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"No One Does it Better"Written By: Miss Murdered Disclaimer: I don't own the GW characters - am
just borrowing to torment for my amusement Rating: NC 17 Warnings: sap, some light angst, implied sexual
content and bad language due to Duo's potty mouth. I never can control
him. I never want to either ;-P Pairings: 1x2 Summary: Duo contemplates his relationship with Heero after a fight. A/N: Inspired by the song No One Does it Better
by You me at Six and written for and beta'd by ELLE.
"No One Does it Better " Okay, I can admit it. I'm a big enough man to be aware
of my faults and I know I can be an immature little bitch sometimes.
That I can be overly dramatic, that I can be petty and that I can
get pissy at the drop of a hat. I ain't perfect. But no one is, right? Even Heero. Especially Heero. I mean I try, my heart is always in the right place
but I guess that sometimes I lose perspective on what's important
and end up in stupid arguments with him. It was easy to do –
we were both thick headed and stubborn – but I always goddamn
initiated stuff. I knew all his buttons and pressed them with accuracy
when needed. And he knew mine. Threw back a ton of shit that jarred
my defences around my damn insecurities and left me packing my bag,
slamming the door – my usual flair for the dramatic. Duo Maxwell
for your attention, ladies and gentleman, king of the walk out and
king of saying the wrong thing. Open mouth insert foot and all. Ridiculously
good at that. Yet in our entire two year relationship – started
when we were both mature enough and had enough therapy – Heero
had never walked out on me. Heero watched me with those eyes that
killed me, kinda big, disappointed, puppy-ish even and I just slammed
the door and had the image of him with his hands folded over his chest
looking like that. Devastating, you know. So when he left three days ago, packed his go bag and
disappeared when I was at work, well, I found myself calling everyone
we knew – Quat, Tro' and 'Fei, hell, even Princess Pink –
but none of them knew where he was. I also may have sat in the bathtub
with a bottle of tequila and not dealt very well. As you know, I am
a mature and sensible adult who thinks that problems can be solved
at bottoms of bottles. Which they can't. As I still hadn't heard from
Heero or had any fucking clue where he was. I tried, you know. Cell phone. Email. I even tried our
old comm channel where we could send both short messages and even
call each other over it – so damn heavily encrypted that we'd
used them in the past on covert ops to say goodnight to one another.
Fucked and cheesy ass romantic as it sounds, without Heero's kiss
across my lips and his whispered "I love you" I found it
hard to sleep. Me, ex-terrorist, ex-thief, motherfucking bad ass Preventer
couldn't sleep unless my grumpy asshole of a boyfriend didn't lean
over and brush his lips over mine. Yeah. Pathetic. Tell this shit to my younger self and
watch yourself laughed at hysterically. But that old comm channel was so damn valuable as maybe
he couldn't kiss me goodnight and all but I could hear his voice,
deep and breathy, and it sent tingles down my spine. I got this love
shit bad. Maybe I always had. The comm channel, when I tried to use it, just said
"error," which gave me no clue. I don't know whether the
computer-genius asshole had blocked me or if it was genuinely not
working. Whichever felt shitty to me. 'Ro had never cut me out before
– he was Heero – calm, steady, patient and damn gorgeous
to boot. And he took my shit. Every last bit of it. And fuck if I'm
not gonna love the man for that. Fuck if I've finally gone too far and lost him. It just
proved, I guess, that perhaps I never actually deserved him. Which was depressing as fuck to think about. I slept like shit the last few nights, slunk into bed
and decided to sleep on his side – smelling him on the pillows,
breathing him in and I felt weirdly that I was still with him and
man, it made me feel worse. I still did it though. Woke up this morning, smelt him on my pillow and then
showered for as long as I could before I had to go to work, wondering
if it was possible to drown myself in there. Maybe. Maybe not. But
fuck, I missed him surprising me in there, latching onto my neck and
nosing my wet hair outta the way, touching me, feeling me, pushing
me against the shower stall glass and banging me, making me come,
panting, turning in his arms to kiss him, the slide of water and lips
far too damn hot. Solo showers were sure not as fun. Even if I jerked
off thinking about him. Thinking of the way his breath hitched. Thinking
of how his arms tightened around me. Thinking of how his hair tickled.
Heero wasn't the only person I'd ever been with – but he was
the best. And he knew. No one made me feel like he did. And fuck. It might be over. After my shower, I looked at my damn laptop, again,
and in only a towel decided to sit and open up the programme the old
coots had created for us all those damn years ago. I mean, Heero had
tinkered and made it an impenetrable fortress of unbreakable code
but it still showed an error next to where the 01 was and fuck, there
was no point, I knew that, but I still found myself typing. /I fucked up./ Naw, I deleted it. Hell, I knew I had but it wasn't
an apology. Yeah, it admitted I was a dick but not enough. Damn well
not enough. Take the blame – the responsibility – be the
man I want to be and not the idiot who hurts the one he loves. I started again. /'Ro – I looked at those words blinking on the screen as I
typed and I thought, huh, be more honest Duo for fuck's sake. I deleted. Reworded. /'Ro I can't sleep without you. I don't know what
I'm doing here without you. Fuck, get in touch, babe. I miss you./
I looked at it – clicked send and saw it drift
off into cyber space – my heart through Wi-Fi or something. My
body damn near sagged into the chair and I stared at the "error"
next to 01 until I realised I needed clothes and to go to work. Preventer coulda docked my pay and I wouldn't have blamed
them for the amount of work I'd done. Instead the last few days had
been about the amount of times I'd checked my cell, the amount of
times I looked at my own laptop to see if 'Ro messaged me and checked
all my email accounts and fuck all. Work could kiss my ass. It was
only preliminary mission shit – it could wait. And yeah, maybe not the best approach but really, I
never thought I'd be this screwed up over him walking out. Maybe because
I just never thought he'd do it. He was the one always coming for
me and saving my ass – not the other way round. It got to the afternoon, I'd drank my body weight in
coffee and eaten nothing beyond a candy bar one of the admin chicks
gave me when she delivered some memo, pitying me for some reason –
shit I must've been really pathetic if it was on the office grapevine
– and that's when I checked the old channel. No "error"
next to the 01 and I clicked, heart beating hard, palms sweaty, feeling
like I was waiting for a crush to message back like some giddy awkward
teenager. Shit, totally not me – I was the cocky asshole who
kissed Heero and started this, I was the one who guided it and made
it what it was. And now I felt like – what if 'Ro decided I wasn't
worth it, you know? That all my bullshit was not what he needed. That
thought was more depressing than I wanted to deal with so I sucked
it up as the message appeared. /Meet me. It was to the point, which of course was totally Heero,
and it was devoid of emotion – okay as devoid of emotion as the
short words were and I was projecting and interpreting. Never said
I ain't fucked up. I looked at the clock at the edge of the screen. "God-fucking-damn-it," I swore and it all
ran together into some crazy long ass word as I grabbed my jacket
knowing I didn't have much time. Heero was a stickler for punctuality. Yeah, I'd learnt
ways to make us late – late for work, late for functions, late
for so many damn things by breaking down his defences and making him
putty in my hands – but today he'd be on time. And I'd be late.
Fucking balls. I had fifteen minutes to get to the park – fifteen
minutes to find the statue of some long forgotten war and the bench
we'd sat on and talked and tried to work through how we'd work as
a couple. Of course, we'd already done the banging each other's brains
out thing but that – that was the location of our first actual
date. Hey, I'm not exactly Mr. Romance or Mr. Cheesy-Ass-Chick-Movie-Proclamations-of-Love
but I didn't consider being jerked off by him then me blowing him
in a toilet stall as our first date. I have some class. So I ran. I kinda worried about the people on the city
streets seeing some crazy dude with a braid running past in a Preventer
uniform. I didn't care. Gotta get to him before he gave up on him. There were a few things I realised running like hell
through the streets of Brussels. One – I need to up my cardio
routine and do less weights. Two – I also needed to get Sally
to look at my old ankle injury from when an OZ dickwad stomped on
it. And three – I didn't want my life to be without Heero. Not
ever. It was all in my head as I got to the park, not bothering
to glance at my watch as I ran through the gateway and to the statue
that sat at the centre. It was a windy day, the leaves being picked
up by the breeze, and I just ignored it all until I arrived at the
bench. The empty bench. Fuck. I checked my watch. 15:51 the electronic super snazzy
techy watch Heero had bought me said. And I wheezed a little, leaned over, my hands on my
thighs as I realised I was not worth six minutes. I felt sick and I blamed the lack of food and the run
rather than the shit awful reality. Heero left me. Like everyone did.
Fuck. "Duo." I turned, musta looked like utter shit and there he
was looking unbelievably perfect, grey wool coat that was a lot more
sensible than my uniform and thin jacket. I shivered as the sweat
began to dry and my instinct was to damn pounce on him and kiss him
and run my fingers through his hair. But I didn't. This could be breaking
up and though I'd done this to other people, no one had done it to
me and I thought it cruel and unusual for it to be done here. Where
it all started properly. Yet I didn't feel angry as I looked at him. Not at all.
And shit, I don't even really remember what we were fighting about. And if it mattered. "Look, 'Ro, I'm sorry, okay? I get that you needed
a break and whatever –" He stepped forward and gave me a glare that made me
shut my mouth. Only person who can do that. "You said you were sick of seeing my face,"
he said softly, his eyes distant. "You quantified it by saying
that I was a self-righteous prick that you didn't want to have to
see for the next few days. I did what you asked." I think my jaw dropped a little. Hell, I had said that.
I just didn't expect him to take it so damn literally. "I didn't
mean it – total in the heat of the moment shit. You know
that, right?" "You've said it before. Or words to that effect." "Shit, babe... You know me," I said, stepping
closer, reaching out tentatively for his arm and as he didn't snatch
it back, I pressed onward. "Mouth moving before brain engaged
stuff – especially when I'm pissed." "You sounded like you meant it." I sighed. "Maybe I did at the time but once I cooled
down... Fuck, I haven't slept or ate in three days and that's saying
something, babe." "And damn... Here I go and all, but you are the
most irritating, pig-headed asshole to live with. Towels do not need
to be folded exactly the same way. It's okay if the mug handles face
different ways. The bed doesn't have to be made with me still in it.
And shit... We don't have to do specific things each night of the
week – like variety and change is good sometimes, 'Ro." His face had just turned into a scowl and I grabbed
him, pulled him close and ran my tongue over his lips, making him
breathe out in shock and then I kissed him, my tongue sliding in,
one hand in his hair, the other on his face. He reacted, if a little
reluctantly, and I smiled as I drew back. "You are also my best friend, my motherfucking
bad ass partner in the field, the best kiss and fuck I've ever had.
I goddamn love you and I never mean half the shit I say, okay?" "Okay." "We good?" He nodded and leaned in to kiss me but I stopped him,
let our foreheads touch so I could feel his breath ghosting over me
and I sighed. I let him kiss me then, felt him move the sweaty bits
of my fucking braid that had stuck to my face and when we separated
I felt far too hot and a little too horny. I smirked as I felt he
was too – his body pressed tight against mine. I reached up,
twirled a strand of his hair around my finger and looked deep in his
eyes. "It's always you, Heero Yuy. No one does it better."
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