3 Sep 2002
Title: An Expert in the Field - 2/3
Author: Lilias (Liliascrescens@cs.com)
Rating: R
Pairing: 2xH
What to expect: Hetero-ai, lime, occasional bad language. Set 3 or 4 years after EW, so it's AU in the way all possible-future fics necessarily are.
Disclaimer: GW belongs to Sunrise, the Sotsu Agency, and Bandai, and I intend no infringement upon their rights.
Moving like a sleepwalker, Hilde headed toward the other dancers. Duo didn't touch her until they reached the floor, waiting until she turned to him before he took her right hand in a cautious grip, his other hand settling against the small of her back as though it belonged there. The music took over from there, lifting her feet and sending them moving in a careful circle at the edge of the floor.
Hilde knew she was holding herself too stiffly, and her neck was starting to hurt from the effort of keeping her head from leaning against his shoulder. He didn't push it, keeping his arms loose so that she had plenty of space to move closer or back away. Every so often, his right hand moved in a reassuring up-and-down motion at the base of her spine: all okay, it seemed to say. Nothing to be scared of.
But that caress couldn't have been more mistaken--she was in trouble. Big, big trouble. The quick measures of the song's intro had given way to a slow, sultry beat, and couples all over the floor were melting into each other like chocolates in August.
Hilde was melting even faster. The slow hand on her back was turning her spine entirely to warm liquid goo, and her head drooped lower and lower until her forehead made contact with the front of Duo's shirt. At this encouraging sign, he cautiously tightened his grip, bringing their clasped hands in toward his shoulder. Hilde drew an unsteady breath, giving in, and turned until her cheek lay flat against Duo's chest. Her nose twitched; she burrowed closer, inhaling until her senses wobbled. I use the very same fabric softener, she thought inanely. Why doesn't it make me weak to sniff my own shirts?
From very far away, the analytical part of her brain took notes on the phenomenon: so this is what all the fuss was about, it commented coolly. It shouldn't have come as a surprise, really. All the pilots had relied on skill and finesse for their survival, perhaps even more than brute strength. But somehow it left her startled and vulnerable to discover, after years of watching him move mountains, that he could be so very gentle. The same hands that could tear down a Leo without resorting to a hammer--she had seen him do it, and more than once--were cradling her as though she were something precious, if not exactly fragile. There was a kind of solicitous question, too, in the way he paused slightly before each change of direction as they moved among the other dancers.
This is why they all want to dance with you, she thought. And why I never ever should.
Now that the trap had closed behind her, though, it didn't seem so horrible to be caught. Her eyes started to drift shut. Just for a minute, maybe, she could let herself believe all the wordless things his hands were saying.
After a few more circuits, Duo cleared his throat, and Hilde was distantly surprised to hear a hint of unsteadiness in the words that followed. "Not so bad, huh?"
Hilde shook her head.
"Hilde."
"Hm?" It was the closest she could come to speech.
His voice dropped to a husky murmur against her temple. "I love the way you move."
That was enough to jolt her out of her sensual daze. Hilde's eyes snapped open, staring at the buttons of his shirt. Say something, she berated herself. Laugh it off. 'I bet you say that to all the girls.' Anything. But her mouth wasn't working, and her brain had already scampered off to present her with a slow-motion replay of earlier events: Bella's sultry laughter as he bent just like this, maybe even whispering the same thing into that dainty ear....
Hilde took an involuntary step back, managing to trample both of Duo's feet as she stumbled away. "More tired than I thought," she said, knowing it sounded ridiculous even as the words left her mouth. "Think I'll head home."
He was staring at her with almost comical confusion. "I'll go with you. Where's your coat?"
"No." She held out one hand to ward him off. "You wanted to dance--and you're still about three partners shy of your record."
"Hilde--"
"I won't forget to leave the chain off," she babbled, backing up until she had room to turn and bolt.
She should have known she couldn't outrun him; by the time Hilde reached their front door, Duo was at her elbow, silently offering his key. She took it without comment, wrenching at the lock with far more force than the operation required.
He followed her into the kitchen, dropping into the nearest chair with a puzzled frown. "If you want to yell at me about something, I wish you'd go ahead and do it."
Hilde cranked off the tap and pretended to sip from her glass of water. "I don't want to yell at you."
He snorted. "Right. That's why you're beating up the apartment."
She took an actual drink this time, feeling the cool water catch in her tightened throat, and then set down her glass. There was no way she was going to tell him what was actually wrong. No way in hell.
Because he wouldn't lie to her--oh no, never in words. Not even to spare her feelings. He'd look sheepish, maybe even miserable, but he would gaze straight at her with those absurdly beautiful eyes and he'd say what she couldn't bear to hear, even though she had always known it was true. 'I didn't mean it like that,' he'd tell her. 'You know we're just friends, right?'
She didn't want to find out just how horrible it would feel to hear him say the words.
So she'd have to say them first.
Deep breath, Hilde. You can do this. "Look, I know you're still working through a lot of stuff."
That was the understatement of the decade; not being cuddled enough as a child was the least of Duo's issues, as she was well aware.
"I know it's going to take a long time, too," she continued, numbly pleased by the cool, rational sound of her own voice. "And I'll do whatever I can to help you. You know that. You're my friend--my best friend--and I love you." She planted both hands on the counter and looked him straight in the eye. "But you can't be coming on to me, Duo. I don't play that game."
"But I wasn't--" He stopped, and there was a long pause before he continued quietly, "I'm sorry, Hil. The last thing I'd ever want to do is make you feel weird."
Her hands were trembling where they were pressed against the countertop, but she hoped he couldn't see them from this angle. A clean cut is always best, Hilde reminded herself. "Just don't do it again, okay?"
He looked away, finally, and she could breathe again. "Okay."
Hilde straightened up, feeling a hundred pounds lighter. The relief was well worth the odd empty feeling that accompanied it, she decided. "So. It's only eleven-thirty--you up for a round of Go?"
He took it for the peace offering it was; she hated that game, and only brought out the black-and-white pieces when she couldn't stand his wheedling any longer. "Nah. But there's a monster movie marathon on cable tonight, if you feel like watching giant lizards stomp on stuff."
She managed an answering grin. "I'll see if we have popcorn."
When she came into the living room with the bowl, Duo had already staked out a position in front of the grainy screen. He shifted down to make room, leaving her a good three-fourths of the couch, and pointed to one of the root-beer bottles on the coffee table. "Got you one."
It was even on a coaster. Hilde smiled, shaking her head slightly, and then settled into her usual television-watching position: ignoring the oceans of empty space, she curled up sideways at his end of the couch with her back against his shoulder. It was going to be all right, she told herself again. Business as usual.
Duo exhaled in what sounded like cautious relief, then offered her a corner of the afghan. "This is a good one," he assured her. "It's got the mad scientist, and the--"
"The octopus thing in the pond? I love this one."
Long before the tentacled menace made its appearance, though, Hilde found herself in danger of drifting off. The evening's stress had left her drained, and it became a battle just to keep her eyes focused. Her lids were growing heavier and heavier, the screams and ominous music from the television becoming more and more distant. She blinked owlishly, then blinked again more slowly; the third time, her eyes stayed closed.
She was dancing again--but alone, this time, arms twining together over her head as she swayed to the throb of an unseen bass. There seemed to be other dancers around her--she could see human shapes out of the corners of her eyes--but whenever Hilde looked directly at them, all she saw were wavering outlines like heat-shimmers over asphalt. It didn't seem worth worrying about, though. Nothing did, here in this warm, safe place.
She turned, still without fear or surprise, and found him standing a little way away, watching her.
She smiled. "You came."
He smiled back at her--his truest smile, only the eyes laughing above a solemn mouth. "Been here all along."
It was the most natural thing in the world to hold out her arms, knowing he would come into them, and even more sensible that they should no longer be standing, but lying in a delicious tangle upon some soft surface.
She had a moment's wonder where their clothes had gone, but then it didn't matter because there was heaven in this heat, skin against skin and the deep, voluptuous satisfaction of feeling him move with her, within her, a rhythm so perfect she thought she might cry--
He bent closer, and spoke in an urgent whisper. "Hilde, wake up."
The whole world seemed to shiver, and the music slid wildly out of tune. She shook her head, holding on stubbornly to the promise of ecstasy even as it shattered around her.
A desperate hand tugged at her shoulder. "C'mon, Hil. You've got to--god, please. I can't--"
Hilde opened her eyes at last, a frustrated sound escaping her as she realized it had only been a dream.
The muffled whimper turned to a gasp of horror when she realized just how much reality had in common with the dream she had just left.
Sometime in the night, she had ended up stretched out on top of him, and now they were pressed together so tightly that she could feel the thudding of his heart under her breast. One of her hands was twisted in his hair, the other clutching a handful of his open shirt. And worst of all, she had somehow managed to hook one knee almost around his waist, bringing their hips into embarrassingly perfect alignment.
If she had been a little more awake, Hilde wouldn't have had the courage to look up at all; as it was, she lifted her head as slowly as possible in order to delay the inevitable. Duo's face was shocked and pale in the semi-darkness, his eyes wide and opaque as he fought for breath.
After that one agonized glimpse, Hilde ducked her head and closed her eyes again, every part of her mind shrieking that she had to get up and run. Preferably to Tibet. But when she shifted, trying to get her knees under her in preparation for her escape, the motion only ground her more firmly against him. A surprised moan escaped her, but Duo reacted as though he'd been shot; with reflexes she hadn't seen him use since the war, he levered himself out from under her in one twisting movement, landing in a crouch several feet from the sofa.
Hilde came down hard on the carpet, and sat there gaping for a stunned moment before she gathered herself up and fled to the bathroom.
With the door safely closed behind her, she turned on the cold-water tap and let it run to ice before splashing her face. Then she sat down on the edge of the tub and leaned into her towel, trying to ignore the hollow, yearning ache at her center. "Shut up," she snarled, furious at her body's insistent clamoring. "Just shut up and let me think."
But the more she thought about it, the more hopeless things seemed; as hard as she tried, Hilde simply couldn't imagine how to start a conversation with him about what had just happened. Finally, she decided on flight. For now, anyway, running and hiding sounded like a very good idea.
When she felt steady enough to get back to her feet, Hilde stood up and yanked a comb through her disheveled hair without looking toward the mirror. Before she lost her nerve, she opened the bathroom door and peeked into the apartment.
Duo had retreated to the kitchen. Good choice, she thought, coming reluctantly into the glare of the overhead lamp. Harsh lights, hard surfaces: nothing intimate or enticing about this room. Except that the unassuming kitchen table suddenly looked like a very good place to pin him down again, get him under her, find out just how hot he had to get before he stopped caring who he was kissing--
Hilde curled her hands into fists, driving her nails into her palms until the stinging provided a welcome distraction, and wondered how he would react if she sauntered over and shoved her head into the freezer. An hour or so ought to do it. Maybe two.
One look at his stricken face, though, and she was thoroughly chilled.
"I swear to god, Hilde," he began, "I didn't--"
"I know," she cut him off, stepping into her shoes. Go, go, go, her mind chanted frantically. No talking: run. "Look, I'm going over to Clari's, okay? Just for tonight. I think." Without waiting for an answer, she swung her backpack onto her shoulder and fumbled for her keys.
"Are you--" He pushed a hand through his bangs, slumping against the counter in defeat. "Okay. Just take a taxi, all right? Don't walk over there all by--"
The door closed firmly behind her. He waited until he heard the elevator chime, and then picked up the phone.
--tbc--
(:./lilias/expert2)
