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" Finders Keepers "Written By: Presser Pairings : 1+2, 2xOC Disclaimer : Gundam Wing characters aren't mine Rating : R Warnings : Adult situations, sorta spooky plotline Feedback : Yes Please! I missed her birthday (sorry, Deb!), but I'm now dedicating this to her. /word/ = thoughts and italics
"Finders Keepers"
Chapter 2 Duo stretched as he woke like a cat after a nap, pushing his butt into the air, bending it backward, his arms together and forward in front of him. After a satisfying groan, he smacked his lips and rolled over. Heero was on his side, facing away from Duo, still dead to the world. "For someone who never misses a thing in the field,
he sure does sleep soundly," Duo muttered to himself. He eased
out of the bed, reaching for his boxers as he did. They were in a
pile with two pairs of socks, two pairs of cutoff jeans, and Heero's
boxer briefs. Duo stretched his leg up and out, slipping one leg of
the shorts over his knee, halfway up his thigh, then put the other
leg in. He stood, pulled his boxers on, then stretched again, and
looked down as his toe hit something. Next to the pile of clothes
were empty beer cans (Duo's), a bottle of wine on its side with a
bit in the bottom and /Damn/, Duo thought, smiling as he remembered what he could of last night, /we really celebrated our day off after going to the fair. I remember Heero getting me ice cream, then waking up in the car, then I remember falling back on the bed, Heero calling my name really loud, and . . . and . . ./ A twitch in his boxers reminded him of what had happened. He sighed and walked to the window, gently thumping a beer can as he went. /Gotta do the fair more often, if this is the outcome./ Duo smiled. Sunday morning had dawned hot, but Duo didn't care. The air conditioner was on and blowing steadily from the bedroom window. As long as he and Heero stayed in the bedroom, the heat would be tolerable. He looked into the backyard of the little house that he and Heero rented in the bad part of town. A stray cat with a bite out of its tail looked up out of overgrown grass to greet him. /I should make breakfast, or something/, he thought. He winced at the idea, remembering how his last attempt at cooking had ended. Heero had made him promise to stay out of the kitchen after his attempt at Deep Dish Sourdough Pizza had produced a puffy, brittle, tall loaf of burned dough with a bit of tomato sauce on top, accompanied by just enough smoke from the oven for long-distance signaling. But Heero looked so peaceful, so restful in the bed. And he had been working so hard at the shop lately, too. Duo just couldn't wake him because he was hungry. As if on cue, Duo's stomach rumbled. He looked down and patted his firm, flat tummy. /Don't worry, baby. I'm sure there's something I can rustle that won't involve measuring and mixing./ He looked up and saw the cat in the yard turn from him with a lift of its tail and a catty harrumph, or so Duo imagined. He snorted softly and went to fetch his socks. "Whew!" he said under his breath as he picked them up. "Guess we walked a lot yesterday." He dropped them on the floor and took a fresh pair from the weather-worn dresser he and Heero had rescued from a yard sale. He pulled them on while standing ramrod straight and lifting his feet above his navel one at a time to do the job. /Never hurts to work on balance and limberness/, he thought. Another twitch in his boxers reminded him of just how limber he had been last night. He padded through the bedroom door and turned into the kitchen. "Whoa, it /is/ hot today," he whispered. Bright sun streamed through a small, dirty window over the sink, illuminating a glass of water stuffed with flatware beside a neat stack of dirty plates. Duo smiled at Heero's obsessive neatness even with dirty dishes, looked wistfully back toward the cooler air of the bedroom, then turned to the cabinets below the counter to the left of the sink. He patted his tummy again and said, "Down, boy. Breakfast's coming, okay?" Rummaging in the cabinet turned up two tins of tuna, half a box of vanilla wafers, a package of fettuccine noodles, and a small glass jar of capers so old the top was covered in dust. Duo scrunched up the side of his face in mock disgust and stood. With yet another stretch of his arms over his head, he turned to the fridge. "Let's see what we have here." An examination of the contents revealed leftover Chinese take-out (General Tso's and Happy Vegetable Family), half a loaf of bread (wheat, for Heero), a carton of orange juice (with calcium, for Duo), mustard, ketchup, Sweet Baby Ray's Best Barbecue Sauce, and four eggs. "What can I make with this?" Duo's stomach gurgled again. He turned from the fridge, closing the door, and then immediately turned back and caught the door before it shut. He didn't want the loud, metallic thwap it made waking Heero. He carefully closed it then went to the cabinet above the counter on the other side of the sink. /No cereal. No milk, either,/ he thought, remembering the lack of it from his survey of the fridge. Then he brightened. /We have eggs and bread. If we have a little butter . . . / He went back to the refrigerator and checked. Half a stick of You Don't Want to Believe It's Not Butter was left in the slide-up compartment. "Yes," he whispered, "everything I need for french toast." Duo smiled as he took bread, eggs, and butter from the fridge. Setting them on the counter, he thought, /How hard can french toast be? Coat the bread, fry it in butter. But we'll need syrup, too./ He looked in every cabinet, but there was no syrup to be found. "Damn it." Hands on hip, lip stuck out, Duo would have been embarrassed to realize he looked like a petulant four-year-old. Then he brightened again. /But I know how to make syrup, too! Howard did it once aboard Peacemillion. Sugar and water and boil the hell out of it till it thickens./ Duo searched, found sugar, then pulled an iron skillet, black as coal, a saucepan, a bowl, and a fork and knife to the the far end of the counter near the stove. "Okay," he said soft and low, "I guess I make the syrup first, since it'll take the longest. I wonder what the proportions are?" He settled on two cups of sugar and a half cup of water. /You can always add more water, but you can't take it out./ Duo was proud of his realization of this deep truth of cooking. Into the saucepan they went. He lit a burner on the back of the stove and turned it to high. Blue and yellow flames leaped to attention. "Okay, next, the toast." He lit a front burner and scraped the half stick of
quasi-margarine from the waxed paper wrapper into the skillet with
the knife, then put the skillet on /Wonder how long you have to beat these?/ Duo realized the fork and bowl were making a racket, so he decided to take his egg-beating outside. He carried the bowl of eggs and fork through the door to the backyard, careful to let the torn screen door hit his butt as he backed out in order to softly close the main door. He blinked in the bright sun. "It's gonna be a scorcher today." He wrinkled his nose and began beating eggs with gusto. Three minutes later he had a bowl of yellow froth that threatened to foam over the lip of the bowl. "That should do it." He returned to the kitchen and boggled at what he saw. The sugar and water had congealed into a too-thick sludge that was burning on the bottom and popping over the sides of the pan like the volcanoes of Io. Bits of sugar, some burned, were splattered over the stove and floor. Some of them had hit the butter, now turning dark brown, and were sizzling vigorously in the skillet. Smoke and steam were billowing up to the ceiling. "Shit! shit! shit!" Duo put the bowl and fork on the counter, slopping some of the egg froth over the side. He ran to the stove and began hopping from one foot to the other, unsure of what to do first. "You're good with emergencies, Maxwell. Think!" He immediately cut the gas to both burners and the sizzling and volcanic sputtering began to subside. He grabbed a hot pad and moved the skillet and pan to the cold burners. "I can still save this," he muttered. He grabbed paper towels and cleaned up the spatters of butter and sugar. /Now, let's see. The syrup's too thick. Add water. He added another half cup, and chunks of blackened sugar floated to the surface. "Yuck." He dumped the entire mixture in the sink. /Well, I'll just mix it cold, once the toast is done./ He turned to the skillet, and saw that the butter wasn't completely brown. "Still usable," he said under his breath. He returned to the eggs, moved them to the stove, and lit the front burner again. Once the skillet was on the burner again the sizzle returned immediately. Duo adjusted the flame until the sizzle was low. /Gotta hurry before it burns any more./ He put a piece of bread in the bowl, but it just sat on top of the frothy eggs. He poked it with the fork, but it didn't move. So he pushed it to the bottom of the bowl. Eggs flowed over the top of the bowl and over the side, some on the stove, some into the pan, where they immediately fried into crisp, yellow-brown globules. Duo picked up the bread, held it and the bowl over the skillet and dropped the bread into the skillet. Hot butter jumped up and out of the skillet. Duo instinctively jumped back. Eggs sloshed over his hand. The sizzle in the skillet roared loudly. "Shit!" Duo shoved the bowl into the sink, where it slowly slid toward the drain, riding the cooling lava flow of sugar. Eggs dripping from his hand, he moved back to the stove and speared the bread with the fork. He held up the bread and saw that fried egg had congealed on the underside. Butter ran off of it into the skillet. "Shit! shit! shit!" Duo sighed loudly and dropped the bread back into the skillet, egg side down. He turned off the gas and went to the sink to wash his hand. "Stupid idiot," he muttered, "I know better than to try something as complicated as --" Warm arms slid around his waist. "As French toast?" Duo froze. "I thought we talked about this, love." The
voice was warm in his ear, low, quiet, and impossible to gauge. Duo
tried to turn to get a look at Heero's "Um . . . " "You could have waited till I got up." "I was . . . well, I wanted to . . . you looked so peaceful, lying there . . . and after what you did for -- to -- er, /with/ me last night, I wanted to -- " Heero's teeth tightened, then released Duo's earlobe. He nuzzled Duo's ear with his nose, then whispered, taking advantage of his morning voice, "Yes, last night /was/ particularly satisfying, wasn't it?" A hand slid down Duo's firm belly and into his shorts. Duo stiffened his back a little. "Heero," he gulped, "I don't think that we --" "You've made such a mess, little boy. You've been naughty. Don't you think you should be punished?" Duo stiffened again, but not his back this time. "Erm . . ." "You're not sure?" Heero's hand went lower and gently squeezed. He pushed his own already hard erection into Duo's backside. Duo's cock throbbed. "Looks like your friend knows better than you do, little boy." Duo's skin tingled. The low, whispery growl of Heero's voice and lips on his ear felt so good, his hand down there felt so good, and his eyes, they weren't focusing quite so well anymore, and his heart, it was beating fast, and . . . and . . . why weren't they in bed already? Duo turned around in Heero's arms and kissed him full on the lips. Heero's lips parted, Duo's tongue entered. Warmth swirled, hands slid. Duo realized Heero had come to the kitchen completely naked. He stroked smooth, warm skin. His own low growl purred in his throat. Duo broke the kiss and smiled, slow, lazy, eyes half closed, all thought of breakfast forgotten. "Bed," he murmured. "No way," Heero said. Duo's eyes opened full. "Wha --?" "You were supposed to make me breakfast, weren't you?" Duo blinked. "Well, I /am/ hungry," Heero leaned in and licked the tip of Duo's nose, "/very/ hungry." "What d-did you have in m-min --?" Heero put his hands under Duo's thighs and lifted. Duo squawked as Heero carried him three steps to the kitchen table, sat Duo on it, and put his hands on Duo's shoulders. He pushed his lover back gently. "Lay down." Duo fell back on his elbows. "Heero!" "Don't act surprised, Mr. Spontaneity. I've done public sex to indulge /your/ fantasy; you can at least give me kitchen sex in return." He reached for Duo's boxers. "Wait." Duo put a hand out to stop Heero. /When/, exactly, did we /ever/ have public sex?" Heero cocked an eyebrow and smiled slyly. "You really /don't/ remember last night, do you?" "L-last night?" "Your ice cream?" Duo blinked. "You spilled it down the front of your shirt. I started to wipe it off at the same time you did, and our hands collided. My ice cream wound up on your face. I started to lick it off, then you dropped yours and grabbed my shirt, and pulled me into the bushes behind the ring toss." "I -- I did?" "Yep." "H-how come I don't remember?" "Oh, I don't know . . . you think it could have something to do with the fact that the ice cream came after your fifth beer?" Duo blushed. "Now lay back and feed me. Like I said, I'm hungry!" ~ ~ ~ Warm water ran down Duo's back in the shower. His eyes
were closed, and he was sporting a big smile as he soaped his chest.
His anus was still tingling "What was that? Did you just /giggle/?" Heero's voice came from the dry side of the shower curtain. He was toweling off after his own shower. "No," Duo said petulantly. "You /did/!" "Oh, shut up!" Duo turned and rinsed, then turned off the tap. /Nothing better than a hot shower after hot sex./ He smiled again. He reached for his towel, had trouble finding it. He continued to grope, his hand going down to the floor, thinking it had fallen. /Ah, there it is./ He picked it up, but found Heero's hand on his arm. He paused. Warm lips touched his knuckles, the back of his hand. "Um, Heero . . ." Heero released his hand. "Hurry and get dressed. We're going to Waffle House." "We can afford that?" "We didn't spend all our money at the fair last night. We'll be okay." "Cool." Duo finished toweling off and pushed back the shower curtain, stepping out onto the linoleum. He pulled his braid out of the shower cap, then put on fresh shorts (Duo blushed), white ankle socks, his cutoffs, and a gray tee with red lettering that proclaimed: 333 He looked in the mirror to see what the damage to his hair was like, and winced. /Not presentable in the least./ Fly-away strands were everywhere. "Ready?" "Well, I need to do my hair." "No way. First, it's Sunday. Everybody knows you don't do your hair on Sunday. Second, I'm starving." Duo wrinkled up his nose, stuck out his tongue at the closed door. He looked back at the mirror, raised one side of his upper lip, and shrugged. /Oh, well . . ./ ~ ~ ~ Heero roared out of the driveway of their rented house, his bike thrumming beneath him, Duo's arms clasped tightly around his waist. The quick redo of his braid Duo had done immediately slipped from under his cap. "Hey, not so fast." Heero didn't respond, but Duo could tell he was enjoying jostling him around. "What's your hurry, anyway?" No response. They hurtled around a sharp bend in the road, whizzing past self-owned garages with car parts on the ground and unkempt quickie marts. "I /said/," Duo shouted, "What's your hurry?" "Talk later. Almost there." Heero turned into an alley that ran between a salvage yard and low-slung blond brick. He gunned the bike. "Hey!" Duo's braid was now whipping in the wind, loose strands going everywhere. He put one hand on his cap. At the far end of the alley Heero screeched to a stop, glanced left-right quickly, and then shot across the street to the next alley. He throttled the bike again, and at the end of this alley he accelerated. "DAMN you!" One wheelie and a sharp right turn later found them
in the space at the end of the Waffle House lot. Duo jumped off the
bike and gave Heero a "You got something to say about the way /I/ get breakfast done?" Duo blinked. "Er . . ." a very small voice accompanied Duo's weak grin: "Thank you for taking me to Waffle House?" Heero's satisfied smirk required no further response. ~ ~ ~ The waitress walked to the cook, shaking her head. "Those two wanna eat like elephants, Joey. Get busy." As she walked to the other end of the shop, Joey muttered, "Geez, Doris, I ain't got no peanuts, just pecans."
Duo looked up and said petulantly, "So, anyway, I /did/ try. Give me that." Heero smiled ever so slightly. "That you did." "So you're not mad?" "You can be such a girl sometimes." "Shut up. /You're/ the uke. "I may bottom, but /I'm/ in control. That makes me the seme." Duo glared, two out of ten. "Shut up." Heero spoke an innocent-as-possible tone. "If you're good, I'll --" "I said, 'Shut UP!' " Heero blew Duo a kiss. Duo grimaced, muttered. "Damn you, Heero Yuy!" "I love you." Duo gave the finger. Coffee (Heero's) and OJ (Duo's) arrived. "So, you enjoyed the fair?" Duo smiled, all forgotten in an instant. "Yeah! It was really great, Heero. Thanks for taking me." His eyebrows came together. "Although . . ." "Yes?" "Well, just as you went to get ice cream, something weird happened." Heero waited, then raised one eyebrow. "Um . . ." Duo hesitated, embarrassed to go on. "While you were gone, I watched the children in line for the Ferris wheel. I remember thinking how free they are with their emotions, and -- well, this guy sort of . . . appeared." "Go on." "Well, he hadn't been there just a second before, and I would've noticed him, because it was a hot summer night, and he was wearing a heavy, blood-red cloak that hung to his feet." "So? The guy cosplays or something." Duo grimaced. "That's not the point. The thing is, um . . ." Heero narrowed his eyes. "Well, he answered me." "What did you say?" "That's just it. I didn't /say/ anything. I had been watching the children in line for the Ferris wheel and thinking about how they're so free with their feelings, and wondering when we learn to hide our emotions, and he said, 'Perhaps that happens when we get hurt for the first time.' "But I hadn't /said/ anything! I was just thinking it." "Maybe you muttered it to yourself." "No!" Doris the waitress looked up at Duo's near shout. "Sorry. I mean, I know I didn't say anything out loud." Duo waited for Heero's reaction. "What else did he say?" "He went on about emotions and hiding them -- sort of philosophical. I didn't really listen, because I was trying to figure out who he was and where he came from." "Did he give his name?" "I asked for it. He told me to call him Max for now, and he called me Duo. I asked how he knew my name, and he said, 'If you want to enjoy your ice cream, catch him before he falls.' That's when I turned around and saw that girl with a stroller cut in front of you." "I wondered how you got to me so quickly. But I just brushed it off as you being quick to react." "But Heero, you said it yourself. I had had five
beers by then. No way should I have been -- " Duo looked down
at his OJ as Doris appeared with "Enjoy it, boys." As Doris moved away, Duo leaned over the steaming food and spoke quietly. "Heero, do you believe me?" Without hesitation Heero said, "Of course." "But it hardly seems . . . " "If you said it happened, then it happened. The question is, what are you going to do about it?" "What /can/ I do about it?" "Then forget about it." Heero smiled. "Let's eat." The boys dug in. Seven minutes later, Duo looked up and belched loudly. "Heathen." "I thought that one was worthy, myself." Duo smiled. Heero grimaced. "Let me pay the bill, then we'll get out of here." Heero picked up the check, and discovered that it had been lying on top of a pack of Planters salted peanuts. He picked up the foil package, which looked like it had been in scrunched in someone's pocket for quite a while. "What the -- ?" Heero turned around in his seat to look for Doris. Joey the cook gave him a crooked smile, a wink, and a thumbs up sign. TBC
Chapter 3 |
