26-Apr-2000

Disclaimer: I don't own GW but I asked really nicely before I borrowed it. Thanks again!
Hi hi! I remembered I had wanted to post this one a little while ago and I forgot until just now, so I'm doing it before I forget again! Little bit of explanation to go with this fic. It's a yaoi: a 1x2 and a 3x2 in one (and 4 has ideas of his own about the whole mess). It's not extra special fic or anything, just a weird idea I had one night.
Anyway it's written from the pov of each different pilot as I come to them, and originally I had a really nifty font thing going on, you know, choosing the best font for each pilot's personality. It looked so spiffy! But I can't get my email to do that, more's the pity, so I'm just going to label each pilot's pov as it comes up. You'll have to imagine it, I'm afraid. (Wahhh! Wipes away tear) Anyway, Thanks for your time and attention, you wonderful people.
Feedback please.
Warnings: Yaoi, language, a little OOC

Catch Me If You Can by Erin Cayce

Part One

(Heero)

Duo drapes himself over the back of my chair. "Heeeero-chan?" he whispers playfully, blowing into my ear teasingly.

I move my head and jerk one elbow back hard, connecting satisfyingly with Duo's stomach. He must be building up some resistance, though, because he only grunts, and slips his arms around me, and determinedly finds my nipples with his fingers, while his warm lips drop feathery kisses on my bare shoulder.

I shove him away with more force. "I'm busy," I tell him.

"You're always busy. Be busy with me, for once."

"Can't you ever be serious?" I keep my eyes on the screen, watching the flicker of information at a rate that only I am able to comprehend. I ignore his hurt silence.

"I'm serious about you," he murmurs at last. But he is defeated, and he knows it. He straightens up, tossing his braid over one shoulder, and walks away.

Trowa had made the mistake of forcing himself on Duo in a way that Duo would never willingly accept. I never did figure out what possessed the European pilot to so grossly misjudge the other boy--and himself. I didn't know all the details, but I knew enough to justifiably call it rape. Trowa lost control, and Duo couldn't face him as a lover after that. I guess, in a roundabout way, that was what had given me my chance.

I wish it were different, but I'm not above using Trowa's mistakes to my own advantage. I was there when Trowa acknowledged his wrongdoing and took himself out of Duo's world. I was there waiting. Not that Duo needed any comforting, assuming I was capable of giving it; Duo was strong, and I think it wasn't the first time he'd been used by someone he trusted. But I was there, ready to teach him that not every lover betrayed you.

What a lie that must have seemed to him.

If I had thought I was smart, Trowa must have rated himself a genius for turning the tables on me so easily. I made it pathetically easy. It wasn't that I hurt Duo, physically, as Trowa did--though we had our share of scrapes and bruises. Being the lesser in strength, Duo rarely got to give as good as he got in our lovemaking, and I think that our occassional fist-fights, in which his wiry speed allowed him a few solid shots, satisfied some perverse need in him to best me at something, even briefly. No, I never harmed him like that; I just paid too much attention to the mission, and too little to him. The night he left me, I was so absorbed in a report that I didn't even notice his absence until I reached for him in bed and met only emptiness.

And Trowa--good old Trowa, silent and supportive and aching to return to Duo's favour, was there whenever I wasn't.

(Trowa)

If I had once meant something to Duo, I ruined it. That realisation nearly broke me. I think it might have, had the circumstances been different; but there was a war, a mission, to divert my thoughts of self-pity and self-loathing. Even the one time I was sure I would die of what I had done was pushed aside when an urgent message reached me, and by the time I had completed the operation, I was too weary to resume the awful burden of suicide.

Of course, Heero immediately took my place. A remote part of me wonders that I place the blame solely on Yuy's shoulders for Duo's seeming shallowness, but I can't even think of blaming Duo. No, my Shinigami was perfectly within his rights to turn to the nearest source of comfort after my awful assault on him. Heero, however, had no business using Duo's distress to press his own suit.

But--Heero was not infallible.

I was so pleased to discover so.

You see, he made a terrible mistake: he treated Duo like a possession. In a remarkable way, what we each did to the American pilot was quite similar. We used him. I, accidentally, battling my own demons inside his body: Heero, stupidly, because he was unable to appreciate what he had. His famous obsession with the mission overrode his heart. He should have taken his own advice, and followed his feelings.

Of course, if he had, I wouldn't be lying beside Duo tonight, the only place in the universe where I belong. I suppose Someone should be thanked for small blessings.

Duo leans over me to reach for the last springroll, spearing it expertly with his chopsticks and whisking it to his plate. I carefully conceal my smile. Duo's competitiveness when it comes to food is well-documented among the pilots. But Duo is not completely selfish; he notices that I have not received my fair share of the lo mein, and grabs my plate to dish it out for me before Wu Fei can reach for more of his favourite cuisine. I do smile this time.

Duo is so caring. And I am so lucky.

"Hey, Quatre," Duo says, munching contentedly and ignoring Wu Fei's grumbles. "I was thinking you could come with me to Howard's. I gotta pick up a part, and Trowa's gonna be busy." He swallows, grabs his tea and tosses it back, then continues. "I could use the company."

Quatre's face lights up. The little one is so happy to be included that he misses the subtle intimation that there would be some hard work involved. "I'd love to, Duo!"

"Terrific. Wu-man?"

"No."

Duo shrugs, used to that, and pours himself more tea. I like watching him at dinner: it is when he talks the most. His Japanese, which he seems to prefer to English in most cases, is hardly even accented, unlike mine. I tend to stumble on the complicated language and so speak rarely, chosing my words carefully; Duo can, and does, ramble for hours when a particular urge takes him, always sure of himself on grounds which his upbringing has not prepared him for.

He abandons the table when the food is gone. It's my turn to clean up, and I do so willingly, knowing he'll save a place for me at whatever he settles down to. Unexpectedly, Heero joins me, offering his help by picking up a few plates and carrying them to the sink.

"I have it under control," I tell him, not without a certain uneasiness.

He looks at me. "I know you do," he said. His voice is laced with double meaning. Who had taught him to convey so much with so little?

I begin to run warm water over the dirty dishes. "Heero, I don't--"

"Leave it," he commands. He picks up a washrag. "I'm not going to fight you for him. Maybe later, but not tonight."

We work in silence. It is not entirely comfortable, but we understand each other.

(Duo)

I'm not sure why they think I'm too stupid to see the rivalry between them. It's not like I'm an idiot. Well, I know I act that way sometimes, but as Father Maxwell often told me, there's a difference between high spirits and imbellicity.

Leaving them alone in the kitchen may not have been the smartest thing I've ever done, though. Not that I think they'll kill each other or anything. Trowa, at least, is too level-headed for that, and Heero wouldn't kill for such a pointless reason. So, not too worried, I at least had time to think while I was out from under their watchful eyes.

When Trowa first--did what he did--I didn't understand too well. It was before I found out, from Quatre, exactly what had happened to him when he'd still been Nanashi, little No-Name with No-Protection. Knowing that allowed me to forgive him, but by then I'd already run to Heero. My old fascination with the Japanese pilot resurfaced, ran its course, and came back with conclusive data: what we had was not going to last forever. Well, I guess that didn't take a genius to figure out. Not with Heero acting all trigger-happy with those self-destruct devices of his. At least I know Tro-chan's only joking.

Point being, I realised what was going on. I was flip-flopping, trying to find something perfect when time, war, and limited options just weren't going to let me. I've always been a little impatient. Didn't want to wait, had to have it now. It wasn't really fair to anyone involved. Sure, I mean, I loved them, but I wasn't in love, really. With them, I get the feeling that it was just the opposite, so the end result is gonna hurt them more than it'll hurt me. I'll move on. They'll get their hearts broken.

Conceited? Maybe. Truth? Maybe. But I don't know how to back out. Come to the wire, I still need someone watching out for me, at my elbow in the pits of my depression, ready with a safety line to haul me out and into warm welcoming arms. I guess it's just Trowa and Heero's misfortune that they wanted to be the one waiting around for me.

Callous?

Yes. But you get that way, when everything you love dies. If you think about the hurt, you go insane. I'm halfway there. I'm trying to preserve what's left for as long as possible.

I do love them, both of them. They're not what I need, and I can't answer for their needs, but for the moment, they're all I have. And I've always been good at making due.

I like the feel of Trowa inside me. He always takes so much care not to hurt me--even the time he raped me, he instinctively held back from inflicting too much pain. Like Heero, he likes to give, not take, and I'm willing to do what makes my partner happy. I like his gentleness with me, the way he holds me like I'm special, the way we make love, never just have sex.

I liked Heero, too. In a perfect world, I'd have the best of both. What strange thoughts for bed.

Afterwards, I sit up, and attempt to rebraid my hair. Trowa leans back against the head-board and combs out tangles with his long fingers. He is smiling, sleepy, sleek, satisfied. I kiss him.

"Are you and Quatre going to be all right on your own tomorrow?" he asks, more to fill the silence than because he doubts us.

"Yeah. We may be a little late. Howard's message was somewhat non-specific."

Trowa nods. He stops my efforts before I'm halfway done and teasingly ties my ribbon into a little black bow, leaving me with half a braid and half a snarled ponytail.

"I'll miss you," he murmurs seriously.

"I'll have to hurry back then, won't I?"

(Quatre)

I packed my bag carefully, selecting everything and laying it out just so. I intended to have Duo to myself for at least a week, if my plans would just work out for once, and I wanted everything to be perfect.

I was tired of watching him mope around with Trowa or Heero. They weren't right for him, they weren't the kindred spirit he was looking for. I'd heard the term "fucking around" applied to situations like Duo's, and though I hesitated to attach any profanity to my dear friend, it did seem to fit. He hadn't found what he was looking for yet, but he was trying.

Well, I'd have to give him a little push in the right direction.

To me.

It was a stroke of pure luck that he'd asked me to accompany him on his repair trip. Howard's silence had been a knowing one, when I'd asked him over the phone to please "lose" the part, but I knew he was on my side.

I had never slept with a boy before--well, to be entirely truthful, I hadn't actually slept with anyone before. The farthest I'd gone had been with a girl, a classmate, and we'd been interrupted by her shrieking sister. But I was prepared for the eventuality, should it arise. I wasn't going to pose any limitations on Duo. I'd waited this long to give myself to him, and if he accepted me, I wanted it to be wholly and without reservation or unfortunate mishap.

Everything was ready. I wondered that I was so calm. Perhaps it was the assurance that what I was planning would work, had to work, because it was right. Maybe this was the kind of emotion that motivated Relena in her quest for absolute peace. The reward that awaited me, however, was not so abstract. My Duo.

Please, Allah, let him be my Duo.

End Part One

(:./erin/catch1)