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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 "
Another early morning, another bagel run. My face must have sported a big, goofy smile because at the bakery it was no secret that I was in a deliriously good mood. "You look so happy!" Were the first words that welcomed me inside. I shrugged, uncomfortable with the attention. I watched her scurry to wrap two bagels and bring them to me. Her kindness and generosity amazed me every single morning and withheld me from responding negatively to her, even though it was early and she had a tendency to be nosy. I had never known someone who had unconditionally offered me their kindness and shared with me their food. We could have used a bakery like this, run by a lady like this, back on L2. "I'm happy to see you happy." She said, handing me breakfast. "Okay..." "Aww, don't be embarrassed!" She poked me with a stubby finger. "You look like a boy in love." I swallowed. "How can you tell?" She looked at me indignant. "What do you mean: "How can you tell"? I can always tell, I can tell everything! Just like I could tell that you are a good boy. Now go, go, go, go, I have work, you have school. Go, go." I let her push me out of the shop, like she often did. I was grateful nobody in America had been exposed to my face during the wartime, or she may not have been nearly as generous if she knew what I was capable of and what I had used those capabilities for. I wasn't self-loathing enough not to see the benefits of our - the pilots - combined efforts. Our actions made a difference for the better, but we still killed sons, brothers, fathers even a few daughters, sisters and mothers and people would always blame us for that, like we would always blame ourselves. My heavy thoughts could not dampen my light mood, however. If possible, I prepared Heero's bagel with even more love and an extra slice of cheese. Which made no sense, but I just felt like reflecting generosity all through the day. Even though, ultimately, it was Heero who paid for the cheese. Instead of taking my position by the window, I waited for Heero by the dinner table. He looked great in his uniform, luckily he had two reserve shirts because the other had apparently been so badly torn that he hadn't even taken it home with him. I appreciated how long his legs looked in the black slacks and how his messy hair clashed with the pressed green shirt and tightly knotted tie. "Good morning." I greeted. I wasn't sure if I should give him a kiss. I decided not to. He nodded back as a way of greeting and then quickly ate the bagel, seemingly oblivious to the extra love - and cheese - I had put into it. I reminded myself not to have expectations that exceeded his comfort zone. But I had faith that one day he would greet me in the morning with a: "Good morning, love." "I will be home late." He announced dutifully once he had finished his breakfast of bagel and coffee. It was disappointing to hear, but there wasn't an argument in the world valid enough to make him come home early. Work was a mission that kept him moving forward, instead of getting caught up in his head, concerned about past decisions in the war. I knew what that was like. I didn't want to forcefully subject him to that. When he left I frowned at myself and at us. This was not what I had hoping for, nor what I had been expecting. If possible, he seemed even more uncomfortable around me. Obviously he didn't know how to assert his new role, as boyfriend - if that's even what he was, we hadn't exactly defined the relationship as of yet. I snorted at the idea of having to teach him, it seemed so silly, but it appeared that it was going to take some direct guidance on my behalf for him to grasp the concept and behave accordingly. But I had no idea how receptive Heero would be to teachings of such kind, or even if that's something I should want. It brought me back to my dream. I wanted Heero to be himself, because that's who I loved, but at the same time I worried that Heero - as himself- would end up disappointing me because he has no clear idea of his own identity. He is so caught up in functionality and practicality, that he has reduced himself to a function: a tool that hacks into computers. A strike of the clock alerted me I was going to be late if I didn't hurry. I rushed through a shower, not washing my hair, which I regretted when I stepped out of the stall and noticed how messy and uncontrollable my hair had become. I redid the braid considerably tighter, but even then strands of hair stuck straight out towards the sky, as if to praise the lord. If anyone's hair can praise, it's mine, I thought with a chuckle, but honestly annoyed by the mischief of my bangs. "Oh shit!" I called out when I caught the time on my watch as I wrapped it around my wrist. With rushed hands I blindly reached into the closet and dressed myself in the pair of jeans I had worn the day before, a red T-shirt and an open, caramel button-up shirt that rightfully belonged to Heero. I wasn't worried about people's reactions to me based on the vicious email Aiden sent around the school population, but maybe I would have if my head and heart hadn't been so preoccupied with Heero, more so than regular. I raced to school without feeling any reservations or inhibitions, people could think whatever they want, but I did prefer them to keep it to themselves. I wondered how Sookie would fare. I heard the bell ring loudly at a distance, around the corner from the school. By the time I had arrived at the front gate, the yard had already drained. I was definitely going to be late. I wasn't so much concerned with detention or a foul look from the teacher as I was with being suspended or even expelled. Being late to class isn't a good addition to two skipped days of school and calling a coach an asshole - regardless of how much he deserved it. So I raced up the three flights of stairs, noting that the next time at the gym, I should not bypass the stepping machine. My face was red and my mouth open in an unflattering pant that neither made me look fit, nor intelligent, but for the sake of things I was willing to barge into mister Kowadka's math class looking like that, had I not spotted the shy guy from the basketball game blocking the entry to the classroom. In spite of the hectic day, I had not forgotten his name and greeted him with a tired wave and a breathless: "Good morning, Aston." His ashen face lightened up. "Good morning." I tried to see past him, through the frosted glass. The class room appeared to be dark. "Principal Murphy came by to announce that mister Kawadka called in sick and they could not find a substitute in time, so we have the period off." Aston informed me, watching me intently with his almond eyes. "Oh." I steadied my breathing and then allowed for an annoyed: "Couldn't they have called us at home or something?" Aston shrugged and then said: "I just thought I'd wait for you, to tell you. In case you would come looking for us in other class rooms." I nodded. Kowadka had the unusual tendency to switch class rooms when the class room that was assigned to him smelled "funny" by his own specifications. Sookie had filled me in on the "stink-bomb-drama" that had occurred the previous school year. Disrespectful students abusing the teacher's quirky attitude. "Thanks, Aston. That's really kind." With a sigh I walked away. A pair of squeaky footsteps - new sneakers on old linoleum - followed me. I turned and looked back at Aston, a little perplexed. "Are you going to the cafeteria or to the library to study?" I quirked an eyebrow. "I don't know." With concealed suspicion I asked: "Where are you going?" He stared at me, like I had said something stupid. "Where you are going." I did not like the "duh"-intonation that his voice held. I weighed my options for a second or two. Aston was a nice boy and obviously fragile and uncertain, I didn't seek to hurt his feelings, but his sudden interest in me was questionable at the least and had me at a loss of words and without solutions on how to act and what to say. Aside from knowing his name, he was a stranger. I did not like having strangers in my presence. Right before he could frown at my long silence I decided the library would be the best option, there we had to focus on studying as speaking was not permitted. "Library. I have a test coming up." I didn't, at least, not for another two weeks and I studied and absorbed information much quicker than that, but it would be silly to head for the library without cause. Together we went to the library. Aston didn't say anything, further unnerving me. He took his seat by mine, claiming it with his cardigan and school bag, neatly draping the two over the back of the chair whereas I dumped my bag on the table in front of my chair of choise before heading out to the maze of bookshelves. Aston followed me to the history aisle. "Are we in the same history class as well?" I asked, if merely to break the uncomfortable silence. "No, I don't have history, I dropped it for advanced physics." "Oh. That's cool." A blatant lie, even someone as marginally involved in the school's hierarchy of popularity, I knew for certain the kids in "advanced physics" were considered anything but cool. "How is your arm?" I looked at my limb, the scrape was still ugly but I had forgotten all about it, barely noticing a dull pain when I rolled up the sleeves of the button-up shirt that morning. "It's fine." I scoured the shelves for the designated literature, a thick book on all the pre colonial World Wars. "Aren't you going to study?" I asked Aston five minutes into my search with him still standing there. "I'm gonna work ahead with math. If you're ahead with your homework by three weeks you get extra school credit." I nodded. In the current system, if you had accumulated enough credit over the course of your high school period, you could enter an honor program in your final year. People in the honor program had better chances of being admitted to their university of choice, but I didn't have that drive. I wasn't planning on going to college or a university after high school, after all, I mostly did it for the normal human experience. The subjects that we actually studied I found to be redundant in everyday life. But it was fun to pop quiz Heero, though more fun if I could finally ask him that question that he would have no answer to. I eventually found the book, heavy in my arms as it came down from it's high shelf. WORLD WARS 1 through 4. I carried it back to our chosen seats and flipped it open at the index. Beside me Aston started work on his math homework. I didn't recognize the assignments and wondered how far ahead he was. I was ahead five weeks myself and almost done for the semester, only because Math came so easily to me and when I sat myself down to the work, I always continued till I would get tired or had to make dinner. Slowly I had been getting ahead of everyone, but never boosting about it, fearful of attracting unwanted attention. Not even Kowadka was aware how far ahead I was. Extra credit was useless, the honors program would not get me what I required from this education-experience. The honor students had different hours, including Saturdays and had class in a side building, away from the regular school community, supposedly for privacy and the quiet required to study intensively. Though it presented enjoyable extra's such as private study rooms and always having a computer available for school work, I didn't want to be isolated. I wanted to force myself into the crowd, getting used to the exposure. Akin to Heero, I was in search of normality: feeling normal about things that should feel normal, but don't to us. As I read I made quick notes in barely legible handwriting, a code I had developed during the war to be able to write secretly and privately, even when we were assigned a mission on a school campus, with many curious eyes studying the "new kids". Only I could read it and Heero a few words of it that he had been able to observe and place into context. "Are you writing in a different language?" Aston asked. My hand holding the pen stilled. Why was he watching me? "No, this is just my handwriting." "Really? Is that how they teach writing on L2?" I was offended by his question, taking it as a personal insult. Like the "colony-folk" couldn't even write "normal" (read: Earthian). "No," I bit at him, "on L2 they teach perfect writing." I had not enjoyed it though, but the graffiti on the walls had appeared normal and G, born and raised on L2, taught me a refined writing aesthetic, before he instructed me to create a secret code. He immediately apologized. "I didn't mean to be offensive." I turned my attention back to the book and studied till the bell rang. Aston went off to his advanced physics class and I headed for biology, where I noted Aiden was missing. Later that day I approached the English class, glad to see a smiling Sookie by the entry, talking to a group of people that had surrounded her. They were saying things like: "What Aiden did was so stupid!" "I truly hate that bitch now." "I can't believe how anyone, today, can still be so narrow minded." They offered me their sympathy as well and they distinctly registered as groupies to me, gushing over us, complimenting us on our clothes and our hair - while I knew for certain I looked like crap - and expressing their jealousy about our grades. When they finally headed into class, I eyes Sookie questioningly. Sookie chuckled. "Can't ya tell, Duo? They're my fans." She disappeared into the class room before she elaborated. "Your fans?" I curiously asked in a hushed tone. "Their just this group of student from the Arts and Drama department that think being gay is so cool. I get so tired of them telling me how much they wish they were gay themselves." She was smiling as she spoke though, she liked the positive attention and I could not blame her. Many of them I had seen with her before, but many different kind of people hung out with her. I thought about it more carefully and realized that, stereotypically speaking, everyone I had ever seen her with fit the "art & drama" kind of person with unfashionable - or depending on your perspective: fashion forward - clothes and edgy hair, often dark or in shades of purple or red. I had never noticed it before. I remembered only one guy that didn't match the group. "What about that jock, though?" "Michael?" I shrugged, I didn't know his name. "He has a total crush on me. He thinks he can turn me back." She finished with a mischievous grin. "Turn you back? Do you think that's why Aiden was so nice to-" "Duo!" She shushed. the class started to quiet down around us as the teacher entered, "Be quiet for a minute, will ya?" I nodded. "Right, class." I directed my attention to the black board but looked back at Sookie when she prodded me in the side with one of her pencils. "No!" She interrupted with a smirk, "I wanted to ask ya about what happened with Heero!" That instantly brought a smile to my face, which in turn made her go "Awwww!". "Well?" She pressed, uncaring about the teacher and his lecture on pre colonial, nineteenth century American literature. I shrugged, but I still couldn't suppress my stupid smile. "We kissed." "Ah!" she squealed. Thirty heads turned to look at her adding to the scathing glare of mister Doucette, interrupted during his introduction of Huckleberry Finn. Mister Doucette peered dangerously over the flat top of his purple tinted glasses, presumably to diminish glare of the sun, but he was known throughout the school as most flamboyant. "Miss Shaw, why this remarkably pointless exclamation?" Sookie blinked at him, with a straight face she managed to pull off seriously: "Well, mister Doucette, I am just such a devoted fan of the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn!" Some classmates snickered - she did sound ridiculously hilarious when she exaggerated her southern accent to the point of making herself a caricature - others rolled their eyes and turned back in their seats. He glared at her a little while longer but his sternness had no effect. "Let's continue. Huckleberry Finn, written by Mark Twain followed the successful and more popular Adventures of Tom Sawyer-" "And then what?" Sookie hissed, kicking me under the table. "Nothing." "Nothing?" She repeated, skeptical. "Nothing." I confirmed. "Hm." She paused briefly for thought and then continued with a big smile: "So when do I get to meet'im?" I shrugged again. Heero disliked strangers as much as I did, if not than more so. Sookie may be my friend, but to Heero she was nothing but a threatening invader should I bring her to the seclusion of our apartment, where our life was tucked away in a secret universe. I still hadn't told her the truth about my past, confident that I could maintain a believable facade of being nothing other than a slightly less than innocent teenager from the colonies. Heero's near alien demeanor would certainly raise questions and Sookie was undoubtedly immodest and uninhibited enough to ask them, putting me in a difficult position. "Let's just pay attention." I whispered back. Sookie knew when she was being blown off so she sulked next to me for the duration of the English period. Right before the bell rang, timed to it perfectly, mister Doucette announced with a finger in the air: "People, disperse!" As we all got up the bell rang and the entire school started to "disperse", noisily. "Why can't I meet Heero?" Sookie asked me with a whining voice as we headed towards the cafeteria. I didn't know what to answer her. I had my reasons, but I couldn't tell her for the sake of those same reasons. "He's just... different..." "Duo," She groaned, pushing me in line to get lunch, "we are all different." "Yeah, well... I don't think you will like him and honestly," I said, taking a leap into the unknown, "I don't think he would like you." "What? Why?" She shrieked. "He's just very quiet." I explained, as to not insult her feelings. "He keeps to himself." I got my serving of macaroni and cheese, looking distastefully at the slosh. I normally brought my own lunch, but I had been late that morning. "I really want to meet him... You know," She pointed out thoughtfully as we sat down at our usual table and she brought of forkful of lunch halfway up to her mouth, "I don't really know all that much about ya." I shrugged, trying to brush off upcoming questions. "Like... why did ya come to earth? Or rather, how could ya afford to? Didn't ya say ye were poor? And why did ya quit school during the war? Neither party was recruiting on L2, to my knowledge." I inwardly chuckled bitterly at that. Someone had been recruiting on L2. "And how did ya and Heero meet? Doesn't he work for the Preventer Agency, isn't that like some high-tech space spy agency?" I wisely kept silent, throwing her off with a small smile on my lips. "Yer not gonna tell me, are ya?" I widened my smile and shook my head. "Secretive bastard." She said with a smile, flicking the forkful of macaroni she had gathered towards me. "But I will meet Heero, someday." She announced arrogantly confident. "Oh?" I drawled. "Hmhm. Ya dunno it yet, but I'm gonna be yer maid of honor." Laughing I flicked macaroni back at her, catapulting it forward using my fork like she had, but my aim was significantly better and the blob hit her in the chest and then dropped down into her shirt. "DUO!" Laughing she fished it out and threw it back at me, hitting me right between the eyes. I was going to throw something back at her but then I saw her hold up her jello. "Give me a reason." She bantered. I surrendered, distracted by the thought of Heero and myself dressed in white suits on a white sandy beach in front of a red sunset and a minister in a black robe. Though same sex marriage had been legalized worldwide and in the colonies a long time ago, marriage was still not something within the range of possibilities when one significant other was formerly known as the self-proclaimed God of Death and the other was the Perfect Soldier. That would make for an entirely different beach scene of black capes, Dracula costumes, army patterns and fully automated weaponry. The priest would be dressed in a black robe and bulletproof vest and wear a carbon fiber helmet to cast a shadow over his terrified expression. In the background, ominous in the blood red sunset, a mushroom ash cloud and the earth vibrated with the force of a powerful explosion. To break myself away from the visual that made me grin, I asked: "So what have you heard about Aiden?" "Oh, real subtle, Duo." She deadpanned, lowering the jello. "No, seriously. I mean, are you okay now? And what is being done about it?" "Duo, I'm sorry if my own emotions got ya all worked up. It was just the last straw for me. This isn't really the worst that she has done. It'll blow over." "I'm not so much worked up as I'm seeking justice." I thought for a moment and then added frustrated: "And I can't believe she was being so nice to me, even after the email had been sent! She even invited me to her party next week!" Sookie suddenly got excited, leaning over the table towards me. "Really? Ya should totally go!" She encouraged with an evil glint in her eyes. I scrunched my face up. "Why?" "Bring Heero and just start making out, right in front of her!" She got really excited by the idea. I shook my head. "Heero and I aren't really there yet." "Then bring Aston." she joked, but there was always truth to jest, I knew that best of all. I peered at her. "Why would you say that? You know him?" I curiously inquired. "Hmhm. Total crush on you. But he's kinda cute in an offbeat way, don't ya think?." The thought was as flattering as it was eerie. That's why he was practically melting all over me that morning and before during P.E. when he had finally accumulated the nerve to approach me after I had been malevolently outed via digital messaging. "Any more gays you should warn me about." She considered it for a moment. "Maybe Hunter, but I'm not entirely sure." "Hunter? The basketball guy?" I frowned. "Didn't he used to date Aiden, before I came here?" She nodded, her evil smirk reappearing. "Yeah, that's why she is not so keen to have him outed. I think it's the main reason for her focusing so much negative attention on me. If he is and if he says he is she would die of shame. I mean, seriously die- Oh my God!" She exclaimed, clearly having an epiphany, reaching further across the table to grab the side of the button-up shirt and pull me towards her. Her eyes were diabolical. "Ya have to hit on Hunter!" She confided in me in a hushed but excited tone. "It would be the perfect revenge!" "I don't know." I did know, I wasn't going to do it, with whatever intentions, it would be betrayal towards Heero and I wouldn't do that to him. "Duo," She pressed, her tone becoming serious and haughty, "It would be justice." Justice. The word didn't fuel me as nearly as much as it did WuFei, but the prospect was alluring. I still turned her down. It was wrong, I wasn't about to be sucked into the feud. With a sigh she gave up, deflating back in her seat. "Okay." The lunch break came to an abrupt end. None of the students were in a hurry to get to their next class. The crowd sluggishly moved through the halls, a mere shadow of the bustling activity that went on when the bell indicated the end of a period, rather than the beginning of one. I parted ways with Sookie, sensing her disappointed at her ruined revenge. I could not really blame her. I wanted to get back at Aiden as well, but what she simply didn't understand is how important Heero was to me and that I was aiming for a relationship much more serious than most teenagers were. Perhaps her own open homosexuality had something to do with the promiscuous request. The concupiscent plan might have suited her own personal ideas and morals, but it crossed a boundary for me. The particular boundary I had crossed before, plenty of times in the past, but now I had it defined and lined with barbed wire and indicated with warning messages. TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT. SURVIVORS WILL BE SHOT AGAIN. In the hallways the excited talk about parties and tanning at the beach reminded me that Spring break was coming up in the final week of April. I was disgusted to hear how many people still expressed their genuine excitement about Aiden's party, the opening weekend of spring break. It seems people were already forgetting about her heinous act. Making my way over to class I was pushed aside only once. I had recognized Danny long before he had reached me, but didn't waver from my path. I ended up pushing him aside more than he did me. What people forget, distracted by the feminine movements of my long braid, was my height and strength. These high school kids were hardly Gundam Pilots. It took a lot more than a determined shoulder to get me out of the way. I could feel him glaring at the back of my head, but I didn't dignify him with a glance over my shoulder. Now that my own sexuality was no longer something that had me confused, but rather something that brought me joy in the withdrawn and awkward shape of Heero Yuy, I felt empowered. My confidence only faltered slightly when the topic of the biology class was announced. It was right there in bold lettering at the top of the next chapter in our textbooks, written on the blackboard and pronounced explicitly by the teacher like he was introducing us to something completely novel. "Homosexuality." Of course the whispers that followed could not have been prevented. I wondered if Sookie was right, if everyone would eventually take Aiden's claim as nothing more than a joke about Sookie. I sure seemed to get a suspicious amount of stares. We were instructed to quietly read through the entire chapter, from "Demography and prevalence" to "Sexual intercourse". The last paragraph offered a very clinical description of the sexual act between two males and between two females, but even I snickered at the dry mention of "strap-on dildo's to imitate the sexual input a male would normally have during intercourse" in the case of two women. I wondered if this book was also one Heero had been forced to memorize. If so, his discomfort with physical comfort was even more understanding as the text didn't suggest any arousal or pleasure. It took a mechanical perspective on the "situation" that would suit Heero's take on everything, but it could not tempt, not even when read to a man high on aphrodisiacs by an experienced call girl. The tone was flat and asexual and insinuated that when sex did not have any reproductive purposes, it was only useful to establish a "normal" relationship in which everyone was appointed their respective role. It claimed there were four titles to divided amongst the two; Emotionally dominant, Emotionally submissive, Physically (or sexually) dominant and Physically submissive. I knew reality to be not nearly as clear cut as what the text suggested. Heero nor myself could be called "submissive" in any emotional or psychological regard. I resented the idea and I knew Heero would too. He was silent, yes, and heeded to my guidance, but I never allowed myself the illusion that I could make Heero do anything he didn't want to by asserting the dominant role. Sexually, I hadn't figured things out yet. I did have sex with men before. I grimaced at the memory. When you are at sea, weeks or months at a time, training and preparing for battle, waiting for that call to come in, sexual frustration had to be vented and the all-male sweeper crew could only turn to itself. I knew that in those instances I had a definitive preference for the dominant position, as did everybody else. The times you repaid the favor by taking the submissive role you just closed your eyes and forced your mind to go elsewhere. Expertly able to detach myself, I could reach climax as a bottom, but with Heero, I wouldn't want to be absent. And I didn't want him to be absent either. It would be interesting how it would turn out, I thought. I expected Danny to bark an insensitive remark, but he wisely kept his mouth shut, not willing to risk detention, or my wrath for that matter. At home I realized I would have a lot of time to kill before Heero would come home. If nine or ten pm was normal for him, "late" probably meant he wouldn't be home before midnight. I busied myself with homework, but that didn't last for long. In my opinion teachers were mild on their students. In the three years that I trained with G he kept me busy eighteen hours a day, with physical training till my body would be too exhausted to move then he tired my brain with relentless exercises. On top of that it was not uncommon for him or an employee at the facility to wake me up in the middle of the night for an emergency escape drill, a physical challenge, torture training or a pop quiz. Torture training was the worst because no matter how well I did it would not come to an end until G said it was over. If not for pure exhaustion I wouldn't have slept a wink, fearful of being awoken in the middle of the night, blindfolded and taken to a secret wing of the facility, purposefully designed, with cold water tubs and several different restraints and tools. The only luck I had was that G would never torture me so much as to cause permanent scarring. Nothing was done to me that would later enable identification or make me suspicious. Why he left me my braid was to my own wonder. Though I preferred to think he knew better than to test me that far, the more logical explanation would be the art of being underestimated. The braid added to a whimsical femininity that would distract any opponent and allow me an advantage. I picked the note from the fridge and headed to the supermarket. All the items scribbled down were in my own handwriting. Heero never made any requests, of course having the presumption that he didn't need anything that wasn't there but would make do with whatever that was. Or he really did think food and beverages just appeared magically. I daringly headed into the personal health aisle and ended up at the far end section of sex items: a wide variety of condoms of different materials, sizes and with different flavors and an equally elaborate collection of tubes, canisters and packets of lube, also with a selection of flavors. I was overwhelmed by the choices, I didn't think there was any rush behind the purchase, but the scientists had turned us into super-boy-scouts: always prepared. I randomly picked a tube of lube to read the description of "Tropical Coconut Sensation". The sweeper crews sexual escapades had only been accessorized with a jar of Vaseline and plain condoms, the brand of which eluded me. With Heero, I opted for a more "professional" approach, of which he would surely be appreciative. I felt extremely uncomfortable when an old lady walked past me, peering at me through her thick glasses, enlarging her judgmental eyes. I finally managed to identify a plain lube without the risk of unexpected allergic reactions and regular condoms. I felt so strange buying these things, my face was red and my hands clammy as I carried the items through the store with me in my basket. I plucked an anonymous package off a shelf to cover them. My embarrassment had nothing to do with homosexuality. Apparently, after thoroughly investigating many different kinds of lubes, the product is not solely used for "male on male action" but for heterosexual intercourse as well. Condoms, obviously, also. I just didn't like the idea of people knowing - or thinking they know - what I would be doing, especially since it involved something so private as sex. Or rather: making love, but that was not something they could tell from my shopping list. People were eager to judge a young man for these purchases. I preferred to postpone that judgment till I would have to display them at the checking counter. I also bought a six pack of beer cans, feeling like I could use some relief of the tension that had been bothering me and the rest of the items I had written down. Back home I was guilty of ordering pizza two days in a rows and washing it down with two bottles of beer. After that all there was left for me to do was flick through the channels. Not even the sci-fi channel had anything interesting to offer. I stopped when I encountered an official conference. She was out of frame but a text box at the bottom of the screen clearly stated: "Miss Peacecraft." The camera was focused on a male journalist in a large crowd of people holding microphones and photo cameras, asking her: "Will the Gundam pilots attend the ball next month, miss Peacecraft?" With a rapid swoosh the camera was aimed back at Relena and then zoomed in on her politely smiling face. "I have sent them all invitations and I am confident they will attend the event because during the war I've have come to know them very well and we have a mutual respect." I snorted. Another journalist, off screen, asked: "Will the identity of the pilots be kept a secret, or will they finally go public?" Relena shook her head and deftly explained "No, their identities will be protected to ensure a normal life post war. The guest at the ball are all sworn in diplomats, royals and politicians who have agreed not to share the identity of the pilots with the public, for the pilots own protection." "Miss Relena, as a believer in true pacifism, how can you condone the actions that have been undertaken by these so called "Gundam pilots"? They are responsible for a lot of lost lives during the AC 195 war." Her face turned serious. "I do not condone violence, I never will." Camera's flashed brightly in her face but she was undeterred "But I've learned to accept the necessary acts that had to be taking in order for both the AC 195 war and the AC 196 conflict to be resolved. And I am grateful the Gundam pilots took this duty upon themselves and made themselves the anti-heroes, so no one else had to." "Miss Peacecraft, Quatre Winner, heir to an array of resource satellites, has been rumored to be one of the five pilots, what is your reaction to that?" "You know I will not confirm those allegations. But before anyone accuses mister Winner or anybody else of being a Gundam pilot, remember that their identity is one of the ESUN's best kept secrets and the tabloids most certainly do not have access to that information. Don't believe what you read." "And what about this boy?" The camera showed a reporter standing up in the otherwise seated crowd, holding up a grainy picture of myself. My blood ran cold and my heart skipped a beat. "More false allegations. This time not by the tabloids, but by OZ. They had claimed to have caught one of the Gundam pilots to lift the moral of their soldiers. This young boy obviously isn't capable of being one of the Gundam pilots." She finished with a chuckle. I was relieved that the reporters accepted her words as truth, but I was insulted by her joke. I turned off the TV and got dressed for bed in underwear and a T-shirt. I picked one of Heero's shirts again, this time on purpose and wondered if he would notice. The shirt fit me a little tighter than it did my roommate/friend/boyfriend - relationships are confusing! - but it didn't look like I was wearing a shirt far too small for my frame. I left the door to the hallway open, where a kept a light on. The bedroom was otherwise dark. I crawled into bed and stared at the ceiling, waiting for Heero. I missed him, but I didn't like to admit that, not even quietly to myself. I heard a distant church bell indicate midnight. I thought about the stuff that I had bought, hidden safely in my drawer of our shared nightstand. I was confident Heero respected my privacy and would not look in it, just like I had never peeked inside his drawer. Not that it would necessarily be bad if he saw them, he was going to eventually, after all. I wondered how long "eventually" would take, realizing that it would take longer, perhaps forever, if I didn't affirm our romantic relationship with more kisses and encouragement. I couldn't expect Heero to take the initiative, it would be like letting someone drive a car without a driver's license and any sense of direction. I smiled at the irony. Heero was an excellent driver and could find a guns and ammunition store in Relena's back yard. I smiled. The boy definitely had his priorities in strict order... My ears perked at the ever so soft sound of our front door being opened. The sound of the refrigerator door being opened was louder as the vacuum of the strips was released. He was probably taking a drink directly from the new orange juice carton I had bought today. I knew he liked orange juice and that he drank out of the carton. The former he would never admit to, the latter I never confronted him with. I wasn't his mother, I wasn't going to reprimand him for it. It's not like I was afraid of his cooties, for God's sake. His body appeared in the doorway and cast a sharp shadow across the bedroom floor in between our beds. It disappeared when he turned off the lights in the hallway. I greeted him softly. He stilled and the messy hair of head turned to face me, eyes searching for me in the dark. He grunted, which I preferred to interpret as a warm "Hello" and then went into the bathroom. New light flooded the bedroom when the lights in the bathroom were turned on and, as customary, he left the door wide open. I hard him move under the spray, washing his body. I had no trouble envisioning him naked and for the first time it sparked desire. A weak little flame. The condoms and the lube seemed to have had a bigger influence on myself than I had initially expected. The water was turned off and it took him little time to dry himself off. The light in the bathroom was switched off and the room turned completely dark again but Heero had no trouble navigating to the closet and getting a pair of underwear and a shirt, taking his time to get dressed. By the time my eyes had adjusted and I could clearly see him in the dull blue moonlight, he was fully dressed and softly closed the closet door. Before he could get into bed, I reluctantly got out from underneath the warmth of my own covers, shivering at the sudden cold. His eyes shone as he fixed them on me, the blue light enhanced the unique shade of his vibrant irises, confiding in me more than he would want. The veritable "shutters" were wide open, allowing me to look inside as he gazed back at me through the opened barrier of the soldier. I was standing right of front of him, looking down at him; as he was slightly shorter. Everyday I seemed to grow taller while his body remained unchanged. When I sensed no discomfort on his behalf with the closeness I announced in a deep whisper: "There is something I need to do before we go to bed." I saw him raise an eyebrow. "Goodnight, Heero." I gently cupped his face with my hands, my ring finger felt an even pulse in his throat. I leaned down and forward and pressed my lips to his. I softly nibbled on his full lower lip. His lips still tasted of sweet fruit, orange juice. I was undaunted by his impassive state as instead of kissing back, he just let himself be kissed, let it happen to him. I was encouraged by the quickening pulse and his face and neck became warm under my touch. With a final tender kiss I parted. I took a step back, surprised to have him suddenly reach out a hand and twist his fingers into the front of my shirt. Before I fully comprehended it, he released my shirt from his grip and smoothed the fabric over my chest. I enjoyed the caresses of his slim and deliberate finger, however short they lasted. "Goodnight." He said with a steady voice after letting a brief moment pass. I smiled and stepped to the side, clearing the way to his bed. We both crawled deep under the covers of our respective beds. I almost instantly fell asleep, slipping into a comfortable dream. My smile unconsciously lasting till morning.
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