Duo, blindfolded and with his hands held behind his back by a smirking Quatre, bent nearly double as he strained to resist. His harsh gasping filled the room. "I can't," he moaned, the ragged edge to his exhausted voice betraying his dismay more than the words.
"You'd better," Quatre retorted, and tugged on Duo's twisted arms. "Come on!"
Duo shook his head wildly, loose wisps of hair flying about his flushed face, damp with moisture from his repeated efforts. "No!"
"Do it, Duo! Come on. You've got to, now. You swore you were just *so* good. Where's that famous Maxwell skill now? Quit whining and *do* it!"
Duo ground his teeth together; then abruptly he obeyed, ducking his head and lunging forward, plunging his over-heated face straight into--the bucket full of water, where his teeth latched onto an apple. Triumphantly, he crowed around the captured fruit, and Quatre, giggling, let him go.
Trowa, amused, quietly began to applaud, and Wufei actually laughed as he joined in. Quatre hugged Duo and took off the blindfold.
"Only thirteen tries!" he teased.
Duo swept his dripping hair out of his face. "Hah! Only because I let everyone else go first and there weren't many apples left!" Speaking of apples reminded him, and he grabbed his fruit from Trowa, who had held it for him while Quatre untied his hands. He retreated to his spot on the couch and munched contentedly.
Their little party, in honour of an unusually successful mission which, for once, had not involved any unnecessary casualties or problems, was beginning to wind down. Duo's prolonged performance at "bobbing for apples" had crowned the tail end, and, late as it was, everyone was starting to get tired.
Everything would have been ten times as fun, Duo thought a little wistfully, if Heero had been with them.
*I mean, hell,* the young man thought, digging further into the old cushions of the sofa and absently spitting out a seed. *Even Wufei is having a great time! He's been so quiet lately--at least until the last time he went off on a "solo mission". Now it's as if he's... free.* Duo regarded the slight Chinese pilot with deep affection, watching as Wufei, for once relaxed, attempted to teach a very giggly Quatre how to perform one of his super-flexible kicks. When Quatre lost his balance and fell over, Wufei only laughed and helped him up, then surprised the Arabian boy by giving him a quick embrace.
"I think you might have to work on that one a little," he said, with mock-seriousness.
Duo smiled to himself. *He's happy. He's actually, truly, almost--blissfully happy. Well, I'm happy for you, Wu-man.*
As if the Chinese teenager had somehow heard the offensive nickname, he looked over to Duo, who waved. An answering smile tilted one corner of Wufei's mouth, and he came over to the couch, sitting with his feet tucked under him beside Duo.
"Getting tired?" he asked.
Duo shrugged. "A little. It's a good tired. You?"
"I'm fine. *I* wasn't the one who had to do everything a million times."
Duo stuck his tongue out. Then he handed his apple core to Wufei, and pretended to ignore the other boy's disgusted look. He pointed to Quatre and Trowa, who were sharing some kind of private moment. "They look good together," he mentioned.
"If Trowa ever gets up the guts to tell Quatre how he feels."
Duo worried his lower lip between his teeth. "It's harder than it sounds."
Wufei sighed. "I know. Forget it, Duo."
*He could at least have stayed with us for a while.* Duo slanted his gaze toward the door Heero had disappeared behind more than five hours ago, mechanically stating that he was going to sleep, not waste his energy on a stupid party. Of course, he'd said it differently, being surprisingly polite with them, taking the same care he always did not to bruise Quatre's feelings, or make Trowa feel like he was indulging in childish, un-soldier-like behaviour. He'd even lightly touched Wufei's shoulder as he made his excuses. The only one he'd ignored had been Duo.
The only one who'd really desperately wanted his attention.
Wufei poked him in the leg. "Stop that."
Duo looked back at his friend, blinking. "Stop what?"
"You're thinking about him again."
Duo sighed, and wormed around until he was curled up more comfortably in the corner of the couch. "I'm *always* thinking about him, Wufei."
"Well, stop." Chang stretched muscular arms over his head. "I'm here, not him. Think about me. Take a walk with me. I want some fresh air."
Duo smiled.
Some time later, as they strolled down the slightly chill little lane outside their quaint hotel, Wufei offered an opening for conversation. "You know, he does that because he doesn't know what else to do."
"Does what?" Duo asked lightly, fully intending to leave that subject closed for the evening. He stared up at the stars, picking out the extra-bright ones that were colonies and smiling to himself. "You know, if everyone could see the sky the way I see it, I don't think we'd be fighting over it," he commented.
Wufei glanced up. "Maybe. Maybe not. It isn't really about peace anymore, Duo, don't forget that. There're too many factors involved."
Duo made a face. "Don't remind me. I wish everyone would just be content with what they've got. I don't care too much about politics here on Earth, you know. Who cares about Romafeller or the Federation or World Nation-whatevers? As long as they don't come up into space."
"You came down to Earth to fight, though," Wufei said. "And you're here now. There are still threats in space. Why stay here?"
Duo shrugged uncomfortably. He fingered his braid. "Here is where I can make the most difference, I guess. The people in the colonies--they're just as confused as people here. No one knows what they want. Some want freedom, some want fighting, some just want everything the way it used to be. Who really knows anymore? Not me. Earth is where Romafeller is. And that kooky ojosan, Relena Peacecraft. I have to admit, there's something fascinating about her and all her big talk."
Wufei was quiet for a while. Then he said, "But that's all it is. Big talk. Romafeller won't change. Can't. Look at what they did to themselves--shooting themselves in the foot by allowing Treize to resign. And now he's in Luxembourg, the centre of a new revolt. And White Fang1--Zechs Merquise, Milliardo Peacecraft, whatever he calls himself now; even he doesn't know what he wants, except that somehow it must be done and done soon. Romafeller has lost so much, still babbles about peace--and yet opens up a new front in the war every time it turns around."
Duo stopped walking, and turned to look at Wufei. "Are you scared?" he asked.
Wufei looked back at him unblinking. "Are you?"
It was like a wall between them, a challenge, an accusation--a plea for help. After a long time, looking far younger than his ancient sixteen years, Duo nodded.
Wufei touched Duo's cheek, then gently stroked hair away from the unwavering violet eyes.
"Wufei," Duo asked.
He nodded, and closed the distance between them by stepping forward. He lifted his arms and put them around his friend, and brushed his mouth over the warm waiting lips that were turned up to him.
Heero nudged the last pile of Duo's things with a bare foot. He was annoyed. Quite singularly annoyed.
He opened the door, and peered out. Only Trowa and Quatre were left from the "party" (what was there to "party" for? It wasn't as though the war were over) and both looked up from their cleaning efforts when he cleared his throat.
"Did you sleep well?" Quatre asked, smiling.
Heero grunted. "Has either of you seen my toothbrush?"
Trowa shook his head, and his little blonde partner mimicked the movement.
Heero thanked them, sighed inwardly, and closed the door again. He turned and looked at the mess of clothing both worn and clean, stacks of comic books, heaps of empty waterbottles, and in the far corner, a little assortment of toiletries, from which his toothbrush was missing.
Heero was starting to get just a *little* bit grumpy about the whole thing.
With a glowering frown, he began again. Mechanically he emptied out the trashcan and picked through the rather disgusting contents. No toothbrush. Methodically he moved to the laundry, and carefully examined every pocket or pants-leg, just to be sure. No toothbrush. Scrupulously he investigated the drawers of the bureau--no toothbrush. Just when he thought he couldn't handle it anymore, an idea occured to him.
Duo's bag.
Duo wasn't here at the moment, so he couldn't object to Heero's invasion of his privacy. And if Heero's toothbrush *was* in there, then he would just have been retreiving his own property, and it would not have been an invasion at all.
Heero grabbed the bag and plumped himself down the bed.
The side pockets revealed nothing but several half-empty packets of chewing gum. The front flap contained only broken pencils, a few receipts, and a broken watch strap. No luck so far. Heero unzipped the main compartment, and, in one of the momentary lapses of control he seemed to suffer more and more often where Duo was concerned, simply overturned the entire bag and dumped the insides onto the coverlet.
Half a million photographs spewed out over his lap. Heero blinked.
Slowly, he dropped the now pathetically empty bag to the side, and began to sift through the pictures. All of them--all of them were of the pilots! At first, Heero was amazed, and a little angered, by the audacity of that. How dare Duo carry around so carelessly so much confidential imagery? Lord, OZ would have a field day if they ever found all these pictures of the Gundams and their pilots--not to mention the many places they'd hidden. Then, Heero began to notice details about the photographs.
The delicate tilt of Quatre's golden head over a mug of tea was lovely--but deceptive. Heero observed that the picture had actually captured a soft, sweet smile that was directed at Trowa Barton, who sat behind Quatre and almost invisible against the background, his agate eyes tender as they rested on his friend.
Wufei effortlessly executed a graceful kick, his corded muscles gleaming with sweat and his bronzed body was held in perfect balance. Light deepened the rich black of his eyes as he faced the camera.
Heero Yuy sat in the precise centre of a shaggy, mustard-yellow carpet, brows drawn together slightly, hands caught in a moment of stillness, laying across his thighs. His hair brushed softly over the tip of his nose as he peered down, scowling, at the screen.
Heero Yuy lifted a welder from a pile of tools to apply it to a broken machine. A look of faint contentment relaxed the harshness of his features.
Heero Yuy leaned against a wall, arms crossed, legs slightly spread, head tilted to one side. He was thoughtful, abstracted. He obviously did not notice the cameraman.
Heero Yuy slept, curled on his side like a child with one fist clenched tightly in the blankets. And--Duo Maxwell bent over him, only barely identifiable in the dim light, to brush a tender kiss over Heero's pale cheek.
Heero stared at the unnumbered photographs that scattered beneath his callused fingers. "God," he whispered. So many... *intimate* moments, captured forever--like memories that wouldn't fade. He didn't know whether he approved or not--didn't know whether to curse Duo or thank him.
Or whether to simply replace the pictures, and pretend he had never seen them.
In the end, that was what he did. He put them all away, all except the one of him sleeping, and Duo bending to kiss him--somehow that was too private not to share. He had to know who had taken that picture, and why, and why it was one of the only pictures that had writing on it, English, a short message, scrawled across the back in handwriting he didn't recognise. Heero had to know; and it had nothing to do with compromising security, or professional disappointment in himself that he had allowed a dangerous photograph to be taken.
Trowa and Quatre were gone when Heero exited his room, pulling on a coat and stuffing the picture into the pocket--just as well. A preliminary search revealed that neither Duo or Wufei were currently in the house. He left the door on the latch as he left, and mentally debated the most likely road taken. When he was fairly sure he was heading in the right direction, he set off at a brisk, ground-eating pace.
He turned a corner, and his sharp eyes immediately identified the long chestnut braid that lay against a black-clad back. He raised an arm to hail Duo... and paused.
Wufei stood before Duo; they were staring into each other's eyes, almost--grimly; but then, something changed, something which Heero didn't know but somehow thought he should, and Wufei stepped toward Duo.
Heero turned away just before they kissed. *It's not my business,* was the automatic thought, as he stuffed his hands back into his pockets and began to walk away. *I shouldn't interrupt.*
So why did he want to go back there, and rip them apart?
After a moment, Duo stepped back, blushing faintly. His head tilted away as he lifted fingers to his mouth, then clenched them in a fist at his side.
"I'm sorry," Wufei said. He began to feel embarrassed. Maybe he'd misread the signals he'd thought he was getting... He flushed and turned away.
Duo immediately caught his arm. "No! Wu--I mean, it's okay. I--I think I wanted to kiss you. Don't go, please?"
Slowly, the Dragon nodded.
There was a long uncomfortable pause; Duo didn't seem to know whether he should let go of Wufei's arm, or keep holding him. Wufei finally solved the problem by putting a little space between them, and went to sit on a nearby bench. Kicking at the dirt as he moved, Duo followed.
"Wu?" he asked softly. "Why'd you do that?"
"You didn't protest, you know."
Duo chewed on a thumbnail, eyes momentarily abstracted. "I know," he admitted. "But I asked you first."
"You knew how I felt about--felt about you before," he replied stiffly. "It wasn't that long ago--don't pretend you don't remember!"
Duo chewed a little harder. "I know," he mumbled around the finger. "But you never... I mean, you seemed to give up after a while. I thought it went away."
Neither one of them was really delighted to be having this conversation, but it was also rather a relief. They had never talked about this before.
"It didn't," Wufei replied finally. "Something else just came up."
"Some*one* else."
The Chinese pilot looked at him sharply.
Duo pretended to fend off an attack with his hands, eyes nervously wide. "I mean, that's just what I guessed--I didn't mean anything, Wu! It was just a guess."
Wufei glared at his hands, balled in his lap. "Have you made any *other* guesses, Duo?
" ...yes."
He turned to look at his friend.
Duo grabbed his hand and held it tightly between both of his. "Look, I'm not saying--if you *are*, I mean, if the someone is--is the someone that I think it is--I know you wouldn't betray us. I know! I've kept my guesses to myself. There isn't any reason to tell anyone. What you do, Wufei, it's up to you, it's your life, you--all I care about is if he makes you happy, and it's obvious that he does. So why would I expect you to--I mean, if you're happy, why--me?" He bit his lip, husky voice trailing off; he released Wufei's hand and slumped back.
"Because you're the kind of person you fall in love with," Wufei whispered. He was staring at the bent chestnut head. "Because you were first in my life. Because at least I know for sure that you're on my side, because... maybe because I knew I couldn't have you." He shook his head. Duo was looking at him now, his expression finally under control and unreadable in the way only Shinigami could manage: not blank like Heero, or dead like Trowa--there were thoughts and emotions and ticking time bombs there, but all of it was in a foreign language. A little less sure of himself--if that were really possible at this point--Wufei stuttered a moment before pushing on. "W-with you, Duo, our friendship... our friendship is so strong. It was... inevitable, that love would grow out of it, once I let go of my anger and just took the plunge."
With a strange lingering look, Duo nodded.
"But--but, with Tre--with this other person, the way he makes me feel... " Why was this so hard to say? "It's as though I'm being--courted. Gentle, almost--wooing me. And I don't--dislike it."
"It's just different," Duo quietly posed.
"Yes. It's just different. So, maybe I do--have feelings for you--both of you, but it's--just different." It was out. All of it. The constriction in his chest relaxed and suddenly he could breathe again; and Duo didn't seem angry or upset, just looked at him. Wufei finished, "I can't imagine what my life would be without you, either of you."
Duo leaned against his shoulder, and sighed. "Same to you, Wu."
It was very late when Duo finally began the process of putting himself to bed. Off came the boots--follow that with the pants, and the black shirt. He wobbled over into the bathroom, used Heero's toothbrush to scrub his teeth minty clean, brushed out and replaited his hair so it wouldn't crush while he slept on it, and tottered back into the bedroom he shared with Heero in just his boxers and under-shirt.
Heero was awake--well, why the hell not, *he* hadn't partied--and busy at his laptop. He wasn't typing, Duo noticed sleepily, he was just staring--which was pretty funny since the screen was blank, and if he had been just slightly more awake Duo would have laughed.
Instead, he flopped onto his bed, rolled over, and came nose to nose with a photograph.
Tired eyes picked out the details--and cheeks that had been pale with weariness were suddenly cherry-red.
"Can you explain that?" Heero asked quietly, without turning. "And can you tell me where in Hell my toothbrush is?"
End Part 2
Note: (1) Even though the White Fang didn't really come into international notice until slightly after the point where I'm writing this fic (before Treize takes over Relena's place as Chief Representative of the World Nation), I'm sort of stretching time to make this work. I'm saying, I think, that there was a space of a few days, possibly as much as a week, between Zechs' emergence as leader of White Fang and Treize's newest coup d'etat. And, obviously, the pilots are all on Earth right now, rather than in Space. It's not really about the politics, people ^_^
Anyway, thanks those who pointed out that Wufei is OOC. Yessss, I know... but I actually have reasoning for this one (woohoo! a first!) I'm going to go into it now, that was a warning to anyone who just wants the fic and doesn't give a rat's bum about my valueless characterisations ^_~ See, in the beginning of the series, it seemed to me that Wufei was rather quiet, obviously a little bitter/angry, but mostly just unsure of himself and in need of some serious Sit Down and Think Time. All the pilots, even sweet and sad little Quatre, didn't seem to question themselves or their purpose as much as Wufei did (ie, constantly). I believe that people like Sally helped Wufei come to the slow and painful realisation that he didn't *have* to be the way he was--that there were other options, should he be willing to pursue them. What those other options are and when he's ready for them are known only to Wufei himself. So, Aurelie writes that beautiful line, and a fic pops into me head. I take Sally's influence, and add Treize's self-confidence and thoughtfulness and ability to analyse and make decisions--and of course Duo's relaxed and teasing personality--and add those into Wufei's thought-process. There are suddenly a LOT of options open to him... and one of them is to be whatever he has to be while he's in battle, and when he's not, to just let himself be the quiet and charming boy he might have been without the war.
Anyway, that's my reasoning. Does it help or was it crap? :P Be honest now!
(:./erin/nothing2)
