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"Pie With The Count"Written By: Presser Pairings : 2+1+2 Disclaimer : Gundam Wing characters aren't mine Rating : R Warnings : Yaoi. humor, angst "Pie With The Count"
"You stinking hunk of iron!" Duo Maxwell kicked the front bumper of his car, then jumped back, grabbing at his foot. He slipped on mud, crashed his ass hard into a puddle of slime. "Shit! shit! shit!" Duo looked up through the branches of the tree above him, seeing nothing but inky sky and ice-cold drops of rain bouncing back the headlights of his stalled Corvair. "Argh!" He struck his knees with tight fists, one, two, three times, glowering at the chevron between headlights. Duo threw his head back and shook it from side to side, his arms and fists thrashing up and down. His ball cap came off, and the long braid he prized unrolled itself, the tip splashing down into the puddle. "Great, just great." He hung his head, closed his eyes, sighed heavily. The thick odor of dead leaves, pressed into the ground by the hand of autumn, mixed with the smell of motor oil on Duo's hands. He looked up at the car once more, and then smiled, a sudden twinkle in his eyes. He threw his head back again and laughed hard, not caring as cold rain sluiced through matted strands of hair on his forehead. "Twenty-two years old, and still haven't learned!" After the laugher, Duo caught his breath, then stood. Nothing to do but find someone home and hope they'll help me out. He wiped his hands on his jeans, then stepped to the Corvair and closed the hood. He opened the passenger door, squished into the bucket seat, not caring when his pants caught on the sharp edge of the ripped plastic seam. He killed the lights and pulled the key from the ignition, then yanked the emergency brake into position. He got out, locked the passenger-side door, and slammed it shut. He leaned his butt against it and shoved backward a couple of times, then tried the handle. Satisfied that the lock held this time, he walked to the front of the car and squinted into the mud, looking for his cap. Found it. Put it on. Duo sighed again and began slogging down the muddy back road the way he had come. Two hundred waterlogged footsteps later, Duo stopped at the edge of the main road's asphalt. "A light! Please, let it be a friendly person!" He walked down Old Webster Road a little, then turned right onto a gravel drive, crunching past a mailbox canted back as though caught in mid-sneeze. He trudged forward, focused on the single light coming from the house. Lightning flashed, revealing a swarm of sleet. "Big place," he muttered. He stepped onto the wooden porch. Froze when a board yielded a little to his weight. He moved cautiously, testing the wood with each step. At the door, he looked down at himself. A soaked flannel shirt clung to his chest under a jeans jacket with sleeves too short. He swiped at the streaks of red clay on the thighs of his faded jeans. Put his hands to his face, trying to flick away some of the water there. Duo sighed softly. "Here's hoping." He raised his hand to knock, but looked down when his foot shifted forward. He bent to retrieve the stick stuck in the mud jammed under his heel. It wouldn't come. Duo tugged; realized he was standing on the stick. He lifted his foot as he pulled, and lost his balance. He fell backward, the stick in his hand, his feet up in the air. At that moment the door opened. A light baritone voice, overstuffed with Romanian parody, accosted Duo's ears. "Velcome! Velcome to my humble abo--" The speaker froze. Duo looked up at him, his eyes wide with surprise. Before him was Count Dracula, bedecked in the finest Wal-Mart offers. Black penny loafers, black dress socks, black cotton twill pants, white dress shirt with shiny points on the collar from too many trips under the iron. A red bow tie limp at the neck. A black cotton cape with a red nylon lining the pièce de résistance. Atop this ensemble was the face of Heero Yuy. A lean, muscular neck supported a strong jaw line. Dark eyebrows were raised high above eyes the color of antique cobalt glass. In the center of rouged cheeks a round O formed by full lips dressed in Midnight Licorice stared down at Duo, framing white plastic fangs. In the fake blood trailing from one corner of the O, Duo could see raspberry seeds above the faded trace of a scar running down the chin. "Oh, my!" Heero stood with one hand on the doorknob, the other holding a plastic punchbowl full of Dum Dum pops. He turned quickly and set the bowl down on a cane bottom chair. Extended hands in white cotton gloves to Duo. "Here, let me help you up." Duo dropped the stick and took Heero's hands, oofing as he scooted his feet under him. "I'm sorry, sir, but my car broke down and--" "You're soaked." "Yes, my car broke down and--" "You must be chilled to the bone on a night like this." "Well, it is cold. Um, could I..." "Oh, gracious! Where are my manners? Please, come in, come in!" Heero moved out of the doorway and motioned with both hands for Duo to enter the house. "Well, I don't want to track mud in. Could I just borrow a phone? I need to call Triple A, and my cell phone died about the same time my engine did." Heero dropped his hands to his sides. Stared into Duo's eyes. Eyes like ripe plums, framed by burnt gold hair glued to his cheeks and forehead alongside thumbprints of mud and engine grease. "Um, sir?" Duo blinked. Turned his chin toward his shoulder. "Count?" Heero started. "Sorry, sorry. Please, come in. Don't worry about the mud. Just stay on the mat. I'll get a towel for you." Heero turned and walked away, leaving Duo on the porch, staring after him. A gust whipped shards of sleet against his neck. Duo shivered; stepped inside. Duo gently closed the door and turned around. The pungent tones of French roast swam past framed family photographs hung against tiny fleur-de-lis. A long table in the hall bordered by two more cane bottom chairs supported a lace doily and more pictures. In the room to his left Duo glimpsed an old armchair, a crimped glass chimney over a soft light bulb on an end table spilling with magazines in the front room. On the ottoman in front of the chair lay a pair of reading glasses. Duo looked down to see if he was dripping off the mat he stood on. "Here." Duo looked up into a cream-colored towel in front of his nose. Fabric softener, thought Duo. At the other end of the towel was Dracula, his cheeks flushed under the rouge. Duo took the towel and wiped his face. The Count looked down at his hands. "Thanks." "Well, I couldn't let you stand out there. It's nasty tonight." "Got that right." "Besides, I was beginning to think I wouldn't have any trick or treaters tonight. I'm not that far out of town, but I guess people take their kids only to the homes of people they know, anymore. Shame, really, when you think about it, the way Halloween has become a night for parents to mistrust their neighbors, and the way th--" Heero looked up to see Duo's hands motionless above his head. Duo peered out from under the towel with one eyebrow raised. Heero's mouth dropped open. "Um..." One corner of Duo's lips quirked upward. "Oh. Yeah. Ah..." Heero looked down. Omigod, Duo thought. Is he blushing? Duo lowered the towel and pulled his braid to the front, wrapping the towel around it. He put an effort into being cheery. "Wow, thanks, man. Being warm and dry is sure better than cold and wet. Sorta dry, anyway." Duo busied himself with coaxing the worst of the water out of his braid, sneaking looks at his host, sizing him up as he tried not to stare at Duo. Dark lashes on golden skin sang of Asian heritage. Deep brown hair spilled softly over ears and collar and forehead. Eyes like sea-deep sapphires flickered between hope and apprehension. "That's all this towel's gonna hold. Should I..." "Oh, I'll take it." Heero took the towel and turned, then turned back. "Do you want another one? Because I could get you another one. I have plenty--" "I think the one's just fine. But thank you. I really appreciate it." "Okay. I'll just put this up." Heero stood. Duo looked at him. Heero looked back. Thunderclouds collided, and Heero started. "Say, you wouldn't want a cup of coffee, would you? Before you make your call? Because I've got some. Fresh. And cookies. Chocolate chip. Just out of the oven. Fresh. Would you?" Heero winced. Duo smiled. "That sounds like heaven right now. I'd love some." Sunlight flooded the hallway. "Great! Here, hold this." Heero thrust the towel back into Duo's hands and hurried down the hallway, leaving Duo's open mouth waiting by the door. "Heh." Duo wiped his feet on the mat, then carried the towel down the hall, following the smell of melting chocolate chips to the kitchen. He paused at the door, taking in the scene before him.
Count Dracula was opening cupboards, reaching for a cut glass sugar
bowl, pulling down cups and saucers and dessert plates and setting
them on a small pine table at the end of the room. Little yellow and
white checkers hung on either side of the window there. On the stovetop
a dozen cookies cooled on a long flat pan lovingly blackened by years
of baking. From the old Frigidaire the Count pulled a pint of Half
and Half and poured it into a "Okay," he whispered, "now what else, what else?" Duo leaned against the doorjamb, standing his right toe to the side of his left foot, and cleared his throat. Heero snapped his head around. Duo smiled. "Oh! I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Heero said. "Here, let me take that." He reached for the towel. "Come in! Do you mind--" "Smells good, especially the coffee. You sure you don't mind wet pants on your chair?" "Right. I'll get another towel for you to sit on. Be right back." Heero left the kitchen through a door by the table. Duo's gaze traveled around the room. Polished pine cabinets glowed softly over a white enamel Wedgewood stove. Against one wall cobalt blue glass canisters full of sugar and flower and cornmeal stood on worn Formica. The color of his eyes, Duo thought. Lightning flashed through the window by the table, illuminating a library copy of Carnegie's How to Win Friends and Influence People laying on the counter next to the old Frigidaire. "There you go." Duo looked up to see Heero at the table, his hands on the back of the chair he had pulled out. Duo walked to the table and sat on the towel. Heero moved around him, retrieved a four-cup pot, and poured for both of them. Duo slicked sticky bangs back from his forehead with two fingers, one hand then the other, then picked up his cup and inhaled the dark aroma. "Thank you," he sighed. "This is exactly what I needed." Heero slid cookies onto their plates with a spatula. Duo picked his up and bit into it. "This is like a trip back to my grandmother's kitchen." "Actually, this is my grandmother's house. She passed away recently, and I'm the only one in the family with enough time to take care of things, so I'm living here until the place is sold." Duo nodded as he crunched. He smiled at Heero. "Great idea for the blood, man." Heero's eyes went wide. "What? Oh, yeah," Heero smiled sheepishly. He pulled his fangs out and set them on the counter behind him. "Guess I could get out of this." He stood and took off his cape, hanging it on the back of his chair, then went to the sink. He took a facecloth from the cabinet below and ran hot water over it, then poured on some dishwashing liquid. He's cute, Duo thought. Without the cape, he could see that Heero was slender. Narrow hips swayed back and forth as he scrubbed at black lips. His hair was dark chocolate with glints of muted bronze, a touch of red, that shone under the overhead light. It curled around his ear, slid over his collar. His hands were supple, long-fingered. Heero wrung out the cloth, then took paper towels from the holder on the wall and patted his face dry. He undid the tie and put it on the counter, unfastening the top two buttons of his shirt as he moved back to the table. Duo found himself looking into Heero's deep blue eyes again. As Heero sat down, Duo was struck by the smoothness of Heero's face, virtually devoid of hair. With the makeup gone, Duo could see high cheekbones, a small, rounded nose, the white streak of a small scar on his chin. His eyes turned to the full, inviting lips. "Is something wrong?" "No," Duo said, blinking and taking another sip of coffee. Heero looked down at his plate, then up, unable to pull his eyes away from Duo's. "I was thinking, I mean, I hope this isn't too forward or anything, but if you'd like to, to clean up,"--Heero's cheeks warmed--shower, before you go, I would, could, put your clothes in the dryer, give you a chance, to, feel, better?" Duo set his cup down. The space between them held its breath. "I wouldn't want to--" "It's no trouble." "Then--" "If you'll take your shoes off, we can leave them here by the back door. I'll show you the guest room upstairs." "Okay." Duo untied his shoes and struggled to pull off canvas Converse high-tops, soaked socks tenaciously clinging to them. They made a soft smacking sound as he pulled them free. He peeled his socks off and stuffed them into the shoes. "Here?" Duo pointed to the mat in front of the door by the table. Heavy clouds growled as sleet pelted the window. "That's fine." Duo bent to put his shoes down. Heero swallowed as Duo straightened up. "This way." Heero led the way through the dining room, then through the parlor. In the shadows: dark wood, long white candles, plates on stands, a mirror on the wall. The smell of grandmotherly dust. In the front hall Heero took the staircase. Formal poses and family gatherings marched up the fleur-de-lis pattern on the wall. The threadbare carpet runner felt warm under Duo's bare feet. "This is the guest room," Heero said, opening a door. "The bath is at the end of the hall. I'll get you a fresh towel." As Heero left Duo walked in and stood in front of a simple bed covered in a handmade quilt. What's he thinking? Duo wondered. He shrugged out of his wet jeans jacket and looked for a place to put it. "Here you go," said Heero, holding out another towel, this one a deep cherry color. "Just leave your clothes on the floor. I'll gather them up after you're in the shower and do a quick wash and dry." Duo smiled as he took the towel. "I really appreciate this, um..." "Yes?" "I just realized I don't know your name." "I'm sorry. It's Heero. Heero Yuy." He put out his hand. Duo took it. "Pleased to meet you, Heero. I'm Duo Maxwell." Warmth tingled between their palms. Duo released Heero's hand. "Duo. As in...?" Duo turned and gently tossed the towel onto the bed. "As in duet, couple, twosome. My father had a sense of humor. My older brother's name is Solo." He turned back to face Heero, a sheepish smile on his lips. "That's interesting." "Um..." "Oh. I guess you'll want to get out of those clothes." "Uh huh." "So...I'll be downstairs in the den. I'll come up in a moment and get them." "Okay." "Right." Heero turned to go. "Heero?" Heero turned around quickly. "Thanks." "No problem. Glad to do it." He left. Duo closed the door, dropped his jacket on the floor, and began undoing his soggy flannel shirt. It plopped heavily onto the jacket. Duo peeled his jeans off, standing on one foot, then the other, hopping backward to maintain his balance. White briefs followed. Duo rubbed at the impression of the elastic band across his waist, looked down at his shrunken penis. He bent over, stretching the backs of his thighs and legs as he grabbed his ankles. "God," he said under his breath, "you trying to test my self control? He's fucking beautiful." Duo straightened up and bent backwards at the waist, stretching again. He took the towel and wrapped it around him; headed down the hall to the bath.
Downstairs, Heero moved to the kitchen, where he cleared the dishes from the table. As he covered the plate of cookies in plastic wrap his teeth pulled at his lower lip. Don't get too excited, okay? He'll probably leave, too. He sighed. Let's just take it easy. Under his breath, Heero whispered: "Yeah, easy." He emptied the cups in the sink which he stoppered with an old rubber plug; ran hot water, added dishwashing liquid. He retrieved the dessert plates, saucers, and spoons. Don't forget his clothes. Heero looked up. Right. He left the dishes soaking and went to the front of the house. As he climbed the stairs he heard the shower running. His eyes turned down the hall as he entered the guest room. He picked up the sodden pile of clothes and carried them downstairs, then to the kitchen, then down the basement stairs to the washer and dryer. Heero bent down and placed Duo's clothes into a plastic laundry basket, taking care to avoid the torn edge of the synthetic weave, then bent down and grabbed the heavy bottle of liquid detergent next to the washer on the cold concrete floor . He set the load for small, warm-cold, and started the machine. Added detergent. Picked up the clothes and dumped them in. As he closed the lid, he looked down to see little smears of mud. Damn it! Now I have to change shirts. He hurried up the basement stairs and back to the front of the house. At the top of the stairs he turned toward the bathroom. Shower's stopped; better hurry. He entered the room next to the bath, leaving the door open and the light off, unbuttoning his shirt as he crossed to an antique armoire. Heero pulled the doors of the cabinet back and inspected the shirts hanging there as he pulled the shirttails out of his pants. He undid the button at his left wrist and shrugged the shirt off his shoulder. White cotton fell to the floor. He bent over his right wrist as he fumbled with the remaining button. "Heero?" Heero's head snapped up. Duo stood in the doorway in the cherry-red towel. In the light from the hall Heero could see his legs were dusted with fine brown hairs that vanished up his thighs. At his waist, one hand held wet cotton. Heero's gaze traveled from Duo's hand up his arm, noting the curve of his bicep. His shoulder was freckled, his neck long and graceful. Thick tangles of browns and golds and reds fell down his back and across his chest, hanging to his navel. "Your clothes," Heero said, suddenly aware of his heartbeat. "They're not ready yet. I decided to wash them, since they were so muddy. They should be ready in about an hour. You don't mind waiting, I hope?" Heero swallowed. Duo chuckled. His abs flexed above the towel. "I think I'm at your mercy there. But I was wondering if I could bother you for another towel. My hair--" "Of course." Heero took a step, then realized he was dragging his shirt. He grimaced and returned to unbuttoning his sleeve. "I borrowed a lot of your shampoo and conditioner, I'm afraid. Just about the only way to avoid snarls." "It's okay." Heero couldn't get the button loose. "I'll be glad to pay for what I used." "No, it's okay." He gritted his teeth and pulled. A shadow fell over his hands. "Here, let me." Duo had tugged the towel tight against his hips and stepped next to Heero. He took the wrist still clothed and turned it over, pulling the button into view. "These things may be simple, but that doesn't mean they're always easy." As he worked, Duo glanced at Heero's chest, seeing soft brown nipples, well-defined pecs. Heat, and more: the tang of musk under lavender bath oil. Duo swallowed. The button came loose. Duo pulled the sleeve from Heero's arm; dropped it to the floor. He looked up to find Heero's eyes on his chest. "You work out." "So do you." The air between them tingled. Heero looked up. He opened his mouth to speak, but Duo put two fingers on his lips. "Shh." He smiled. Heero felt his cock twitch, the hairs on his rocks stand up. Duo knelt and kissed his navel. Heero pulled away, a soft gasp on his lips, but Duo pulled him back, hands on hips. He kissed Heero's belly again, his tongue licking at the glowing flesh. Cinnamon without sugar, dry and pungent. Heero's mouth was open, an O on his lips, his eyes wide. Duo leaned back a little, looked up at Heero, his eyes half lidded. "Is this okay?" Heero looked down at him. The sky flickered on and off, strobing across Duo's face, making his eyes flash indigo. Thunder snapped the silence in two, and Heero jumped. "I..." Duo stood quickly, pulling back his hands. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--" "No, it's--" Heero's eyes jittered to the side. Duo stepped backward. His hand went to the towel. He looked at the floor. "I'll just wait for my clothes in the guest room." Duo moved toward the door. Heero took a step after him. "No, please. Don't--don't go." Duo stopped; turned. Frozen rain spattered the window. "I...want you to...stay. Please stay." Duo searched Heero's imploring eyes. He saw that Heero was trembling. "Do you have something I could borrow while my clothes are in the wash? I'm getting cold." Heero turned to his grandmother's dresser. "Of course. Here," he said, pulling a dark blue oversized tee and worn jeans from a drawer. He laid them on the bed. "Let me get you that other towel for your hair." "Okay." Heero moved toward the doorway. Duo stepped aside, then closed the door behind Heero. He went to the bed; stood looking down at the clothes. Shit. When will I learn? Duo pulled the towel off of his hips, picked up the jeans and slid them on. They fit his legs, but he had to suck in his tummy to snap them. He pulled the tee over his head, taking a breath as he did. This is soft, like it's been washed forty times. He smelled fabric softener again, a sea breeze scent. He began working his hair through the shirt at the neck.
A quiet knock at the door. "Come in." Heero opened the door but stood in the doorway, his arm crossed over his chest, his hand on the opposing shoulder. In his other hand was the towel, another cherry-red one, folded, resting on his palm. Duo stood facing the window, still pulling his hair through the neck of the tee. Heero cleared his throat, and Duo turned, his hands full of damp tangles. He finished pulling his hair free, then reached for the towel as Heero stepped into the room, extending his hand. "Thanks." Duo unfolded the towel and leaned back, maneuvering the soft cotton around his tresses. He deftly twisted hair and towel together, creating a turban on top of his head. He turned to face the dresser, looking in the mirror to check his work. He saw Heero smile as he crossed behind him to the armoire. "What?" Duo said, adjusting the turban, making sure it would stay in place. Heero pulled a hunter green twill shirt from a hanger and turned his back to Duo as he put it on. "Nothing. You look like Carmen Miranda." Duo turned to look at Heero, watching him dress. "The lady with the fruit on her head?" Heero nodded. "I guess it does. I never noticed." Heero finished buttoning up the shirt, leaving the tail out. He turned around, looking down at his shirt, smoothing it. His eyes went to Duo's, then to the door. "Would you like--to--some more coffee?" Shit, I'm screwing this up, I'm-- "No. "But thanks. "I'm fine." Heero looked up. The corner of Duo's mouth lifted in a little grin. Heero started to cross his arms, then dropped them. "I'll just go check on the clothes. If you'd like you can wait downstairs in the den." "I think I'll just sit here, if you don't mind." "Of course." Heero left. Duo walked to the chair by the window and sat carefully on muted chintz fabric. He looked out, not seeing the sleet flashing in the cold flickering light, his face solemn. He sighed gently. * * * "What the hell are you doing?" Rob's face was flushed, his green eyes aflame with anger. Hot sunlight streamed past the mirrored planes of the Lowe building and through Rob's office window, igniting his white dress shirt. He stood in front of his desk facing Duo, who stood with his mouth open, his posture wary. "God, Duo! You don't do that!" Rob pushed back short blond bangs with one hand, glaring at Duo. Duo's hands hung limply at his sides. He looked down at his tan Oxfords. "Look, I like you, okay? I wouldn't have asked you in here if I didn't. But an invitation to dinner hardly means you have the right to grab my crotch!" Duo flinched as Rob yelled the last three words; he took a step back. "God! I ought to fire you for this!" * * * Duo's eyes went to the dresser, to the pewter brush and comb set on the crochet doily before the mirror, then to his hands, palms up, fingers curved, in his lap. The window rattled as the wind blew. He closed his eyes.
Heero paused at the top of the basement stairs. He looked down as his hand went to his waist. The skin below his navel tingled as his fingers brushed the soft cotton of his shirt. Why did I do that? I want him. I was hoping he was gay. And he is! So why? Heero turned the painted iron doorknob and flicked the switch for the light, then descended the stairs. He met the smell of damp earth and furnace filters mingled with the scent of valve oil and laundry detergent. The dryer had stopped. He opened the door and felt the clothes. Shirt's dry, but the jacket feels cool. Better run them five more minutes to fluff them up. He twisted the timer a little before Off in the Regular/High Heat section of the dial and closed the door, then punched the button that started the dryer. He pulled up a battered barstool to the rough wooden table across from the washer and dryer and pushed aside pliers, thumbtacks, electrical tape, rusty nuts and nails. He sat on the cracked plastic and carefully leaned both elbows on the table. He stared past dust motes in the harsh fluorescent light of the single bulb overhead. David's lips on mine; they tingled just like that. But I pushed him away when he did it. The thumb and forefinger of one hand went to his chin, the thumb automatically tracing up and down the scar there. A line formed between Heero's eyebrows. The day we came back from the craft fair. In the car, James put his hand on my thigh, and I tensed up. James felt it, and pulled his hand back. He broke things off between us the next day. Michael was too busy after a couple of dates. And Tim was never at home. I pushed them away, too, didn't I? Heero's thumb stopped moving. Why can't I let anyone get close to me? Heero leaned forward, squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them with his knuckles; opened them, and sighed. He stood and walked up the steps to the kitchen, the clothes forgotten.
Duo looked up as Heero entered the bedroom and stood stiffly at the door. "Not quite ready yet. Just a few more minutes." Duo nodded, looking past Heero. "You okay?" Duo's eyes flicked back to Heero's. He stood. "Yeah." He looked at the floor. "I guess I should take this down and do something with my hair." Heero pointed to the dresser. "There's a brush there; you're welcome to use it." "Isn't that a family heirloom or something?" Heero snorted softly. "Not really. It was my grandmother's brush, but it's nothing special." Duo leaned forward and pulled at his turban. Towel and hair came apart. Heero moved across the room and took the towel. Duo looked up quickly, raising his eyebrows. Heero left the room to put the towel on the side of the tub in the bathroom. He paused there. Say something, you idiot. Try! He returned to the bedroom. Duo stood in front of the mirror, bent at the waist, his hair hanging in front of him. He pulled the pewter brush over his damp tresses in short, brisk strokes. Heero leaned against the doorjamb, one foot against it near his knee. He watched Duo work. "Do you live in the city?" "I have an apartment near the college. You know The Mudcup?" "The coffeehouse?" "Uh huh. That's mine." "Really. I went there all the time when I was working on my masters. But I don't remember seeing you there." "You wouldn't've. It was my uncle's place until last May. When he died, he left it to me. No one who knew me thought I'd have a chance in hell of running the place, but I think I've been doing okay with it. It sure beats what I was doing before." "Before?" "I was a copywriter for Barnes and Thomas. Big ad agency downtown. My uncle's will was read three weeks after I got fired." Duo straightened up. He swung his head to one side, throwing his hair behind him. He reached for the ends, pulling them around his waist and worked on the tangles there with the brush. Heero moved to sit on the bed, the heels of both hands beside his hips. Outside, rain skittered across the roof of the porch. Duo finished tugging on his hair and put the brush down. He tilted his head and shoulders back; separated his hair into three strands and began deftly weaving them into a braid. Heero's gaze went to Duo's hands, then to the floor and back to Duo's hands again. His thumbs skimmed the stitches of his grandmother's quilt. He drew breath to speak, but Duo spoke first. "Seems like I'm always asking for something, but do you have anything I could use to tie off my hair? I've lost the tie I came in with." Heero hopped off the bed and went to the dresser. Duo stepped back, holding the ends of his hair as Heero lifted the lid of a wooden box by the mirror. He held up an inch of bright blue elastic with amber beads on each end. "This okay?" "That's great." Duo took it. "Thanks again." He used it to tie off his braid and then dropped the end of it, letting the hair swing back behind him. He looked up into Heero's eyes. His lips parted. "Listen, I'm not--" "I'm sorry I--" "--usually that forward.-- " "--pushed you away.-- " "I shouldn't have--" "I mean, you took--" "--tried--" "--me by surprise--" Both stopped speaking. Duo's raised his eyebrows expectantly. Heero took a breath. "I was actually sort of hoping you were--that you'd--" The phone rang downstairs, and Heero jerked back his head and blinked quickly. The phone rang again. And again. "Shouldn't you get that?" Heero shook himself. "Right. Excuse me." He left the room. Duo's hand went to his chest, his fingers fretting with a fold in the thick cotton of Heero's tee. He realized he was holding his breath and exhaled. Looked down at his hand and let go of the deep blue fabric. Moved to put his hands in the back pockets of the jeans, but instead smoothed them over the denim. After a moment he picked up the brush and walked to the wicker waste basket by the door and began pulling hair from the bristles, watching it float into the trash. He finished and put the brush back beside the comb on the dresser, then went into the hall.
Heero was standing in the middle of the stairs, looking down on the front door. One foot was a step higher than the other; one hand was on the darkly polished banister; the other hand was on his chest. When the old wood of the hallway chirruped under Duo's foot, Heero turned at the waist. "Everything alright?" Duo put his hands on the newel post at the top of the stairs. "No. Yes. The phone--it quit before I got to it." Outside, clouds harrumphed softly as a gentle rain set in. "I should probably make my call." Heero took his hand off the banister, took one step down. Kept his back to Duo, pointed with his index finger. "It's on the long table in the hallway." His head was down. Duo drew a big breath but let it out quietly. He moved softly down the stairway, turning a little as he passed Heero. Heero put his hand on Duo's shoulder. Duo stopped and turned, his eyes questioning. Heero leaned over and touched his lips to Duo's. Duo's eyes went wide. He saw Heero's eyebrows come together, his eyelashes tremble. Duo slowly pulled his head back, leaving Heero's neck extended, his lips pursed. Rain splashed on the steps of the porch outside. Heero opened his eyes. Duo's head leaned forward and down. He looked up at Heero from the corner of his eye. "Did you--" Heero drew an enormous breath. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" (his eyes on Duo's) "I don't know what, I don't know why" (his head to one side) I did that (to the other), kissed you (he moved backward), why I--" He looked down at his feet as his heels hit the edge of the step behind him. He started to fall, but Duo reached out and grabbed his arms and pulled him forward as Heero grabbed the banister and tried to right himself. Duo's arms went around him. His chin went over Duo's shoulder. After a moment, Duo stepped down, releasing him. "You okay?" Wide eyes looked up at Heero. Heero regarded Duo, then nodded slowly. "Look, I'm going to make my call." Heero nodded again. Duo watched him for a beat, then went down the rest of the stairs and to the phone. Heero stared at the front door. When he heard Duo speak into the phone, he slowly walked down the stairs and into the den.
"They said it would be about an hour before they could get here. I did tell them right-- that this is Old Webster Road?" Duo leaned on the doorjamb between the hallway and den. Heero was sitting forward in the armchair, elbows on knees, face in hands. He looked up as Duo spoke, fingers slipping from his chin in supplication. "Yes." Duo went to the sofa, sitting on the side nearest to Heero. Heero straightened up as he watched him move, but still sat on the edge of the armchair. Duo leaned back on the couch, laced his fingers behind his head, crossed his ankles, and smiled. "Do you like Key Lime Pie?" "What?" "Key Lime Pie. Do you like it?" "Uh...yes?" "How'd you like to have a slice? On me?" "Tonight?" "Thursday night. I'm introducing a new line of desserts at The Mudcup, and would love it if you'd give me your opinion before we begin serving it to customers." Heero stared with his mouth open. Duo sat up, uncrossing his feet. Put his hands on his knees. Leaned forward a little. "Uh, sure." "Good. Nine o'clock okay?" Duo smiled again. "Uh huh." "Good. Pie at nine on Thursday night. I've always wanted to have pie with a Count." Heero closed his mouth. Blinked. "I'll just go get your clothes now." A dozen heartbeats passed, and then Heero stood. A little smile quirked in the corner of his mouth. Duo's face broke into a grin. Sunlight flooded the hallway again as Heero made his way to the basement. Fin
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