"Defying Gravity"

A Romance in Three Parts

Written By: Kaeru Shisho

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.

Rating: NC 17

Warnings: AU, yaoi, some language

Pairings: 1x2x1, 3x4x3

Summary: A multi part story of romance starting with a turning point vacation, developing throughout a dangerous UC mission, and moving ahead through the unexpected challenges of a summer vacation.

"Part One: It's a Vacation"

I remember hobbling into the cabin, languishing about on the couch in front of the fire for maybe five minutes, enough to down a couple of those lion tranquilizers Trowa carried in his med kit, and then I slept the dreamless sleep of the dead for the next sixteen hours. When I awoke, I was aware of my empty stomach and that I was not in my upstairs bed. There was a pillow under my head and a blanket tucked around me. Next, I felt all my bruises and strains and a draft.

Trowa pushed open the door with one arm, the other cradling a sack of groceries. Wufei stomped snow off his boots, kicked them to the side, and slammed the door with one foot. He shifted both sacks in his arms and looked around the room, locating me. I waved languidly from my post on the couch.

With a wry note Wufei said, "Supply mission complete without incident. It can be done. Oh, Maxwell, I see you are awake."

"Yes."

"Give him his message," Trowa said as he dumped his bag on the kitchen table.

"What?" I asked. I was disabled and bored. Anything sounded intriguing at the moment.

"Nothing," 'Fei said with a frown. "Go back to sleep or whatever."

"Ah, come on 'Fei. Give me a little excitement here. I'm dyin'," I whined and grinned simultaneously.

Trowa stepped up. "If you won't tell him, I will."

Wufei glared at us both. "Drop it."

Trowa folded his arms over his chest and stared directly into my eyes. This was rare. He generally hid shyly behind his long bangs. I thought it gave him an air of mystery, though, and found him more fascinating sometimes than I wanted to admit. This was one of those times the mystery would have been better kept hidden. I could feel the heat creep up my neck. He knew about me and how I felt about Heero. He knew and he wanted me to admit it, just as he and Quatre had "come out" to us. He was unmoved by what others thought of him, I guess, but I wasn't. Well, I was stubborn and if merciless OZ interrogators couldn't force me to talk against my will, he certainly couldn't. I worked up a resolute edge to my stare and his mouth turned up. It was his damned evil little smile.

"We ran into a friend of yours."

I shrugged. "Oh."

Heero descended the stairs carrying his laptop. I liked the way his hair stood out where he'd obviously been towel drying it and given up on arranging it neatly. He was scrubbed and shiny and very broody. I guess I thought all that added up to "sexy," while Trowa was "mysterious," and Quatre's features added up to "cute." I stopped with 'Fei. I didn't like categorizing my friends this way, so I threw an arm over my face, and shut down my brain.

Trowa raised his voice, thinking he's lost my interest, which was true. "He recognized Chang here. Hoped you were still in town."

My stomach tightened into a painful ball and ached. Shut the fuck up!

"Gill sends his regards."

It's a good thing I wasn't armed or able to move fast, because I would have committed murder about then. I could hear Trowa chuckle once as he disappeared in the direction of the stairway.

"Better make a move before you miss out," I heard him mutter in Heero's ear as they passed each other.

I sank further into the pillows, drawing the blanket over my head and wishing Quatre was around to kick him in the ass for me. A rough shake to my shoulder brought me out of hiding. "Fuck off."

"Maxwell." It was Wufei.

"Oh, sorry. Trowa's getting on my nerves."

"Mine as well. I wasn't offended. Here, I bought you some entertainment."

"Books? Hey, thanks. So many? Now I'll need bookends!" I laughed.

"I remember you saying you read when you were alone in space."

"That's right. Loners. No place to store them then, but we have bookcases in the dorm now. I've never read any of these. Thanks, really."

"I recommend you begin with this one," he said pointing to the top book.

"You've read these?"

"I have my own copies, which I've read numerous times. We can discuss them, if you'd like."

"Yeah, I'd like that. Thanks again."

He nodded and returned to the kitchen where he was putting away the purchases and preparing lunch. I'd actually forgotten about Heero for a good five minutes, but was reminded of his alert presence when he stepped around the couch, sat on the stuffed chair, and whipped open his laptop.

"I thought you might want to check your email."

"Sure, thanks." I placed my books on the floor and straightened on the couch, my legs lying lengthwise across the entire seat. The enormity of the situation occurred to me when he rested the computer on my lap: Heero was sharing his computer with someone else—me. This was his personal space as much as his hands or feet or mind.

"Battery is fully charged."

"I see that," I said, while locating the internet icon. He was hovering.

"Ah, Heero? I promise not to screw up your computer. You know, download viruses or peek in your files, okay?"

He got the message and backed off. "It's secured. I wasn't worried," he said just a bit too quickly for me to believe.

I waited for him to walk away and visit Wufei before reading my messages. Most of them were work-related, the infernal passing the info and the buck "CC: MaxwellD, FYI". There were a few Viagra ads that somehow slipped past the spam filter; I deleted them without a second thought. That was a product I didn't need! I was only interested in one message. It was from Heero. He had sent it only minutes ago and I had to smile. It read: movie out 2nite?

At least he posed it as a question this time. It was clearly more date-like than the other invitations, and I didn't know how I felt about that. I could explain shopping and dinner that followed and the even-the-score dinner after that as just two friends reconnecting. Would just the two of us going out to a movie still be considered platonic by our friends? Surely not by Trowa. He was keen on Heero making moves on me, if only to justify his own moves on my best bud. Okay, so I was vacillating between lusting over Heero and wishing I didn't. I just wanted to be normal, you know?

What was important at the moment was deciding what message I wanted to send Heero. As attracted to him as I was, I was afraid of charging ahead into the unknown or into a known I wasn't ready to face. That would be admitting I liked another guy and making it public knowledge. Shit, for all I knew Heero was just horny and I turned him on. I still held to the hope that I could combat this inclination of mine if I didn't continue to feed the fires, so to speak. On the other hand, I might get a chance to feel Heero close to me. I was torn and I hated being so indecisive. It made me angry.

I typed my reply and pressed "send", shutdown the computer, and pushed it to the end of the couch. I was stiff and sore and furious at myself for being everything I hated. I didn't want to deal with anyone, so I wrapped up in the blanket and turned around, facing the back of the couch. Incommunicado.

I ignored Heero's return and missed him leaving the room, but later at lunch I didn't miss the look of disappointment in his eyes when he caught mine briefly.

"I'm not feeling great," I said, leaving the table to grab one of Wufei's book gifts and painfully hobble-crawled up the stairs to my room, where I remained until the next day.

(o)

Quatre and Trowa were gone when I ventured downstairs. I was starving, having scarcely eaten lunch and skipped dinner and currently this day's breakfast. Heero was at the kitchen table and my heart sank into my toes. He was typing on his laptop looking for recipes, I guessed, because he paused to stare at the website: cooking .com.

"Hey," I said in greeting. "You're on lunch duty?"

"Yes." He slammed the laptop closed. "You are listed for dinner, but there is nothing to cook. If you have a suggestion, I'll make the purchases when Chang and I go out later."

His voice was calm, but with a brittle edge I hadn't heard used around the cabin. I knew for positive that I had hurt his feelings. That meant he had feelings to hurt. Of all people, he was the last person I wanted to punish so I could assert my manhood.

"Um, I'm feeling better today. How about I talk 'Fei into trading dinner duties and you and I go out? We can catch that movie afterwards?"

He smiled. My breath caught in my throat.

"I'll convince him, even if I have to trade for all his cooking assignments."

The door flung open and in burst Quatre leading Trowa by the hand. "Hiya!"

"Yo, bud," I said. My mood was wavering on good, but unsettled.

"We bought games!" Quatre announced.

"And a Wii," Trowa added. "Plus five controllers."

"Five?" Wufei asked. He could hardly contain his excitement, but where he'd materialized from, I had no idea.

"It'll take a minute to set up," Quatre said.

The paper bags were ripped; boxes were stroked then opened reverently. Five eager pairs of hands strove to assemble the parts.

"Enough!" Quatre cried out. "Too many people here! Heero, why don't you bring lunch in for everyone? Wufei, you can open the games, while Trowa, ah... stop fooling around with the TV and help your partner in the kitchen, and I'll line up the controllers. Duo, you watch and give advice. See? Isn't more fun when it's all organized and not so chaotic?"

"No!" I shouted, but then so did everyone else.

Still, we did as he told us and soon we were eating sandwiches and playing tennis, the kind I could do with a bum leg and sore arm. By the time we noticed it was dark, dinner wasn't started, and there was no food to cook, we were hungry and impatient. Heero appeared uncertain what to say, so I did the honors.

"Listen, 'Ro and I were thinking about going to dinner and trading with 'Fei-man..."

"So we'll all go!" Quatre concluded. "That's a great idea. We need a break here and Trowa and I found the nicest Italian restaurant."

I exchanged unreadable glances with Heero, but it was too late, everyone was putting on coats and shoes. It was just as well. I felt relieved not to have to stress out about going on a date. I felt his presence at my side and turned a little his way. He extended his arm, holding out the crutches for me.

"Tommorrow?"

I nodded, unable to bring myself to talk. My hands were sweating and my heart pounding. It was ridiculous. Every time I reined in my imagination and could think rationally about him, my body would go haywire. As I put my weight on the crutches I leaned into him slightly, enough to feel the heat radiating from his chest and smell his aftershave. He steadied me with a bruising grip on my elbow.

"Okay?" he asked.

"Um, yeah. Clumsy me! Heh, heh—"

I got a strange expression as a reward for my inane performance.

"Here's your coat, Duo!" Quatre reminded me, while thrusting a knit hat over my head.

"Hey! I can't do all this at once."

Heero held the crutches and I jabbed my arms into the sleeves. I was getting better at balancing on one foot and dressing.

"All right. Let's get out of here."

I was shoe-horned into the front seat. Trowa drove with Quatre wedged in back like the meat in a Wufei-Heero sandwich. The town looked ethereal blanketed in a thick layer of snow. The snow plows had cleared the main roads piling up mountainous drifts at the sides, but the side streets were ice-slick, treacherous, and absolutely required chains. The businesses strung tiny lights in the windows, brightening the otherwise gloomy store fronts.

"Snowmobile would be fun," I said. "Is that the place?"

"Snowmobile would be practical," Trowa said. "That was his place."

"No Italian?"

"Trowa! You passed the restaurant!" Quatre cried out from the backseat.

"Correct." Trowa dipped his head and drove past the Italian restaurant.

"You can turn around at the next intersection," Quatre said, and settled back in his seat.

"You're not going to, are you?" I asked.

"No."

"Going to tell the Q-man where we're going?"

Trowa shook his head wearing a tight smile. "No. He needs surprises."

"He does? Mr. Director/CEO? Okay, your funeral."

"Trowa! That was where you should have turned!"

"Winner, he's not going where you thought. Forget it." Wufei sighed, sounding put upon and scrunching into the door as far away from Quatre as possible.

After a few silent minutes, Quatre asked, "Where are we going?"

"Here." Trowa swung into a parking place, set the brake, and unbuckled his seat belt.

"Yasmina's Oasis ?"

"For you." Trowa ran around to the back door of the car and opened it, offering Quatre his hand. "Middle Eastern."

Quatre's eyes glistened with emotion. I couldn't look. It was sweet of Trowa; maybe he was good enough for my bud. I settled on a single crutch to get me from car to table. There was no maneuvering room for two. 'Fei played doorman and Heero brought up the rear ready to steady me as I wavered. We entered the exotic room of delights single file.

Inside, my mouth watered from the delicious smells, even the talk was rich and spicy like gingerbread. We were guided to a low, round table and handed menus filled with indecipherable items. Quatre explained the dishes, but it was too complicated to agree on anything so we let him order an assortment for sharing.

"Appetizers have arrived!" I shouted. I was hungry and nothing was better than having food appear immediately at the table.

There was a bean dip and an eggplant dip and a basket of steaming hot flatbread. The waiter drizzled olive oil and sprinkled what Q-man told us was sumac over the top.

"Enjoy!" the young waiter chortled, then left to the next table.

Quatre rattled off the names, hummus and Baba Ghannouj with pitas, but I was happily absorbed in tasting. I could detect garlic in the dips and I think I polished off both bowls myself.

"Perhaps you should order more, Quatre," I whispered.

"There will be plenty more coming," he said. "I'm glad you like the food."

"The sample was nice," Trowa said looking at me as if I'd stolen all the food and left him to starve, which I had.

I was saved by the return of the waiter. He set before us two tureens of soup and placed smaller bowls and spoons around. With a flourish of showmanship, he ladled servings to order.

"Shourba or Lentil?" he asked me first.

Quatre suggested I try the fish soup first, then the other, so I did. Wufei and Heero did the same, while Trowa went the opposite route. I may have taken the time to squeeze a wedge of lemon into the lentil soup, as Quatre suggested, or maybe not.

"This fish soup is truly wonderful. I would like to prepare this myself sometime," Wufei said.

"If you cook it, I'll eat it!" Quatre giggled. "I'll get the recipe." He was pleased as punch with how much we were all enjoying the food of his heritage.

In the end, both serving bowls were emptied. In between bites, there was little or no conversation. Game play had sucked the last vestiges of our body's resources, and we all ate like starving refugees.

"I ordered a sliced cucumber salad dish because I remembered how much you liked the Japanese version," Quatre said as two plates were set before me, well me and everyone else.

"Yeah, this is great, Q-man! What's in it, mint?" I asked.

"Yes, and salt instead of soy sauce, but otherwise it's similar, right? Wouldn't you say so Heero?"

Heero nodded and jammed more into his mouth. He hadn't said a word. Although I could tell he was eating, I wasn't sure if he was pissed his plans were changed or if his emotions had clamped down again. For a little time, I'd seen glimpses of feelings from him: smiles, surprise, concern, disappointment. Now he wore the war-time visage of the stern, heartless fighter. Maybe the food disagreed with him.

"The other dish is tabbuli, a real Arabic salad supreme. The mint in these salads is supposed to clear our palates for the meat dishes which are just about to come. Just push the stuff aside and make room."

Two platters of meat dishes arrived. Lamb shish kebab was torn apart and distributed across the table. Djaj Mhammar, Quatre told us, was baked chicken.

"Cinnamon?" Wufei asked.

"Uh, huh," Quatre mumbled through a mouthful of food.

"Unusual, but delicious. This rice, though, I am used to rice plain and steamed."

"Pilaf with currents and pine nuts and curry spices," Quatre elaborated.

Heero glanced at his watch. I don't know if he was hoping to make the movie still or not. Trowa leaned his way and told him, "The show starts in a few minutes."

"Show? What show?" I asked.

"You'll see." Trowa's smile flashed briefly, then he dipped his chin and his expression was hidden in inscrutability.

Quatre perked up. I could see realization washing over him, so he must have worked out what the entertainment could be. He wouldn't look any of us in the eye; instead, he concentrated on cleaning his plate with a neat triangle of pita bread.

The waiter whisked away our used plates, clearing the table. "Dessert? Coffee? Chai?"

"Tea," Wufei said.

Quatre placed a complicated order and the waiter smiled. "It will be ready immediately. During the show, I will be serving drinks only."

"So, what's the show all about?" I asked.

"Skin," Trowa said.

Wufei choked on his sip of water and Heero huffed at the side. Quatre made some dismissive comment and pointed to a far corner, dusky with smoke, I assumed, from the kitchen, and lit by a row of candelabra with flickering candles. Below them worked a man setting up a sound system.

"Music," Wufei said. He looked sloe-eyed at Trowa and smiled with satisfaction.

Trowa leaned toward him, repeating, "And skin."

A waitress from the bar delivered a tray of drinks, Arabic coffee, mint chai, and a spicy black chai, which was more exciting than Trowa's teasing. I liked them all, especially the coffee, but Heero stuck with the mint tea and Wufei with the black. Our waiter scooted to the table rushing to deliver our dessert before the show.

"Muhallebi and your baklava. Enjoy the entertainment!" He smiled, winked, and left.

Quatre dished up servings of the rose-flavored pudding, adorning each plate with a sticky piece of the nut pastry in complete silence. As I lifted my spoon, the electric lights dimmed, leaving the candles to cast the only light in the room. Strains of exotic music filtered through the diners' monotonous drone, rising as the sound man cranked the volume dial up a couple notches. The tingling of bells and swish of silk against silk drew our eyes to a beaded curtain.

"Skin," Trowa said with a chuckle, leaning back in his chair and watching as five dancers whirled past the beads and under the candlelight.

"Belly dancers!" Wufei said in a gasp of surprise.

In the lead was a statuesque, attractive lady of an indeterminable middle age. Her bosoms budged precariously from her purple bra. Well-padded hips undulated suggestively, jangling the swags of metal coins to the rhythm of the music. A lady in her twenties, I guessed, and two teens, one very young, jiggled and wiggled around in pursuit of the older woman. One of the teens was quite pretty and well endowed, the other, slender as chopstick. The fifth was male.

Heero regarded him as intensely as he might have regarded a freshly minted Gundam. Quatre's eyes moved from one dancer to the other, but lingered on the boy, too. Trowa's eyes were hidden from me, but I could tell he was following the boy closely by the angle of his head. Wufei was in shock, I think.

"It's a boy," Wufei uttered in a low voice. "I think. He's not wearing a top."

He wasn't wearing much at all. His transparent pants were so low-slung on his hips I expected him to shimmy out of them at any second. He was wearing a black g-string.

"Oh, yes," Quatre said. "It has become all the rage in Istanbul for nightclubs to feature young, handsome, male belly dancers. They are called rakkas from the word raks, which means 'dance.' They dress in the same kind of costumes the ladies do and perform nearly every night of the week."

"So, it is a new thing?" I asked, sipping my coffee to clear my throat. I was working hard to keep my voice flat and my eyes trained on the girls.

"Not at all. It goes back to the days when wealthy families kept harems. In Muslim countries, the harem was that part of a house set apart for the women of the family. Non-family males were not allowed. Eunuchs guarded the Sultans' harems, which were quite large, including several hundred women who were wives and concubines. Female dancers and musicians entertained the women living in the harem. Belly dance was performed by women for women."

"A true loss for the men," Wufei whispered.

One of the younger dancers with shining black curls, smooth olive skin, and flashing eyes circled our table, and I swear Wufei blushed and smiled at her.

"They thought so, too!" Quatre laughed. "With the absence of females in social and entertainment life, Ottoman-era men watched male belly dancers to satisfy their need to see something, ah, aesthetic. The boys danced as long as they stayed good looking and could hide their beards."

Wufei frowned slightly. "An old man would be most unattractive dancing in that manner."

"No shit," I agreed. "So men watched dancing boys as a substitute for the girl dancers?"

"Oh, yes," Quatre said, his eyes gleaming. "Some audience members were so enamored they would write poetry about the male dancers."

"I'll bet the attention didn't stop with poetry," Trowa said.

Quatre and Wufei shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. Heero tasted his tea, which was undoubtedly cold, blinked, then set it down. His eyes returned to the show, the boy dancer being the show stopper.

He was sensuous, attractive, effeminate, and well-schooled in music and dance, because he knew his stuff. His dancing was sexually provocative, incorporating the finger snapping, slow belly movements, and the suggestive gestures of the women with breath-taking acrobatics.

"Bet Trowa could do that," I said after one particularly sinuous roll. "Another job prospect for you, Tro-baby!"

The man dipped his head so I couldn't see his expression, but Quatre kicked my foot. "Don't put any ideas in his head."

The women dancers kept up a rhythm with wooden clappers, but our pretty boy wore metal cymbals on his fingers.

"Those are called zils," Quatre said

"What are?" I asked.

"The cymbals."

Trowa chuckled. "As if any of them are looking at the cymbals, Quat. Hmmm, he's coming over here. Do we tip?"

Quatre shrugged. "If you want, but don't touch."

"Never," Trowa said, seriously.

Executing a slight of hand, he flipped a bill by his ear and waved. The dancer weaved around, backing up to Trowa's chair. Trowa slipped the money into the waistband at the hip and whispered something I couldn't hear. The boy grinned and spun on a heel, a blur of glittering bangles and wavy brown hair curling past his shoulders. I scrambled to find some money of my own and tipped him generously when he dipped close, his ass missing my face by an inch.

I also tipped the girls. It wasn't favoritism or anything.

It was nearly ten o'clock by the time we left.

(o)

The next day Heero and Wufei had already left early to go on hike by the time I awoke. I was ensconced once again on the couch, facing the fire, when Quatre asked me for permission to accompany Trowa shopping, I figured out that they had setup a new schedule, always leaving two guys with the invalid and covering for my cooking assignments.

"Sure go, otherwise there'll be nothing to eat. We need TP, too. Oh, yeah, and Heero and I are going out to dinner."

"That sounds nice, Duo. I approve."

I turned away, but I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Stop it, Quat. I mean it. It's just a meal... and a movie. Just friends."

"Does he think so?"

I did not answer. Trowa thundered down the stairs, shouting, "Just go. You don't need his consent, babe. Don't worry about Maxwell. He's perfectly able to care for himself a few hours. He could kill a bear, if he had to."

You gotta love him, and hate him.

"With my bare hands!" I shouted.

Quatre snickered and fell to temptation. "Okay, but here's my cell phone," he said handing his slick silver custom phone to me. "Call Trowa's number if you need anything. Promise?"

"Thieves honor," I vowed and they tumbled out the door with Trowa's arm snaking around my bud's shoulders.

Everybody was gone, but me. I scrambled for the Wii, thrilled to have it all to myself. It was an outlet for my pent up aggressions, which I was grateful for. I completely forgot about the dinner and movie plans until Heero and Wufei returned.

"Want to go?" Heero asked. "I'll change."

"Oh, yeah! Me, too. What do you think will fit over this brace?"

"Sweatpants will be all right."

"Okay. That's good 'cause it's probably all I've got that works. Nothing too fancy, then."

"No. I was thinking the steakhouse near the theatre."

"Yeah, that would be great." I was pleased to be consulted.

His eyes studied me intently for a moment. "You are feeling up to this?"

"Yeah. Hey, if I get tired I can sleep during the movie."

"Hn."

I thought he would be ticked. I mean, I would be if someone hinted I was so boring they'd sleep away our time together, but he curbed his emotions, as usual, and checked his watch instead.

"We should leave in twenty minutes."

Okay, I changed my shirt and combed my bangs. It was hardly worth the struggle up the stairs, but I figured he might appreciate the effort. Bending was painful and the splint on my leg was awkward and impossible to drag pant legs over, so the sweats remained. All those nice clothes and I was going out looking like a slob. Well, the hell with it.

Heero tapped on my door. "Ready?"

"Yeah," I said. My enthusiasm sapped by now. He looked terrific in his dark blue jeans and grey striped shirt. I tugged at my baggy pants and stood. "Sorry I can't change these."

"Doesn't matter," he said. It may not have to him.

I followed him out the cabin to the car, waited for the engine to warm in silence, and away we went. Companionable silence. Nothing uncomfortable about not talking when you have nothing to say. Trouble was, I had lots on my mind. I just didn't know how to broach the subject with him. What I really wanted to ask was "What is our relationship about?" No, I didn't really want to ask it, I just wanted the answer.

Dinner was actually relaxed and nice. We ate hamburgers and fries, good ones, with sodas. Simple stuff. We talked a little about work. He told me Trowa was more reserved at work than with us at the cabin.

"I kinda wish he'd keep his mouth shut sometimes," I said.

"Does what he say bother you?"

"Yes."

"He and Quatre—"

"I know." I didn't want him to say it, whatever it was.

"Quatre's still your friend."

"I know, that hasn't changed, though, I guess he won't be inviting me over much anymore." I tried to chuckle, but couldn't pull it off. It was sad.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because he'd rather spend time with his boyfriend than his little buddy, that's why. I don't blame him. It's just I don't think a guy like Trowa has much in common with Quatre, outside of manning a Gundam in the war."

"They are different. It could help."

I shrugged and finished my meal. Heero and I were vastly different; was that good? I was pretty quiet for a change with too much on my mind.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah."

He didn't believe me. "Are you in pain?"

Yes, but that wasn't my problem. "We've known each other for what—couple years? I've seen you at your worst, and you've seen me in some pretty awful times."

"True. Duo, what is your point?"

"What do we know about one another?"

He frowned, thinking I suppose. "Does it matter?"

Guess not.

"Quatre has his Arabic heritage, Wufei his Chinese; you, you're Japanese. I wish I had that. Those roots."

"You are American."

"That's what they said, the scientists."

"I'm only Japanese because I believe what they told me about my past. I have no proof, no documentation, no past reference." He stared at me, unblinking. "We are all creations for the purpose of fighting a war that is over."

"So, we gotta redefine ourselves now." I caught his eye and grinned. "Damn, I was hoping to get by with this 'Duo' for another eighteen years."

"This Duo is fine for me." Heero shrugged and nearly smiled. "We can walk to the movie."

I snorted, "You can. I gotta hop in a dignified way."

Well, it was talking. It may not have been about what was really bugging me, but I wasn't ready to dig any deeper. This much was already pushing both of our comfort levels.

I was right about Heero not being the 'hand holding' type. He kept to himself in the theatre. Our fingers may have brushed once in the popcorn bucket. No arm slinking around me, no hand creeping over my knee, not even any thigh action. He sat and watched the movie. The entire 'date' was platonic, as I had suspected. Heero was just trying to firm up our friendship. He liked me. Trowa was his partner. Quatre was involved with Trowa. 'Fei and he were too much alike, and, even though he and I shared some common elements from our past, we were very different guys, different enough to be interesting company. By the end of our evening I was more relaxed. He had answered my question without words. He needed a best friend and I was losing mine to a lover, so I was available. Heero could be my new best bud.

Six days of vacation and I was practically back to where I'd started, minus the battle fatigue. I should have been a lot happier than I was.

(o)

I awoke in the dark. I got my bearings by the light of the fire. I hadn't made it back to my own room after the long day and wearing evening, and had collapsed awkwardly on the couch. Now my body complained bitterly. I pushed back the pain, but I must have let out a groan, because afterward I heard the rustle of clothes, and I sat up.

"Are you in pain?" Heero asked.

Following the sounds of his movements and voice, I twisted around and located him by the window. The curtains were moving so he probably had been staring out into the darkness. I wondered for how long?

"Ugh, yeah, but nothing I can't handle. It's dark. How long have I been sleeping? What time is it anyhow?"

"Three AM. You weren't in your room."

Why were you checking on me? "Man, don't remind me. I need to piss and find a better bed, in that order."

I stood and he was at my side instantly. "You need help?"

He touched my arm. This is where words fail. There are no words to describe the feeling he produced in me - or perhaps there are words, but they don't come to me. All I can say is that the effect was truly shocking. I couldn't help the intake of breath, the quick shudder of my whole body. I shook; my knees weakened, but his fingers stayed there, tightening as he gripped my arm. The glowing logs provided the only light. The drapes were open a few inches and it was dark out, but outdoor porch lights illuminated a thin layer of snow on the ground. He stood very close. Although I couldn't see him clearly, my mind drew every outline of his body. I could imagine his black jeans—and how he filled them. With my eyes closed or open, the image was still there.

I could feel the heat of his body again, as his breath brushed my cheek. Still, I could not move, nor would I have wanted to, except that he was supporting me on my feet, er, foot. I used his arms for balance and he stepped one last step. Now, his body was touching mine. I could feel the skin of his shoulder against mine. He hadn't put on a shirt and was wearing thin, drawstring pajama bottoms. Involuntarily, I leaned into him for support, so we were pressed together and I was unable to move, holding my body as straight as I could. I was scared to go any further, yet I was afraid of what I might miss. His groin rubbed against my leg. Hot again.

He pressed himself against me, again, harder, and then shuddered violently, gasping, "Oh!"

I could feel the sudden wetness through both layers of clothes as he leaned against me. I could feel his tension release, his breath come in pants, so I just held him for a few moments. After that he pulled away, his breathing harsh.

"Sorry," he gasped, his voice panicky. His emotionless mask dropped. "I didn't mean for that to happen. I'm really sorry."

My hands clasped his arms again, afraid he might have a heart attack or bolt, as I would have, if I could have, had I just shot my load on him. "Don't say sorry."

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Nothing to apologize about."

"But," he croaked, his voice miserable now, "that had been unintentional."

Well, yeah! That's called spontaneity, dipwad!

"Don't apologize. It was fairly natural. You couldn't help it."

I tried to sound casual to set him at ease, but only sounded foolishly pedantic even to my own ears. The perfect soldier couldn't control an ejaculation, perfectly. He was humiliated, but hadn't pulled further away from me, mostly because I was still holding on him like a limpet to its rock.

"It happens to everyone," I added hopefully.

"Not... to me... like that ... it's embarrassing." He sighed, and said in a changed voice, becoming less uptight, "And messy, too."

He smiled slightly.

"Yeah, well."

I wanted to smile, too, but I hid my face. He dropped his arms and we broke apart. I caught him touching his pajamas, inspecting himself, leaving a sharp smell in the air.

Gods, my heart was racing! He was standing there only a pace away. Was this an invitation? Should I reach out again? I hesitated, unsure, scared again. Scared of what his reaction might be if I did. Then he turned away from me.

"Look," he said, slowly, awkwardly, "I am sorry about that. I didn't mean it to happen. It ... just did."

"Hey, I said it's all right. Don't worry. Forget it."

The cooling dampness on my pants where we had been momentarily glued together reminded me that we both needed a change of clothes. Still, he stood there, and I realized he must have been waiting for me to go. I was the source of shame to him. The moment had past for me to say something constructive, and there was no bringing it back, and my body reminded me that I needed to piss, urgently now, so I turned and hopped and hobbled to "my" bathroom and shut the door behind me.

Not that I was aware of my surroundings. Instead, my mind was filled with what had just happened. Heero out of control? I caused this? Should I have made a move toward him?

Part of my mind regretted not having done so; another part was horrified by the idea. I alternatively chastised myself for not having seized the opportunity to hold him again and hated him for having used me that way. What the hell was he doing standing there watching over me in the dark? I finished, washed my face and hands, and opened the door.

Heero was gone, which was both a relief and a disappointment. Through various contortions I climbed the stairs to my room and perched on the side of my bed, gathering my wits about me. I tried distracting myself, while I tossed my shirt onto the floor and changed into a clean pair of loose sweatpants, by reciting all the startup procedures for a Gundam that I could remember, but without much success. My thoughts returned to Heero like a mill wheel, round and round.

So, I was not his best friend? Was I just handy for sexual release? It surely hadn't been a romantic tryst. That would involve kissing, at the very least. What was going on?

How could I face him the next time we had another of our encounters, because I was certain we would have another. Heero was hot, no doubt about it, and now I had a new set of feelings to keep me wide awake.

Chapter 5

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