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"Greeting Cards"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: Yaoi, funeral practices, AU, fluff Pairings: 1+4, 1x2x1, 3+H, 5xH, 3x4, 6x9 Summary: Each chapter is based on Heero’s
greeting cards and Duo's mortuary. "Greeting Cards " Chapter 3 -- Chasing Rainbows A St. Patrick's Day story First thing when I get home, I check my messages, except this time the phone rang the instant I touched it. "Hello? Duo here." "Hey, you're late." "Hil, yeah, I am. I'm about dead on my feet and don't turn that into a joke. What'sup?" "It's a long one. Call me back when you've had a bite and some unwinding, okay?" "I'll be in bed by then." "Then call me from bed." "Pervert. Bye." I made it to the kitchen, beer in hand, pizza in the microwave, when the next call came in. I let the message system kick in. "Hi, it's, ah... Trowa. When ya gotta minute—" I dove for the receiver. "Tro!" "Is this... Duo? You all right?" "Yeah. Making dinner. Long day." "Then I'll make this brief. You need a hand in the mortuary? I'm a lab tech stuck in a dull as cardboard job with autopsy experience. I—" "Say no more." I knew he'd appreciate me saying that. "Meet me tomorrow at the coffee shop." "Better be early. I work." "Early then. I'll give you the low down. If you still are interested, I'll take you into the crypt and we'll talk money. If you're still interested, you're hired." Trowa was laughing on the other end of the line. "Rough day, huh?" "Don't start me up. Fact is, I need help and my student interns are for shit and unreliable." "Yeah, they are here, too—at the hospital. Well, then eight o'clock?" "Sure. Bye." It didn't even occur to me to ask where he got my home number. I'm usually suspicious, so you know I was exhausted. I ate, showered, and crashed. Then I remembered to check my messages and got up to do that. More work. Folks were dying to see me. Ha, Ha. I rolled into bed and my cell phone rang. "I didn't forget! I just got horizontal!" "Duo? You sound wasted." "Oh, sorry, Quat. Yeah, I am and I thought you were Hilde calling again. She's hounding me tonight. You, however, I'll talk to." "Did you forget? I was coming over. I called earlier, but you weren't home. I didn't leave a message." "Sorry again, dude. Bad day at the office." Quatre's laugh was musical. "Well, it's too late for me to come now, isn't it?" I hadn't had sex in awhile with anyone, besides myself, so I could warm up to a nice, sexy blond as well as the next guy—true and enduring love or not. "Man, I like you, you know that? Any other guy woulda used that for the perfect setup for an overnight stay." "Not every guy is looking for sex at every opportunity, Duo." "No, just the ones I attract, 'cept you." "Thank you." He was giving up way too fast! "You could come over and I could try, I don't know. I don't wanna fuck or anything." "Me neither. I've, ah, never. It doesn't even intrigue me, to be honest." "Oh yeah?" That was a new one on me. I could be intrigued big time. "Well, that's cool. We are on the same wavelength then. How about some hot and heavy? I might be able to manage to suck you off?" "I don't know, Duo. We're still in the early dating stage." "I could put in a DVD and call it dinner and a movie?" Quatre, God bless him, laughed hysterically. He excused himself politely without making me feel too let down and then signed off. Ten minutes into my log-sawing, the phone rang. "Ugh." "Ugh yourself. You forgot to call me!" "Hil, I can't converse." I couldn't beg sex off my current "flame" either. What good were my people skills anyway? "Then just listen and grunt. I'm used to handling the whole conversation after dating Trowa, who I'm mad at right now." "You called me to complain about Trowa?" Dear God, I hoped not. "Among other things, but, first, your gaydar is seriously inoperative." "Didn't say I had any." "You don't even have the equipment." "Hey! That's getting personal!" And way too close to the mark! "Point being, Heero is gay. He told me, so, you'd better come up with another reason for him giving you dirty looks." Well, good for you, Hilde, the prier of personal histories from the souls of men. "Oh," I said aloud, while my thought processes clicked and whirred ahead. Heero? Gay? Well, who'da guessed? Not me, obviously, but then I wasn't on the hunt, was I? I had a guy I was dating, although, our progress past the good friend stage was painfully slow. That put me in mind of my lackluster sex life. Again. Hilde took that for what it was worth and moved on with a vengeance. "I am impressive, I know. No need to thank me either. Back to Trowa. You won't believe this. He had your card! That Valentine card!" Heero, gay, Trowa, card. I could follow a script like no other and improvise like a pro, even when I was half asleep. "How can you be sure? There could be more cards like it (however unlikely). Besides, Quatre has mine." "It was yours. Trowa had yours. Don't be stupid. I told him it was yours and took it from him." "Nice, Hil." "You'll thank me in the end. I looked it over to make sure it hadn't been messed with. You know, like it didn't have any new names or writing on it." "Nice..." "And found two phone numbers. One was your home one and the other, well, I called it and you'll never believe who I got." "Then why bother telling me?" "Guess!" "Ah...Quatre." "That's right! How did you know that?" "I didn't, but since Trowa called me on my cell and he'd probably called the house, hadn't gotten me, and, so, called Quatre to get to the next level of the Duo calling tree, and then that's how he got my cell number. Why?" Hilde had fallen silent. "Hil? You still there?" "Yeah, it's just, well. Damn, I thought maybe your boyfriend was messing around behind your back." "Oh. Well, Quat's not really my boyfriend. Not yet. We are still in the 'early dating stages' as he calls it, which means, I assume, he can share his phone number with whomever." I tried not to sound as hurt over that as I was. "And Trowa's looking for a job with me, so I don't think he's going to be sneaking around and jeopardizing that. It, ah, sounds like you blew it with him, though." "Yeah, for you, you ungrateful queer." I was sputtering my "indebted to you forever" noises, which she ignored as she moved on. "Yeah... oh yeah. I think I proved I didn't trust him. It's okay. Trowa and I weren't going anywhere, and we both knew it. Friends forever and all that. See, for a mate I need a talker. Like you, but one that lusts over me not my ex-es." "That was only that one time, Hil—" She brushed past me and our sordid pasts at the speed of light. "Yeah, yeah... Which reminds me, that man you know from some walk of yours Mr. Clairvoyant?" "The painter, Mr. Claremont? What about him?" "He was checked in with pneumonia, I think it was. Thought you might wanna know." "Yeah, thanks Hil. I'll check by his house and see what I can do. Well, if that's all, then—" "Not at all! I'm getting to the important part. Sally was spitting nails—" "Hypos. She's a doctor, or just about, so she'd spit hypos." I yawned and turned over, finding the most comfortable position ever. "Spitting hypos, then. All because Wufei wasn't going for detective or something like that." "Ambitious." "Right. He's not ambitious enough. That's what she told him. I don't know if that's the case or not, but he's got pride and that set him off and they were yelling at each other in the stairwell when I was leaving." "He doesn't like me." "He hardly knows you, Duo. And can you blame him if he's biased against gays? The Lucky Strike, that gay leather and motorcycle club? It's on his beat." "Pretty raunchy." "Terrible dive. So, I backed away from that nasty scene, their argument not the club, and took the elevator by way of the vending machines. Talk about gross, awful, and revolting—" "Let's not." "The coffee outta that machine could remove the gum off shoes, I swear! Anyway, I got to my car and saw Officer Chang racing around. I thought he was gonna arrest me for parking in the staff space even though I'm not officially staff, and started coming up with a good excuse. But that wasn't it at all. He blushed and went all stuttery." "That's not a... (I yawned wide enough to split my face in half) word." "I'm using it! Listen! I embarrassed him in the stairway-- with the yelling and all. He wanted to talk more—to me! We're meeting in the coffee shop tomorrow then walking over to my shop so I can open on time. And talking. About what? I can only guess our mutual friend, Sally. What do you think?" I had drifted so far into dreamland that her voice sounded very far away, as if she were at the far end of the tunnel I was about to leave, or had left, running, fast. And then I woke up, it was 2 AM, a full moon was glowing through the curtains directly into my eyes, my cell phone was dead and my phone was off the hook. I set my alarm clock, hung up the receiver, and plugged my cell into its re-charger. The last thing I thought about was an orgy featuring Quatre, Trowa, Heero and me. All together, but I was the featured entertainment. (o) "Heero," Relena said, jolting me out of my private meditations over dinner. "Have you given more thought to my offer of a gallery show?" I shrugged without consideration or forethought and finished swallowing. "I haven't material to show. To create sufficient work for a show would take months. In the meantime, I have orders to fulfill for my cards, the winter holidays for the bigger companies in particular." "But that was all part of my offer! You have no expenses. I'd see to it that you had an allowance, so there would be no need to produce those silly greeting cards at all. You could devote yourself to Your Art. The Sanc Gallery Nouveaux would be perfect. Dorothy loves your paintings—" Here I stopped her. "Painting. There's just the one." "And that's the problem, isn't it? And I'm offering the perfect solution! If you started now, we could secure the most desirable dates in November and December." But how would I save for my dreams? My move to the country? But then, selling paintings through the most prestigious gallery in Sanc was part of my dreams, too. How could I know if this path wouldn't bring me closer to my goals sooner? Milliardo must have taken my silence for resistance, because he inserted himself into the conversation. "Relena, my dear sister, it is quite possible that he's passionate about his little cards. It's a smart business that could grow and make him a tidy sum. Not all artists are only in it for the ART. Not everyone is destined for greatness, either." I did not like the man at all. I admired his posture and hair, and he did have elegant manners, but his mind was poverty stricken. And he resented my being there. At that moment I wanted more than anything to wipe the supercilious smile off that man's face. I nearly took Relena up on her offer just to prove him wrong. But was that his intent? Double-teaming me to get me more entrenched, more dependent on them? More beholding? I couldn't see any reason why. What was it that Relena saw in me that was worth any sacrifice on her part? It was far more likely that he saw me as a gold-digger and wanted me out of his house, far away from his younger sister. "But Heero is going to be one of those great painters of our times. I just know it! Please, Heero, tell me you'll think about it this week, okay? This week. Give my offer serious consideration. You'll do that for me, won't you?" "This week. Yes," I agreed. Milliardo steeled his gaze directly on me, so I returned a bullet-proof expression and a stare that could cut through diamonds. I was certain Milliardo and I would end up fighting sooner or later, and prepared myself for the former. He rose, swept the room with a fan of platinum hair, and said on his way out the door, "Yuy, I can't be your friend." That suited me just fine. I didn't want or need his friendship, but I was disappointed not to have broken his nose. Another time. And time seemed to be moving faster and faster. I noticed Duo came into the coffee shop alone Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. I wondered what had happened to the blond and the romance I suspected was developing between him and the green-eyed man. Was Duo even aware of it or had they broken up? I wouldn't ask Duo, of course, and he never complained or talked about his private life. He, in fact, had a hectic work schedule and hardly stayed long enough to scald his throat with a hastily consumed drink and ask how I was doing. "Fine." "Yeah? That's swell. Well, gotta run, not that my customers are going anywhere fast, heh, heh. See ya later!" No, he was far too cheerful to be getting over a break up. I assumed he was far too busy to even notice his boyfriend slipping away. Then on Thursday, the situation came to a head. I didn't want to watch him suffer heartbreak, when both Quatre and Trowa entered the coffee shop. It wasn't eight in the morning yet. I wasn't sure whether I wanted them to finish ordering and join me or find a private table. Trowa chose a small table for two by the door and Quatre pulled up a chair to join him. Did I secretly want Duo to walk in and discover...? And then there he was at the door. He sailed in on the love boat, smiles and friendly slaps on the back. Drink in hand, he hardly had to wait anymore because the morning guy knew him, he sat on the edge of their table. I watched his braid slip from his back, around his shoulder, and coil with a heavy thunk onto Quatre's lap. The little blond had the audacity to pick it up and rub it against his cheek. I was on my feet, appearing instantly at the crowded table, ready to save the braid from those cheating hands. "Hey, 'Ro. Next time, guys, find us a bigger table." Duo smiled at me then at Trowa, who was standing. "Hello," I began. My eyes met Duo's but my attention was still on Quatre's game with his hair. He used the tip to brush crumbs off the table! "Yo guys! Grab that table emptying over there!" It was Duo's close female friend, Hilde. She was dating Trowa—could things get more complicated? Yes, because she wasn't alone. At her side was a strikingly handsome police officer. I was blocking everyone's path to the new table, so I moved and claimed it with a hip check to the sister thinking the same thing. I maneuvered myself into the corner, ignored her glares, and warmed to the praise of Duo's friends congratulating me on my quick reflexes. While we waited for Hilde to get her order and introduce her mystery man, Quatre regaled us about his classes, work load, and explored the possibility of getting tickets to a Sandrock basketball game one night. We all nodded lamely and listened, although Trowa listened with interest. Then I remembered the card I'd made for Duo. How in hell was I to get it to him? I wasn't foolish enough to make a scene. I was torn between letting Duo know the card was from me and keeping it a secret entirely. He had a boyfriend, a girlfriend, a circle of friendships. Why would he need mine? Losing myself in my gloomy thoughts apparently had become my favorite pastime. "Shove over!" Hilde was back. "'Fei," Duo greeted the policeman. Great, he knew this guy, too. "Wufei, this is Heero, Trowa, Quatre, and Duo you met. Everyone, this is—" "Officer Chang," the man announced. He stole the warmth from the room. My tea rimmed in ice. I moved over and felt a pin prick. When I'd moved over ever further on the bench seating, the items in my pockets moved. One was stabbing me now. I reached in, grabbed the pins, and scattered the metal clip-ons across the table. "Ooooh! Shamrocks!" Hilde cooed. "It's St. Patrick's day. These could bring you good luck." As I explained, I used the diversion to reach around Quatre's back and stuff the card into Duo's coat pocket. He would receive it anonymously. "Cool," Trowa remarked, rising to he feet, clover leaf in hand. Duo pinned his to his lapel as he stood up. "Thanks. I can use some good luck. Well, gotta run. Catch you all later." And Duo left ... with Trowa! I felt like an idiot sitting there speechless. Was he dating both Quatre and Trowa? Good luck charms be damned. (o) "Don't worry, Duo. This is more important," Trowa said. "Okay. Don't wanna get you in trouble missing work and all, but seeingis "the thing", I say. You either get hooked or not." I led Trowa around back to the employee's entrance to my funeral home, typed in the pass-code, and stepped inside. "Funny," Trowa said, although his voice inflection was missing. I looked up and noticed the hand painted sign which greeted me daily and which I'd long stopped noticing. The ghoulish drips hanging from the lettering had been a weak attempt at humor. The Cadaver Keep "Oh, yeah, well... it was funny at one time," I explained. We walked to the private back entrance and I keyed in the code to unlock the door. "There's a room here were you can change into coveralls, gloves, and, on occasion, a mask. We'll go through all the motions, okay?" "Fine with me." Trowa smiled. His gaze traveled the room, taking in the less gruesome symbols of the job. "Cool. There's enough mystery about the job to be intriguing." He held the ugly mask up to his face and batted his eyes at me. This was a nice change. I hadn't seen him so lively before. Now I knew we'd get along great. For me, getting along with the folks I worked with is a priority. In the changing room, we slipped into coveralls, grabbed masks and gloves, while I rattled on. "Always check the incoming list. If there was anything urgent while you were out, I'd note it here. Never know when you don't have any work." "That happen often?" Trowa asked. "Nope. Oh, here's a pen for taking notes, but be careful not to put it in your mouth." Trowa took the offered pen and notepad. "I wouldn't do that." "Good. You'd be surprised how many people must. About 100 people choke to death on ballpoint pens each year," I remarked with a smile. "You could avoid the pens and computerize it all." "It mostly is, but the hospital and rest homes all call and leave messages that I gotta write down and enter later and others give me paperwork, so it ends up being faster just to layer the papers on this clipboard and fill it out and file it that way. I do my scheduling on the computer, though. I'll show you later." I noticed Trowa scanning his surroundings. He was either very cool or had his "cool" mask firmly attached. We could have been in a circus tent for all the effect it had on him. I let him get a good look of the main embalming and autopsy "suite." Mine was dry and well lit. Autopsy tables, some with built-in plumbing: irrigation hoses, suction tubes and drains lined up in the center of the room. They were overhung by lights just like those used in operating rooms to help see into dark body cavities. Also in the room was a lightbox for viewing X-rays, a scale for weighing organs, and a camera stand so interesting findings could be photographed. I was ready to handle a crowd. I flipped through a clipboard of papers, verifying what I already knew, added notes to some pages, based on the evening's recorded messages. "I'd like to have a night and day crew, be running autopsies and investigative work as well as burial preparation." "You think big, Duo." "Yeah. I got plans. I'd like to staff this place so I could take a day off without losing business. I'd also like to live out in the fresh air someplace and see trees. Oh well, unwinding has to happen on my walks to and fro the bus stop for the time being. Those are the autopsy tables." "Look familiar." Yeah, the guy was cucumber cool as he examined the waist-high aluminum fixtures. Basically the tops were a slanted tray (for drainage) with raised edges to keep blood and fluids from flowing onto the floor- plumbed for running water, and had several faucets and spigots to facilitate washing away all the blood released during the procedure. "These are cool." Like some older facility out of a horror movie, the room still had two marble tables for the drier embalming steps. Trowa seemed to like the feel of the cold slabs. "What's the work like?" "Almost no autopsies, any more. Mostly, those are done by a medical student from the university at the hospital, but when things get busy, we get the overflow." "Yeah, or more likely techies like me. So you don't get autopsies often?" Trowa asked. By his flat tone, I couldn't tell if he were hoping for it or not. "No. I've been too understaffed. Anyway, this morning I gotta do an embalming on a body delivered by the hospital. Says here the autopsy was already done." I put away the work orders. "Bodies for post mortem examination or embalming are kept in the refrigerated storage room. It's down in the basement. This way, if you have time." "All I got is time," Trowa said. When his smile widened and stuck, I knew something was up. I just waited him out, figuring he'd play me straight. "After I talked to you, I called work and left them a two weeks notice message, and I'm taking today off. All I really have to do is go in to the hospital and put in a personal appearance later." "Hope I didn't talk this job up too much," I said. He chuckled. "As if..." "Okay, then we've gotta great day ahead of us." I led the way downstairs. Many hard, steep, cement steps. "There's a freight elevator, don't worry!" "Didn't see you draping bodies over your back for the climb." His cool demeanor amused me. I wondered how much longer he could keep it up. I could see how he was definitely not Hilde's type. She needed someone less subtle and sly. I liked him more and more. It didn't hurt that he laughed with a purr and slinked around quietly like some big cat. Where Quatre was cute and cuddly, when I had the chance to snuggle with him, like a kitten, Trowa was stealthy and sexy like a hunter. Heero I put firmly in the wolf category, big, big dog, and I can't say why. Maybe the way he watched Quatre, as if he might devour him. He either wanted to kill him or fuck him bad. Both thoughts made me feel sad. Kicked puppy dog sad, which brought me to the bottom of the staircase. Trowa shuddered and steeled himself at the door or for the job, whatever it might entail. He was either reacting to the morgue ambiance, finally, or the rush of frigid air as I opened the sealed door. A couple gurneys, one holding a sheet-covered body, sat in the center of the room rimmed by a wall of locked steel-plated doors. "Valuables?" he asked me. "Those are for provisional cases. You know, suspected murders with possible evidence or contagious diseases," I told him, "I call them 'purgatory,'" meaning the steel lockers, "And here is limbo." Inside the cold-storage room, 'limbo', Trowa took over and wheeled out the shrouded body on the gurney. Up the freight elevator and into the first room we went. Trowa wanted to observe an embalming and I had one, so there we were. Trowa helped me transfer the body to the cold surface. "Bathroom's over there," I indicated to him with a tilt of my head. "I don't need..." he began, but when I pulled off the sheet and revealed the autopsied body underneath. "Shit..." he muttered. He flew to the bathroom to lose his breakfast. Not that cool a cat then. The young girl's still form looked like a wax model. The chest was cut open, hollow, fresh from the hospital autopsy. After all the post mortem procedures had been performed, the body had been left an empty shell, with no larynx, chest organs, abdominal organs, pelvic organs, or brain. The front of the rib cage was missing. The scalp was pulled down over the face, and the whole top of the head was gone. The organs had been disposed of at the hospital. Obviously, not optimal for lying in state in public view-- or for Trowa's unprepared brain. "You all right?" Duo asked Trowa on his return. "Yeah, I'll be fine. It was just that...it was unexpected." "Yeah, usually men wake up as good-looking as they went to bed. It's the women who somehow deteriorate during the night," I quipped. When he just shrugged off my joke, I asked, "But you've done autopsies?" "Not on a young person," Trowa explained. "You'll get used to it," I said, "or not." "What's next?" Trowa managed to keep all but the barest tremor out of his voice, I noticed. So, he was human but not totally unfeeling. That was good. Cool and calm was okay, but cold and tense was not. "What we do the most, embalming." I opened a manual and pointed to the title page, while I read: "'Embalming forms the foundation for the entire funeral-service structure. It is the basis for the sale of profitable merchandise, the guardian of public health, the reason for much of our professional education and our protective legislation.' It's from an old embalming text." Trowa smiled. "So, in the ideal setting my assistant would do the prep stages and, as the elite funeral director that I was and am, I'd do the cosmetics," I clarified. "You didn't trust him, your other helper." "No shit." I grinned. "He might have shaved off the eyebrows or painted on moustaches, the nit." Trowa smiled faintly. He had a shy smile and the prettiest green eyes that glittered in the bright lights. He used the long bangs to hide behind, which I thought was rather endearing. In the back of my mind I was glad he was straight or had Hilde called him "bi?" Further back in my brain, I reminded myself I had a boyfriend, well, almost a boy friend-- 0ne in process, and I was loyal to that. And way, way back there, but moving forward faster than I liked, was the reminder that I hadn't had a sexual encounter of the meaningful kind in way too long. What had I been talking about? The nit, my previous employee. Right. Picturing that ugly mug triggered my defenses and pushed every other thought back into place. I might have screwed up the order, though, because "long time, no sex" kept popping into my head, despite the work at hand. "It takes training to do it right. Anyway, what I wanna show you is what you'd be expected to do. Obviously, since you're learning on the job, I'd do this with you a few times. Okay?" "Ready." "Great. Time to put on the gloves (typically two pairs). The chest's been cracked and the soft organs have been removed, measured, tested, and dumped. So, what we gotta do now is stuff it and stitch it up. Then we pump embalming fluid into the main artery." We worked together stuffing the wadding in place to give the torso form, and then I demonstrated my fine sewing technique. "It doesn't show, so it doesn't have to be fancy, but I got pretty good at it and it's kinda fun doing cross stitch." I could feel a blush heat my face as Trowa shook his head and commented, "You would have made an interesting doctor. Changed the tilt of the earth." "Yeah, well..." No sex, no sex... "I'll do that." He could sew fine and finished the job for me. Then he watched as I set up the feeder lines and filled the reservoir with fluid. "Once this gets going, it'll take awhile so in the meantime, Trowa, you can take the body's inventory list and cross-check that with the personal stuff sent over from the hospital." Trowa, happy to be anywhere else, it seemed, for the moment, took the clipboard and located the box stacked among others with the matching ID label. Inside the box was a thin ring, a retainer, and glasses-- That's all I could recall from my own quick peek. Trophies she'd left behind. Behind. Trowa had a nice ass. Did he work out? "When you're done, I could use a hand here," I shouted. I pulled on my mask to hide my flushed face. Trowa quickly verified that everything on the list was in the box, closed the lid securely, and hurried back to the table. "It's okay. Nothing's lost." "Great," I said. Sexy great. Trowa looked away from where the faintly pink fluid was pumping into an artery. "You put on a mask. Should I be wearing one, too?" "Yeah, you should always use a face mask and ensure that the embalming room is sanitized and ventilated. These chemicals are dangerous so don't breathe them, spill them, or get them in your eyes," I warned him. "I got a regular routine to prep. I'll show you, if you decide to stay on." "I'd like to, if the pay's okay. Even if it's not. I like it here. Quiet, clean." "That's cool, 'Tro. Say, I'll be done in a minute then we have some cleaning up to do. Find the germicidal solution." I directed Trowa to the cabinets, where he could locate find it on the shelf. I barely contained my excitement to have him working with me. I would be great. A team. I could take a day off now and then, too. "The recommended process calls for a thorough disinfection and body cleansing with a germicide, insecticide olfactant. It's a safety precaution against most diseases and keeps the stink of decay down." "Embalming is a smelly business," Trowa said. "Is there a fan I can turn up?" "The ventilation switch is on the far wall. The dial below adjusts it. I must be getting nose burn-out," I told him. "If you think it's too strong, rev it up." Then you can work on me. Oh, God, I need help. Preserve me! "I will." Trowa nodded and loped to the switch and cranked up the fan. When he got back, I was ready to have him assist in the cleaning, starting with the fingernails. "Females generally take better care of their nails. With men we give them a shave and trim nose hairs." "Fun." "Next is hair." I wiggled my braid for emphasis. "One thing I know is hair products. It takes a passel to keep this mop under control." "I can't imagine. This is enough for me to want to shave it all off some mornings." Trowa pushed his bangs out of his face, only to have a stubborn hank fall back into place, covering an eye. We took turns washing the girl's face and hair, while I thought about playing with his hair. "Hairdressing is normally done after embalming is done," I told him. "You're doing fine, by the way." "Thanks," Trowa muttered. "So after this practice, maybe I can moonlight as a beautician." That got me laughing again. Yeah, I really liked this guy. Yet, I wasn't sexually attracted. Much. I could be, but I had a guy I was dating, and, although I didn't like to admit it, my imagination was stirred by the artist with the killer eyes. I really needed a good lay, soon. "Are we done then?" Trowa called out from the sink where he was washing his hands. I looked up at the clock. Where had the time gone? I yawned. "Lunch break, yeah. We can pack her back into the cooler and swab the decks, then go out. Cosmetics later." Yeah, this was the start of something really good in my life. Trowa and I hit it off just great, even if he was dating/not dating my best girl-type friend. We slipped out of the coveralls and into our jackets. It was very spring-like outside, some sun, some clouds, and some wind. "What's this?" Trowa knelt and picked up a card, which had been hidden in my outer jacket pocket and had fallen out when I pulled out my driving gloves. "Says: 'Duo'. You know, this reminds me of the one Quatre wrote your number on for me. Hand made, too. You get that heart card back, by the way?" "Yeah, sorry 'bout Hilde." I was staring at the envelope, at my name written in fancy script by someone with talent. "Nice card. You going to open that?" "Yeah." The card was beautifully drawn and colored. A glittering rainbow arched over a house nestled in the trees out in the country. I didn't need the pot of gold at the end of it. The house would do. Just like I dreamed it would look like. This card, I'd frame. I'd frame the Valentine, too, I decided. "What's it say inside?" he prompted me. "Can you win my heart... while you're chasing rainbows?" "From Quatre, probably." I pictured those gentle eyes over dinner. Quatre was thoughtful, but he wasn't shy. He wouldn't slip me anonymous greeting cards. Then, I visualized a pair of exotic eyes. I imagined the scene where Quatre kissed and outted me, and those killer eyes laying me open, cutting me to the quick. Then, slow thinker that I was, I guess, it finally occurred to me. What if Heero had been jealous of Quatre, not hate-filled? Heero was gay and artistic. What if it was Heero who had given me this card, no matter how? What if he made it for me? What if Heero was pursuing me? Man, from his standpoint, my dating Quatre and all-- I certainly was chasing rainbows. "I'm not sure," I told Trowa. But I was certain that I wanted to see Heero again!
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