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"Gomez "Written By: Presser Pairings : 1x2 Disclaimer : Gundam Wing characters aren't mine Rating : NC 17 Warnings : This will involve graphic sex, though
not gratuitous sex. "Gomez" DECEMBER 12, A.C. 199 He's sleeping now, curled on the couch with a hand --
knitted afghan that Lena made for our anniversary present. The deep
blues and purples of the Love. Do we love each other now? Hard to say, after all that's happened. I study his face, watch shadows from the fireplace play across his features: high cheekbones, small chin (though not weak), smooth, tanned skin, unlined, unwrinkled, with chestnut -- auburn hair cascading all around. His eyes are closed, of course, but they are what make him come alive. In them are the potentials of mirth and mischief, sharp sarcasm and surprising tenderness, and, occasionally, a philosophy of life that is simultaneously freewheeling and practical. But those things have been absent from his eyes for too long now, replaced by dullness, and a numbness that I cannot penetrate. He shifts in his sleep, reaching up with one hand to scratch his shoulder through the threadbare cotton tee shirt he always sleeps in. Too long it's been since he was here to wear it. When the itch is satisfied, his long fingers wander, find the braid of his hair that he's so proud of, and pull it up under his chin. He smacks his lips and sighs, returning to a deeper sleep. What is in his head? His heart? What is left in mine? ~ ~ ~ JULY 4, A.C. 198 The door to our apartment burst open with a bang, not because the door swung back and hit the wall, but because it was Duo Maxwell, my partner, who was in it. Duo never entered a room quietly, unless stealth was his objective, and stealth had not been his objective since the last day of the war. His bright smile and mischievous eyes indicated that something was up. "We're eating steak tonight, lover boy!" I looked up from my studies at the small kitchenette table in the corner of the living room and raised one eyebrow. "Oh?" "Yeah! I found a special at Cavuto's -- a really nice cut, and if I treat it right, it's gonna melt like butter in your mouth." He held up a plastic sack with the distinctive CG of the Cavuto's Groceries logo on it. A small package, wrapped in white butcher's paper, weighed it down. I smiled, just a little. Duo had a way of making me do that, even when I was concentrating on prepping for the last engineering exam I would ever take. "And where did you find the money? I thought we were -- " Duo's smile faltered; he broke eye contact with me. "Oh, um, I found a twenty in the inner pocket of my parka when I was going through the closet last night." I raised my other eyebrow. "And why were you going through the closet this time?" Duo blushed, then looked back at me with a fresh, full -- on smile. "I think there's still one bottle left of that
Australian beer Quatre gave me for my birthday in April, and I'm gonna
use it to sauté the mushrooms you Duo crossed the living room to the kitchen, swinging the grocery sack as he went, his braid flicking the backs of his thighs. I watched his cute ass disappear past the door, and then said: "Um -- " Duo immediately re -- entered the living room. "I know, I know; the door, the door!" He closed the front door to the apartment and returned to the kitchen. As he did, I followed his lanky form across the room, admiring his fluid grace. My expression didn't change at all -- the months and years of training with Dr. J taught me how to control even the smallest facial tics -- but once again I found myself wondering just how many pockets in how many coats Duo would find an extra bit of cash. ~ ~ ~ Neither of us had wanted the fame offered by government for ending the war. Duo, always resourceful, had figured a way to "access," as he put it, as much money as we'd ever need, but I talked him out of it. Even though I didn't hesitate to deal with the necessity of money when I was an agent in Operation Meteor, it's not in my nature to take money that's not mine. "It's not like they didn't offer it to us once" was Duo's lame attempt to convince me. Those were turbulent times -- the end of the war. The
United Earth Sphere Alliance crumbled and was replaced by the Earth
Sphere Unified Nation; the Barton Foundation overthrew the government,
and -- well, there's not much point in going over recent history here.
The point for Duo and me is that we So Duo went to work for the Sweepers, collecting space garbage with Howard. Me? I decided to study engineering. It's not like I really needed the education; I've been working on Gundam mobile suits since -- well, since I was fourteen. But I need the degree to do what I want to do, which is -- what, exactly? I guess I'm still trying to figure that out. All I know is I love working with my hands, and the logic of machines. They never betray you, you know. Perhaps I seem to be rambling, but there is a point to this: It's that, while we weren't poor, we certainly weren't rich. We lived on a budget, and sticking to it was supremely important, since Duo never knew when he'd be called. Contract work is, well, "variable" is a nice way to put it. When he was working steadily, we had more than enough to spare; when he was idle, we lived on what we had saved during the feast times. The day that Duo burst into the apartment with steak was at the end of a period of famine, though we didn't know it was near the end. So money was especially tight. ~ ~ ~ I stood, stretched, looked at my watch. 5:30 p.m. I had been studying for over three hours without a break, and my body needed to move. "I'm going for a walk, okay? Be back in a few." "Don't be late. This'll be ready in half an hour, and I don't want it to get cold." "Right." I ambled to the door, picked up my keys from the basket on the table there; I checked my watch again and left the apartment. Down one flight of stairs (we live in apartment 212), through the lobby, across the ancient floor tiled with grime -- lined, alternating black -- and -- white hexagons, and out the front door of our building; I was welcomed by a blast of sultry, steamy air hitting me in the face. Changing seasons on earth are still a mystery to me. The L1 colony, like all of the space colonies, made weather regulation and control a priority. It's essential if you're going to live in an enclosed ecosystem. But Duo, impulsive as he is, fell in love with Earth's seasons. "You never know what you're going to get!" he would say, delighted at being caught in a sudden shower that I found maddening. I plunged into the heat; immediately my shirt began to stick to my back. I shrugged, and found the sensation particularly unpleasant. "Damn humidity," I thought. I rounded the corner of our block and headed toward Stivers Avenue. Stivers is the hub of the arts community in New Chicago, and there were plenty of coffee shops, galleries, and bookstores available. But I wasn't interested in any of them; I wanted a quiet place to clear my mind, so when I got to the corner of Stivers and Devon, I turned right and headed into the residential area. Leaving the business district took me under leafy oaks, cottonwoods, and blue beech. Patches of strong sunlight shone through the leaves; the tepid breeze made even the shadows seem sluggish in the heat. As I trod heavily past prairie -- style homes (all Frank Lloyd Wright knockoffs, not the real thing), I saw animals: two cats languishing on a porch, a dog halfheartedly sniffing a flowerbed, a squirrel scratching her chin as though she couldn't decide what to do next. Two small boys sat next to stone slab steps to a house, poking an anthill with a stick and playing at war. /Playing at war/, I thought. I had half a mind to stop and lecture them on the suffering and misery that their little game caused in real life, but no; I walked on, trying to get a handle on just what about Duo had changed. I'm nor sure when it began; I only know that, one day, Duo was . . . different. His eyes had changed, maybe. He didn't look directly into mine as he once did. It was as though . . . as though he . . . wasn't . . . interested, or, as interested, as he once was in what my eyes had to offer, to share, with him. I guess that makes little sense, but it's the best I can do to try and define what happened. And, now that I think about it, it wasn't so much a happening as a . . . a . . . a very slow morphing of our relationship. Something made, or coaxed, Duo into -- what? A different way of looking at us? At our relationship? I noticed a gnat dive -- bombing my nose. I swatted it away and shook my head, mostly to clear it. /These are crazy thoughts. I have no reason to doubt Duo. And yet . . ./ I knew that something indefinable was different. A dog barking two streets over reminded me, somehow, that Duo wanted me home for that unexpected steak dinner. I looked at my watch and cursed under my breath. If I hurried, I'd be back at six, exactly thirty minutes after I left the apartment. I glanced at the street sign ahead, jogged toward it: Peron Avenue. If I turned here and cut across the Jordan's lawn, I'd just make it. ~ ~ ~ "You made it!" Sizzling flank steak, pungent, hit my nostrils as I entered the apartment, the sheen of a light sweat on my forehead from my jog back. "Smells great." I crossed to the kitchen, leaned on the doorframe. "Yeah, doesn't it? And wait till you see what else I have!" I raised one eyebrow in response, but Duo didn't see it. He was busily tossing salad, prodding mushrooms bubbling in that Australian beer, and checking on pan -- seared beef. "Got time for a little shower?" "Sure, if you can make it quick. I'm five minutes away from plating this." I pushed off of the doorframe with my shoulder and leaned in to kiss Duo on the cheek, but he shoulder -- shrugged me away. "Not now, Heero, I'm cooking." I snorted softly, turned away. "Hey, you'll get your kiss, don't worry." ~ ~ ~ I flexed my shoulders against the spray of hot water, and groaned. /I've got to be more regular with my exercise. Sitting with books all day is going to --/ A stray droplet of hot water found my eye; I blinked it away, frustrated that I couldn't wipe my eye with my finger because my hands were soapy. I shook my head, and more drops flew through the air. /Why wouldn't he let me kiss him? It was never like that before./ I bent to soap my thighs. Duo had always been the passionate one between us. No, strike that. Duo had always been the one who was willing to display his passion. I'm just as passionate, and maybe, even more so; but I have to maintain control. Without control . . . /No. I'm not going to ruminate on myself./ What's wrong? What's different? I couldn't figure it out. I was toweling off my feet, back to the door, legs straight and bent fully over at the waist, when it hit me. /I know what's wrong; he's distant because he doesn't feel the same about me anymore. What I/ don't /know is why./ "Well, now, that's one fine ass you got there, Mister Yuy." Duo had quietly opened the bathroom door and was wiping his hands on a hand towel as he surveyed my backside with me fully bent over. I smirked and spread my legs, then poked my head between them, my ears at my ankles. "Perv." "You know it." Upside -- down Duo smiled and turned, speaking over his shoulder as he walked back to the kitchen. "Get dressed; time to eat!" I watched him slip out of sight around the corner, then straightened up; dropped the towel in the clothes hamper; reached for my khaki shorts and tee. When we first moved in together, Duo couldn't keep his
hands off me. Back then, presented with me bent over in the bathroom,
he would have abandoned Made love. Perhaps that was it. We still had sex on a regular basis, but maybe that was all there was to it: sex, not love. But no; I couldn't say Duo didn't love me anymore. /Damn it all, this is driving me insane./ ~ ~ ~ "Smells good, Duo." "Yeah, doesn't it?" He smiled as he tossed the salad he had made into our bowls. The plates before us bore equal portions of the seared beef and sautéed mushrooms. I fingered my fork, unsure of how to proceed. I knew I had to confront Duo with my . . . my what? Suspicions? Suspicions of what? I was -- "So, get a lot of studying done?" I blinked, shook my head, looked at him quickly. "What?" Duo gently raised an eyebrow; one corner of his mouth crooked upward. "Um, I said, "Get a lot of studying done?" "Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I guess. There's just so much to cover before the test tomorrow . . ." "Well, you'll get it done. Besides, I don't know why you're worried. It's not like you don't know mechanical engineering already. And you've gotta be the most diligent student I've ever seen." I nodded absently. "Hn." "Don't 'Hn' me, mister. You'll do fine." "I suppose." "So, ready?" "Yep." Duo grabbed my hand and we both bowed our heads. He looked up and grinned. "Are we grateful?" "Yep." "Okay, then. Let's dig in." He released my hand and rubbed both of his together. "I'm famished." I picked up my knife and fork and cut a slice of flank steak. As I chewed around it, I said, "Why do we still do that?" "Do what?" "Pray." Duo smiled as he popped a mushroom in his mouth. "Well, that really wasn't much of a prayer, was it?" "That's my point, Duo. You don't really believe, do you? So -- " Duo sighed. "This again? Let's not ruin a good evening talking about religion again." I persisted. "It's just that -- " Duo cut me off again. "Look, I'll tell you again. I don't know whether there's a god or not. I'm not an atheist, but I'm not a believer, either." Duo had the look of an exasperated schoolboy trying to explain Web4 to an adult who grew up without computers. "I pray because Sister Helen taught me to; I guess," he said, a bit more thoughtfully, "it's one of the few things like a tradition that I have." He paused. "Okay?" I nodded. "Look, Heero," he said, his tone softening, "I don't -- we don't -- have much in this life, not now, anyway, and I . . . I guess I need to hang on to this little ritual as sort of a -- a comfort, okay?" He looked to me for understanding. "Can we leave it at that?" I hesitated. /Now or never./ I decided to go for it. "You have me, don't you?" Duo's face went from a gentle plea for understanding to anger in an instant. "What the hell does that mean?" "I -- " "Are you saying I -- " Duo interrupted himself; abruptly stood, rattling the cutlery on the table. "Enjoy your steak, Heero." He glared at me
as he spoke, sarcasm dripping from his words. He turned and marched
to the bedroom, slamming the door "If you think I'm giving this up, you're mistaken." He tramped back to the bedroom, slamming the door again. ~ * ~
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