Disclaimer: Not mine. As if you thought otherwise.

Genre: Romance, Dating!Fic (sort of)

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: 1+2; shounen-ai; general sappiness; Heero being a romantic.

Notes: Thanks to Blue + Char for the beta and the overall wonderful support and sound-boarding. And thanks to the Flashlight fans for being patient while I got this out of my system.

More Than What We Are
by Imo-chan

And Heero's sure he's noticed it before. Because, he thinks, how could I not? But he knows that's not true. Because that wasn't what he thought they were.

He thought they were everything but that, because that had never crossed his mind. He had been perfectly thrilled in belonging in a place where he woke up alone every morning and gravitated towards the smell of coffee and hoarse, pleasant singing in the shared kitchen, a place where he cooked on weekdays and Duo did the laundry -- both loads -- and a place where, afterwards, they climbed the stairs together and said goodnights from opposite ends of the hall, and a place where they worked together, slept separately, lived somewhere in-between, but shared everything that could possibly be shared except maybe Duo's car, because that was an entirely different story all-together.

And if it was all so easy before, thinks Heero, why was this moment so much easier to love? What were all those moments of before for if not for this one day, this one second, when it clicked? Was there a time it started? Did it matter? But why today, and why now, and why, above all else, god, why Anderson?

Cadet Julian Anderson of the Preventers Special Forces Unit Alpha-9, their newest member of the squad. Upon joining, he had had a reputation for being impetuous, friendly, and a bit indiscreet. Naturally, the tendency to speak without thinking followed close behind. But he was often so courteous and genuinely surprised and ashamed of his various transgressions that his colleagues found it impossible to be annoyed for very long.

Heero doesn't find him particularly dislikeable, just a bit foolish. But Duo, when first meeting him, seemed to enjoy Anderson's brazen attitude, and even when Anderson said what he did, Heero didn't seem to mind, and so he held his tongue.

And it's here, poised and caught in a moment in a noisy downtown deli, the world rushing around him and the only person he never thought he would touch like this and feel like that about because that just wasn't what they were, that Heero realizes why he hadn't said a word when Anderson had said what he did. Because it's true in the way Duo tilts his head and it's true in the way the world seems to freeze in a rush of cinnamon hair and that wide, sloping mouth whenever their skin touches. Because it is true.

Heero used to think he was an observant person. After this, he decides, from this moment on, I will never call myself that again.

Anderson likes to comment about office relationships, which Heero doesn't exactly find a good use of time, but Anderson is extremely perceptive about "that sort of thing", as Duo likes to say, and no one has been irreversibly hurt by his remarks. And Anderson hadn't said anything, up to that point anyway, that Heero could have said directly applied to either him or Duo, so he didn't know what it was like. Until this morning, until that whispered moment, until this very gilded, sparkling second in his life, he hadn't known what it was like to have a complete stranger to your feelings tell you blatantly what you had known and yet not known, all along.

It had started regularly enough, thinks Heero. They had gone into work together, and Duo had tried to make him eat the last blueberry scone, which Heero had refused not so much because he didn't want it, but because he knew Duo liked them better than he did. And Anderson had come in during the scone discussion and shot Heero an odd look when Duo explained, far too cheerfully for 8am, the situation.

And Heero had made Duo take the scone, which he ended up taking with him to his office down the hall after his obligatory ruffle of Heero's hair and a genuine, "see you at break!" because he knew that even though Heero didn't smoke, he'd come with him anyway, because that's what Heero always did. And Anderson had looked contemplative as he surreptitiously glanced at them between report scribblings.

And at 10:30, Duo had called Heero to tell him he'd sent him an email, and told him to "look at it, STAT, Boss! This is big news!" And Heero had dropped everything and read the dumb joke that Duo had sent just for him, and even though it was neither something that was big news, nor something that required the words "STAT", Heero did not consider it a waste of time. And Anderson, passing by behind his desk, commented that Heero didn't exactly strike him as the type to be reading jokes.

"I'm not," said Heero, and shrugged. "But if he thinks it's funny, chances are I will, too. He knows what I find amusing."

And Anderson had nodded like this was a very profound thing to say, and Heero was puzzled because it wasn't at all. It was just the truth.

And at break, Anderson took the elevator down with Heero with the comment, "I'm outta those little paper-clippy things, gotta make a trip to the supply office." And Heero had noticed that it looked like Anderson wanted to say more, but thought better of it.

And he and Duo rested on the steps, he enjoying the sunlight and Duo his cigarette, and Duo told him about his plans for the weekend, which invariably included Heero. Duo had his sights set on a new inboard computer for his car, and he wanted Heero to help him tinker with some old sets he had stored in the apartment basement after the war. Heero told him that most 184 Coliaros weren't compatible with mobile suit technology, and Duo had tried to convince him otherwise with the argument that the Coliaro was his car, Deathscythe had been his Gundam, and therefore he (with a little help from Heero, of course) would make them compatible. Heero had countered with the fact that forced compatibility was hardly successful and Duo had threatened to burn him with his cigarette, but his smile ruined the effect.

And at 1 o'clock in the afternoon, Duo came by his office to drop off a memo from Une and half a packet of chocolates in a crinkled, white paper bag.

"Sarah's having a baby, and she was passin' these out to say goodbye before maternity. I left you the dark, and ate all the coconut," said Duo, by way of explanation, because Heero liked the former and was mildly allergic to the latter.

And Heero had said thanks with a brief smile, which Anderson, returned from the supply office, apparently had seemed to think warranted another set of furtive glances and pensive looks in their direction.

"So, Boss," Duo had leaned over his shoulder, his chin resting just so against the curve of Heero's collar. "You wanna catch something down at the deli in about fifteen?"

Heero glanced absently at his watch. "Mm," he murmured. "Sounds good," and he could feel Duo grin, his breath warming the skin of his jaw-line.

"Cool." And then the pressure of Duo's weight was gone and he was sauntering out the door, and Heero didn't give a second thought to the way his eyes briefly tracked the movement.

"So, Heero," said Anderson, watching the door, as if Duo might return at any second. His voice had had that tone, that quiet, not-quite-whisper that was uttered with a small smile and spoke of secrets. And Heero had physically frozen, his hand suddenly immobile over the report, the tip of the pen hovering over the page.

"How long have you and Duo been... you know," Anderson grinned, like he thought Heero did, and Heero obviously didn't.

"... You know ," Anderson had nodded encouragingly. "Involved."

Heero shook his head. "You mean -- "

"Going out," said Anderson with another nod, as if it was so very obvious what he had meant all along.

Heero blinked. "We're not dating," he said.

"What?"

Heero just shook his head again.

Anderson, having immediately realized what he'd done, reddened, and he automatically clamped his mouth shut, as if to prevent himself from saying anything more. His lips were pressed together so tightly they were bone white, and his eyes watered at the rims.

"Aw, shit," he'd muttered. "I'm real sorry, Captain Yuy! I shouldn't have gotten so familiar... I shouldn't've assumed as... damn!" He looked as though he were about to burst.

"Cadet, I didn't take offence," said Heero, and it was true. He hadn't been offended, just a bit startled.

"Aw, shit," Anderson mumbled again, his poor, red face contorted with anguish. "I'm so sorry! I really am."

"It's all right," said Heero, as smoothly as he could in what Anderson obviously saw as an awkward situation.

Anderson had held his breath for a long moment, sending Heero one last anguished glance, now more confused than horrified, and exhaled loudly. "Jesus," he grinned shakily. "I gotta stop doin' that. I just..." he'd looked as though he was going to kick himself as soon as the words came out of his mouth, but nevertheless, they came. "... I coulda sworn..."

Heero had felt a little pity for him. "Duo and I are old partners," he said quietly and firmly, looking absently at the reports strewn out in front of him. "We've been together a long time. We're very close."

"Yeah," said Anderson quickly, able to look as if he was both reassuring himself and second-guessing Heero in one glance. "Yeah, yeah. I know."

And Heero had finished up the rest of his work with his head spinning full throttle. He kept trying to make sense of what Anderson had said, because it didn't come to him obviously enough to know why someone would think that.

And he met Duo back at the elevator, and when Duo said something about needing to buy groceries after work, Heero thought maybe he should tell him what Anderson had said. But when he looked over and saw Duo counting off things like toilet paper and green apples on his fingers with an expression of complete concentration -- Duo always concentrated for the most mundane situations, and freely gave the easiest of smiles for the most complex of Preventer operations -- Heero thought maybe it could wait.

And Duo found them their table, the one near the window where Duo watches the people walking by, because he likes to do that and point and laugh, and Heero bought himself a salad and Duo a piece of frosted carrot cake.

And just before this moment, just before now, they slid into their seats and Duo smiled at Heero as way of thanks for the cake suddenly placed in front of him. And Heero realized, only now he knows that he did indeed see it that way, that Duo's way of picking at the cake with his fingers (before he notices the small basket of plastic utensils at the end of the table) was wonderfully endearing.

And Duo leaned over the table to grab a plastic fork and Heero, handing it to him a half-second before he could reach, noticed a spot of frosting on Duo's upper lip, just to the edge of where those amazingly fine lines appear when he smiles and the gold from the afternoon light seems to shimmer lazily, naturally on Duo's skin.

And so Heero raises his hand without thinking, and brushes it away, and his thumb just touches the edge of Duo's lips and Duo doesn't even seem to notice more than a simple, slight tilt of his face into Heero's hand. And just that gentle weight, the ridiculously natural way it feels to have Duo's skin against his fingers, how he stops speaking just for a second and treats Heero with that small, sweet smile, and the way Duo's eyelashes lower like a sleepy lover when he touches him... suddenly it all makes Heero see Anderson nodding and saying,

"... you know... I coulda sworn..."

And no, thinks Heero, that's not it at all. It wasn't because we weren't like that, it's because we were and didn't know.

And Heero brushes away the rest of the frosting, and if Duo knows, like he always does, he doesn't seem to show it. Not that it would make a difference, Heero decides. Being the way you are and knowing that that's the way you are shouldn't change the way you are.

And whether or not every lunch, every dinner, every outing they had shared, had been Anderson's definition of a date, it didn't matter, Heero thinks. Because Anderson's definition obviously included things like exchanging phone numbers and fingers brushing awkwardly and those harrying few moments at the close of a night when one leans up or down and someone says -- but not always -- "we should do this again sometime". And that didn't matter, thinks Heero, because those are all things you do to know someone, and he didn't even know himself better than he knew Duo, so it was perfectly alright that they skipped those few, tenuous steps.

Heero doesn't even know if he takes his hand away, but he knows he wants to think that he never has to ever again. And he doesn't touch his salad, because he's too busy watching Duo and the way he suddenly looks -- no matter if he's always looked this way, this was something like stumbling headlong into the best thing in the world and Heero doesn't care.

And when Duo's finished, they push their chairs back and Heero follows the swinging of Duo's braid like someone tapping their fingers to their favourite song.

"Duo?" asks Heero, as the elevator doors close.

"Heero?" says Duo, fishing around in his pockets for his office key, and Heero realizes that even fluorescent lights and tinny elevator music can't make Duo's profile anything less than stunning.

"How long have we been dating?"

Duo doesn't miss a beat, because there's no beat to miss. "Do you think we are?"

"I don't know."

"Okay," Duo looks up at him, key in hand.

"Okay," echoes Heero stupidly, feeling something clench inside him and not knowing exactly why.

"Heero?" asks Duo, eyebrows drawn together and the key dangling from his fingers like a question mark. Then his face quiets a bit, and he smiles. "You were never one for those damned labels, you know."

"I know. I just thought. I saw."

And even though Heero knows his words are sentences and aren't much by themselves either, he knows Duo can string them together just fine.

And Duo twirls the key around him finger and settles his shoulders against the wall of the elevator. "Oh," he says, with a very small grin. "Did you really."

"Yes."

"Well," says Duo, and looks at Heero like the sunrise looks from the underside of the shuttle wing. "Then..." he seems to consider something, his head tilts a little. "Then, we could start now."

"We could," says Heero, and it seems to make a lot of sense.

"Even though..." says Duo, with a shrug, and that secretive little smile Heero likes to see most in lazy afternoon light, or very, very early in the morning, like the times when he and Duo used to share rations on the cold, slick, hard shoulder of a Gundam.

"Even though," agrees Heero.

"Anderson asked," says Heero, as they get off the elevator.

Duo laughs. "I'm sure he did."

And as they come to the place in the hallway where Duo usually goes in the opposite direction, Heero stops and looks at Duo and Duo just nods and says, "If you want," and Heero does, he decides, so he leans down just a little and kisses him once, on the lips.

It feels like gravity forgot him and left him hanging -- like in those few half-seconds after launch where exhilaration closes up breath and sight and vision and the only thing to be seen is the way happiness feels.

And Duo smiles at him -- no more, no less than usual, but always special to Heero -- and says, "We should do this again sometime."

And even though Heero knows Duo's being cheesy, making fun, laughing at them both and how silly it should seem, he can't help but feel a little giddy as he agrees that, yes, yes they should.