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"Third Time's the Charm (Sort of)"Written By: Waterlilylf Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. All rights
remain with Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. No profit being
made here. Rating: R Warnings: Romance, humor Pairings: 1x2 Summary: Duo discovers that meeting people - one person in particular - is so much easier in his head than in real life. Especially as that one other person seems determined not to notice him, whatever he does...
"Third Time's the Charm (Sort of)"
Chapter 4/5- First Row: My phone pings a minute later; Trowa's address. I'd always imagined him living in a barn, knee-deep in every sort of animal, but actually it's an apartment block just twenty minutes' walk away from where I live. I know the building, even; it's an old, converted warehouse right on the water. I'd looked up a unit on-line a couple of years ago, but back then it had been way out of my price bracket, even for the smallest closet-sized studio, where you'd be convicted of animal cruelty for trying to swing the smallest and most malnourished kitten. Trowa doesn't live in the smallest unit; he's got the penthouse. The concierge - an actual concierge in a uniform with shiny brass buttons - ushers me into the elevator, and gives me a rather pitying glance. Probably imagining having to call the cops to haul out my mangled, Florence-chewed body. I don't know what sort of salaries vets get paid, and I do know Trowa's a kind of super-vet. He's not the sort who trims your dog's toenails, and de-scales his teeth. He works on a big-cat breeding programme at a wildlife reserve outside the city, which is partnered with some national parks in Africa, and he spends a few months working in Kenya or Tanzania every year. But, seriously, I can't imagine he gets paid enough to afford a place like this. Maybe he's leading a secret life as a mercenary/assassin type? Selling drugs on the side? Or maybe he's like Heero and comes from a moneyed family? Probably that, since I know he went to Heero's very posh boarding school. (I much prefer the concept of him living a double life, though. Possibly a book idea there too.) Ok, Duo, stop faffing. Time to open the door. Time to face the multi-fanged horror on the other side. Deep breath; trust what Heero said. She'll be fine. I walk in and instantly forget about Florence because the apartment is - unbelievable. Like something out of a very upmarket interiors magazine, or a photo-spread of some billionaire's townhouse. (I'd expected straw on the floor and maybe a couple of llamas or penguins or something.) Instead, it's one huge open-plan area, and he presumably has the entire top floor because it's about a zillions times bigger than my apartment. It's all exposed brickwork and concrete with metal pipes overhead, and distressed floorboards underfoot, and massive oil canvases and African carved masks on the walls, but there are also curves of perspex cubes creating different living spaces, and a couple of floaty, gravity-defying staircases leading up to equally floating, invisibly-suspended mezzanine areas. He's definitely some sort of top mercenary/assassin, to live in a place like this. It would even tie in with all his trips to Africa. Florence is lying on a beanbag in a splash of sunlight, but there's no sign of the other two dogs. Or Trowa's cats. Oh, cripes. I hope she hasn't got hungry and eaten them. As I close the door behind me, she lifts her head and gives me her usual look of contempt. I do get that the poor thing had a horrible start in life, but Trowa treats her like a dowager empress; it wouldn't kill her to look pleasant occasionally. Anyway, she clearly decides that I'm not a danger to her, and closes her eyes again. OK, that's good. I find the Yorkie easily; she's sleeping on a red-velvet antique armchair that looks totally out of place in Trowa's ultra-modern apartment, but she doesn't pay me any attention either. There's a cat too, which pokes a furry black-and-white head out from behind what looks like a giant paper clip sculpture that's been twisted tortuously around itself, and then instantly vanishes. Shen's a bit harder to find, (which is actually a good excuse to look around the whole apartment). I'm starting to worry that Florence really did eat get peckish and thought he'd make a tasty snack. Just swallowed him whole in one gulp, down to his little curly tail. I eventually find him in what seems to be the kitchen area. It's a bit hard to tell, as there's nothing so mundane as a cooker or table, but there is a curved sheet of glass, which could either be a sink or possibly some sort of sculpture, especially as I can't quite work out where the taps are. Shennie's hiding under a blanket in his little basket and a massive ginger cat (or miniature puma) is sitting in front of him, staring. 'Bad kitty!' I say sharply, clapping my hands to get his attention. 'Leave the puppy alone.' The cat looks like he wants to take a lump out of me, but he gets up and stalks away a couple of paces. Then I instantly feel bad; the poor thing only has three legs. Unlike every other occupant of the apartment, Shen is over the moon to see me, frisking around my legs and giving little squeaks of joy, as I rummage around looking for food, and eventually find a cupboard built into the wall. There's all sorts of pet food, but nothing fit for human consumption, as far as I can see. I've no idea what Trowa eats. The sound of me rattling their bowls brings the other dogs running; well, Victoria dashes in at such a fast clip that she skids on the polished floorboards, and Florence strolls in at her usual ponderous waddle. Victoria practically inhales her food, while Florence eats each of her little biscuits individually, and very slowly, and I end up having to stand over her and keep Victoria from trying to steal her food. Shen doesn't bother eating anything, staying close to my legs, and whining softly until I scoop him up. After the girls have both finally finished, they look up at me expectantly. 'I can't give you any more. Your dad would kill me. Hey, you want to go outside?' I'm dying to see the terrace; actually, what I really want to see are the mezzanines, but I can't think of a good excuse (and I bet Florence would tell Trowa that I was poking around his bedroom, because I'm pretty sure he can communicate with her.) The dogs lead me outside, and up a narrow staircase, and suddenly I'm in the most enchanting place. There's an actual wild-flower meadow, albeit a pocket-sized one, and so many roses and lavender bushes that the air is deliciously scented, and some quirky pieces of furniture that look like they were made out of driftwood. I just wander around for a few minutes, looking at the little details I missed the first time; a little water feature bubbling deliciously around a rockery, and a rose-strewn gazebo. It's magical. Finally, I sit down on one of the blissfully comfortable sun-loungers and let Shen snuggle against me. 'Hey, baby. Want me to stay for a bit, huh? Protect you from that scary cat? OK, I can stay for a minute.' Shen gives a happy little snort and goes straight to sleep. I take out my phone, check the time, and send off a couple of texts. 'I'm going to have to go soon, sweetie,' Instantly, he curls even closer, resting his head on my arm, and snuffling. I have to laugh because it's exactly what I do when Heero says he needs to get up for work in the mornings. He usually caves, even for a short time, and of course I do too. I don't blame the little dog wanting me to stay around. I've no idea what Wufei's house is like, but I bet it's not like this. I'd hate to be left here by myself; I love the enchanted garden, but the apartment itself really isn't my type of place. It's all spiky somehow; weird metal sculptures and bare concrete, and I know I'll be having nightmares about a massive and truly scary oil painting I tried not to look at downstairs, which looked like a group of clowns being attacked by mutant hummingbirds. It's like some sort of modern art gallery full of weird installations, not someone's home. It's peaceful here though, high above the harbour, with the most glorious views. Victoria and the ginger cat both drift in and settle around me. I've no idea how many animals are even here, I realise. There could be a hippo stashed in the bathroom, wherever that is, and a couple of cheetahs hanging out in Trowa's bedroom. I think I doze off in the end, lulled by Shen's little snores, and the sunlight, and the blissfully comfortable (although truly hideous) chair. The next thing I know is a flurry of barking and then Trowa is standing in front of me and grinning. He's got Victoria in his arms, and looks a bit like he's posing for a poster as Hot Guy holding Adorable Dog. 'Hey, Tro. Sorry, I guess I fell asleep.' 'I guess you did.' The grin widens. 'Thanks a million for coming over like this. You're a life saver, Duo, seriously.' 'No bother. Oh! How's the lioness? And the babies?' 'Two male cubs, mother and babies doing well. Finished up a lot sooner than I thought we would. I'd visions of us being there all night. ' He plonks down on a stool in front of me, and Florence sinks down at his feet. It's a total myth that dogs and their owners look alike. Florence is short and squat, while her master is tall and lean and has this whole broody-sexy-smouldering thing going on. (I try never to think that in front of Heero.) I'm very glad I grew out of my bad-boy phase years ago. 'So, did everyone behave themselves?' 'More or less. Your cat, the big ginger one, was terrorising Shen when I got here; staring him out of it, and Victoria tried to steal Florence's food.' He laughs. 'Yeah, she does that; it's why I can't just leave food down, she'd eat everything and make herself sick, and Henry's not keen on dogs. Poor little Shennie. Still, 'Fei'll be home on Friday, after his interview, and I'm mostly off for the next couple of days; I'll keep an eye on him.' 'What interview?' I glance up from playing with Shen's ears. 'Heero just said he was giving some lectures.' 'Heero's trying to pretend it's not happening, 'cause he hates the thought of 'Fei moving away, but yeah, he's got an interview at the Met. The Metropolitan Museum in New York,' he clarifies, although actually I know what it is, because I did a shoot in front of it once. 'Well, I say interview, it's just a formality. He's worked there before; they'd love to have him back.' 'Oh. Heero never said anything.' I'm honestly not quite sure what to say. Trowa and I get on pretty well, but we've never really talked about anything vaguely personal before. Over the last two months, we've settled on a pattern for how we interact. He sometimes gets a bit flirty when Heero's around, although never when it's just the two of us, and I think it's just to tease my boyfriend more than anything. If Heero's not there, we discuss animals and food and films and books, and he's mostly adopted this slightly jokey style when he's talking to me. It all seems a little bit forced on his part, to be honest, but he seems comfortable enough so I play along (except for studiously ignoring the flirting part.) 'You'd all miss him though, right? If he moved?' 'Sure.' Trowa shrugs. 'Maybe it'd be the best thing for him. 'Change of scene.' He settles back on his stool, shifting Victoria on his arm, and looking at me. Not the expression I've caught on his face once or twice, which makes me remember Heero saying 'he'd run away with you if he could', but more considering, as if he's trying to work something out. 'He blames himself, Duo. For the whole Wufei thing. That's why he's not talking about it.' 'What? Why?' Trowa blows out a puff of air. 'Because he's Heero, and it's what he does.' I nod at that; for someone who's not even Catholic, Heero has guilt down to a fine art. 'But it wasn't his fault.' Trowa shrugs. 'Tell him that. I was away for most of it, and Heero had just started a new job, and he was on this panel at the National Bank, and well, you know what he's like, he was spending all his time working, and he thinks now that he should have done something, that if he'd spent more time noticing what was going on with 'Fei, he could have stopped it, could have persuaded him to leave or whatever. I don't know.' 'He couldn't have,' I say positively, thinking of how many months, years, Hilde and other friends had spent telling me to leave Solo. 'I - I was in a pretty bad relationship myself, a few years ago, and my friends tried talking to me about it, and I - I just didn't want to know.' Trowa nods, looking sympathetic but not terribly surprised by that little tidbit of information; he'd known then. Not exactly that it's a deep, dark secret, but I do wonder if Heero's said anything, or he's just heard something on the grapevine. 'Anyway. We'll see what happens. Can I get you something? A drink?' he asks, a pretty obvious attempt to change the conversation. Probably sorry he even brought it up. 'No, thanks.' He looks tired, actually, and I wonder how long he's been awake, how long the operation actually took. He doesn't have any kind of regular shifts, from what I can gather, so he could have been awake for who knows how long? 'I'm going to head off in a sec; I'm meeting Heero for dinner.' 'Yeah, he told me. Duo, listen, before you go, quick piece of advice?' 'Oh?' I look at him expectantly, thinking he's going to recommend a film I should see, or a new feed supplement I should get for Smokey. 'About Heero.' 'Um. OK?' That's a surprise because Heero is a sort of no-go topic between us. He hesitates for a second, one hand stroking Victoria's silky topknot. 'Listen, Duo. Don't let him get away with too much stuff, OK? I know he's already been on to you about tonight, changing when he's meeting you.' 'It sounds like there was a serious problem, though,' I say defensively. 'Yeah. Duo, there's a serious problem in some financial market every day of the week. If Heero had his way, he'd probably live in his office, and it's not good for him. Today's this anniversary for you two, right? Something special? You need to put your foot down a bit, and drag him out of the office sometimes; the guy's insane about you, he'll do it if you pressure him a little bit. It won't hurt him to delegate sometimes, or even just take a step back and admit he can't do everything by himself. Just think about it, OK?' I nod, a bit uncertainly. On the face of it, it's not really that much. Get your boyfriend out of the office sometimes; stop him working every hour God sends. But it feels a bit more, like he's officially handing Heero, and Heero's well-being, over to me. Trusting me with him. I think neither of us knows quite what to say next. I make a production of standing up and settling Shennie in the chair, telling him to watch out for evil cats, and when I straighten up Trowa's smiling at me. 'Oh, hey, before you go, can I ask you one thing?' he says as he's escorting me downstairs and through his perspex labyrinth. 'Remember I ran into you last week in that cafe, with that guy?' 'Mmm.' I suddenly have a pretty good idea what he's going to ask, and I think it's more to keep things light than anything. It's been something of a running joke on his part for a while now, when I'm going to start introducing him to all my friends who work in the modelling industry. 'He's a friend of yours?' 'Of course.' I look at him and smile innocently. How transparent can you get, honestly? 'Any chance that you have his number?' 'Since he's a good friend of mine, yes, naturally.' Trowa gives me a look that might possibly be intimidating if I hadn't been dating Heero for months at this stage. 'Any chance of you passing it on to me?' 'Hmm. I'm not sure. Why do you want it?' 'Why d'you think?' he retorts. 'Oh, right. In that case, no, probably not. My friends aren't some dating pool for you to play around with.' I'm never quite sure if it's a joke, or if he genuinely thinks that if he keeps pestering me, I'll magically produce a line-up of top models for his delectation. To be honest, I don't think he needs any outside help, from what I hear. He pretty much ticks all the boxes and then some. He's attractive, well-educated, apparently very well off (judging by this place), works in animal conservation, volunteers at a shelter. Allegedly very good in bed. (Masses of stamina and flexibility, according to the popular report.) There's even his tragic past, to go with the whole broody-Heathcliff persona; the long-term lover who died (supposedly in Trowa's arms) and who left him so heart-broken and bitter that now he doesn't do relationships. Talk about a challenge. Irresistible. (I really must put him into a book. Well-disguised.) His eyes narrow. 'Right. Tell me, Duo. Which of your particular friends have I not bothered to call in the past? How many hearts have I broken because I didn't ring the next morning?' 'Hm? Oh, no one, really,' I say easily, grinning at him. 'My friends aren't that sensitive. But that particular friend happens to live in London, and he's seeing somebody, so I don't think he'd be interested in you. Sorry!' 'No biggie. I've never been that into blonds anyway,' he says airily, and makes a face at me, opening his front door, and I laugh, thinking how much nicer he is on the rare occasions when he just lets himself act normally around me. Well, that little nugget of Heero-management was interesting. And wholly unexpected. I do think about it, all the way home, and for the next couple of hours, as I tidy up the apartment, and plan a breakfast-in-bed menu for the next morning (baked eggs with bacon lardons, and shaved Gruyere), and finally shower and change before heading out. I know Heero's work is important to him, and OK, I've sometimes got him to stay in bed (or the shower) a bit later than usual, and a couple of times I've persuaded him to meet me for lunch, but otherwise I've pretty much put up with his schedule. Maybe I need to rethink that, just a little bit. The restaurant is a place his friend Relena had recommended. I'd Googled it earlier, just to check what sort of thing I should wear. It's super-romantic, because 'Lena's that sort of girl; all dim lighting and beeswax candles and flowers. It's nothing like the sort of restaurant he normally takes me to, because we both like trying out different ethnic foods. Yes, it's very fancy, but it's not really my sort of place. Actually, I don't think it's Heero's either but I'm guessing he asked 'Lena to suggest somewhere special for the occasion. I let the deferentially smiling head waiter usher me to the table, and summon a train of minions to bring me a menu, iced water, a tiny amuse bouche of smoked salmon mousse. It's perfect. It's the sort of place I'd never have been let into, a decade or so ago. I wouldn't have been allowed to pollute its fragrant, moneyed atmosphere with my mere presence. The older version of me, polished and poised in designer clothes, gets the red carpet treatment, and a few turned heads and murmured comments as I walk past. Heero arrives at eight thirty precisely, because it would honestly kill him ever to be late for anything, and he's wearing the pleased little smile that means he's ecstatically, over-the-moon happy about something. Anyone else would be dancing on a roof-top, belting out the Hallelujiah chorus, but Heero gets a little quirk at the left side of his mouth. 'Hi!' 'Hello.' He leans over to kiss me as he sits down. It's demure and discreet, given the sort of place we're in, but his eyes are dark with the promise of more, later. 'Happy Anniversary.' 'You too. I take it we're not going to be sharing the cheapest thing on the menu, and then washing up to pay for it?' 'Absolutely not. You can have all the champagne and caviar you want.' 'Ick.' I scrunch up my nose at the thought because I think caviar is the most repulsive substance in the entire universe (after coleslaw), as he very well knows. 'No thank you. I might have the lobster though.' 'All the lobsters you want,' he says extravagantly. 'How did you get on at Trowa's?' 'Well, no body parts got chewed off, luckily,' I grin at him. 'That wouldn't have been such a good thing to happen on our anniversary. Oh, I was forgetting! This is for you.' He blinks as I hand him the shirt, which I've wrapped up in shiny paper festooned with sparkly bows and ribbons. 'What is it?' 'It's a present, duh. For you. 'But I didn't get you anything!' he protests, looking upset. 'Duh. You're buying me an amazing dinner. And it's not just an anniversary gift. I wanted to get something to thank you for all the help you've been giving me.' 'You didn't have to get me anything, Duo. It was fun. I've enjoyed it.' 'Oh, it's not nothing much. Go on, Heero, open it.' I bounce in my seat, not quite believing that he's apparently planning just to put it down beside his chair. I wonder sometimes if he's even human. I'd have had the paper torn off before he'd even finished handing it to me, because getting presents is one of my favourite things ever. He casts me a somewhat bemused glance, but does as he's told. 'Oh. Thank you. That's very useful.' That's it? 'Well, you'll probably need to try it on,' I say, deflated. Fizz it, maybe I should have got him a book instead. Or a computer thingy. 'I just thought...the colour would be great on you, and it's a very classic style and you could wear it for work, or for going out, and I really hope I got the size right, but I'm sure I could change it if it's wrong or if you don't like it on...' 'Why don't I just try it on now?' He offers, finally, finally getting the hint. Or maybe he just crumbles at my hopeful, wide-eyed expression. (He usually can't resist that.) 'Oh, what a good idea,' I enthuse, trying to look innocent. I get a slight, retaliatory tug on my braid as he stands up, and a conspiratorial grin from a passing waiter. The shirt, of course, is utterly gorgeous. Just fitted enough to show that there are some serious muscles underneath, and the exactly-right colour for him. 'Oh, yes. Wow. Just one thing; open your top button; yes that's it. There, that's perfect, Heero.' 'Really?' he asks uncertainly, fiddling with his collar after I adjust it, just a tiny bit. 'Stop that, OK?' I order. 'I'm the one who knows about this stuff, and you look sensational. I'm totally taking you shopping at the weekend.' 'We'll see,' he hedges, but I can tell there's a flicker of interest there. 'I'm not really interested in clothes, Duo.' Well, the whole world is aware of that. 'I know, but maybe just a nice pair of trousers to go with the shirt?' I coax. (Or an entire new wardrobe?) 'Anyway, we can think about it later. It's hours since I ate and I'm starving. Shall we order?' Dinner is perfect, utterly. We both order the special tasting menu, and work our way through a grand total of eight courses, each more delicious and perfectly presented than the last. 'Oof,' I finally have to admit defeat, pushing my mango and passionfruit sorbet away. At least, I did manage to eat the miniature tropical fruit kebab that came with it. 'I'm dead. I couldn't eat another bite.' 'Wait, say that again,' Heero teases, pretending to take out his phone. 'I want to record that. Duo Maxwell not being able to finish a dessert. I might even post it on YouTube.' 'Ha ha, Yuy. Very funny.' I stick my tongue out at him, and the waitress who's refilling my water glass clearly has to work very hard not to laugh at me goofing around. They all think I'm beyond adorable at this stage; fussing over me; bringing a second helping of mushroom-and-Gorgonzola stuffed crepes after I'd raved about how divine they were; the head chef himself coming out to present me with a small beribboned package of chocolate fondant to take home. 'Seriously, I'm totally stuffed. I think you might have to carry me out to the car. I don't think I can walk even that far.' 'I thought you wanted to go to that nightclub you were talking about?' 'Oh! Well, we could.' I'm not sure if I want to, any more. I quite like the idea of going home to bed. But..this is Heero, offering to come dancing with me. 'Maybe just for an hour or so, if you don't mind? I kind of told a couple of friends we might be there, they all think I have this imaginary boyfriend, so it'd be nice for them to meet you and see that you really exist. You're sure you want to?' 'Quite sure, yes.' Even though it's only ten thirty, there's already a long line outside the club. I actually have VIP tickets, but before I can take them out of my wallet, one of the bouncers waves us on in. Heero grins at me. 'That's never happened to me before. Is this what it's like dating a celebrity?' 'Oh, pish. You know I'm not. It's probably the hot dark-haired guy in the fabulous blue shirt who they're letting in, not me. I just happen to be with you.' The second time I ever saw Heero was actually in a club. He was with Wufei and Trowa - not that I knew who they were back then - and although Trowa had been wrapped around some stunning blond guy, practically to the point of public indecency (which is saying something for a club like Blur) - Heero and Wufei had spent the night sitting and talking in a corner, Heero shooting his most evil glares at anyone who dared to go near them. I kind of expect we'll end up sitting down and having a drink and just chatting but instead Heero takes my hand and leads me straight on to the dance floor. He's chock-full of surprises, my boyfriend. (So far, always incredibly good surprises.) 'Heero!' I beam at him as he pulls me against him. 'Where did you learn to dance like this? Not at your fancy boarding school?' 'Not exactly.' He slides his hands down, sinfully slowly, down my back, letting them rest on my waist. 'Trowa taught me.' 'Oh, did he now?' I ask, just a little bit sourly. I may like Trowa a lot better than I used to, but I'm not sure I like the idea of him and Heero being quite this close. (Heero and I are currently very close. One hand is sneaking its way under my shirt). Especially as I have a pretty good idea that something happened between the two of them, at some stage. Just an impression I get sometimes, given the way Trowa looks at him. 'Mmm.' Heero kisses his way along my jawbone, catching my earlobe in his teeth, and tugging slightly, making me gasp. 'I hope he didn't teach you to do that.' 'No. Purely natural talent.' I laugh out loud at that, at the smug look on his face. I have this idea in my head about him, about what he's like, a bit shy, a bit geeky, and then he totally blindsides me, groping me on a dance floor. God, I'm crazy about him. After a few more songs, Heero heads to get us some drinks, and I find a couple of stools at the other end of the bar, idly scoping the place out. I don't actually see anyone I know, but it's still early yet. 'Duo Maxwell, right?' The guy suddenly in front of me and smiling is - be honest, Duo - totally hot. Not remotely in Heero's league, but still. 'I'm sorry to bother you, and I'm sure you get sick of hearing this, but I love your books.' 'I never get tired of hearing that.' I give him my most winning charm-the-fans smile. 'I'm glad you like them.' 'Oh, I do.' He asks me a couple of the usual questions - how do you think of your plots? Are the characters based on real people? 'I just have one slight quibble, meeting you in person. That photo in your books doesn't remotely do you justice. Can I buy you a drink?' Wow, that didn't take him long. 'That's really nice of you, but I'm with my boyfriend.' 'Not from where I'm standing.' The smile remains perfectly pleasant, but with just a tiny edge of something else, something predatory. Someone who'd been expecting a yes, please, and who doesn't like taking no thanks for an answer instead. 'And if he's foolish enough to leave you alone like this, then finders keepers, surely.' 'Actually not.' I let my own expression harden, and his face changes. I might look like a pushover, but I grew up on the streets. I can handle myself. 'He said no,' Heero says curtly. Considering he's about the same height as me, he does a pretty good job of suddenly looming over me. 'And he's taken.' Chat-up guy gives me a sullen sort of a nod and slinks off, and I round on Heero. 'Excuse me? What exactly was that about?' He blinks, looking genuinely mystified. Seriously, there are times when I have a desperate urge to shake him. It's like he sometimes just doesn't get any sorts of normal social behaviour. 'What did I do? I was trying to help.' 'How?' I snap. 'Well,' the idiot blunders. 'It looked like he was hassling you. I thought you'd want me to get rid of him.' 'What, you think I'm some delicate flower who can't tell someone to leave me alone? Heero, trust me, if I want to tell someone to push off, I'm quite capable of doing it by myself.' Before I've even finished speaking, I know just exactly what a stupid thing I've said. If. Fizz it. I watch Heero's expression change from slightly puzzled to pissed off, in the space between one heartbeat and the next. One syllable. Oh, Duo. You flitterbrain. 'I'm sorry,' he says coldly, more coldly than he's ever spoken to me. 'I didn't realise I was interrupting something.' Ouch. That's low. 'I'm not having this conversation,' I mutter, and turn on my heel, heading for the exit. 'Duo, wait!' He catches my arm as I stalk down up the steps to the front door, and I whirl around, wrenching free and almost knocking him off balance. 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that.' 'No,' I agree quietly, aware that we're putting on quite the show for people still waiting in line. 'You shouldn't. Is that honestly what you think of me? That I'd be panting to hit on some other guy the minute you're not standing beside me? Well, screw you, Heero!' 'Of course I didn't think that!' 'Well, it's pretty much what you said.' We stand there, glaring at one another. I don't, to be honest, entirely get what's happening, how it's all gone so wrong (except that I suppose sort my part of my brain has spent the whole day dwelling on Hilde's comments about Heero being over-possessive and controlling). And this is wrong, it's awful. Heero, looking at me like that. 'Duo, you can't just walk off like that or...' 'Or what?' I snap. 'You'll hit me? Why don't you fucking try it? Show me just how much like Solo you are? Try it and I'll damn well flatten you.' I've never spoken to him like that, and this time he's the one who walks off. Oh, Shizzle. Shit. I bite my lip, watching him stalk off, pretty sure that I've just destroyed the best relationship I've ever had.
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