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"Thousand words"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: AU, angst, fluff, Lemon, OOC Pairings: 2x1 Summary: Duo and Heero have to share a dorm room
in college and they become best friends. When they discover that neither
has time for, nor interest in a girlfriend, they explore a friends
with benefits relationship. But sex never remains uncomplicated. " Thousand words" Eleven His lips felt amazing against mine. He had his hands against my sweaty chest. I had my hands on his writhing hips. He sat upright, throwing his head back. His moan was soundless, but mine wasn't. He was straddling my lap as I lay prone in bed. I let him take control of the pace – which he set at maddening slow, leisurely rolling his hips – the muscles in my thighs straining to keep me from thrusting up into him. "Heero," I groaned appreciatively and I breathed a sigh of relief when he leaned forward again. He brushed my sweat soaked bangs from my face and then recaptured my lips. His skin felt feverishly hot against mine. His deep moan interrupted our kiss. "Oh, yeah, baby. You love it." I strongly grabbed the back of his neck and crushed our mouths together again. He sat up again, quickening the rhythm of his downward thrusts. He trailed one hand down his neck, across his chest and abdomen and took hold of his own arousal, gasping as he did. "Yeah, Heero, stroke it," I gritted through my teeth, watching him pump his fist up and down his swollen shaft with hooded eyes. All of a sudden I felt a stinging pain in stomach. He hit me? He hit me! What the fuck? I was hit again, even harder this time and I shot upright in bed. I blinked and looked around myself wide-eyed. It was morning and I was alone in my bed, fully clothed. It was baffling. "For fuck's sake, Duo," I looked to the side and saw a very angry Heero standing by the side of the bed. Judging by his apparel he had just returned from his daily morning run. "Now you're dreaming about me jerking you off?" He questioned, more than a little perturbed. "Sorry," Was all I said. Apparently I had been talking in my sleep, thankfully he misinterpreted my words. I wasn't stupid enough to admit to him I was dreaming of something far more intimate than a handjob. I frowned at him. "Since when is violence the solution?" I rubbed my abused stomach, at least it effectively dealt with the impressive morning wood I must have been sporting. "Since everything else is failing." To emphasize his point he kicked my duffel bag that still lay unpacked on the floor since I came back from the Maxwell Ranch two days ago. "You promised me yesterday you would unpack this thing. I nearly killed myself heading out the door in the dark this morning." I laid back and rubbed my eyes. "It's your own damn fault for being a morning person. Bad things come to those who get up before the sun does." "I'm going to take a shower and when I get back up you better be unpacking." "Oh, God. It's like we're married." "That's not funny." "I know it isn't," I dead-panned and yelped when my pillow got ripped out from under my head and I only had enough time to close my eyes protectively before I was hit in the face with the thing. I started laughing. When he hit me again my hands hurriedly reached out to grab his wrist and I pulled him up, forcing him to climb up onto the mattress of the lower bunk. He looked a little shocked upon discovering how close our faces were. I took a deep breath. He smelled of perspiration but I loved it, it reminded me of our dream, where we were sweating together. Uncharacteristically uncomfortable with the closeness I released my grip on his wrist and he stepped back down to the carpeted floor. He announced once more that he was going to take a shower and then he was out the door, the towel that was draped over his shoulder flying behind him like a cape on a superhero fleeing a dangerous situation. "Damn," I whispered to the ceiling. I had been pretending that nothing had changed, that our arrangement was still as casual-as-you-please, but in spite of my efforts I could not continue to ignore the alarming facts. I was enjoying this thing between us – our extracurricular activities – more than Heero was and I could not deny that that had to mean something. Never before had I questioned my sexuality. I had my first girlfriend when I was ten years old, the relationship was as short lived as my more recent involvements had been, but ever since then I had never been single for long. I liked girls. I liked being with them. And as I got older I liked kissing them and I liked touching them. There was never any reason for me to doubt that I was whole-heartedly straight. I never truly liked – loved –one girl in particular, which was why we always ended breaking up, but there was nothing suspicious about that, right? I was still young; a young guy. I brushed it off with the reasoning: It's just what young guys do. But things were different now. Sleeping with their best male friend, that wasn't something young guys just did. It was so confusing though, if I really was bisexual, shouldn't I have figured that out sooner? With a groan I crawled towards the opening of the bedframe by the ladder and jumped down. I pinched my shirt between my thumb and forefinger and sniffed the fabric. I wrinkled my nose, apparently my dream had caused me to sweat quite a bit. I headed downstairs to shower myself, hearing the clatter of water in the second bathroom down the hall that Heero was in. Most of the guys in our dorm building were with their families for the holidays and for those that remained it was way too early, so I had the luck that the other bathroom was free. When I was finished Heero was already upstairs. I paused in the doorway, patting the rope of hair over my shoulder dry with my towel, not caring that my shirt was getting soaked. He had taken it upon himself to start unpacking my duffel bag. I didn't mind that he was in my stuff, I had been sharing those tight quarters with my control-freak of a friend for so long the word privacy had lost all meaning and all relevance. I wasn't bothered, I only felt a little guilty that he, at times, got stuck cleaning up my mess. He gave me an odd, amused look when he pulled the penguin out from between the clothes that were tightly stuffed in there. I chuckled and sat down on the floor next to him, my back against the lower bunk. "That's Pepe." I accepted it from him. "Don't laugh." "I won't." He was smiling though. "What's all this stuff?" He produced toy soldiers and stacks of old drawings and old pictures. "Just some stuff the maid found during spring cleaning. The Ranch has like eleven guest bedrooms but there was no room for this old junk." "Wow, eleven... How did you manage, growing up in such hardship?" He teased. He knew I didn't have an easy upbringing, he was just trying to get me to feel better. He started rifling through the pictures. I groaned, seeing myself as a baby. "Oh God, don't look at those." Embarrassed I looked away, focusing on the stuffed animal in my lap. I whipped my head around when I heard Heero exclaim: "Is this you?" He held up one of the photographs for me to see. Recognizing the picture I was absolutely mortified. It was a picture of myself, my young, teen self, standing in a forest by a giant redwood tree, wearing my hideous beige camp uniform. "Fuck, I thought I burned all pictures of me at that age." Heero turned the picture back to face him and stared at the image, unabashedly shocked. "So this is you?" His disbelief was appropriate, I prided myself on looking nothing like that anymore. "Yeah," I grumbled. "How old were you?" "Fourteen." "I would not have guessed that." "I know, the fat adds at least ten years." Heero looked up at me sharply, he could tell I was genuinely upset. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't have brought it up if I had known…" I shook my head. "No, it's fine. It was a long time ago. It's just a little weird to see myself like that again, you know? Brings back memories." "What kind of memories?" He questioned tentatively. "Memories of fat-camp." Heero looked back at the picture wide-eyed again. "That explains the uniform." "Yep, my dad shipped me to California to this camp, supposedly the best fat-camp in the country. Not after sending me to every doctor he had personal connections with. He was sure it was a thyroid problem or something. I gained like fifty pound in less than a year." I shrugged. "Food was love to me. Anyway, this place was like a concentration camp, I was there the whole summer and lost most of the weight. I guess I should be grateful, my dad was kind of cruel about it, but the kids at school were worse." "Yeah?" "Yeah. They called me-" I stopped myself and bit the inside of my cheek. I chuckled nervously. "I shouldn't say." "You know you can trust me." I never doubted that. "They called me 'Maxwhale'." It was so stupid, but the memory still caused a nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach. "Dicks." I let out a hearty laugh. "Were they nicer to you after you lost the weight?" "My father sent me to a different school after that summer. He was sick of listening to me whine about the mean boys at school, so he gave me a fresh start." "I guess that's nice… in his way." "Yeah, maybe. I did lose contact with the friends I had when he made me transfer school but in hindsight it was for the better, I didn't want that name to haunt me. It still hurts a little. Silly, isn't it?" Heero looked at me with earnest eyes. "Not at all." I smiled in gratitude. "Don't tell anyone, okay?" "You know I won't." It was barely more than a whisper. "Yeah." He handed the picture to me. "Are you going to get rid of it?" I looked down at the embarrassing image of myself. "Nah. It lasted this long, I might as well hold on to it. Maybe one day I'll be able to laugh at it. Until then I'll find a secure place to hide it." I tucked it in between the other photos and would find a hiding place for the bunch of them later. "What about you? Do you have any horribly embarrassing pictures of yourself." "Everyone has pictures like that," He replied matter-of-factly. "Well, what's yours? You know my dirty little secret." I winked at him. He rolled his eyes and scrunched up his face to fight the smirk. "There may or may not be a picture of myself dressed as a girl for a school-play." My jaw dropped, I couldn't stop it. "You're messing with me." "Officially I will deny the existence of this picture, but I will remind you that I went to an all-boys school, so while they selected plays with as few female characters as possible, sometimes there was no other option." "Why did I not know this when I still hated you? It would have made me feel so much better," I joked and caught his fist before he could playfully punch me in retaliation. "God, an all-boys school," I continued with mirth, "No wonder you give a hell of a blowjob." He dove on top of me. "Fuck you, Maxwhale!" I laughed, it didn't hurt when he said it. He was straddling my hips – not dissimilar to my dream - and he had my arms pinned above my head. I planted my feet on the floor and pushed up, twisting my body. As expected Heero fell to the side and in one swift motion I rolled on top of him and thanks to catching him by surprise he let go of my hands, so I grabbed his instead and immobilized them. With a cocked eyebrow I remarked mischievously. "You know there is only one thing still abnormally large about me." He rolled his eyes. "Oh please, don't blow your own horn." "Why would I? You do it so much better." He threw his gaze up at the ceiling. "I walked right into that one…" He let out a breathy chuckle but it died down when he noticed my stare. I suspected it was in that moment that we both realized our play-fighting had left us in quite a compromising position; us lying on the floor, me between his legs, most of my weight resting on him. I noticed he was panting. He was nervous. I wasn't. Self-conscious about what that meant I let go of his arms and sat up. Surprise – maybe even confusion – was evident on his features, but he didn't say anything. "So, where do you think I should hide these?" I inquired, picking up the collection of pictures. "Space behind the walls? Loose floorboards? False bottom in a drawer?... Bank vault?" "Just put them between your clothes. No one else comes in here without us present anyway." "Hmm, in the closet huh, is that where yours is?" He scowled at me. "I'll find a suitably secret place for them." For the time being I decided to hide them in one of the compartments of my duffel bag. I did worry that some of the other guys from the dorm building, Nash in particular, would ransack our room if they had the chance. Like I said, the word "privacy" was only ever thrown around sarcastically around here. I just had to take extra care to lock the door behind me when I'd leave. Before kicking the bag under the bed where it belonged I grasped the last handful of clothes and as I pulled it out a square box was revealed on the bottom. "Fuuuuck," I drawled. I dropped the clothes and reached in for the box. "What's that?" Heero crawled over curiously. "My mom's idea of a Christmas gift." "And your idea of a-?" "Bribe." I flipped the lid open and showed him the monstrous watch. "Wow… it's… extravagant." He made a face. "It's hideous." I looked at it, displeased. "Worse still, my dad practically wears a twin. It'd be like a matching set. He would approve. I hate wearing things he would approve of even more than I hate wearing things that are just plain ugly. I told her I didn't want it." He took the box from me and stared at the heavy, gold thing with a mixture of awe and disgust. "And she hid it in your bag anyway?" "I guess." He shrugged. "Maybe you should just keep it and wear it next time you see them. It'll make them happy." "That's another reason why I don't want to wear it. I don't want to make them happy. I'm in the business of trying to make myself happy, since they never bothered." I looked at him with a sudden grin. "You're vice-president, by the way." "Vice-president?" "Of the business devoted to making me happy." "Oh." Adorably he seemed to give it serious thought. "Am I performing my function to your satisfaction?" I smiled. "You've exceeded my expectations. You can expect a Christmas bonus." "Cool." He looked back at the watch. "So, mister president, what are you going to do with that?" I unceremoniously stuffed it back into the bag and then pushed it under the bed. "Return it." Eager to ignore the very existence of the watch I got up from the floor and gathered my laundry. "I suppose I'll do a load, then. Do you have stuff?" He got up as well. "No, I did laundry yesterday. I'm going to make breakfast, do you want an omelet?" I smirked at him. "That would make me very happy." We both headed downstairs. Heero went into the kitchen and I walked down the hall to the tiny laundry-room in the back. "Put some meat in mine please!" I called after him. Once I had carelessly separated the clothes and put the first bundle into the machine I walked back to the kitchen and dropped myself down into a chair with a heavy sigh. "I just realized it's only nine-thirty. What in God's name am I supposed to do all day?" Usually on my days off I would make an effort to at least sleep in until noon. "I don't know," He replied with his back turned towards me as he stood at the stove. "Weren't you going to throw a New Year's party?" I rolled my eyes. "Heero, it's a college kegger and if we're lucky something like ten people will choose my party over one of the many other parties that night. I'll stop by a seven-eleven on the day and pick up some beer and barnuts." He laughed. "Have you even invited anyone?" "I've spread the word. I've put it on Facebook. Zero likes." Heero turned around with a frown. "I don't know what that means." "It means I'm a loser… And the fact that you didn't know what it means, means you're a loser too, so I guess you're coming?" "I guess it's my duty as vice-president to attend." He turned back to his task. I stared at his behind. He was wearing his favorite, faded black and blue checkered button-up shirt – his 'lumberjack shirt'. I must have seen him wearing it a million times but for the first time I noticed how nicely it fit him; a little tight across the chest, a little loose around the waist. The sleeves casually rolled up to his elbow. The top three buttons open. My gaze trailed down. The fit of his jeans was equally remarkable. Heero never shied away from the tighter fit – might have been a Japanese fashion thing – he didn't do the loose jeans, shapelessly hanging off his ass, like most guys our age did. His jeans were perfectly fitted, all the way down the legs. I shook my head. I shouldn't be seeing those things, I berated myself. I shouldn't be noticing those things! The kitchen started to fill with the mouth-watering smell of a proper breakfast. Normally I didn't have breakfast. On days when I had classes I'd take a cup of coffee to go. On my days off I didn't haul my ass out of bed in time for the first meal of the day to qualify as breakfast and it was usually cold pizza or any other left-over that I could steal from the shared refrigerator. On days following a party I would even wash it down with a stale beer, so the glass of orange juice Heero put in front of me was a nice change. "Thank you, dear." "Would you like the newspaper with that, darling?" Heero played along. "Only the financial section, pumpkin." I took a sip from my orange juice. "Oh man," I groaned. "What? Has it gone bad?" "No… just tastes weird when it's not mixed with alcohol." Heero laughed, even though he usually didn't find my drinking habits as a stereotypical student amusing. "So, what are your plans for today?" "Study, of course." He retrieved two plates from the dishwasher. "Of course." I took another sip. With a devilish thought I got up from my seat and approached him. Standing behind him, not close enough to touch, but closer than one would stand behind a friend, I whispered: "Do you want me to come over during lunch time and suck your dick?" I wanted so much to put my hands on his hips, press my body against his and bury my nose into the hair at the nape of his neck, or maybe suckle on his earlobe… but I couldn't. And I hated that. And I hated that I hated that. It was just so confusing. Obviously I was attracted to him, but what did that mean? Did feeling attracted to one guy really make someone bisexual? Couldn't it just be my libido playing tricks on me? "Duo!" He turned around in the narrow space between me and the front of the stove. He pushed me away with an incredulous look. "What if someone walks in? What if someone had heard?" I snorted. "Heero, only a handful or guys are still here and they're all asleep like a college student should be at this hour." "You're unbelievable!" "Thank you," I said with a smirk. "No. No, not 'thank you'. We agreed to be careful about keeping this a secret." "Yes, we're on the down-low, I get it, but Heero, no one is here, we're alone. When are you going to stop freaking out at the slightest thing?" I was a little more than peeved at the arm length he was keeping me at. Being confronted with his inhibitions regarding the situations certainly didn't help me feel any better about my personal confusion. "Oh, real nice. Just step back, okay, you're going to make me ruin the damn omelets." He turned back to the stove and reached out, but suddenly he flinched and jumped back, crashing into me, holding one arm to his chest with the other. "Shit!" I made sure to restore the appropriate distance between us before he could blame me for the closeness and bite my head off for it and then allowed myself to fret over him like a mother hen. "What did you do? Did you burn yourself?" "Obviously!" He snapped. "Thank you, Super Sarcasmo. Is it your hand?" "My arm. I turned around and the pan was a little closer than I thought. It's all your fault," He accused with a pout. "Let me see it," I demanded and I grabbed his wrist and pulled his injured arm out. There was a curved line of red, swollen and blotchy skin on his forearm a few inches away from the elbow. "Come here," I pulled him towards the sink and turned on the faucet. I made sure the water was cool but not extremely cold before I put his arm under the stream. "Hold it there, I'm going to get a big bowl or this is going cost a fortune worth of water." I retrieved a punch bowl from a cupboard and even though it was clean I rinsed it just to be sure and then let it fill up. I put it on the counter and instructed Heero to soak his arm in it for about fifteen minutes. "Does it hurt?" "Yeah, it hurts," He gritted through his teeth. I nodded. "It looks like a second degree burn." He frowned at me. "How would you know?" "Oh please, I grew up an angry kid with daddy issues. I got myself into so much trouble my parents ended up recruiting nannies from pre-med schools." I opened my palm and held it out to him, showing the faded scar of a burn. "Grabbed my mom's curling iron in a last ditch attempt to get her attention." Actually, I learned most from WuFei, who was on his way to becoming a doctor last time I saw him, but I didn't want to mention him. Heero would use it as an opportunity to start up another debate on why I should reach out to WuFei. I left briefly to get the first-aid kit that was stored in a cabinet by the front door along with the fire extinguisher and fire-blanket. "Is it starting to get better?" I asked upon re-entry. "Yeah." Heero tilted his head to appraise the submerged burn. I noticed a burnt smell and only then realized our breakfast was in the process of being ruined. But I didn't care. I turned off the stove before the whole place would stink up with the smoky scent and then unpacked the first-aid kit on the counter. "The skin looks broken so I'm going to bandage it." "Please tell me I won't have to go to the hospital. I really don't need to see my dad more often than absolutely necessary." I shook my head. "Don't worry, it doesn't look too bad. No doctors required." He was visibly relieved. He didn't have any insurance so any visit to the doctor or to the hospital would result in a bill that would have him knocking on his dad's door for payment. His father would probably love it, he loved having that kind of power over Heero, he made damn sure Heero would, in no way, be financially independent as long as he was here. We waited quietly for the fifteen minutes to pass and for the pain to fade. When sufficient time had passed and Heero indicated that it didn't hurt that much anymore I had him take his arm out of the water and carefully dabbed the skin dry with a paper towel before loosely wrapping it with clean bandages. I used my teeth to tear off small pieces of medical tape and secured the bandages. To fill the silence I explained to him that we would regularly have to change the bandage to avoid infection. Even though he was hurt, which made me feel awful, I did like being allowed to take care of him. I hoped he knew I would always take care of him, for as long as he would let me. I playfully kissed his palm before letting go of his arm, enjoying the shy look on his face. "Everyone knows a kiss is standard procedure in treating a booboo." He made an uncomfortable face at my choice of words but thanked me anyway. "Sure." He looked back at the stove. "Sorry about breakfast." "No worries." I took a step back and ripped open the refrigerator door. I pulled out the pizza I had ordered the previous night and presented it to him with a grin. "Hope you like salami." "Oh God," He pinched his nose. "Why treat my burn only to kill me with left-overs?" "Fine, fine. Sit down, I'll fix you a bowl of cereal." I put the pizza away and grabbed two bowls. I gave him a look when he moved to help. "What? I think I can manage cereal." He scowled, but without argument he walked to the small kitchen table and sat down. I gathered the carton of milk and the box of cereal in my arms and walked the items over to the table. I shook a generous amount of cereal into both bowls and then poured the milk. I sat down but caught him staring at me. In a fluid motion I was up on my feet again. "Spoons, right. Spoons." I dropped one in each bowl. "There you go, milord." The kitchen filled with crunching sounds as we chewed, until the milk turned the cereal soggy that is. "We aren't still fighting, are we?" I worried. "No." I smiled at his curt but honest answer. "Good. Because I still intend to give you a treat for lunch." I winked at him. He rolled his eyes dramatically but I could tell he was fighting a smile. After cleaning up the kitchen Heero went to the library to study and I killed time doing my laundry and cleaning up some of my mess in our shared room. I responded to a text from a colleague at the campus-bar begging me to cover his shift that night with a simple "okay". I was actually grateful, it was good to keep myself occupied – otherwise my thoughts would wander into dangerous, uncharted territory – and people were always very generous with their tips in the final week of the year. So many parties were organized that no one ever got the opportunity to fully sober up and drunk college guys were likely to carelessly throw a fifty dollar bill your way for a twenty dollar tab and say: keep the change. I attempted to get a head start on a project due the end of January, but the material on Art Nouveau accents in modern architecture we were supposed to study in preparation was even more dull than I had initially feared. Soon I was skimming through the questionably thick book, looking only at the pictures and accompanying captions. Every time I flipped a page I looked down at my watch. Heero and I had agreed on a late lunch, because breakfast got delayed. I was excited about it, which I recognized to be pathetic and disconcerting. I didn't ever feel giddy like that planning to meet one of my former girlfriends. I would be happy to see them and we would end up having a nice time, with or without sexual interaction, but I never experienced that impatient, jittery feeling beforehand. In hindsight I did always look forward to meeting up with Heero, long before I ever conceived our odd arrangement, but my anticipation had become different and I couldn't sensibly deny that that had something to do with the prospect of sexual stimulation. What that meant? Who knew? I certainly didn't. I remained reluctant to believe that a single out-of-control bromance would be reason enough to revisit labels like straight, bi, or even gay. But hot on the heels of that was the Devil's Advocate on my shoulder pointing out to me that a man who enjoyed sucking another's dick and was having dreams about having sex with that other man couldn't still fit in the 'straight'-box. There wasn't enough room in the 'straight'-box to accommodate such male-on-male desires. But what about the 'bisexual'-box? That didn't feel like a good fit either, it was a bit too roomy for me, wasn't it? Considering that my same sex fantasies were limited to one person of the same gender, it seemed rash to derive a new sexual identity from one 'incident'. Was there a box in between 'Straight' and 'Bisexual'? Maybe the 'Temporary insanity'-box? Or the 'Abandonment issues'-box? Some throwback Freudian shrink could probably convincingly argue that it was an identity crisis in the face of my best friend soon moving back across the Pacific and me wanting to sleep with him was nothing but a perverted manifestation of my need to keep him close to me. I shook my head and slammed the book shut. Heero was right – again – I grumbled inwardly. I had to stop taking those random electives. Over half an hour before I was supposed to meet Heero at the library I hoisted myself out of my seat, fished my wallet out of my shoulder bag and stuffed it deep into the pocket of my cargo pants and headed out. As I locked the door behind me a figure of odd colors approached me. I turned and gaped. "Do I even want to know why you are dressed as an elf?" Nash grinned at me, looking down at his disheveled but detailed costume of green and red fabric and silver bells. "This guy I know from Economics does the elf-gig every year and he said they needed an extra merry-fairy." I blinked. "I'm sorry, I heard nothing of what you just said. I was overwhelmed by the realization that your hair is green and has glitters in it." Unfazed he continued: "Anyway, we did this Santa-and-his-merry-elves thing on Christmas eve at the mall and then all the elves went to this kick ass party. It was awesome." He grinned. "Christmas was two days ago." "I told you, it was an awesome party." "That lasted two days?" "What? No. It went on until midnight the next day. I was just released from the hospital; dehydration and a concussion. Someone hit me over the head with a beer bottle." He laughed. "I don't remember a thing after that!" I gave him a disproving look. "I'm sure you deserved it." He giggled – I swear to God he did – and then stumbled along to his room. I shook my head at him and then left. Outside I noticed the soft snow floating down from the sky, blanketing the ground with a sheer veil. I pushed my rolled-up sleeves back down to my wrists and jogged across campus to make a quick stop for coffee and sandwiches. Sometimes I envied Nash. He could do the craziest things and get himself hospitalized and never think anything of it. I used to think I was like that, but obviously I had to face the reality that I wasn't quite so carefree. On my way in I bribed the front desk clerk with her favorite sandwich and stalked to the back. The library was eerily quiet. Normally the space would be filled with muffled coughs and the rustle of dozens of people seemingly turning a page in unison, like it was choreographed. All seats were empty with the exception of one. A large section of the study tables was actually roped off and it looked like they were in the process of varnishing the surfaces of the tables. They had made quick work removing the Christmas decorations, instead they framed the overhead clock with colorful ribbons and obnoxious holographic letters that spelled out: 3. 2. 1. Happy New Year! Actually, there were three exclamation marks, probably just because they had them lying around anyway, or to purposefully annoy the English lit. majors. I quietly made my way down the dark hall in the back, stopping at the last door. I spied through the window to the left of the door and took a moment to observe Heero. The entire surface of the study table, that could seat ten, was covered by open books, schematics and scattered pages of notes. Heero was leaning over the collection, his gaze intense and searching. How he could make sense of the mess was beyond me. He was entirely too focused on his work to register me spying on him but I promptly stepped inside to avoid any risk of being caught gawking. "Yo." "'Sup." "What's all this?" "Extra credits." He frowned. "Or, it will be, anyway." I scoffed. "Like you need extra credits." "I do if I want to graduate Valedictorian." Graduation, I didn't like thinking about that moment, let alone talking about it. I wasn't nervous about getting my degree, I had the grades to finish in the top five percent of my class and Heero was a shoe-in for Valedictorian for that matter. But graduation marked the end of our shared life as students, even as friends. Heero had always made it very clear that he would waste no time getting back to Japan, back to his grandmother and away from his dad, as soon as the graduation ceremony had completed. So to change the subject I asked: "How's your arm?" He looked down at the bandages like he had completely forgotten about the injury. "It's fine." I smirked. "I think it's the kiss that did it." I expected him to sputter objections but instead he remarked absent-mindedly: "Who knows." I swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in my throat as my mind swarmed with memories of dreams; I saw myself kissing him all over. It got increasingly more cramped and claustrophobic in the 'straight'-box. I didn't fit! I didn't fit! But metaphorically speaking I stubbornly stuffed myself back in there, not caring how much the sides of the box were bulging and I offered him his lunch. "Good ol' fashioned meatball subs." The low, appreciative sound he made in the back of his throat had me swearing I could actually hear the box tearing. Unaware of my inner turmoil he took a seat and casually propped his feet up on the table. I sat down at the far end of the table and thoughtfully chewed. "You're quiet," He stated halfway through his meal. I shrugged. "Just thinking about stuff." He quirked an eyebrow. "Stuff?" Kissing you. "Art Nouveau," I lied. He let out a deep chuckle. "So you finally got started on that project." "Finally? It isn't due for another month. You know I work best under the forty-eight-hours-until-the-deadline pressure." He frowned and innocently inquired: "Then why were you thinking about it?" I couldn't answer that and Heero caught on that I had been lying to hide an embarrassing truth, so he didn't pry. I thought he might have suspected that I had been thinking about him, or at least our arrangement and that he didn't ask further because he did not wish to know. Of the two of us he was the one determined to keep 'the exchanges' as superficial as possible. He must have worried that there was something hidden underneath the surface, a deeper meaning to what we were doing, but he wasn't about to pick up a shovel and start digging. He would leave it buried, buried deep and I didn't think I could dig it up by myself, so it would suffocate under the dirt. It was for the best, I knew that. I didn't want to start drama, I didn't want to re-evaluate my entire life, including but not limited to our friendship, but it felt like I couldn't breathe, under the dirt, or in the restricting box – or whatever metaphor a more creative mind could invent. We finished our meals in quiet thought and then I proceeded to bug him a little, to convince both him and myself that nothing was different, and then left him alone at his urging. I never gave him the 'treat' I mentioned earlier, but suddenly I wasn't in the mood anymore and he didn't bring it up, so I didn't either. Heero came back to the dorm room a few minutes before I had to leave for work, exactly enough time to change his bandages, just to be sure. I used up the last of the small roll that was in the emergency first aid kit so I instructed Heero to get more when he would go out for groceries. On my way to work I grabbed a hotdog from the stand just outside the campus walls and consumed it in about three large bites, four tops. Work would be a good distraction. It was such a normal, mundane thing for me, I hoped it would calm my mind, turn it back to its usual, relatively carefree setting. An introspective brood was not a good look for me. "Obie!" I hollered upon entering the mostly empty on-campus bar. Senior students would be pouring in soon. Normally, alcohol was only served on the two night a week that were 'Senior-nights', for the 21-and-over crowd, but during the week of Christmas and New Year's Eve we served alcohol every night, to keep the student body nice and drunk. "Duo?" He paused cleaning beer glasses to present me a confused look. "I thought I was manning the bar with Jason tonight." "Tough luck. He asked me to fill in for him." "What an idiot. He is going to miss out on a fortune of tips." I nodded. "As I understood it there was some 'girl-friend' trouble." Obie made a telling face. An 'isn't-there-always-face'. I moved to help him clean the glasses and asked about the look. "Trouble in paradise?" He shrugged. "Nah, I don't know. Maybe?" I chuckled. "Okay…" "It's just… you know everyone keeps saying that we married way too fast, way too young, right?" I nodded and refrained from stating I agreed with those observations. "Well, I thought that Jen and I weren't going to listen to that. It was going to be us against the world. But lately, every time we get into a fight, she starts in on this monologue that maybe her parents – and everyone and their grandmother – were right, that maybe we were too young and didn't know each other well enough. She has started to blame me for proposing too soon and that she felt like she couldn't have said 'no' because that would have hurt my feelings." He scoffed, like the mere notion was ridiculous, so I nodded along, not expressing that I was sympathetic to her point. I had been there, I had watched them fall madly in love. She changed him, in a good way. Five months later, still securely locked in the head-over-heels-in-love position he proposed. She had said 'yes'. I thought them both crazy. I was all for impulsivity, but who would overhaul their life based on a single feeling: the flutters of butterflies in their stomachs? Butterflies have short life-expectancies. "Anyway, it's just driving me up the wall," He said with a sigh. "Sorry to dump this on you." "It's okay. Psychology was one of my electives last year," I grinned and hoped the joke would make him feel better. "I don't think a four week course in the history of psychology makes you qualified." "Then how about being your friend? Does that make me qualified?" He smiled. "Yeah. Thanks." "Sure," I brushed it off as nothing, as it really was nothing. "No, I'm serious. I can't talk about this stuff with my other friends, you know? They just laugh at my expense and throw a football at my face and they're all like: 'Quick, do something manly before we start braiding each other's hair'." I frowned. Being a man with a long braid I felt a little awkward, like my masculinity was being called into question. "So, what, I'm your less-manly friend?" He blinked at me. "Seriously!" "No!" He raised his hands in surrender. "Look, I'm not implying that you're any less manly than the other guys. What I'm saying is… you have this thing going on with Heero-" My face became hot and probably beet red. "It seems like you guys can talk about anything. I figured since you're the kind of guy that is comfortable with stuff like that, I could talk to you." "Oh…" I felt appropriately foolish. "Sorry." "What going on? You always seemed pretty confident about your 'manliness'. Not even all those jokes about you and Heero being married made you defensive like this." "Sorry, the holidays man, they have me on edge." He eyed me suspiciously. He wasn't buying it, but he said: "Okay, no problem, it's cool." I was relieved to have the subject dropped, this was supposed to be a night to distract me after all, not aim a magnifying glass at the exact issue that I wished to forget about. We worked in silence – though I could hear the wheels turning in his head - as he rinsed the glasses and I dried them off and lined them against the back of the bar, where they were within reach once the place would start filling up. I caught his glance as he tensely handed me the last of the glasses and I felt a knot form in my stomach, knowing the conversation was in for a humiliating reprise. "Can I ask you something?" "I don't think I'd be able to stop you," I quipped, "It's a free country after all." "Is there… maybe… something special about your relationship with Heero?" I snorted and casually replied: "He's my best friend." He nodded pensively but he wasn't about to accept my blasé answer. "I know, but…. Well, Freddy is my best friend, I suppose. At least, I've known him the longest. But him and I, we aren't like you and Heero." "What are you getting at?" I fidgeted with the Christmas lights draped across the bar. "Look, there's a reason we joke and call you mister and misses Maxwell, you guys seem so… close," I frowned at the way he said 'close', recognizing it as the gross euphemism he meant it to be. "I was just wondering if there is some accidental truth to our jokes." I threw him an incredulous look. "Where did all this shit come from all of a sudden?" "I've actually been wondering about this for quite a while! I know you're always dating girls, but they never seem to make you happy. And since the subject of masculinity came up I figured I might as well ask you." "Really?" I retorted defiantly. I put my hand on my hips and faced him with a glare. "And what, exactly, are you asking me?" He made a face. "You really want me to spell it out?" His tone was soft, he didn't want the few students in the back to hear us. I chuckled bitterly. "Oh, Hell yeah. By all means, embarrass yourself by asking me what you want to ask me." I had started making big gestures with the rag in my hand. "If you tell me you aren't gay, I'll believe you," He assured me with hushed voice. "I'm telling you," I stated defensively. "I'm not gay." As I said the words out loud, I realized they were not true. They were not a flat-out lie, but they implied an untruth; they implied that the alternative, 'straight', was the case and it was not. I didn't know what it was about saying it out loud that enabled this epiphany regarding an issue that I had been circling in my mind for days, if not weeks, but there it was. My mouth said the words and it was like they registered in my brain for the first time and to my horror, my brain burst into laughter, because it was laughably preposterous for me to be what I was pretending to be – straight. I supposed hearing myself say it out loud evoked the kind of reaction in me that I would have had if someone else had said the words: I want to fuck my male friend, but I'm not gay. I would have laughed at their unmistakable denial. "Okay, sorry," Said Obie, but I could barely hear him over the thundering rumble of my sexual identity collapsing into an unrecognizable pile of meaningless rubble. The night was sufficiently awkward after that. Even as the initial shock wore off I was dumbfounded at the news that apparently one of my good friends had always suspected me to be gay. I didn't understand that in the least, it had never occurred to me to ask those questions about myself, why, on earth, would someone else think to ask them? And what cruel timing for him to voice his questions, right in the very moment when I was unsure about all the answers. I did abruptly understand why he proposed to Jen after only a few months, why he was willing to dedicate his entire life to an unforeseen and possibly fleeting feeling. Because however sudden and transient, some realizations change you forever and there was no point resisting their effect. Even though my sexual attraction to Heero could very well fade overtime, it didn't make the impact on my person any less significant. What rang in my ears the most as I absent-mindedly served costumers and kept the bar tidy, was the profoundly insightful observation Obie had made: the girls I dated never did make me happy. Maybe therein lay the clue that I should have deciphered long ago. I've kept myself so busy dating girls, looking for a love that I had always been denied, I never gave myself the opportunity to be with myself, on my own, and discover what 'love' meant to me exactly and who would be able to fit my interpretation of it. I never stopped and paused. I never asked the questions I should have asked myself, after failed relationship upon failed relationship. Fuck, I thought and I derailed my threatening train of thought before even the 'bisexual-box' wouldn't be a fit for me anymore. I focused on giving the customers my best smile and my cheekiest remarks, to make them laugh and to make them generous. At the end of a long night, while Obie and I mopped the floor and the last of the patrons waited for a friend to come pick him up – carry him home, more likely – Obie apologized to me, quietly but sincerely. I couldn't hold a grudge. He may have hit the nail on the head and even though it was a hard thing to be beat over the head with, it was what I needed. I couldn't very well keep lingering in the twilight zone where the air was foggy with questions but quiet in the absence of answers. But I didn't tell him that, I accepted his apology and offered to close up so he could head home to Jen. "Thanks." On his way out he halted and asked: "Is it okay if Jen and I come to your New Year's party?" I shrugged. "Sure, but you might be the only ones there. The competition of other parties is stiff that night." "But Heero will be there, right?" He blurted without filter. "Yeah… Yeah, Heero will be there." "Cool. I'll see you guys then." After a pause he felt the need to assure me: "I really do mean what I said. You say you're straight, I believe it." I smiled with dead eyes. I didn't point out to him that I had never claimed to be straight, just argued his accusation of me being gay. I understood that most people were convinced there was nothing in between and I didn't feel like coming out of the bi-closet after only just realizing I was stuffed in there to begin with. Moreover I didn't think Heero would be appreciative of the attention such a public admission would inevitably evoke. "It's cool, don't worry about it." He nodded, smiled, then left, holding the door open for the guy who had come to pick up his friend. I helped the drunk fool up from his seat and threw his arm over his friend's shoulder for support and locked the door behind them. In four big steps I was behind the bar, my hands blindly grasping for a bottle from the mirrored wall and I poured myself a strong drink. I guessed what hit me the hardest was shame; embarrassed at being a blind fool all my life. I felt like an idiot, a stubborn idiot who had been lost in his search for love but was too damn caught up in the desperation of his loveless life that he never even stopped to ask for directions, he just kept going down the wrong road. The acknowledgement that I was at least a bit bisexual, didn't scare me in the sense that I feared the judgment of others. I knew not everyone would be understanding, or accepting, but I didn't care about that, in fact, I looked forward to breaking the news to my dad, knowing that it would devastate him. What scared me was the thought that I might have missed out on great loves, perhaps even the love of my life, because I was looking for it in a girl. I couldn't recall ever feeling attracted to a guy, but it must have happened and slipped my notice. Why would Heero be the first? I didn't even realize how long I had been standing there, refilling my glass on occasion until there was a knock on the glass door. Heero was standing outside, holding his coat closed and wrapped around him tightly with his arms. The snowflakes that were falling were thick and Heero's footsteps had left a trail in the blanket of snow. I hurried around the bar and through the front door. A gust of cold air whipped my bangs around my face as I quickly let him in. "What are you doing here?" "The bar closed at two AM, I was wondering what was keeping you." The most feasible excuse was: "I sent Obie home, I offered to clean up by myself, it's just taking a little longer than I anticipated." "Oh. Can I help?" He shook his coat off his shoulders and looked around. "Uhm…" Aside from putting the final chair where the drunk guy had been sitting upside down on the table, I was done. "Actually, I'm almost done." "You were having a drink," Heero noted, pointedly looking at the shot glass and the bottle of tequila on the bar. "Yeah," I admitted sheepishly. "Want one?" Heero gave me a look. "Glass of water then?" He joined me behind the bar and watched me fix him his simple drink. I poured myself another shot. "Trowa wants to come to your party," He started after the first sip. "Really?" "He's bringing his boyfriend." I swallowed. "Cool. Then at least there will be six of us." "Six?" "Obie and Jen are coming." He wrinkled his nose. "Hn, but of all your friends I suppose I dislike Owen the least." "It'll be fine. The five of us will get drunk and you sit on your high horse and roll your eyes at us." Heero frowned. "Trowa doesn't drink either, nor does his boyfriend." "Oh joy. Where will I find two additional high horses on short notice?" I jested. "You don't really mean that, right?" He asked uncomfortably, "I'm not really that obnoxious when you drink?" "No," I lied. He did have the tendency to act superior and judgmental when I'd spent an evening getting drunk, but I had the feeling me rubbing his nose in that would make him feel guilty and I wasn't about to subject him to that. Besides, he was probably right to get pissed at me when I'd get drunk, he was usually the one to have to drag me home. Unsubtly changing the subject I asked about this arm. "It's fine," He shrugged it off. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he added: "The kiss is wearing off though." I bit back a groan. Oh how much I wanted to plant a kiss on his lips, but I knew that wasn't what he was asking. "Yeah?" I took a step forward and backed him up against the bar. "Where does it hurt now?" I breathed lustfully. He surprised me by grabbing my hips and pulling my pelvis against his. "Here," He whispered in return. "You said you would suck me during lunch, but you never did." My mind was reeling, it didn't often happen that he was so forward and it was the first time we actually ground our hips together like that. It was instantly apparent to me that I loved the sensation of our lower bodies pressed together. Encouraged by his uncharacteristic directness I made slight thrusts against him and my whole body felt hot, but nowhere more so than between my legs, when I could feel us both getting hard. I boldly licked the shell of his ear, then kissed his neck feverishly, fully aware that his inhibitions could hit him at any time and he could push me away. I slipped my hand between us and fondled him through his jeans. The soft sounds he emitted drew a smile to my lips. "I'll kiss it better," I whispered hotly in his ear and then lowered myself down on my knees in front of him. "Here?" He thought to ask with slight concern. "Don't worry, if anyone does walk by the windows, I'm hidden behind the bar." In the meantime I was busy unceremoniously undoing his pants. After that night's epiphany, I was eager for it. For some reason I experienced a peace and calm that already allowed me to enjoy it more. When I pulled his dick free from his boxer-briefs I placed a soft kiss on the tip of it and I chuckled deeply at his gasp. The first low moan escaped him when I took the head of his arousal into my mouth and sucked on it lightly, whilst cupping his balls in my right hand and letting my left hand slide up his body, underneath his shirt. I plucked a nipple and simultaneously took as much of him into his mouth as I could. The high-pitched, surprised cry, followed immediately by a deep, appreciative groan made my cock dance in my pants. Hearing him unabashedly express his pleasure made me think of that night I had found him in his lower bunk masturbating with my Christmas present up his ass. My mouth vibrated as I moaned - which he echoed - thinking of how close we had gotten to sex that night. I wanted it. I wanted to be inside him. I wanted to see him react to my thick length stretching him, the way he moaned and gasped at having the vibrator caress his insides. I lowered both my hands to undo my jeans so I could offer myself some much needed relief. I jerked myself off needily while I continue to bring him to the highest level of pleasure before teasingly pulling back and merely placing open mouthed kisses on his cock right as he was on the edge of orgasm, denying him the release he craved. He called me evil and twisted his fingers into the hair at the base of my braid but he never got forceful, not even when I brought him to the brink only to leave him hanging again, and again. He would deny it, but I could tell he was enjoying it. My hands inched his tight jeans down the entire length of his legs. I released his dick long enough to suck on my index- and middle finger and I grinned at the quizzical look he gave me. The guy at the sex toy shop had put all kinds of ideas in my head as he was selling me the appropriate vibrator, talking, at length, about the pleasure and benefit of stretching your partner with your fingers beforehand. I knew we weren't about to have sex, Heero wasn't that desperately in need of orgasm, but he might have been driven close enough to insanity to allow my fingers inside him. I took him back into my mouth to increase the odds of his compliance and then reached my hand between his legs, purposefully brushing along his scrotum. His entire body tensed when my intentions became clear to him. "No, wait." He put both of his hands on my shoulders but he only made a weak attempt to push me back. If he really wanted me to stop, I trusted he would do more than make a halfhearted effort that made me doubt that he actually wanted me to stop. He shuddered when I pressed the tip of my finger against his opening. "Don't. It's nasty." I pulled my head back to assure him with a smirk: "Don't worry. I only want to make this arrangement as beneficial to you as possible." I heavily licked the head of his cock, watching his face intently, as I pushed my index finger through the tight ring and slowly worked it all the way into him. It was incredibly tight and as he kept tightening around my finger my cock was bouncing up and down in my lap. He moaned, but contradicted himself by saying: "Please, stop." It took me a while to strike his prostate right, but once I got a hang of things he made no more objections, not even when I slipped in the second finger alongside the first. And soon I wasn't sure if he had started to move his hips to thrust deeper into my mouth or to push back against my fingers to get them deeper inside him. Whatever the case he was vocally enjoying the overall experience which spurred me on. I varied the way I used my mouth on him; licking the entire length of his cock, raining kisses on it, or sucking on it. But I kept the motion of my two fingers steady, in a rhythm in which I imagined I would enjoy fucking him. With my thumb I stroked the area between his balls and where my fingers disappeared into him. And in an impressive display of multi-tasking, I managed to offer myself direct stimulation as well, in the same pace with which I was fucking him with my fingers. When I had experimentally used my fingers on myself I wasn't really into it, it was just uncomfortable, painful even. Heero's reactions to the added stimulation was entirely different and it was fucking hot. I wondered what he was thinking about, looking up at his tightly shut eyes. Were it just my fingers in his fantasy as well, or was he thinking about the vibrator he had shamefully gotten rid of, or was he thinking about my dick? He did admit a few nights ago that he wanted me to fuck him. With my own dick painfully hard and in desperate need of some undivided attention I sucked harder on Heero's cock and continuously teased his prostate with my fingers. His climax came soon, with a shrill cry, and it was powerful. I had to quickly bring up my free hand to hold his hips as he started bucking into my mouth. His muscles clamped down on my fingers so tightly that the thought of having my cock buried inside him during his orgasm made stars appear in front of my eyes. Fuck, I love this, I thought to myself with a negligible red hue on my cheekbones. I carefully extracted my fingers and wiped them on my jeans as I sat back on my lower legs. Heero slowly sagged down to the floor. He had a dark, desirable look in his eyes. I reached out for one of his ankles and pulled his foot out of his jeans so I could spread his legs and sit between them. Heero just let me maneuver him as I pleased, caught up in post-orgasm bliss. One hand I rested against the cabinet door of the bar Heero was sitting back against, above his shoulder. The other I wrapped around my dick to shamelessly start masturbating in front of him. We were so close that I could feel his hot breath on my face and I could stare deeply into his hooded eyes. I moaned pathetically when he cast his gaze down to watch me pleasure myself. "Put your hands on me. Anywhere," I ordered, needing physical contact. After a brief moment of hesitation he placed his hands on my thighs, stroking both his thumbs back and forth, causing me to shudder. It was such a simple touch but it felt amazing. He kept his eyes focused on my lap, staring – almost hungrily, I dared to think. When he sensually bit his lower lip, completely unaware of himself, I almost came. I moved my left hand from the cabinet to the back of his neck and I brought our faces closer together. I could feel the tension in his body and his thumbs stopped caressing me. I breathed a deep sigh, knowing that I couldn't do what I wanted to do so badly; kiss him. Instead I leaned my forehead against his, our bangs, damp with sweat, melting together. I quickened my pace, eager for release. The closeness made the experience even better. He looked up into my eyes and I came. I struggled to keep my eyes open to maintain our intimate eye-contact as I rode the high waves of my orgasm. My come landed on my hand, my lap and even on Heero's bare thighs. I let out a whimper. As mind-blowingly good as it was I regretted that I wasn't allowed to kiss his lips. I pumped my fist up and down a few more times before I pulled myself away from him with effort, sitting back against the wall behind the bar. I looked down at myself. I was an absolute mess. As admittedly satisfying as it had been, I immediately craved more. I looked at him, sitting across from me, with greedy eyes. I wanted to give him the pleasure of being stretched by a real cock. I wanted to know what it felt like to be deep inside him when he climaxed. I wanted to be the first man to leave his mark within him. No, the only man, I corrected myself possessively. As if he read my mind, he asserted: "We are never going to have sex." I smiled and nodded. There was uncertainty in his voice, he was unconvinced of his own statement. He wanted it, perhaps as much as I wanted it. Even a focused, disciplined guy like Heero couldn't ignore his desires forever. I would wait for him to come to the conclusion that there was no denying the sexual attraction between us and for him to be willing to fully give into that. We got cleaned up and dressed. I washed my hands and watched him pull up his jeans and adjust his disheveled shirt. When he looked my way I grinned at him, he quickly looked away, with a blush. We walked back to our dorm building with our hands stuffed into our pockets and our mouths shut. I wasn't worried about the awkwardness, I knew every trace of it would be gone come dawn, he just had to sleep it off. As we got dressed in our nightwear, with our backs turned to each other – though I could see his backside in the reflection of the closet door mirror I was facing – I relayed Nash's story from before. He laughed when I told him the now-green-haired student got hit over the head with a bottle of beer and he remarked: "I'm sure he deserved it." I paused midway through putting on my night shirt and stared at the reflection of the back of his head with a stupid smile. "That's exactly what I said." He cast me a look over his bare shoulder. "We really have been hanging around each other for too long, mind-melting and all," I observed jokingly. "I think it means we've been hanging around with Nash for too long. We know him better than I want to." He dropped down into his bed with a deep sigh. I re-braided my hair, stealing looks at him as he stretched out on his bed like a lazy cat, closing his eyes and moaning softly as he did. My eyes were drawn to his exposed lower abdomen as his shirt hiked up. When I was done with my hair I had no valid excuse to keep standing there, with my head cocked to the side, so I threw the rope back over my shoulder and climbed up into the top bunk, hitting the light switch before settling down. As expected neither of us made a big deal of what had happened in the bar. I brought him lunch the next day as he worked in the study room in the library and gave him a regular blowjob – getting one for myself in return – and it was fine. And afterwards we bantered back in forth while I changed his bandages, which I insisted on. He didn't think he had to keep it wrapped up, but I didn't want to take any chances. I was quite protective, even more so than I had always been. On the last day of the year I headed out late in the afternoon to do some shopping in preparation for the New Year's 'extravanganza' that would involve as many as six people. Heero would meet me at the mansion later in the day – when he felt he had officially logged enough study-hours for the year – and he would help me hang up some decorations that I felt were necessary, even for a party so lame. I went to a cheap store several blocks away from the parental home, knowing the products would be cheaper there than at the stores nearer to the house. I got a crate of beer, a bottle of cheap champagne and after hovering in the wine aisle I figured I might as well sneak into my dad's wine cellar and grab a couple of bottles of overpriced French wine if need be. I loaded the cart with chips and nuts, predicting the evening to be sufficiently awkward and that we would probably all be eager to keep our mouths occupied so we wouldn't have to say too much to each other. I dreaded that we would end up sitting stiffly next to each other in the TV room pretending to watch whatever outdated movie happened to be on for those pathetic enough not to have something better to do with the last few hours of the year than watch TV. Gambling that I had what I needed – I honestly didn't know what to expect – I headed for the check-out counter. When I passed through the personal hygiene aisle I halted. I eyed the extensive selection of condoms. Heero and I wouldn't need those, since we got tested before we headed down this path and part of the agreement was for it to be exclusive, so we hadn't exposed ourselves to anything in the meantime. But my gaze drifted to the row of different bottles and tubes of lubrication on a different shelf. We would need that, I thought to myself and briefly indulged in naughty thoughts which, once I was done with them, had me inching closer towards the products. I should be prepared, I concluded decisively. I acknowledged it would likely take Heero a while to catch up with me and be in the same place I had been in for a while, but nevertheless I knew I should take precautions. I wouldn't want to end up in a situation where Heero was finally willing and I would have to get creative in the absence of proper lubrication. So I studied my options. After careful consideration I decided on a small, unpresumptuous bottle of lube from a brand that sounded familiar and was one of the more expensive ones on the shelf. I was only slightly self-conscious when the cashier scanned the bottle along with the other products before announcing the total price. But not because I was bothered by what she could think of me, I was worried what would happen if Heero found about my purchase. He would likely be offended by my assertion and then be principally opposed to sex. I wasn't normally superstitious but it did also feel a little like I risked jinxing it by buying lube prematurely. Pulling into the driveway of 'The Maxwell Mansion' never failed to be a surreal experience. The building, erected from grey lime-stones, had a solemn and morose appearance to it. Every tree and bush was groomed to perfection, not a single leaf out of place. I always felt like at any moment I would be asked to pay an admission fee; the place looked more like a museum than a house, especially inside. All the rooms looked mostly the same; a lot of rich, carved woods, crystal chandeliers and patterned fabric on couches and chairs that, to me, always seemed to clash with the area rugs. The only thing that distinguished one room from another were the different art-movements portrayed by the many paintings and sculptures that cluttered every inch of the place, and few of those styles actually matched the classic interior of the house. Futurism in the foyer, Rococo in the dining room – with a misplaced statue from the Baroque era -, Minimalism in the kitchen, Bauhaus in the study, Cubism in the master bathroom… I chilled the beer and champagne in the refrigerated pantry and left the snacks on the cooking island. The lube I stuffed into the pocket of my jeans, I didn't trust to leave it around the house, not even in my own bedroom. I cheered up when the doorbell chimed and I hurried to let Heero in. "I'm starving!" He said upon entry but then stopped dead in his tracks and looked around with a funny expression. It was his first visit to the mansion. "I take it you like it," I remarked sarcastically and helped him out of his coat while he was still dumbstruck. "It's like your parents are singlehandedly responsible for worldwide deforestation," He deadpanned, eyes darting from the hardwood floors, to the carved wooden paneling, to the double mahogany staircase and to the assortment of obsolete end-tables, oddly placed to fill the vast space. "I'll add that to the list. I blame them for cancer and earthquakes as well." He rolled his eyes. "I guess it was nice of them to let us use the house." "They don't even know." "Aren't you going to get into trouble?" "Let me rephrase: They will never know." I guided him to the kitchen, remembering that he was hungry. "Do you want me to order pizza?" "No, I don't want to be a bother." Rather than arguing with him that it wasn't a bother to get a pizza delivered I told him to raid the cupboards for whatever he wanted. I expected him to end up with fruit, or a dry cracker, but instead when he found a box of Belgian chocolates he asked if he could open it. "Sure," I said with a shrug and took a chocolate when he held the opened box out to me. "Hmmm, these are good," He appreciated with his mouth full, setting the box down on the counter. I made a face. "Which one? The square ones are awful, trust me." "These, the round ones." We tested all the different kinds and finished the ones we liked. Twice I ended up spitting a rum-flavored chocolate into the trashcan. "When are the others coming?" "Dunno. I didn't exactly send out formal invitations. Probably not for a while though." To kill time I showed him my room, a little embarrassed at the ridiculous wealth in which I grew up and then we played a videogame, racing our two-dimensional cars around quite competitively, snacking on a bag of chips in the meantime. By the time I thought to look down at my cheap watch I noticed it was already ten o'clock. "Shit!" I exclaimed and paused the game. "I was winning!" "I think we're being stood-up. It's ten already." Heero sat back against the side of my queen-sized bed, the controller in his limp hands. "Oh." He didn't sound particularly disappointed. I smiled. I wasn't disappointed either. I'd much rather spend the night playing videogames with my best friends than entertaining a mismatched group of guests. I scooted back to lean against the bed also, leaving my controller on the carpet. I purposefully sat close enough to him for our shoulders to be touching. My heart started pounding. I knew exactly what I wanted to dedicate the remaining time of the year to. Heero looked me in my eyes, his gaze more vulnerable and questioning than I was used to. I gasped when I suddenly felt him place his hand on the top of my thigh. I hadn't expected him to make the first move, he never did. The gasp turned into a content sigh when he slid his hand to the inside of my thigh and then ran it up my leg, stopping just short of where I had hoped he would go. The TV screen kept flashing bright letters that read 'CONTINUE?', but I was no longer interested in the game. Not in the racing-game at least. Even though Heero wasn't touching me where my young body desired, I felt myself getting hard, watching his face, watching him lick his lips, while feeling the warmth of his hand on my leg. He had such a strong effect on me, something I hadn't experienced with any of my many girlfriends. I wondered if he was aware of that, of what a single touch of his did to me. I hoped I was secretly able to achieve the same effect on him, though accepting that he would probably never be comfortable letting that show. I copied him, moving my hand to his lap, but I grabbed his thigh a little more firmly and massaged the strong muscle. I decided I wasn't going to do anything more if he wasn't. I liked the idea of him taking the lead for once. It always seemed like Heero was just along for the ride. I wanted him to initiate it, I wanted him to wordlessly confirm to me that he wanted it. He flexed his fingers in preparation and then finally, mercifully, moved them to cover the front of my jeans, his hand laying lightly over the bulge. I was about to follow his lead when the familiar but unwanted chime of the doorbell echoed through the house. I groaned loudly in frustration. "Fuck this!" I yelled. My heart dropped a little when Heero yanked his hand away and moved his leg to free it from my grip. "We could just ignore it," I proposed, but Heero was already getting to his feet. "No, we can't. You invited them." "Fine," I grumbled. I headed downstairs with angry footfalls, a quiet, thoughtful Heero in my wake. I threw him one last look over my shoulder before ripping the front door open. "What the…?" "Duo!" Greeted an already drunk Obie, his big, muscular arm draped across his petit wife's shoulders. Behind him was a group of ten to fifteen people I didn't immediately recognize, cheering excitedly. "Sorry we're late," He started to explain, "We recruited some more guests for your party!" "Butbutbut-" I stammered as the still unfamiliar people started pouring in. Heero looked horrified. "Don't worry about it, we came prepared!" As if on cue a guy walked past Obie, into the foyer, rolling in a keg of beer, followed by a guy with stacks of red plastic cups under his arms. Someone found the stereo and all of a sudden the vast house filled with loud techno music. Obie flashed me a grin and followed the crowd into the kitchen where they had already started tapping beer. I shot Heero an accusing look. "You told me to answer the door." Heero was wide-eyed but silent. Within half an hour dozens more people came to the house, bringing food, booze and someone even rolled in a karaoke machine, and soon enough every accessible room on the ground floor was packed with bodies, jumping up and down to indiscriminate music. I hurried around the house re-locating some of the more precariously placed pieces of art. I realized it was an insurance-issue waiting to happen, but I did what I could to salvage the invaluable – albeit ugly – sculptures balanced on every given surface that were slowly filling up with empty red cups. As soon as I had cleared the three crystal vases off the dining room table a championship of beer-pong was declared. With the delicate vases cradled in my arms I scampered around looking for a safe place to put them. Passing through the hallway I nearly ran into the latest guests, coming in through the still wide open front door. "Woa, be careful with those," Said Quatre, Trowa's boyfriend, as he narrowly avoided me trampling him. "Yeah…" "Sorry we're late," Continued the short blond. "We got guilted into dinner at my parent's house." Trowa remarked after quiet observation of the chaos: "This isn't exactly what I had expected. I thought it was just going to be a small group." "Yeah, me too!" "Where's Heero?" Asked the imposingly tall young man. "I don't know. Hiding in a closet somewhere?" Ouch, I hadn't meant for that double entendre. "He doesn't like this." "You don't look like you're having a good time either." "I wasn't prepared for this. And if anything breaks I'm afraid my father will be collecting payments for the rest of my life," I explained sheepishly. "Go get yourself a drink in the kitchen, I'm going to find a safe place for these." I ended up putting them in one of the cabinets in my father's study. Once everything was secured I felt more at ease and I got myself a drink and started mingling, figuring I had no choice but to make the best of the situation. Later I spotted Heero from across the living room. He was standing in a corner, talking to Trowa and Quatre, but I didn't dare to head over there as in between us the karaoke machine had been installed and an obnoxious girl was pushing the microphone on unsuspecting bystanders. Soon people would be drunk enough to volunteer, then the coast would be clear. It was nearly midnight, so I searched for Heero. He was no longer in the corner of the living room when I came back to it. Someone was slurring the lyrics to "I will survive", making most people laugh, but it probably just chased my friend away. Going from room to room I started to get worried. There were only a few minutes left until midnight and I really wanted to start the new year at Heero's side. Being pretty sure that he wasn't on the ground floor I headed upstairs and walked in on many couples in the several guest rooms, including Trowa and Quatre, sensually making out in the laundry room,. They were engrossed in each other that they didn't even notice me opening the door, going "oops" and closing the door again. Standing in the hallway I had to take a moment. Seeing them like that – Trowa's hands on Quatre's behind and Quatre leaning into his boyfriend's tall frame, with their lips locked and their tongues battling – made it easy for me to envision Heero and I in that compromising position and it sent a shudder down my spine. More than anything I still longed to be able to kiss him on his lips, he had such beautiful lips, I had noticed. I shook my head and continued my search. Finally I found my target, with only a minute or two to spare. He was in the family bathroom, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, cradling a red cup in his hands. I closed the door behind me and took a seat next to him. "I thought you didn't drink." He shrugged. "A couple of beers aren't going to kill me." He was tense. His voice sounded angry. "I wasn't judging you, I was just wondering." I felt another shudder, but it wasn't a pleasant one. He was being so cold and stand-offish. I wasn't sure if he had had too much to drink and he wasn't handling it well or if I had done something to upset him. Surely he understood that the party madness downstairs wasn't my fault. A brief moment passed in silence. Heero was clearly struggling with something but I didn't know how to get him to share. Then I could hear the countdown being bellowed by the crowd downstairs. "Ten!... Nine!... Eight!..." "So I guess I'm not allowed to kiss you at midnight either?" I joked, hoping to ease away the unidentified tension between us. "Seven!... Six!... Five!..." "No," He replied curtly, not amused. "Four!... Three!..." I nodded, casting my gaze down. I was biting my lower lip. I was disappointed, so much so that it hurt. "Two!... One!... Happy New Year!" We didn't say anything. I was quickly losing myself to depressive thoughts. I thought the change from one year to another would provide me the regular, inexplicable glee that I usually experienced, but the countdown just reminded me bitterly of the fact that I didn't have much time left with Heero, he would be leaving in the summer. The thought of that distance only got more difficult. Heero cleared his throat, but instead of wishing me a good new year, he stated dryly: "But you can fuck me once the guests have left. If you still want to." I snapped my head to look at him. Heero was looking down at the tiled floor, his shoulders stiff, his arms tense, the cup slightly trembling in his hands. I thought my eye might have been twitching and my head felt fuzzy, like I had had a stroke. "Are you serious?" He shot me an indignant look. "Yes, of course. I'm not drunk, it's not like you'd be taking advantage of me." "O-okay…" I drawled, thoroughly shocked. I had never expected him to come around to the idea so soon. "So, do you want to or not?" "Yes!" I hurriedly exclaimed before he would change his mind. "Okay." He nodded and promptly got up. "I'll see you later then." He left me shell-shocked. Unbelieving I stared into thin air. The unexpected nature of it momentarily overshadowed my eagerness and excitement. I slowly reached into my pocket and produced the small bottle of lube. I stared at it dumbly. "I'll be damned." Instead of a jinx it might have turned out to be a good-luck-charm.
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