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"While You Were Sleeping "Written By: Prynesque Disclaimer: Duo, Heero, Gundam Wing… they
are copywrited to someone else. They are being used without permission
and no money is being made. I reiterate: they aren't mine (and if
you think they are you should probably take this opportunity to get
your head checked). However, this story is mine and mine alone, and
if you so much as think of nicking any part of it, I'll hunt you down
and set my demon kitty cat on you (be afraid, be very afraid). Rating: R Warnings: Yaoi/slash, romance, sap? OOC (this
is an AU – I think it’s a given), some swearing, lime/lemon,
alternating POV, possible Australian-isms. Pairings: 1x2 Summary: Duo, a lonely railway ticket booth operator,
is infatuated with Wufei, a complete stranger, who buys a token from
his booth each evening. One night, Wufei is knocked onto the tracks
and winds up in a coma. A mistake at the hospital sees Duo mistaken
for his boyfriend and a tangled web of lies is woven as Duo is pulled
further and further into the life of Wufei’s welcoming family.
To make matters worse, Duo discovers that he is beginning to fall
in love with Wufei’s enigmatic step-brother, Heero. This fic is based on the movie While You Were Sleeping (starring Sandra Bullock and Bill Pullman) and I don’t own it either. It’s a fairly loose basis – namely because I haven’t seen the movie for years – and there will be movie plot mixed with my own kooky ideas. Feedback: Hell yeah? What I'm trying to say is
that if you feel the urge to review, please indulge it. I don't even
care what you say. Good, bad, it's all the same to me – just
so long as I get to hear from you. "While You Were Sleeping " Chapter Five: I sink back into Hilde’s couch just as a long arm snakes around my shoulder and a cold, damp bottle is pressed into my hand. A drop of condensation trickles down the beer bottle and then down the back of my hand. It soaks into the cuff of my jumper, leaving a dark spot of damp on the faded cotton. The arm retracts, pausing briefly to ruffle my bangs with playful fingers. It’s Alex’s way of asking again if I’m alright. I shrug in response and take a swig of my beer. I enjoy the slightly bitter taste on my tongue. Alex settles back into the couch beside me. The warmth of his thigh resting against mine is infinitely comforting. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t poke or pry – he’ll leave that to Hilde – he just sits there in comfortable silence and waits. I love that about him. Two swigs of beer, a heavy sigh and a muffled whimper later and I think I might be ready to off load the latest installment in my ever-growing list of problems. Hilde ambles into the living room from the kitchen. She now has a streak of what looks like cocoa powder across her left cheek, which is a little puzzling since she’s supposed to be baking yams. Beside me, Alex raises a baffled eyebrow. “I thought you were baking yams,” he ventures. “I am,” Hilde replies in that ‘nah-duh’ voice which is very popular with teenagers. Alex and I both nod because we know better than to try and interfere when Hilde is attempting anything in the kitchen. She settles her oven mitt-clad hand on her hip and lets her gaze slide from Alex to me. “So Duo-babe, what’s with the ‘my grandmother just died’ face?” I laugh because it’s really the only thing one can do when a woman wearing a Bewitched-style apron and a lobster-shaped oven mitt asks you such a question. “I think things might be about to get complicated,” I mumble to my beer. This time it’s Hilde who laughs. “I’m fairly sure things are way past complicated and well into inextricable.” I attempt a glare; it’s a rather half-hearted affair that just bounces off her cheerful exterior. “So what happened?” she asks, settling herself on the coffee table in front of me. She leans one pointed elbow heavily on Alex’s knee. I catch his wince but she’s too busy trying to read my mind to notice. I take a deep breath. “OK, well I was at his place…” I begin. Hilde’s eyebrows shoot up. “You went to his place?” she asks, the familiar incredulity back in her voice. “Whose place?” Alex interjects, his gaze flicking from me to Hilde and back again. “Wufei’s,” I answer absent-mindedly. “And…” Hilde prompts. “Who’s Wufei?” Alex interrupts again before I can continue. Hilde turns to him, an expression of mild exasperation on her face. “The guy that Duo’s been lusting over for about a year. Remember? I told you about him ages ago.” Alex nods slowly and then, “I though you said that was a fantasy going nowhere because the guy didn’t even know Duo existed?” I glare at Hilde and she has the decency to look slightly abashed. “Well, it’s true,” she says to me. I huff loudly but don’t actually say anything because… well, yeah, she has a point. “I’m officially confused,” Alex says to no one in particular. “OK, here’s a brief overview of the plot so far: Duo saved Mr. Fantasy when he fell on to the tracks at work but he ended up in a coma. Then there was a ‘mix-up’ at the hospital and now his family thinks that Duo is his boyfriend.” She pauses. “Oh, and Duo’s too much of a coward to tell them the truth. That everything?” she says, turning to me. “Yep, I think that was all the basic points covered,” I mumble, vaguely aware of my face turning pink. Alex nods once and then nods again. “OK. This is sounding vaguely soap-operatic but please… continue.” “So, I was at Wufei’s and… well, the long and the short of it is that I think Wufei has a boyfriend…” Hilde’s first reaction is to laugh. She claps her hand over her mouth a moment later and tries to look contrite; it’s somewhat undermined by her continued, barely-muffled giggles. Eventually she clears her throat. The corner of her mouth threatens to twitch back into a smile but she controls it. “So, what makes you think that your pretend boyfriend has an actual boyfriend?” Her voice cracks on the last word but she hides behind her ridiculous lobster-mitt hand. “If you’re gonna keep laughing at me, I’ll take myself off home to lick my wounds in private,” I grumble. Alex casts me a commiserating smile and then gives Hilde a gentle shove. “She’ll behave. Why don’t you start at the beginning?” I fold my arms sulkily. “I’m not sure I want to tell you now.” Hilde manages to lose the smirk. “No, please do. I promise I won’t laugh any more.” Alex and I stare at her. “Well, I’ll definitely try anyway.” And so I tell them, in excruciating detail. I repeat the phone messages twice at Hilde’s request while she stares at me intently, her eyebrows drawn together. Eventually she sits back. “OK, so this is what it sounds like,” she begins, waving her lobster hand dangerously close to Alex’s head. He shrinks back into the couch to avoid it. “Wufei had boyfriend but things were a bit rocky. They planned to meet to talk about it but the boyfriend stood him up. Then Wufei got hit by a train and didn’t return the boyfriend’s apologetic calls, resulting in the boyfriend getting pissed off and ending it all. Right?” “Sounds plausible,” I say wearily. “So now the question is… what are you going to do about it?” “About what?” She hits me with her lobster. “You know what about.” I refuse to meet her eyes. “This guy deserves to know that his boyfriend or ex-boyfriend or whatever is in hospital in a coma.” “I don’t know how to contact him. I don’t even know his name. All I know is that he has a very sexy voice and probably has long hair.” Hilde raises an eyebrow. “Quatre said something about Wufei mentioning guys with long hair,” I add. “And that didn’t tip you off that maybe, perhaps there was a guy already on the scene?” Hilde says at the same time as Alex cocks his head and asks, “Who’s Quatre?” Hilde waves him off but I manage an answer. “He’s Wufei’s ex-boyfriend’s current boyfriend and also best friend to Wufei and his step-brother Heero.” Alex blinks. “I shouldn’t have asked.” “Well, then tell this ex-boyfriend’s current boyfriend’s dog’s former owner’s half-brother or whatever. Tell someone!” “But they don’t even know about this guy. It can’t have been all that serious if Wufei didn’t even tell his family. I mean, they’re really close. Plus, it sounds like it’s all over now anyway…” “Duo!” “I know, I know,” I crumple suddenly. Alex slides his arm back around my shoulders, bracing me with his support. “But I can’t tell them… I can’t…” Hilde gives me a stern look. It’s the look I usually receive right before a lecture. “You just need to suck it up and tackle your problems head on.” “Thank you, Dr. Phil,” I mutter and Alex laughs. He swallows his grin when Hilde glares at him. “I’m being serious. You have to tell them the truth. Face your issues and deal with them.” “I’m seeing pots and kettles,” I retort, setting my now empty beer bottle down on the coffee table beside Hilde’s thigh. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “I should face my issues and deal with them? This from the woman who said, just yesterday, that she would rather move to Antarctica than meet her potential mother-in-law. How is that facing up to your issues?” “We’re talking about your issues not mine. Besides, that’s a completely different situation.” She says, suddenly flustered. “How?” I challenge. “Mothers-in-law are inherently evil.” She slaps her thigh with her lobster mitt for emphasis. “I sincerely hope you’re not going to say that to my mother’s face when you meet her in a few days time,” Alex interjects mildly. “Why shouldn’t I? It’s true!” Hilde says before she can stop herself. “Hey, that’s my mother you’re talking about. Just because she’s narrow-minded and elitist and votes Republican doesn’t make her evil.” Hilde and I stare at him blankly. “I’m not sure you’re helping your case, there,” I venture. There is a long pause and then suddenly we’re all laughing; it’s slightly hysterical but the tension in the room is immediately diffused. Eventually Alex wipes his eyes on Hilde’s apron. “Why don’t we all pretend we don’t have any issues and watch TV instead?” “I think The Amazing Race is on,” I add helpfully. “Oooh, good. I’ll get the yams.” Hilde totters away, waving her lobster hand. “I hope that horrible, whiny couple go,” she calls from the kitchen. “They argue, like, all the time and she never shuts up.” Alex and I manage to exchange a look before she returns, tray of yams and three forks in hand. She squeezes herself onto the couch between me and Alex. It’s a snug but comfortable fit. I spear a cube of yam with the offered fork and Alex flicks the TV on. “I love you guys,” I’m compelled to say halfway through my mouthful. Hilde smiles at me. “Aw, we love you too. Now, shhhhh.” She points at the TV. “It’s starting.” And oddly enough, I suddenly feel so much better.
“No,” Alex says calmly. He catches my eye. “Well, maybe semi-evil.” “Alex!” Hilde drops the spoon back into the pot. It lands with a clatter, splattering specks of porridge across the tabletop. “Just joking. Not evil at all,” Alex hastily reconsiders. Hilde huffs. “Of course she’s not. It’ll be fine. We’ll have a great time. Best Christmas ever. Oh God. It’s not too late to go to Hawaii, you know. I mean, it’d be easy to change the tickets, I’m sure and…” “Hilde, baby, calm down. You’ll be fine. My mother’s looking forward to meeting you… kind of, and I’m sure… well, I’m sure she’ll mostly keep what she’s thinking to herself.” I wonder vaguely if that supposed to be comforting. Hilde glares at him. Alex turns to me, imploring. “Yeah, Alex is right,” I cut in. “It’ll be fine. It can’t be any worse than the mess I’m in, right?” Hilde considers this. “True. You’ll water my plant while we’re gone, won’t you?” I glance at the fern in the corner that has been looking rather sickly for some time now. “It’s only five days and… I’m pretty sure your plant is already dead.” Clearly that was the wrong thing to say. Hilde glares at me. “It’s not dead! It’s just… ill. I have full confidence that I can save it.” “OK, I’ll water your plant,” I say in my best placating voice. “Good.” Hilde pauses to lick the back of her spoon. “Hey, I was thinking we should audition for the Amazing Race next season,” she says a moment later. I’m not sure whether she’s talking to me or Alex. We exchange a look, both of us clearly hoping that was intended for the other. “Have some more porridge, baby,” Alex says hurriedly when she opens her mouth again. “Yeah, better eat up. Looks cold outside. You know, I think it might snow again,” I say a fraction of a second later. Hilde raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed at our clumsy attempt at a change of subject. But she must be feeling generous this morning as she merely rolls her eyes and allows us to mollify her with porridge and the weather forecast. Hilde and I are both late to work, a fact that probably makes Marge’s day. She sneers at me from her booth at regular intervals throughout the morning. Unfortunately for her, I’m to busy freezing my arse off to be offended. The day gets progressively colder until finally, around mid-afternoon, the snow starts falling with a vengeance. It’s not the nice powder white, Christmas card kind of snow, but the hard, heavy, icy kind that lowers the air temperature in seconds and cuts through four layers of clothing like a hot knife through butter. Within a couple of hours the city is blanketed in a layer of dirty greyness. When the snow finally decides to take a rest break, the wind picks up, howling like a lone wolf on a mountain range and whipping through the streets at a rate of knots. Trapped in my little glass booth, I turn my radio up until it drowns out the sound of my teeth chattering. When Marge glares in my direction and yells at me to turn the racket down, I give her the universal sign for ‘I can’t hear you, you stupid fat bitch’ and go back to ignoring her. I’ve lost all sensation in my arse, hands and feet by the time my shift ends. Hilde rubs my hands between hers as she walks me to the bus stop. “Why don’t you come home with me for dinner? I promise I won’t cook.” She lifts my hands to her mouth, blowing hot air on my frozen fingers. A slight tingling sensation develops in my finger-tips. I’m not sure if that’s an indication of frost-bite or not. “I got… stuff to do,” I mumble to the sludge-covered pavement. She rolls her eyes and hugs me. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, wrapping her scarf around my neck. “Promise me you’ll catch a cab home if it starts snowing that heavy again.” “Are you crazy? That’d cost a fortune. I’d rather have the frost-bite, thanks.” She glares. “Promise me.” She’s using a tone of voice that brooks no opposition. She reminds me of Sister Helen when she gets like this. I crack a smile. “Alright, alright. Bossy-boots. You’ll make a formidable mother-in-law one day.” She just huffs, ignores my warning and bundles me onto the bus with a last kiss. I sit at the back, looking out the back-window until I can’t see her little yellow-jacketed figure any more. When I arrive at the hospital, Wufei’s room is empty save for Nurse Jones, who is bustling around checking machines and drips and generally being very nurse-like. “Hello, Duo,” she says in that slightly un-nerving way of hers. “You’ve just missed Sally. Nipped downstairs for a cup of coffee from the cafeteria. Of course, I told her that she’d be better off popping across the road to that nice little café but she wanted to stay close, which I can understand.” I remove my coat and Hilde’s scarf, draping them over the back of the nearest chair. Behind me, Nurse Jones continues to bustle around, chattering about god-knows-what. “You should try talking to him,” she says a moment later, leaning over my shoulder. I can smell her clean, baby-powder scent, mingled with the general disinfectant smell that permeates the hospital. “Sally’s been reading to him all afternoon. Nearly made her voice hoarse. Still, they say that coma patients can respond to the sound of a loved one’s voice.” I sigh. I didn’t know that a sigh could sound so bitter. Nurse Jones seems to get whatever hint it is I’m trying to give her, patting my shoulder gently before backing out of the room. I reach out tentatively for Wufei’s hand. His fingers are limp and still beneath mine. “Hey.” My voice is croaky, hanging heavy and unanswered in the air. I try again. “How are you?” is the first thing that comes out. I wince. “Um… I mean… er… God, I feel like an idiot. I miss you, yanno? That probably sounds stupid, but I do…” I twine our fingers together, shuffling my chair closer. “So yeah, I hope you wake up soon.” I wince again, wondering if I could possibly sound any more inarticulate. “And, just for the record… I’m sorry about all this. I didn’t mean for it to go this far and… yeah.” Trailing off awkwardly, I rest my forehead against the softness of Wufei’s mattress, eyes closed and concentrating on the feel of Wufei’s steady pulse beneath my fingers. When I look up, Trowa is sitting on the other side of the bed, watching me through calm, green eyes. I didn’t even hear him come in. I flush and disentangle my fingers from Wufei’s. “Evening, Duo,” Trowa says in his low rumbling voice. His eyes are very intense. I can feel them looking right through me. “You just missed Sally.” I fiddle nervously with the end of my braid. “The nurse said she went for coffee.” “I know. I ran into her on my way up.” His forehead creases in a gentle frown. “She seemed… tired,” he concludes. “Well, thanks. That’s what every girl wants to hear,” Sally says from the doorway. She folds herself wearily into the chair beside mine, clutching a now-empty polystyrene cup. Trowa’s right, she does look tired, worn even. “I just meant you look like you could do with a decent night’s sleep.” Trowa’s voice is laced with concern. “No, you meant I look like crap.” She pushes a hand through her hair, sighing a heavy, exhausted sigh. “You said it, not me.” That succeeds in drawing a laugh from Sally. “Quatre sent me to make sure you weren’t worrying yourself into a state. Why don’t you let me take you home?” “I should stay, I…” “There’s nothing you can do, Sal,” Trowa says gently, rising from his chair. She stares intently at the hem of Wufei’s blanket. “Duo will stay with Wufei a bit longer, won’t you?” I nod, and the corner of Sally’s mouth quirks upward a little. “Please, Sally. Wufei would be the first person to send you home if he could see you like this.” Trowa reaches out to brush a loose strand of hair from Sally’s forehead. She sags, leaning into the touch. “Come on,” he coaxes her and she allows herself to be maneuvered out of the chair. She reaches back and grasps my hand for a moment. “Thank you for being here.” She says, her eyes shining. “You can read to him if you want.” She hands me a thick paperback. I turn it over in my hands. The Da Vinci Code. “We’re up to page 198. Give my love to Heero if he comes by?” I nod, feeling an uncomfortable pressure in my chest. “Of course.” She smiles her thanks, a weak, weary smile. Trowa merely nods to me, fixing me with a rather enigmatic look. I’m still puzzling it out long after they’ve left. I sigh and shake my head. Before me, Wufei’s chest rises and falls, slow and steady. I reach for Sally’s book and open it to the right page. “Chapter 32,” I begin. “The security alarm on the west end of the Denon Wing sent the pigeons in the nearby Tuileries Gardens scattering as Langdon and Sophie dashed out of the bulkhead into the Paris night.” I settle into my chair and continue.
“It was Sally’s idea; she was reading to him earlier.” I sound hoarse and croaky, my throat dry and cracked. Heero smiles a secret little smile. He taps the book cover with one lean, golden fingertip. “Wufei always refused to read it. Said it was popular rubbish.” I laugh and am rewarded with a tentative grin. “He’ll be ticked off if it ends up getting stuck in his subconscious.” The ‘if he wakes up’ hangs oppressive and unspoken between us. I mark the corner of the page and set the book back down on Wufei’s bedside table. A cloak of awkward silence descends on the room, broken only by the steady, rhythmic beeping of Wufei’s monitors. “Sally sends her love by the way.” My gravelly voice cuts swiftly through the silence before descending into a spluttered cough. Heero gets up gently, disappearing momentarily from my eye-line. When he returns, he presses a paper cup into my hands. His fingers brush against mine, those light calluses grazing against my skin. The water glides down my throat, cool liquid relief. I murmur grateful thanks, my lips still fixed to the rim of the cup, soaking up the last drops. “You’re welcome,” Heero replies. I watch him out of the corner of my eye. He seems vaguely nervous, his hands fiddling with the tasseled ends on his brightly-coloured scarf. I wonder why, if it’s me making him nervous. There is a fluttering in my stomach and I wonder if he’s making me nervous. “Are you a religious man, Duo?” he asks, turning suddenly and fixing me with that piercing blue gaze. “What?” I’m confused and I can’t quite work out if it’s the question or those eyes. “I asked if you’re a religious – ” “I heard.” “Oh.” A puzzled sort of silence falls in which I stare at the neatly folded corner of Wufei’s bed and Heero’s fingers start worrying the end of his scarf again. Slowly, tentatively Heero reaches out to me. I watch as his golden fingers come closer and closer. His fingertips brush against the sensitive strip of skin where my neck meets my collarbone. He pauses, meeting my gaze. I fancy the tips of his cheeks are the faintest shade of pink. I’m sure mine are tinted a vivid red. We stay like that for what feels like hours. Eventually his hand retracts, my tiny silver cross caught between his fingers. “I just thought…” He starts and then breaks off, pulling his hand away like he’s been burned. My cross drops back, nestling against my collar. “I’ve been wondering if you were religious for ages. I’m not at all but I think I like the idea of someone praying for him. Hedging our bets, so to speak… just in case there is a God.” I finger the cross myself, running my finger across the familiar silver surface. The metal is slightly warm from where Heero’s fingers burned into it. “Not a bad strategy but I’m afraid I’m not your man, there. I haven’t been a practicing Catholic for years.” I drop my hand back to my lap, my fingers picking at a loose thread from the rip in my jeans. “I’m not sure I ever really believed in the first place,” I confess, so faintly that I’m sure Heero can’t have heard me. “Then why do you wear this?” Heero’s voice matches mine in pitch. His hand reaches out toward me again. He jerks it away just before it makes contact. “Sentimental reasons, not religious ones,” I answer quietly. “Tell me?” “Nah, you don’t wanna hear all that.” “Tell me anyway?” I turn and find myself staring to that startling blue again. “OK,” I say before I can remember all the reasons not to. “I grew up in a Catholic orphanage,” I begin, wondering if Heero can hear that nervous waver in my voice. “I wanted so desperately to believe like everyone else did, to belong. But I was one of those really… inquisitive kids. Always asking questions that didn’t have answers. Father Maxwell used to tell me to have faith in God’s plan but I… I just couldn’t see it. I couldn’t understand how there could possibly be a God when there was so much… so many terrible things happening in the world. “I probably drove Father Maxwell up the wall. We argued all the time but he never gave up on me, you know? He was one of the few people who really cared about me back then; fought so hard to keep me on the straight and narrow, to get me through school. He died three weeks before my high school graduation. I guess that’s when I finally gave up trying to believe…” I trail off and that’s when I realise I’m gently fingering my cross again. “He gave me this on my thirteenth birthday. We didn’t normally do birthday and Christmas present at the orphanage ’cause there was never enough money but he said he wanted me to have it. I guess I wear it to remember him or to honour him or something… like, I never had faith in God but I still have faith in him.” “Sounds like he was a father in more ways than one.” Heero’s voice is soft and unobtrusive. I find myself smiling. “Yeah.” We lapse into silence. I can feel Heero’s warmth beside me. His arm is a mere inch away from mine. I shift slightly so that there contact. He starts and doesn’t meet my gaze. But he’s smiling too. It’s snowing again by the time Nurse Jones returns to tell us that visiting hours are over. It’s not the thick, heavy snow from earlier but enough to chill the air. I shiver as we make our way down the driveway, snowflakes settling in my hair. “Would you like a lift?” Heero asks suddenly, his breath coming in puffs of white smoke. “Nah, it’s fine. The bus-stop’s not far.” I wave him off. “It’s freezing, Duo. I’ll give you a lift.” Heero’s mouth is set in a stubborn line. “No, no… OK.” I cave easily and Heero laughs. “Come on, the car’s this way. Where do you live?” Heero owns one of those ultra modern sedans. The sort that has a button to do pretty much everything bar the ironing. “Nice,” I say, wishing I didn’t sound so impressed. “It’s a company car,” Heero confesses, opening my door for me. I sink back into the plush leather seats. When he starts the ignition, a rush of heat come blasting out of the vents. I positively purr in pleasure. “You must be pretty important for them to give you a swanky car like this,” I say as we pull out of the hospital car park. “Not really. I’m just an accountant. Hardly very exciting.” “Oh nah, I’m sure it’s…” I struggle for the word. “Boring as all Hell?” Heero finishes for me. I laugh. “At least you don’t spend all day in a glass box giving tokens to grumpy people who wish they had cars like this.” I’m rewarded with a warm chuckle. “At least you don’t spend all day kowtowing to people with more money than sense,” he counters. “Then why do you do it?” He seems momentarily floored by my question. “I guess… I don’t know, really.” He hesitates, casting me a sideways glance. “Wufei’s father was an accountant. I think he always secretly hoped that Wufei would follow in his footsteps but it was clear from an early age that Wufei was born to be a lawyer.” He pauses again as he turns the corner. “It always meant so much to me that Zao treated me like his own; I was honoured that he thought of me as a son. I suppose I wanted to acknowledge that. And I was always good at numbers. It seemed like a good idea at the time.” “And now?” I prompt. “And now I wish I’d chosen something that I really wanted to do rather than something I happened to be good at.” Heero’s confession is low and soft. “And what is the something you really wanted to do?” “It’s stupid,” is Heero’s gruff response. “Tell me anyway?” I echo Heero’s earlier request and he casts me a sharp sideways glance just as the car comes to a gentle stop at the traffic lights. “I’ve always… dreamed, I guess, of being a carpenter. Designing and making my own furniture. Maybe owning my own business.” “That’s explains it then,” I interject. He looks at me, blue eyes tinged red from the traffic lights. “Explains what?” I take his hand in mine, watching as his long fingers uncurl from around the steering wheel. I brush my fingers against his, gliding across the calluses there. “You have calluses on your hands,” I say softly. He stares at me. “Oh.” There a long moment of silence, broken only when the car behind us beeps its horn. “Anyway, it’s stupid,” Heero mutters, accelerating. “No, it’s not,” I say, more impassioned than I’d intended. I clear my throat awkwardly. “Why carpentry?” “Because it was something I was never naturally good at.” I laugh. “Tell me?” “At school, I was good at everything... maths, science, English, sport… and I hated it all. And then I took wood-work as an elective and was spectacularly dreadful at it.” He laughs at the memory and I’m mesmerized by the rumbling sound. “I stayed back every afternoon, working at it, determined that I would beat it. And I guess… somewhere along the line I fell in love with it.” “So why don’t you just quit your job?” The answer just seems so very simple to me. “Are you kidding?” he asks as the car glides around another corner. “And give up the security of my current job for some… stupid dream?” “Why not?” “Would you give up yours?” he counters, taking his eyes briefly off the road to glance at me. “No, but… that’s different. I need the money and… there’s nothing else I can do. No one else would hire me. But you… you could do it… live the dream.” I don’t know why I’m suddenly so passionate about this. It’s ridiculous but I can’t stop. “Maybe one day,” he says in a defeated tone and I know instinctively that this is the best I’m going to get. “I’ll make a deal with you. When I finally find the balls to quit my job, I’ll call you and you’ll do the same.” He stares at me before flicking back to the road. “You’re crazy,” he says, shaking his head. But when the car stops at the next set of lights he turns back to me. “Deal.” We grin in unison and travel the rest of the distance in comfortable silence. When he drops me off, I stand in the snow for several long minutes until red glow of Heero’s tail-lights are no longer visible in the distance. I turn reluctantly, plodding up the stairs to pour myself into bed.
I’m in a gondola and it’s rocking gently in a soft, soothing motion. The sunlight sparkles on the water, glittering on the horizon line. A delightfully Mediterranean vista stretches out before me, dreamy and impossibly romantic. Warm arms embrace me from behind and soft lips press a kiss just behind my ear. Fingers drift across my stomach, dipping beneath my t-shirt and dancing across my skin. I laugh and Wufei tightens his embrace, pulling me flush against him. Kisses trail down my neck and across my shoulder. I turn in his embrace to face him. The gondola shifts with my motion, knocking me forwards into his arms. He laughs, the deep low laugh that I’ve only heard on a couple of occasions. That dazzlingly charming smile momentarily floors me; my stomach flips and my heart pounds. Deep brown eyes gaze at me, twinkling with something I can’t identify. Wufei wraps his hand around my braid and pulls me closer until his lips are almost against mine. His breath ghosts across my skin. I close the distance between us and the kiss is hot and heavy, all lips and teeth and tongue. I pull away, breathless and laughing, and suddenly it’s piercing blue eyes that are staring back at me, drawing me back into their intense, endless depths. Heero’s mouth quirks into a tiny secret smile. With a sharp, sudden jerk, I wake up alone in my bed at home. My hands are trembling against the faded green doona-cover and my skin is damp with sweat. My stomach flips again and my heart is pounding so fast it feels like it’s going to leap out of my chest. I flop back against the pillows, hopelessly confused and unbearably aroused. When I close my eyes again, all I can see is blue. ~ * ~
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