influx of darkness that accompanied the remark.
I couldn't say, 'I'm not a *boy*', it would have sounded like I felt I *had* to say it.
"Pretty... boys," he added thoughtfully. This came as I was placing my neatly folded clothing on a chair. I admit I looked up a bit too quickly.
Meeting his eyes steadily, I said, "If I qualify," something I didn't get then and don't really get now, "Then I guess you're a 'pretty boy', too."
"Only from the outside," he said.
He was dead serious and it was said in a tone I had already learned to notice for the rare occasions when it showed up.
I didn't make any more comments for a while. He started showing me what he liked to do with pretty boys. Always a quick study, I tried a few of them out on him, with mixed results, but no small satisfaction.
-fin-