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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 "
He breathed so quietly. Like he didn't breathe at all. Like he was already dead. Like in spite of all my efforts, in spite of all my care, I had lost him. My eyes strained in the dawn, staring at his back. Sunlight barely filtered through the curtain but I could already tell it was going to a hot, sunny day. I watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he lay turned away from me. The silence with which he did everything sometimes took my breath away. I couldn't understand why he was always so quiet. Why he tiptoed through the apartment like a feline on the prowl. Why he put his empty cup of coffee so softly and delicately back down on the counter, to ensure it would make no sound. An eerie realization had come to me that I wished I could take back, that I wished I could forget: he wanted to go through this world unnoticed. He wanted no one to know he was there. Maybe so no one would miss him when he's gone. When he leaves the world will just as silent. My heart clenched and I rolled over onto my back, gasping for air, careful not to wake him. When he's gone... I thought grimly. I reached for my alarm clock before the alarm could sound and I turned the timer off. I laid in bed a few more minutes, cocking my head to the side so I could look at him. It was easy to forget he had saved the world - twice - when you're looking at him while he looks so fragile yet calm in his sleep. Lost in his dreams. If J didn't choke those out of him. I rose to my feet, got dressed in comfortable clothes and headed out for my daily bagel run. "Fresh out of the oven!" The sweet lady announced with pride as she handed me a paper bag that felt warm to the touch. "Enjoy, my boy." "I will, thank you." I could feel her watching me through her thick glasses as I left. Looking out for me, I liked to think. Halfway home I decided to open the bag, so the hot air could vent out instead of turning the bagels moist and soggy. At home I remembered with a growl that I had emptied out the pot of peanut butter the previous morning and had neglected to do groceries since. I scoured the cabinets and the refrigerator, throwing away of pack of cheese that had gone bad as it had been forgotten. I decided on blueberry jelly, I had been given a free sample two weeks ago. The small glass pot was just enough to smear our two bagels. The taste was odd, nothing like anything I had tasted before. Not bad just... it wasn't peanut butter. I felt guilty towards Heero. I had had the entire week off and I didn't even do the groceries, too wrought with concerns regarding the dilemma I faced with Sookie. I poured a second cup of coffee when the bedroom door opened and finished just in time to hand it to him. He took it with his right hand as his left brought the bagel to his mouth. He took a large bite, chewed, swallowed and then took a sip of coffee. This pattern he repeated till he was out of bagel and out of coffee. He never even reacted to the different taste. I reminded myself not to get disappointed but instead; be happy. The reason he didn't say anything about the jelly was the same reason he didn't say anything about the cheese: he appreciated my efforts and didn't want to sound ungrateful. I boldly placed a loving kiss on his cheek. Heero froze for a fraction of a second, then he moved over to the sink to put away his cup and his plate. Without a sound. "Don't forget," I called before he could hurry out of the door, "tuxedo shopping and the mall closes at six O'clock." "I'll try." He responded, shouldering his jacket. "Heero," I pressed, walking up to him, "it's important. It's a freakin' ball, we need fancy suits." He nodded. "I understand." Yet he did not make me any promises before he walked out of the door and left me alone for another day of busying myself warding off boredom and deep thought. I used my time to catch up on the laundry which had not been my priority in a while and we were fast running out of decent clothes. I had toyed with the idea of neglecting the task sufficiently long that Heero would be forced to wear his old pair of spandex shorts again, for my entertainment, but seeing as laundry was one of the few contributions I had to make to our household, I could not stand the guilt of seeing the clothes pile and spill out of the hamper. After the laundry I started to clean. I certainly wasn't the type to highly value a spotless environment, but I also was not the type to sit around. Like a true housewife I worked my way through the entire apartment, wiping the dust off every painfully empty surface and finishing my rounds with a halfhearted attempt to fluff the pillows of the couch, but it was hopeless. Heero's thrifty attitude had left us with a poor investment of a couch of which the cushions deflated and bore the impressions of our behinds on the seats and dents in the armrests where we leaned our elbows. It was pathetic, honestly. But I could not demand it to be any different than it was. It was Heero's money, it was only normal for him to be in charge of it. After all, it were his tedious hours behind a computer screen, both at home and at the office, that earned us every dollar. I supposed it wouldn't be a bad idea if I found myself a part-time job, considering I was so far ahead with school work and found no subject a true challenge to pass. With those intentions I started surfing the web, but soon got sidetracked as I encountered news articles and life-style updates concerning the ball that Saturday. There was a particular interest which set the base for all information regarding the two sources. The news articles' headlines mostly read: "Will Gundam Pilots reveal identity?" and polls with percentages of how many of the public would appreciate us doing so - frightingly many. Other categories posed mundane and seemingly irrelevant questions such as: "What will Relena Peacecraft wear?" The frivolousness of those texts somewhat consolidated me, but still it felt like the whole world was frantically chasing our fading, shadowy footprints, trying to uncover who we were. Quatre was still a main suspect, but elegantly waved every question regarding his participation in the wars. Trowa was stoic, with his arms crossed in the background of most pictures of the blonde. I smiled knowing they had stuck together, like Heero and I had. Saving each other like we did, but I suddenly worried about WuFei, even though I never had a strong affinity with the fifth Gundam Pilot, seeing as we met only fleetingly. The same was true for Trowa, yet that was different. I assumed because he and I were connected through Quatre and Heero. I curiously wondered who else would attend the highly publicized ball, whether invitations had been extended to brave, though anonymous fighters such as Hilde. I had my doubts. I strongly believed even we, as the Gundam pilots who saved the world, would not have been invited if the hostess hadn't developed a questioning crush on Heero. After all, when you strip away the Gundanium alloy, we were mere foot soldiers, readily sacrificed if need be. Heero's suicide attempt clearly illustrated that wry fact. I shouldn't think about that any more, I told myself sternly, squeezing my eyes shut to erase the heart stopping images the screens in my Gundam had displayed, of Wing lighting up and bits and pieces - and Heero - being violently blown away. I distracted myself with a much needed trip to the grocery store, where I was in luck, both the peanut butter and the beer were on sale; two for the price of one. I loaded the cart to make sure I would never again have to serve Heero a breakfast that might not be to his liking. The beer was starting to become a guilty pleasure which Heero still did not understand the appeal of. Though it still amused me to occasionally see him try when he accepted my offer of a sip of my bottle. I was home just in time. It was four O'clock and Heero was supposed to be home any minute. I put away the groceries hastily, probably misplacing a large number of items. I waited by the door, anxious for him to get home and get to the mall, we had to take the underground train to the mall, that alone would take us twenty minutes. It wasn't until four thirty that a keycard was sliced through the lock and the knob turned. The door swung open and even though I probably shouldn't have, I immediately berated him for being "so damn late". At his meek apology and downward cast gaze my heart immediately melted and anger dripped away to a soon forgotten puddle. I wrapped my arm around his neck and kissed him quickly. "It's okay, but we gotta hurry." I dragged him out of the apartment and down the stairs, which I figured would be faster than waiting for the agonizingly slow elevator. We raced down the street towards the nearest underground station. When we descended the stairs into the fluorescently lit tunnel that bustled with human activity I was still holding his hand. I didn't even pay attention. I guided him down the escalator with a long, monotone string of "Excuse me. Excuse me." as we wormed our way through the static figures. Overhead a computerized, though distinctly female voice announced with strange, misplaced tones and exaggerated articulation: "Ladies and gentlemen, the red line train of four forty will be departing from platform three in two minutes." We passed a downward tilted tunnel that read "Platform 1". I sped up our already frantic pace, even Heero had trouble keeping up with me, strangely. I could feel weight on my arm as I sometimes literally had to drag him along. Finally we reached a tunnel with an overhead sign that read: "Platform 3". In all my haste I had nearly missed it. We ran down the slope and I nearly stumbled. The red train was already at the platform. When we reached it I firmly placed myself in the opening of the door, hoping to be able to keep it open. Heero passed me and just as I followed him inside the doors closed with a beep and a screech. The train jolted away with a start, with both Heero and I losing our balance. As it built up speed we found ourselves the nearest seat and heavily sat ourselves down. "Wow..." I appreciated after I had caught my breath. In the reflection of the black window I saw how red my face was. Heero looked alright, maybe that was why he had been straggling, because he didn't fully exert himself. "Just in time, huh buddy?" Only then did I release his hand to playfully punch him against his shoulder. "Yeah." Two stops later the tunnel ascended and the train naturally followed, creating a strange feeling in my gut, like I got when flying Death Scythe. Suddenly we were immersed in bright, blinding light. The train had come to a full stop by the time I could see. We had reached the above ground station of the mall, underneath a large glass roof, six stories above us, that spanned the size of a football field and allowed rich, late afternoon sunlight to pour in. "Wow..." I repeated myself, as we exited the train. It certainly made for a dramatic first encounter. We were inside what appeared to be the main lobby, flanked by high glass walls on opposite sides that housed the many department stores and fashion boutiques and on the other two glass facades to the outside world. In a transparent print on one of the outdoor facing facades was the shape of a crescent moon, because from a bird's perspective, that was the shape of the mall, with the glass section cutting it in two. Within the all-white space large trees grew towards the glass ceiling and crystals were suspended underneath the support beams with invisible wires, to create the illusion of brilliantly falling rain. "This is amazing." I commented as I stared around myself. "I thought we were in a hurry." Heero deadpanned. "Right." I took his hand again and lead the way, even though I didn't have a clue where to go. Fifteen minutes of wasted time later I found us the entrance to a luxurious men clothing store with an entire department completely devoted to expensive suits and tuxedos. Even though it was likely to be past our - Heero's - price point, we entered, not willing to risk wasting more time trying to find a more budget-appropriate store. We were instantly greeted by a helpful, if a little pushy, salesman who explained to us what was in style and what was more classic and demure. When he started talking tails and cufflinks he lost me and I interjected with a curt, bordering on impatient: "We just want to buy two tuxedos, or neat suits." "That is fine, young sir." He guided us to a rack of suits that extended for several meters. "This is our selection of formal tuxedos and suits." "Are these all different sizes or different designs?" "Different designs." He was starting to get arrogant with us, casting annoyed glancing at my silent better half. A dangerous glare from the master himself resolved that. "We just want regular designs, nothing fancy." "Color?" Finally a question I could answer. "Black." "Perhaps a dark grey suit for your friend, so you won't look identical. Besides, I really like grey on someone with such blue eyes." I stared at the salesman incredulously. Was he flirting with my boyfriend right before my eyes? "Fine." I snapped, eager to get him to leave. "I'll go get something in your sizes." He scurried away. "What an ass." I whispered to Heero, fingering through the hangers. "I thought he was very helpful." Heero said dryly, aimlessly looking around himself. "Oh please." I reacted, still bothered by the attitude of the salesman, "Don't be so politically correct. Don't start. He's an ass. He was totally undressing you with his eyes." Heero apparently did not understand what that insinuated and innocently replied: "Maybe that's part of his job description." Laughter abruptly burst out of me "Well, you never know..." The salesman returned, carrying in one hand a collection of dark grey suits and in the other classical black tuxedos and some simple white button-ups. Draped over his shoulder was a colorful collection of ties, both regular and bow. Oh God, I dreaded. He escorted us both to the fitting rooms and sent us in with our respective sets. As I tried on the first suit I realized that in spite of the instant dislike I harbored for the man, he was expertly suited for his job. The entire tuxedo fitted me perfectly. I looked at the mirror. A sharply dressed adult looked back at me. We should be going to parties with our friends at the ages we were at, instead we were attending one of the most important social events hosted annually on earth. War or no war, the workings of the universe never ceased to be odd. When I stepped out Heero's curtain was still closed. The salesman started gushing over me, complimenting me on my physique and adjusting the suit on my shoulders even though it didn't require adjusting. "An instant success!" He beamed at me. "Yeah, it's good." I looked at myself in the mirror again, feeling alienated from myself. "How's it goin' in there, buddy?" "Fine." Heero grumbled. It's not that he minded fitting clothes, it probably bothered him that the salesman had stuck around to observe. He ripped the curtain open. His face did not look pleased but the suit was perfect, only the jacket might need some minor taking in. The color was a dark anthracite that still contrasted nicely with the stark white of the button-up shirt and the salesman was right, the shade was a good combination with the deep blue of his eyes. I had a goofy smile on my face and a twinkle in my eyes. Why was I suddenly envisioning a wedding? I snapped myself out of it and pulled him alongside me, so we could look at ourselves in the mirror. Together. There were two things I realized at that moment. The less significant one being that I had been quickly outgrowing Heero lengthwise. The second one was that I hoped to see us in suits again, for a very special day. The salesman made the same observation that I had made, that Heero's jacket could be taken in a little. He pinched in the sides of the jacket, to illustrate what the end result would be. Heero did not like the closeness but contained himself. I told him we needed the suits by tomorrow, he assured us that it would be no problem, it would be done by morning. "Now for the ties." He spread out the ties he had brought, along his arm, they dangled down like lifeless snakes. "I have a tie." Heero commented. "You're not wearing your Preventer tie." "You're a Preventer?" The salesmen inquired with excited curiosity. "You seem a little young to be a Preventer." "It's just a desk job." "Still..." He wisely dropped the subject and tried again: "Ties! What do you prefer?" As Heero made no comments I decided for the two of us. For Heero I picked a faded blue-grey, regular tie and for myself a black bowtie, simply because I thought bowties were funny and that ball was going to be serious enough as it was. At the same store we also bought fancy dress shoes. Heero handed the cashier his credit card and paid the large sum of money for the high-end suits. Yet we left with nothing. Overnight Heero's jacket would be tailored, both suits would be pressed and the shoes would be shined. I was to pick them up first thing in the morning. As we walked back to the station I commented proudly, looking at my watch: "Right on time." Around us shop doors started closing. Heero grunted, disinterested. "Are you looking forward to seeing the other pilots again tomorrow?" He shrugged, not sure where to put his emotions. "I'm really excited about seeing Quat again. You must have the same thing with Trowa." "Why?" His adorable, genuinely questioning frown appeared between his eyebrows. "Well, cuz you spent so much time together. And he saved your life and all." "I should like him because he saved my life?" His tone became demanding. "Well... Yeah, I think so." Before I could further explain myself he said accusingly: "So you only like me because I saved your life?" "What?" I stared into his angry eyes. I looked back kindly, lovingly and patiently, placing my hands on his shoulders, feeling the rigidness of his body. "What I meant was that you should at least be thankful. That creates some sort of bond. I am also grateful that you saved me. That you saved all of us. And maybe that is why I like you. But that's not the reason I love you." "Then why do you?" He still sounded cynical. "Because to me, you are perfect." I answered honestly and it appeared that I had struck a chord. I watched his eyes become vulnerable before they pointedly searched for something else to look at, avoiding eye contact. "I am?" His voice didn't sound resentful anymore, just full of other, kinder emotions. "Yes." I leaned in to kiss him, despite of the slowly diminishing crowd surrounding us and he let me. I kissed him, open mouth, with my hands cupping his face and I didn't care who saw us. In fact, I wanted them to see and I wanted to pause to announce that Heero Yuy, the one that personally saved all their lives, was the one that was accepting my kiss and then merrily continue. But I knew better than that. So I just savored in the small victory. The victory of overcoming my own concerns, the victory of Heero allowing me that opportunity. I realized, with a sigh as I parted, what a great day it had been. Even the memory of us running like crazy through the underground station suddenly seemed poetically romantic. And I could reminisce fondly about the red hotness of my cheeks and the sweat down my brow as we had stormed through the crowd like just any other pair of normal teens, late for their train. I told him sentimentally: "Thank you for sharing this afternoon with me." Heero replied, confused: "You're welcome." The red train arrived, heading in the direction we came from. We got on board and took a seat secluded from the other passengers. As Heero sat down next to me in the aisle seat, I warmly placed my hand over his thigh, my fingers briefly caressing the smooth fabric and the hard muscles underneath my palm. When we were almost home, Heero surprised me, caught me off guard. I had been staring out into the darkness, trying to ignore my own reflection, occasionally stealing glances at Heero, stoically looking up ahead. Then I felt his hand touch mine. First just his fingers, exploring, finding my hand tentatively. He was purposefully looking away. I stared at him through the mirror image of the window. He covered my hand with his own, securing it in place. The train ride back home was too short. Too soon we arrived back at our destination. This time when we walked through the network of wide tunnels we were in no hurry and there was no need for me to guide him, but I held his hand regardless. He never once shied away from me. I happily chalked another victory up on the mental scoreboard. A scoreboard I could not admit to keeping when the victories were so few and far between, but soon I prided it. At home I cooked us a simple dinner, but set the table - though we usually ate in front of the TV to fill the silence - and poured us each a glass of wine, from a bottle I had carefully selected with the help of a shop clerk. I called Heero, who had quickly disappeared into the office after our arrival back home. Before he seated himself across from me at the dinner table he undid his tie but left it hanging around his neck. The fingers of his right hand worked to unbutton the two buttons and he stretched his neck as if he was freed. He spotted the glass of wine by his plate and his eyes turned questioning. "To celebrate." I explained, elaborating as no comprehension dawned on his face: "That we are going to see our friends again." Heero didn't say anything, but I thought maybe his silence had more meaning than words possibly could have. "You're not excited to see them tomorrow?" I worried he was so obsessed with distancing himself from the war and becoming normal that he was having difficulty accepting them as characters in that very past he was trying to deny. He thought about what to say, making sure to formulate his sentence carefully. "I just don't think friends is the right word." My eyebrows raised involuntarily. "Why?" Heero shrugged. Not because he didn't know, but because he didn't want to say. I repeated my question, more pressingly, finding myself becoming defensive of the good characters the other pilots were, even though it was Heero sitting across from me and I would never defend anyone over him. "I just don't know them. They are just comrades." "But I am your friend." "Yes but-" "But?" "You're different." He admitted, his index fingers touching the stem of the wineglass - especially purchased for the occasion - in a nervous gesture. "Different?" I frowned, I didn't think "different" was a good thing. "You're special." He answered quickly, like he didn't want me to think for a second longer that he thought badly of me. I smiled, somewhat relieved. Special was good, right? I decided to ask. A tiny smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Yes. Very good." That felt good to hear. My heart warmed and felt full with the abrupt inflow of happiness. We ate in silence till Heero took his first sip of wine. "Taste good?" "I prefer water." That would be "no". I chuckled at the irony, remembering the biblical story of Jesus turning water into wine. If Heero had been dining at that table, I mused with a growing smirk, he would have given the goblet of wine - magically created - back to the Holy Son and would have asked: "Excuse me, can you turn it back?" "What's funny?" I gave a short laugh. "You." Though his face remained indifferent, his eyes lit up. He tried to hide it behind his bangs as he looked down at his plate, but I had seen it. He seemed to pride himself for being thought of as funny. It was normal, after all, for a teen to be funny from time to time. We ate, I watched TV, Heero worked in the office, but left the door open and what I had always considered an annoying sound in the past - the ticking of the keys - I welcomed, enjoying it as a background to some obscure science fiction series that had me laughing at the costumes. It created a closeness between us even though we were in separate rooms, engaged in separate activities. Then we collectively decided it was time for bed. I snuggled under the covers and breathed in the scent of hot, humid air as Heero showered, as always with the door wide open. I heard the water hit his body and the shower stall floor and focused on it like the fall of rain on the rooftop. Only it was filtered water falling on a fine specimen of mankind. I buried my face into my pillow and groaned, haunted by images that I had been dealing with for a while now, but Heero wasn't nearly ready to know of their existence inside my head; on my retina; in my dreams. It was for the best, it was embarrassing anyway. Again Heero dressed behind the closet door, while his hair was still damp and his body still steaming. When he emerged a tenseness shot through my body and I had the illogical fear that in his perfection he had acquired the ability to read minds. He was wearing the spandex shorts I had been wishing for him to wear. I was staring wide-eyed, ignoring all my inhibitions as I had the innate sense that I'd better look closely and remember it well, like the hyper-vigilance you apply when you are experiencing something that is "once in a lifetime". I don't know why at that moment I had a particular epiphany, as I had been watching him wear those shorts for many days during the war, but I suddenly realized he couldn't possibly be wearing underwear underneath the shorts without it showing. And nothing - of that sort - was showing. Oh my God, I'm turning into a horny teen, I thought. Heero's fine physique was then covered by his sheets, obstructing my view. He snapped me out of my hormonal rampage when he announced: "I won't be going to work tomorrow." Excitedly - excitement of a different kind - I responded: "Really?" I had honestly expected him to stubbornly go to work at least in the morning and likely also through the afternoon. "Yeah. It's not worth it going in for just a short period of time. Besides, I can't risk being late again, like today." His tone was matter-of-fact, like he had been rehearsing it. "We don't have to leave till seven." I reminded, him, though obviously not with the intention of changing his mind. "I know." "Okay. Well, great then! We can spend the day together." I beamed a bright smile at him. When he looked at me with a blank expression I said: "Thank you for today. It was a great day." Heero nodded and then rolled over, away from me. I switched off the light and after the darkness settled I told him I loved him. "I love you too." he replied without hesitation. The perfect end to a perfect day. Not going to work sadly meant working at home all day, I would find out. As I got out of bed at my regular, early hour, I accidentally tripped, stupidly over my own feet and the stumble had awoken Heero. Instead of going back to sleep like most people would, he got out of bed, got dressed in comfortable clothes and booted up his laptop in our little office. Even before I had served him coffee and peanut butter with bagel, his fingers were abusing the keyboard, his eyes narrow and serious as they focused on the screen, probably discerning a complicated string of code. "I'm going to get breakfast." I announced after the longer wake-up period that I required. He retorted with a mere acknowledging grunt. It was going to be another beautiful day, I noted, walking outside casually, with my hands in my pockets. If I didn't know any better I'd suspect Relena of ordering the perfect weather for her perfect ball, but earth wasn't like the colonies. It was maliciously eclectic and uncompromising. I loved that about earth. I reached the bakery and knocked on the door. Soon the elderly owner came shuffling over with a smile to welcome me inside. "Duo! My sweet boy, come inside, please, come inside!" She practically pulled me along by her hold on the front of my shirt. "Good morning." I said breathlessly as she tugged me along. She left me standing by the counter and then disappeared into the backroom. She came back a few seconds later with a paper bag larger than the one she usually gave me. As I accepted it, I noticed it was heavier too. I eyed her questioningly. "I give you two bagels each today, yes?" The odd, old lady said, bearing her yellow teeth in a smile. "Special day today." I frowned "Special day?" "Yes!" She smile wider, already ushering me out the door. "Special day for heroes! Special party for special heroes!" My jaw dropped. Did she...? I had been pushed out on the sidewalk before I knew it. An old, wrinkled hand with short fingers reached out to me and I was introduced to the new sensation of having my cheek pinched, like I knew old ladies liked to do, if I were to believe the stereotypical view portrayed by holiday movies. "You are a good boy. Good boys shouldn't have to pay for bagels. Have a nice evening!" She released my cheek and closed the door, soon disappearing in the back again. Dazed I walked back to the apartment. All thought processes were frozen with astonishment. When I reached home and went inside, I stood in the doorway to the office till Heero finally asked me what was wrong. With a lasting perplexed expression I said: "I think the woman from the bakery knows we are Gundam pilots." He arched one eyebrow, he seemed surprised but not concerned. I didn't know yet how I felt. Still deep in a dumbstruck state I prepared breakfast. I brought Heero his plate and a cup of coffee. He thanked me, that was new, but I could only process one flabbergasting fact at a time. I seated myself in the windowsill with the breakfast I had made for myself. The gravity of it started to hit home as I remembered the many news articles and broadcasts determined to unearth our identity, even willing to offer a reward to the wily detective that was capable of uncovering the truth. Evident from the blatant lack of paparazzi and news vans outside the apartment complex, the old lady had not sold us out, even though she could have. Even though it would have earned her monetary gain. She did not rat us out. It was stunning. She had known all along and still found the love in her heart to provide us free food and keep our heavy secret. She had found the love needed to shelter and support killers, rogues... I felt like I could cry, though the tears welling up were not tears of sadness, but tears of happiness and gratitude. I decided to express myself differently. I walked into the office and wrapped my arms around Heero from behind, joining us in a strong embrace. His fingers stilled over the keyboard after he had clicked away the screen of confidential information. "Duo?" He asked eventually. "Yeah?" I mumbled against his shoulder, slightly rubbing my cheek against the soft cotton of his thin shirt, feeling the warmth of his body underneath. "... Why?..." I sighed happily, breathing in his scent. "She knows." I said, elated. "Yes?" He still did not understand. "She knows and she doesn't hate us." I whispered. Heero said nothing, I think because he didn't know what to say, still not sure what this all implied and why I would react so emotionally. But he let me hug him and honored me by not ignoring me and continuing his work. He sat still in his seat till I relinquished my hold on him. Once I had regained composure I sat myself down at the desk across from Heero and booted up my own laptop. It hummed to life with eerie cries of an animal near death, panting on the sun baked earth of the savannah whilst vultures picked at it. I opened the school's email service and logged in. I clicked "new mail" and typed without hesitation the simple but meaningful words: I'm sorry too. We'll talk. I miss you too. Duo. I scrolled through the list of recently used email addresses and in the short list quickly found: ID6003886tampahigh (sshaw). A weight was lifted off my chest when I sent the email. I nodded reassuringly at myself and then announced I would head to the mall to pick up our suits. Heero didn't offer to tag along with me, I don't know why I had expected him to. His focus on the screen was like that of a bloodhound on a scent-trail. I left him alone, furiously typing away at his laptop, not even responding at my last call of goodbye. I leisurely walked down the street, still thinking of the sweet woman and then thinking bout Sookie. A stranger's acceptance of our past made me hopeful Sookie would be accepting as well. She was, after all, a friend and not someone to conform to the rules of society. I should have had more faith in her from the start but I realized there was no use regretting the time that had been wasted. I simply looked forward to seeing her again, though it created a slight, nervous knot in my stomach, I was eager at the prospect of having "the situation" resolved and excited about catching up on lost time: telling her about the progress between me and Heero. She was really the only one in my life with whom I could share that news and have her share in my excitement. I had missed that. I missed it more with every step I took. I just missed the train I was aiming for, so I took a seat on one of the metal benches lining the platform and patiently waited the fifteen minutes till the next. The arrival of the red train was announced by the mechanical voice from the speakers overhead, but her words were drowned out by the rumble of the approaching train, magnified to a deafening pitch by the enclosure of the tunnel walls. It was a quiet ride to the mall. There were barely any people in the coupe with me and they all whispered to keep their conversations private. I was prepared for the blinding light that time around and as a precaution I squinted my eyes when I felt that familiar feeling my stomach as the train reared upwards, back towards the surface of the earth. The mall was much more crowded than it had been the evening before, but that was to be expected of a Saturday. I wormed my way through the bodies that seemed to be aimlessly moving around, lost in the wide open space. By memory I found my way back to the store and was helped by a saleswoman who took the receipt we had been given yesterday and disappeared into the back. I waited at the counter, by myself. The area was void of people, the only customers were in the casual men's apparel section in the front of the store, there was no one in the suits and tuxedo section. I observed wives picking clothes and dressing their husbands like they were the dolls they used to play with as children, from a safe distance. I noted I had behaved quite the same way when I had went shopping with Heero that one time and I berated myself for doing that. "Sir?" I turned around to see the saleswoman had returned with our suits, ties and shoes. The shoes she handed over to me in two large bags, the suits were hanging from a hanger and were draped with protective plastic. I fumbled to find an efficient way to carry it all. She stressed that I should not fold the suits or they would wrinkle. I wasn't really bothered by a few wrinkles but I took her advise nevertheless and exited the store, with one hand held at shoulder-height to keep the suits straight and off the ground and the other dangling heavily with the two large bags containing cumbersome shoeboxes. The overall unwieldy total package created extra difficulties maneuvering through the crowd, but I managed and after dancing through the people and the constant "Excuse me"'s I dropped myself down on a long, marble bench by the platform and waited for the train. I carefully draped the suits over the back of the bench and protectively placed the two bags between my feet. I noticed people were looking at me, I could read the questions in their eyes: "What is a young teen doing with tuxedos?". This young teen is to attend the most prestigious ball because he happened to have saved the world. I rolled my eyes at them. With a smile I said to myself: I happen to be a special hero. Never before was I as tempted as I was at that moment to scream from the top of my lungs that I was a Gundam pilot. Sometimes I just felt like my efforts during the war should have earned me some respect which I had never been granted because of all the veils of secrecy. Of course this egotistical view did not erase my awareness of the fact that the secrecy was to protect us, but sometimes it felt cruel to have done such an amazing thing and not even be thanked for it. Heero probably wasn't plagued by such selfish emotions, even though he made the biggest sacrifices of the five of us. I instantly felt guilty. The train arrived and I went back home. I killed the afternoon by preparing a grand lunch for Heero and I. He paused his devotion to his work to emerge from the office and share a warm lunch with me. I figured we'd better eat well in the afternoon since we would likely not have enough time in the evening to have a proper dinner. That's what the extra two bagels were for. Time soon came to start preparing ourselves. I had growing nerves in my stomach, they were excited nerves, but also a little anxious, afraid things would not live up to my expectations. I called into the office that Heero should get ready. He replied with his classic "Hn." I got dressed in front of the full length mirror on the closet door, watching myself become someone different and familiar at the same time. More mature and static but also the tuxedo was really no different from the armor my Gundam used to provide. It served as protection, as way for me to become invisible and unbeatable. I experienced mixed feelings regarding the fact. "Heero!" I yelled when I was struggling with my bow tie and Heero had yet to leave his laptop. "Hn?" "I - Jesus!" I jumped a foot high up in the air when I had looked over my shoulder to shout something and he was suddenly standing right next to me, like he had appeared out of thin air. "Don't do that." I pleaded. "Sorry." His tone was flagrantly unapologetic. "Get dressed." I said when a few minutes later he was still staring at me with his discerning eyes. "Your suit's there." I nodded towards the package of plastic hanging down from the other, ajar closet door. "I noticed." He walked around me and raised himself up on the tips of his toes to get the hook of the hanger off the top of the door. He spread it out over his neatly made bed and zipped open the plastic cover, then he started undressing himself. I stubbornly directed my attention at the task of tying my tie, but sometimes couldn't help but steal glances as he stripped down naked, put on a new pair of underwear and then started dressing into the suit. First he hoisted the pants up his long legs and fastened it around his narrow waist. They fitted him as perfectly as the tailored slacks he wore to work everyday. Then he casually donned the white button-up shirt. By then I was shamelessly staring as I saw his shoulders disappear underneath the thin fabric and then watched the muscles move underneath as his arms worked to button up the shirt and tuck it into his pants. There was something about watching him stuff his hand down the front of his pants - if only to tuck in his shirt - that was obscenely erotic. He slipped his strong arms into the jacket that was expertly tailored to suit him and then turned to face me. "You look great." I appreciated breathlessly, amused by the way his haphazard bangs contrasted the tidy, sleek look of the suit. "You do too." He said without looking at me, buttoning up his jacket. He reached down for his tie but I grabbed his wrist and stopped him. "Let me do the tie, please?" He frowned and pointedly looked at my loose bowtie. "You can't even tie your own." "That's a bowtie, that's different." I grumbled, already wrapping the faded blue tie around his neck and moving it around to create the desired knot. As soon as I was finished, though I made sure to take my time, Heero reached up his hands and did my bowtie. I reveled in the exchange. "There." I said softly as he finished adjusting the bow in front of my throat. "There." He repeated even quieter. He lowered his hands back down to his sides. The moment became intimate, with an understated romance and understanding between us. I didn't say anything, for fear of shattering something that I wish not be broken, that I wish to last forever and cherish forever. Looking deep into his eyes - never failing to be stunned by the wild color variations in his ever changing irises - I felt he, too, respected that delicacy and handled it as best he could with fingers not yet suited to cup something fragile. But in the end, it dropped. He broke our gaze to look at our feet, at our socks. Then he looked back up at me with a clear, mundane question. I was disappointed, but I did not let it show. I was just appreciative of the small moment. "The shoes are in the living room." I said and together we walked to the couch, sat down and started tying our shiny shoes. When I was done I walked over to the refrigerator to retrieve the invitation that had been staring at me for the past month every time I opened the door for a snack. At the bottom of the letter, in the same, fine calligraphy, were the more technical aspects of the event; a time and a location where we were expected. The address I did not recognize, but it was still in town. I knew for a fact the nouveau-Victorian castle - Relena's favorite for hosting lavish parties while discussing world problems like famine and natural disasters - was several miles out of Tampa. I naturally figured we were required to meet up with an escort at a point of rendezvous and they would bring us to the ball. Nervousness fluttered in my stomach like butterflies. It was an alien, but welcome feeling. I called a taxi to take us to the location. As the driver rang the doorbell to signal his arrival, Heero and I met at the front door. I looked at him and he looked back. Holding his intense gaze I extended my arm out, my hand blindly searching for his. When our fingers met, the touch was brief and shy, an open invitation. My heart burst with feelings of obscene happiness - I never thought I could be as happy as I was then, or even should - when his tentative fingers curled around my own. We walked out, hand in hand. It was perfect.
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