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"Warheads"Written By: ExecutiveShrimp Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, it belongs
to Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. Written for pleasure not
profit. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Post War, angst, fluff, psychological
issues, lemon Pairings: 2x1 Summary: Duo and Heero try to become more than
comrades in their attempt to be normal young men. They settle down
but find that peacetime is difficult to adjust to and with only each
other to rely on, it is a struggle, especially for Heero. " Warheads "
"I thought we could do something different." I said with an excited tone, hoping to be able to encourage him to engage me. "What is that for?" Heero suspiciously eyed the object in my hands. I playfully dropped it and it bounced right back up into my grip. "What do you think, genius? For some good ol' fun." I suddenly threw the basketball his way. In spite of the surprise, Heero's reflexes allowed him to effortlessly and elegantly catch it with one hand. Heero held the ball as we continued along the sidewalk, breathing in crisp morning air. "Don't hog the ball." I joked and swatted it out of his hands. The ball bounced out in front of us and I jogged after it to catch it before it would roll into the speeding traffic. I could tell Heero was not convinced. When we arrived at the split between the way to the gym and the way to the park, he halted and positioned himself in the direction of the gym. He was hesitant to accept my logic. "I don't think basket ball will be as effective as an exercise as treadmills and weights." I trapped the ball against my side with my left arm and reached out with my right hand to catch Heero at his elbow and gently ease him along with me towards the park. "Then we'll just get fat and be happy with it." His face remained blank but his wide eyes darting my way betrayed his displeasure at that possibility. Surely it wasn't a vain or purely aesthetic pet peeve of his. Rationality, as always, was his basis. Fat people aren't as fast or agile as thin and toned people, therefore are less likely to dominate a fight or successfully escape a hazardous situation. "You're not gonna get fat." I assured him with a smile and poked him against his hard abdomen. He didn't like that, with a barely concealed cringe he shied away from me. I tried not to let it get to me and pretended I didn't even notice. "Come one, just one game, so I didn't just waste 9.95 on a ball." That was the argument I should have started with. Heero offered no more resistance. Being wasteful was not effective. Not soldier like. I should have known this argument to have the greatest effect on the Perfect Soldier, after all, this was the guy that mastered a guard with the use of a strategically placed cabbage. He was a veritable post colonial reflection of the pre colonial character MacGyver and was never too retired to leave me uninformed of his use of random vegetables and manipulation of at-hand tools to serve a completely different purpose than they were intended to be used for, just to show me the fallacy of my profligate use of explosives that left me no unnoticed escape. Every time I dared to refer to myself as the master of Stealth, I swear to God he never failed to snort. I remembered a game we used to occupy ourselves with when caught in the tedious life of the orphanage. One of the kids would start: "You are going to an uninhabited island and you are allowed to bring only one thing... what would it be?" It was totally unrealistic in the sense that how you could possibly get to this island. The location itself proved a difficulty as well: all landmass on earth had been population by the ever expanding size of the human race before they turned to a solution in outer space. Regardless of the technicality, we enjoyed this came, but I never used to be very good at it, purposefully, to get the other kids to laugh. I was known to bring a pair of mismatched socks, a shower head, a Christmas tree and a telephone booth - mind you, without the actual working telephone. I knew better now. I would bring Heero with me. I believed him to be able to fashion a small handheld weapon out of a pipe, some screws, a string and a bag of potato chips. Imagine what he could do with the natural resources on an uninhabited island. I chuckled to myself. He would probably build a bamboo mobile suit and fly our asses out of there, I thought. I played the game with Quatre once and he surprised me by telling me he would bring disinfecting hand crème. My reply had been: "Obsessive Compulsive Dummy." I chuckled again at the memory, in particular the embarrassed look on his pale face. I caught Heero's questioning look. "Just thinking." I told him before he would go thinking along the lines of undiagnosed mental illnesses - I was laughing to myself after all. With the park still five minutes away I asked him, genuinely curious about his answer: "Heero. You are going to an uninhabited island and you are only allowed to bring one thing with you... What would you bring?" Heero frowned, he kept looking up ahead as he answered me with a hint of confusion. "Why would I go to an uninhabited island?" I rolled my eyes. "I don't know, crash landing or something..." His frown deepened. "Than I would hardly have the time nor the luxury to bring something with me of my choice." I laughed. "Just, for the sake of it, what would you bring if you had anything to choose from?" "A duffel bag?" He suggested tentatively, not sure of the rules and intentions of the game. "What? Why?" I was trying to imagine what good a pile of fabric and threaded shoulder straps would do for your survival in a desolate environment overrun by nature. "A duffel bag has a greater capacity than just my hands and I will be able to bring more with me to this island." I laughed again. He was so adorably dense. "Okay and what would be in the duffel bag?" I pressed. There was an answer I was hoping for, but I wasn't sure I would be able to fit into a duffel bag, or even if Heero would want me with him... He did not understand the use of this game even as a way of gathering information. But he replied nevertheless. "Gun. Swiss knife. Satellite phone. Navigation. Tools. Flares. Warm clothes. Bottles of water. Salt water pump. Food." He nodded, he was done, satisfied that his mentioned equipment would last him for long enough for the emergency troops - that he called with his satellite phone, clever boy - to locate and extract him. He surprised me when he asked: "What would you bring?" I needn't think about it. I did not have a long, practical list to offer. I simply said: "You." Heero wouldn't meet my gaze, strict eyes looking up ahead. "Why?" I was, again, making very little sense to him. "Because your the kind of guy that packs an entire duffel bag." I admitted with a sheepish smile and mentally added: and because I love you more than life itself. "You would willingly put me in a life threatening situation?" I stilled. I hadn't even thought about it that way. It would indeed be a selfish act of mine to bring Heero with me just because I couldn't stand being without him. In the purely hypothetical situation I risked both our lives. "You're right, I'm sorry." We continued our path leading to the park. "That's okay." He said after a while, very soft-spoken. "I would come with you. With my duffel bag." My heart may have burst leaving a mess of bloody gore in my chest but it felt wonderful to hear him say that - it almost sounded like an innocent attempt at a joke. I kept silent for the rest of the way. Enjoying his calm presence, his powerful aura. I wondered if Heero felt these things he radiated himself as well. If that was the case, it would seem easy to fall for the illusion of being invincible. But it was an illusion by the soldier, that tricked us both. I was in no hurry to get to the park, it was Saturday, I had no where else to be, no other responsibilities than to be with my friend and my boyfriend, but I had to keep pace with Heero's strong gate, nearly jogging after him as he covered a meter with every step of his long legs. A lavish green park finally appeared between the space of two business towers, their glass facade reflecting the greenery and optically expanding the size of the truthfully medium sized, rectangular park. I remembered it's lay out from when I had visited the park before. The pond was at the far end, the basketball court hidden somewhere in the middle, flanked by tall trees obscuring the court from sight as it was surrounded by several grassy fields for picnicking, kicking a ball or throwing a Frisbee back and forth. It was an idyllic place I could imagine being filled with happy faces and resounding with laughter, but as early in the morning as we had chosen to go, it was all quiet. Only occasionally a dog, restrained by a leash, barked at a squirrel or an ostentatious cat. I guided Heero along the winding sand and shell paths, taking a wrong turn myself and we ended up approaching the court from the other side, but I pretended that to have been on purpose. Heero assessed the fenced-in court. It was as well maintained as you can expect a public court to be. The nets had been torn away by vandalistic teens, leaving only the hoops, fastened to the backboard by bronze, rusting bolts. Most of the white lines on the court had faded with the wear of shoes and the bouncing of balls, only at the perimeter of the court were they still vaguely distinguishable. Four large spot lights illuminated the court for ambitious players after dark. "C'mon. First one to score 10 points wins." I opened the door in the fence and gestured him to enter. The court may have lost it's shine over the years but it was perfect for a friendly game and some determined groping. "Which side do you want?" Heero strategically chose the side with the sun shining brightly behind it, which would definitely blind me in attempts to even the score. It was not a dishonorable choice, just a smart one, made by a guy not willing to lose. No matter what. I could only respect that and honestly say I would have made the same decision. We had no trouble letting our ego's collide once in a while. "Okay, then I get the ball first." I announced. He nodded, concluding it to be nothing other than fair to have equal advantages. We met at the center of the court - more or less as there were no markers - Heero obstructed my way towards his half, standing close in front of me. His legs were spread for stability, his feet firmly planted. He shifted his weight from left to right, causing a sway-like motion to his body as he prepared to block me whichever way I would try to pass him. In a regular basketball game I could pass the ball to a strategically placed teammate but during a one-on-one game that luxury did not exist. Yet I preferred it that way. One-on-one, like in real life, you had only yourself to count on, no one else to fall back on. Me against the world. I winked at Heero, but my cheap distraction left him unfazed and he kept his eyes intensely fixed on mine. I twisted my body to the left, feigning an attack from that direction, hoping he would turn his body as well and leave my right exposed to break through and score. I quickly twisted back and started to dribble the ball right, to pass him. Unfortunately it was another clear-cut trick that could not deceive Heero Yuy. With lightening speed he extended his left arm and hit the ball out of my reach before it could bounce back up to my hand. We both hurried to gain possession of the ball. Both our fingers touched it but Heero could put more strength into his fingers, having maneuvered himself into the perfect position. He successfully distanced the ball from me. It all happened so fast. By the time I realized the ball had not moved in my favor, Heero had already bypassed me and was quickly dribbling towards my hoop, almost as fast he could run, not hindered by having to dribble the ball along with him. I raced after him, becoming competitive when I saw him near a score of 2 - 0. I rammed my body into him, unable to stop at the speed that I had built up, just as he threw the ball into the air. As the ball flew, we crashed to the ground. I landed half on top of Heero, reducing my painful impact with the concrete, but adding to his. I heard the ball go through the hoop but I paid no attention to it. I removed my weight from Heero's frame, hearing him suck in a lungful of air. My heart throbbed with guilt and worry. I knelt by him and rolled him onto his back. More painful pangs of hideous guilt when I noticed the scrape on his chin and his difficult breathing. "I am so sorry! Are you okay?" Subconsciously I stroked a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs out of his face, fully exposing a slight grin and victorious twinkle to his eyes as he whispered with a coarse voice, still out of breath: "Two - zero." I sighed in relief. If he was okay enough to brag, he was fine. "Okay show-off. Up on your feet." I got up and reached out a hand for him. Heero accepted the offered hand, gripping it tightly and allowing me to hoist his light weight off the ground and to his feet. The game continued and I didn't hold myself back because of the foul tackle and neither did Heero. If he was in any pain, he never showed, just as eagerly tackling me to the ground. We both turned the game into a crossbred of full-contact football and the actual game the court was designed for. But we could both handle the abuse and enjoyed - or at least I did - showing off our strength and agility. It was "Basketball for Gundam pilots". I also used the moments after a tackle to my advantage, using it as excuses to grab his hand or playfully touch him, grateful that he never pulled away from me or avoided the contact. Not long after Heero's first two points, I made an impressive throw and turned the score to 3-2 in my favor. But Heero returned by scoring two times in a row, making me growl at the fact that I had only half his points at 6-3. Heero narrowly evaded my tactics and made it a brutal 9-3. Fuelled by my competitive nature I was damned to let him score again. I balanced my position as offender and defender equally and managed to excel at both, nearly evening the score by reaching 9-8 with two remarkable throws. I hadn't kept track of time but we were both sweating from the exercise and the sun had started to burn our skin and bake the concrete. I was determined to finish the game, either way and I knew Heero wouldn't want to quit on the account of the heat either so we kept going as the front and back of our shirts got soaked along with our bangs, plastering to our foreheads. We were both dirty but I loved it and the sheen on Heero's golden skin started to distract me as I spent more time playfully holding on to his shirt while guarding him than actually paying attention to the ball. Then, suddenly, we were right by my hoop and Heero made the shot. I held my breath as I watched the ball soar. I felt sorry the game would come to an end and to lose, but Heero never missed. Until then. The ball hit the backboard with too much force and overshot the hoop, coming back into the playfield. He missed. Oh my God, I thought, he missed... Heero, apparently, was as shocked as I was and I managed to compose myself a fraction faster than he did. I ran back and snatched the slightly bouncing ball off the court and dribbled it to the far end. Heero was right behind me but he would not be able to catch up and block my shot. It was all about the aim, but I didn't have much time to carefully aim my shot with Heero hot on my heels, so I kept running till I was right by the hoop and then jumped up. I was too short and not nearly athletic enough to slam dunk, but with my body high up in the air the distance the ball had left to go was greatly reduced and therefore the aim need not be so accurate. I threw the ball towards the hoops as my body was guided back to earth by gravity. My feet landed but my spirit soared, ecstatic. 10 - 9! "Oh yeah! Who's your daddy?" Heero stared. I laughed at his slightly perplexed features "It's just an expression." My words were breathless as I panted heavily. I doubled over, holding my hands against my legs just above the knees. Heero was considerably less exhausted but also took deep, audible breaths. I straightened myself back up and asked Heero, who was the only one of us wearing a watch, what time it was. He brought his wrist up to his face and pursed his lips in dismay as he read the time. "I'm late for work." He stated. "It's nine thirty." We had been playing for just under two hours, apparently well matched on the court. More so than I dared to believe. "You can't be late for work Heero, it's Saturday. It's the weekend." Unfortunately his definition of "weekend" stopped at "regularly on Saturday and Sunday" and didn't include: "a weekly rest period from one's work." The weekend was merely the time he used to do everything that he didn't get done during the week and since there would always be a never ending string of perceived threats to the Earth Sphere Unified Nation, his weekends would never be for resting. But maybe, I thought, I could engage him in an activity other than work that we had yet to find time for. "Don't go to work. They can miss you one day." His skeptical expression implied that they couldn't and I was inclined to believe him, I was also inclined not to care about their needs, but more about ours, as human beings, as friends, and possibly, someday, as lovers. "Please? I really need your help with something, I can't do it without you." "School?" I stuck my tongue out at him. "No, not school. I may not have memorized the wide array of textbooks like you, mister Anal Retentive, but I am not stunted in my cerebral growth." I chaffed. "I need help with the office. I didn't have time to paint it yet. I really want you to help me." We started exiting the court. Heero took the ball with him, playing around with it a little. "Please?" I continued, batting my eyelashes at him in mockery. "Hn." He finally agreed. "Great. Thanks buddy." I flung an arm around him, not bothered by the sweat and neither was he. "Wanna jog home? Take a detour through the park?" Heero nodded, welcoming the actual work-out. "Okay than." I took the ball from him so he didn't have to carry it. After all, it had been my decision to buy one and so, if I couldn't pay for the purchase, I could at least carry it so he wouldn't have to. It was awkward jogging with the ball in my hands as usually my arms moved independently of each other, moving back and forth in the opposite direction, but holding the ball they had to move in unison. I quickly found my stride however and I jogged at a good pace, with Heero a heartbeat behind me. I guided him along the paths, taking us further away from our apartment, in the direction of the pond. I wanted to show him everything the park had to offer. Heero jogged behind me in step the entire time. Occasionally I looked over my shoulder to catch his gaze. One time, I grinned at him and I called back to him: "Enjoying the view?" "Hn?" He responded. Oh you heard me, I thought with a smirk. Once we had passed the pond, I took us straight back home, realizing it was way too hot to be jogging, especially after an intense game of basketball. I couldn't even bear to get myself up the stairs so I pressed the elevator button once we had arrived back at our building. Heero seemed to have the energy to climb the stairs, but he came to stand by me, balancing himself with one hand against the wall while he pulled up one leg at a time, stretching the muscles, as we waited for the elevator to descend. We stepped out on our floor and I practically had to drag myself through the narrow hallway to our front door. I would be fine after a cool shower but no sooner than that. I fished the key out of the deep pockets of my cut off sweatpants, the pant legs threading at the knees after I attacked them with a simple pair of scissors. It was warm inside our apartment. I reached for the remote of the AC to turn the air-conditioning on. With a hum the machine came to life and started blowing blissful cool air into the space. Heero, in the meantime, had gone into the kitchen and emerged with two bottles of water. "You go shower first." I said, halfway through my bottle as Heero threw away his empty bottle in the plastic recycle bin. He nodded and left for the bathroom. I placed my water on the dinner table and strained my muscles in a final effort, clearing the office of furniture so we could safely move around and not spill paint on anything important. It was a surprisingly short and simple task. The bookcase I tilted on it's back and dragged out and both our desks - with everything on it - were dragged out just as easily. My pen cup fell over and colorful pencils spilt all over the floor, other than that the removal went without a hitch and before Heero had returned dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a white shirt, I had emptied the entire room, leaving it with an echo. A lonesome bucket of paint in the center of the room was all there was. I instructed Heero to cover the edges of the wooden floor of our office with old newspapers and then took a long shower to cool my burning body. I turned the faucet to frigid and after the initial scare when I stepped under the spray, violently shuddering, I thoroughly enjoyed it. The water silenced my muscles' protest, melting away the aches and pains. Soaked under the hard cascade of cold water I undid my braid and combed through it with my fingers before lathering it richly with shampoo and then conditioner. I took my time cleaning myself but not drying myself. I braided my hair while it was still damp, almost wet, and water immediately soaked through the fabric of my shirt when I put on some old clothes, but it felt fresh against my back, in particular in the cooling air of the apartment. Clean and proper and stepped out of the bathroom and went back to the office. Heero had splayed out all the equipment that I had bought before, but had stored for later use. The bucket of paint was at his feet and he was looking down at it with what I interpreted as trepidation - based on the few signs I had to go on with Heero's face being an ever frozen tableau. His arms were tense, his hands balled to loose fists, his head hung meekly, allowing himself some privacy behind his haphazard bangs. The bucket of paint looked like a bucket of blood. I tried to lighten the mood with a cheery smile, scolding myself for not thinking about the color more carefully. I was certain though that once it was dry on the wall, it wouldn't have such a resemblance to the spills of war anymore. "You don't like the color, buddy?" "Hn." Heero tore his eyes away from the paint and reached for a roller. "Nuh uh, buddy." I handed him a roll of tape. "First we tape off all the edges, the window sills and the doorframe and then we do the corners with the brush." He obeyed my instructions and lined all the woodwork and the corners where the walls met the ceiling on one side, while I taped off the other side with a second roll of tape. I finished earlier because I was much less of a perfectionist. Instead of trying to tell him that "sorta straight" would be fine too, I let him line the paper with a focused eye as I prepared two trays for us to work with and unwrapped two brushes. When he was done I handed him a tray with a little bit of paint on it, the thick consistency of the paint showed on the tray and made it less reminiscent of blood, fortunately. "Corners. Everywhere the roller can't reach without painting something we don't want painted." Heero took to his own side with his orders and I took to mine, often turning back to look at him as he balanced himself on the seat of one of the dinner table chairs to reach the ceiling, one foot propped up on the back of the chair. The sex was definitely coming, I noted as my eyes lingered lengthily on his ass, where the jeans fit him a little tighter. I waited patiently for him to finish the wall he was working on, not at all minding the view of his body from a lower area. The angle accentuated his long legs and the curve of his behind. I felt like touching him, not sexually, but just reach out a hand and touch his leg, or his arm, just to reassure myself he was actually there, with me and that this was real, because it didn't feel real, it felt too good to be true. But I knew I shouldn't randomly touch him. He wouldn't like it. Yet. "Looks good." I said, appreciating his handy work as he climbed off the chair. I looked at his front and whereas his crisp white shirt was still perfectly clean, I had a read smear across the "TAMPA" of one of my school shirts, wipes of red paint on my forearm and, I knew, a smudge on the side of the bridge of my nose where I stilled an itch with fingers wet with paint. Mischief got over me. I was still holding my wet brush in my hand. Before I knew it I reached up my hand and swiped the brush right by his face, catching his nose. The soldiers mask was disgraced by a red, clown-like nose tip and for a moment, the soldier shrank, withering back inside of embarrassment and left Heero wide eyed and with raised eyebrows. He is so cute. I thought, before deciding on another bold move. I leaned forward, tilted my head and kissed him. A sweet and tender peck to his lips. I could feel the wet tip of his nose against my cheek, marking me even more. A mark on my cheek to mirror the mark he had left on my soul, his fingerprints on my heart, the only evidence of his crime of passion. I had nothing else to show for our relationship other than the wild beating of my own heart whenever he permitted me to come close. Somehow that was okay. Pictures could come later, if not, I had these memories that I would treasure and keep vivid by reliving them everyday with him by my side. I broke from his lips and from my own sentimental train of thought. I smiled at his thoughtful expression as he labeled and logged the sensations and emotions I was making him feel for future reference. I pressed my face forward and brought our noses together, making sure mine would end up as red as his. When I pulled back, Heero's hand tentatively appeared in front of my face and with it he wiped the red of my nose. "You look ridiculous." He stated firmly, furrowing his eyebrows as he concentrated on the task of making me less "clownesque". "You look adorable." He moved his hand to rub the paint off his own face. He rejected "adorable", caught in a box that didn't allow men to be adorable or cute, only manly, invincible and impassive. It was a box of which he would have to free himself. One of many faulted beliefs that if not shaken, would impair him, cripple him in life like a paraplegic was crippled in a triathlon. To break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen between us and was especially hard on Heero, I handed him a roller to start work on the large surfaces. Instead of each of us working on our own side, with our backs turned to each other, we worked side by side. He definitely had a distracting effect on me. I noticed the paint didn't take to the wall evenly, some places were darker than others. I realized that it would probably need another layer, then at least it would be less noticeable. With neither of us skilled at decorating, I wasn't surprised. The lighter colors in the other rooms didn't show uneven coverage as much as the dark red shade. I knew it wouldn't bother me. I had a way of seeing imperfections as something pertaining of character. For example, I loved the way the color of my eyes were uneven, one having more violet in it than the other and I used to love the big scratch Deathscythe had on the left side of it's face, something that I had never gotten fixed as it posed no threat to the mechanics or inner workings of the machine. And I loved Heero, as unwilling as he would be to admit it, he was imperfect and should never have to apologize for it. Every single imperfection humanized him and distanced him from the mold of the soldier. We finished early in the afternoon, perfect timing for lunch. I sat Heero down at the dinner table and prepared him lunch, a hearty sandwich with lettuce, chicken, tomatoes and cheese. We had never had lunch together before, so I had no idea if he would like what I had made for him. When he was done with it, I still didn't know if he liked it. He ate the whole thing in silence and with a blank expression. I asked him a painful question that was weighing down on my heart. "Would you rather be at work?" As always, Heero gave my answer lengthy consideration. He never answered a question lightly or dishonestly. "No." My heart felt feather light and fluttering through my chest. The words "flirting butterfly" came to mind as my heart behaved erratically in my body. I knew for sure then, with a light smile, that I wasn't just Heerosexual, I was a total queer, but I was just as sure that in spite of thinking things like "flirting butterfly", having a braid and being experienced with men, Heero would be the only one to have my heart, ever. He may have wiped the paint of my nose but there was nothing he could do about the other marks he had made, that initially tore into my flesh like searing bullets - a favor I returned quite literally - but now warmed me comfortably. After lunch we applied a second layer. The description on the side said we were supposed to wait four hours, but I was eager to get the job done and Heero was eager to have anything to do at all. My drive wavered however when I caught the sight of him stretching his body as he moved the roller up and down the wall. I would have never guessed painting to be such a sexual activity, but I was definitely interested in the movements of his body and the modest exposure of skin when he fully stretched up and a line of his toned abdomen became visible as the shirt hiked up. His elongated body with his back arched was enough to make me feel something that exceeded jealousy of his physique. I blushed slightly when I finally noticed Heero had caught my stare a long time ago and was looking right back at me with a quirked eyebrow, the roller in his hand, frozen midair. "Nothing..." I muttered and continued with my small piece of wall. We were done an hour later. The paint was still a little uneven, but only visibly so when it caught the sunlight and we usually had the drapes lowered to minimize glare on the screens of our laptops anyway. I moved to stand by Heero and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. He immediately tensed up and leaned a little to the side, away from me, but he didn't remove himself from my casual embrace. "I think we did a pretty amazing job." I appreciated, scanning the wall with a much less stern expression than Heero was. He just remained silent. "How about a drink?" I asked, I had worked up a sweat myself, in spite of the air-conditioning. Together Heero and I walked back to the kitchen and from the refrigerator I got two bottles of beer, twisted the caps off and handed him a bottle. It immediately dawned on me that he probably never had alcohol before so I advised him to take it slow, but didn't take the drink away from him, curious to see his reaction to his first taste. Heero held the opening of the bottle under his pointy nose and carefully sniffed. "It's beer." I said. "Everybody drinks it." "I know it's beer." He snapped. Still, he took his time analyzing the beverage before taking his first sip, whereas I was already halfway through my drink. He gingerly brought the opening to his lips and tilted his head back for a drink. He quickly straightened his neck and held the bottle away from his mouth, struggling to hide his negative reaction to the strong and outspoken taste. His lips became a thin, taut line. I chuckled but stopped when he gave me a slightly angry look. He did not appreciate my mockery. "Sorry. You don't like it, do you?" "It's very distasteful." He spoke honestly. I nodded and took the final gulp from my own bottle. "Yeah, most people sort of have to learn to appreciate it." "Why?" He frowned deeply, for his standards, "Didn't you say taste was most important?" I smiled, happy to have confirmed that he had actually been listening to me all this time and that my words hadn't fallen to deaf ears. "Well, yeah. But everybody drinks beer, it's normal for guys to drink beer, it's like a rite of passage. And once you get used to it, you really start to like it. I like it. Maybe not so much the taste but... it makes me feel relaxed." Heero looked at the label on his bottle. "Relaxed?" He asked, in search of clarity and understanding. "Yeah... Uhm..." I didn't know how to explain the benefits of alcohol to him. "Won't you get intoxicated from the alcohol?" He asked, as his eyes fell on the "5% alcohol" logo at the bottom of the label. "Not from a bottle or two. Besides, it's not terrible to get a little drunk once in a while." That, the soldier in him did not understand. "Why?" He asked, only seeing the downsides of being drunk: less aware of your surroundings, lulled into a false sense of security, weakened, sluggish... "Because when you get drunk... you know... you just feel... happier and uninhibited, carefree." My words only added to his confusion, I could tell. It went against the rules. Always the rules. 1) The mission has priority. This first rule makes your own happiness secondary to anything that is even remotely relevant to the mission. 2) Be inconspicuous. People who are uninhibited attract attention with their loud voices and crazy antics. 3) Never let your guard down. This, by definition, conflicts with being carefree, on top of that alcohol impairs the reflexes. Getting drunk would be like tying and gagging the inner soldier. Heero relied too heavily on him to have him fully restrained and silenced. I took the bottle from him with an understanding but sad smile and emptied it in the sink. Of course I wasn't sad that he didn't like beer, I hadn't expected him to, it was saddening to be reminded of the deep rooted power of the soldier. His leadership over Heero was as true and undeniable as the words of God to me. A deranged soldier is a frightening persona to obey as your God. Under his reign a bucket of red paint would always look like a bucket of blood, filled by the drops that fall from our stained hands. We tore the tape of the doorframe and the window sill and removed the pages of news that covered the floor. Words of natural disasters and colony malfunctions that had caught droplets of red paint. I ignored the news articles as I bunched up the paper to make it fit in the garbage bin. The horrors they referred to were on the other side of the world, or in space, there was a time that we would answer a call of distress from any location and raced towards there faster than the speed of light. Now everything except our own lives was out of our hands, out of our reach of power. It was difficult to accept sometimes, other times, it was relieving that you could just turn the page and the trouble would be gone. The office was quickly redecorated and the red paint looked good with the dark furniture and the light floor. I sealed the left-over paint in the bucket and stored it under the sink just in case. On the walls it didn't remind me of blood anymore, I hoped Heero felt the same. He didn't appear to be uncomfortable in the room with the screaming walls, he sat himself down behind his desk and booted up his laptop. I took my cue and let him be, he had had plenty of exposure today and it would be best for him to be able to withdraw and privately reflect on today. I started work on an early dinner, figuring we could eat a little sooner after a day filled with such activity. We had dinner and afterwards I popped in another classic DVD for us to see and hopefully enjoy. I had so many comments to the movie the credit should have cited me as a narrator. Heero either ignored me and focused on the movie, or ignored both of the input. He didn't say a single thing and his face didn't twitch towards an expression, not even once. After the movie had finished Heero took another shower by way of habit. I remained on the couch, watching as the movie scrolled through it's credits and faded to grey snow. I wished everyday could have been like that day. It didn't matter if he was the soldier or not, if he saw buckets of blood or not or if he was being quiet and hesitant or not, I loved simply being in his presence and watching him live. Every breath he took brought me joy and relief. I pitied myself for the fact that good days as these would be rare, at least for the time being, but I hoped he knew it was what I wanted and that he would eventually want it too. The fall of water stopped so I started turning off the lights and joined him in the bedroom. I walked into the bedroom just as he pulled down his shirt and I was startled by the sight of his bruised stomach. His skin had turned a hideous shade of yellow and purple over the lowest ribs of his left side. He had possibly even cracked them. I didn't think when I landed on top of him that morning and he was bragging soon after that his injuries could be so severe, broken ribs seemed extreme for a tackle to the ground but I had been found guilty of not knowing my own strength intimately before. Maybe, after the all the time that I have known him, I should have known better. But attuned to him as I was, even I was flawed when it came to diagnosing wounds on a patient that wouldn't even cringe when you thread a needle to his skin to suture a cut. He froze and looked at me. Questioning me with his eyes. "Are you okay?" I gestured at his abdomen. "It's fine. It's nothing." He said, getting into his bed. I said the same thing to Aston after I had fallen during a basketball game, but that had only concerned a bloody scrape. Broken ribs were worth mentioning! His eyes challenged me to go all mother hen on me. Instead, he - ironically - made me chicken out and keep silent, but I was worried and plagued with guilt, for hurting him and for not noticing it sooner. I changed into my nightwear, still modestly hidden behind the closet door. Fully dressed I closed the door but instead of walking over to my own bed, I walked over to Heero's, where he was rigidly lying on his back, his eyes fixed intently on me. I leaned over with a reassuring smile and placed one hand carefully over his abdomen. I could feel the taut muscles through the fabric of the thin sheet and his shirt and felt the muscles tense up nervously, I stroked back and forth with my thumb in an attempt to ease his mind and show him my care and worry. It was hopeful - at the least - that he would be able to deduct all this from a single touch, but hopeful was the kind of person I had quickly grown to be, to thwart the affects of constant disappointment in life. "Goodnight, Heero." I said and united our lips briefly. Heero barely moved his lips with the kiss. When I parted us, he remained passively on the bed, staring up at me with calculating eyes. "Thank you for your help today." I said and then went over to my own bed, crawling under the sheets with a content sigh. "I love you." I whispered sentimentally. He was silent for a long time, deceiving me into thinking he had fallen asleep, but then he said: "... I love you too." I wasn't sure if he truly meant it the way I had, but either way it was uncharacteristically thoughtful and romantic of him to say, even if he just meant as a friend, or even if he just said so to please me. The details were left to my creative interpretation, but one thing was clear: His innately kind heart cared for me.
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