...Or would be if he actually had one.

Still, I love the indignant darkening of those haunting eyes of his when I accuse him of being fat. Of course, he either glares silently and changes the subject, or retorts with something about my own baby fat, 'specially in my face.

Really, how nice is that? Can I help it if I'm chubbier? Personally, I think it makes me look cute.

Don't tell anyone I told you this, 'cause he'd literally kick my ass faster than you can say Zero System, but he thinks it's cute too. He tries to act like a tough guy, but I've been there for those times when his cold blue eyes turn a shade lighter and softer. It reminds me of one of those clear afternoons on Earth when the sky's so bright it's like staring through the sea, but there are still a few dark patches of clouds predicting a storm sometime tonight.

It's cheesy, I know, but I can't think of any better way to describe them. His eyes aren't always clear, or soft, or cold, or hard. Usually they're just enigmatic, volatile, and shaded, as if he's guarding his soul from the cruel light of the day, not that I really blame him. I've seen about every mood he's ever expressed pass through those blue eyes, but I know I'm the only one who will ever see them soften like that lazy summer day, the storms held off for the moment by the sheer will of the sun.

Everytime he looks at me like that, I can feel him telling me, "I love you, Duo. I love you, my only."

It feels so good it hurts. I want to shove him away, yell at him to leave before something happens and he's gone forever, but instead I only smile, and nod, and hug him quickly so he doesn't see my eyes water with pain.

"I love you, Heero," I want to whisper back, "I love you more than the sunset or the rainfall or all the food and security in the universe. I love you, I love you, I need you."

But I can't get the words past my throat, so instead we embrace, and I pull away with some stupid joke, and the moment passes.

The Words have yet to be spoken aloud by either of us, and I wonder sometimes if they ever will be. We're both two stupid kids with a new bag of candy, afraid to announce it to the world and brag for fear of getting it stolen by some bigger bully.

And it's fine this way. 'Cause if I don't tell him I love him, maybe he won't get taken away. And if he doesn't tell me he loves me, maybe he can ignore panicking over dependency.

But sometimes...

It's just.... Sometimes I look at him and all I can think is, "What would those words sound like, coming from your lips? How would your voice tremble? What would your heartbeat feel like...?"

I'll probably never know, but I can still dream.

Heero shifts slightly, mumbling something incoherent and probably Japanese into the bed. Sometimes I wonder how the hell he can breathe with his face shoved so far into the pillow he could be talking to the gnomes at the center of the Earth.

But, just like everything that crazy idiot does, somehow he manages.

A silly, helpless smile is on my lips before I realize what's happening. I stare fondly at his eternally mussed hair, poking out at tempting angles from his sleepy bronze skin. #Maybe he's trying to self-destruct on feathers and flannel now instead of Gundanium and bullets,# I can't help thinking, unable to resist reaching over and lightly fluffing a few stray dark brown strands as I softly chuckle.

Heero growls grumpily, apparently giving the bed a nasty berating if his tone means anything. I know he's really being pissy at me -- the mornings after those quiet, snuggly nights are the only times he ever allows himself to wake slowly and listen only for danger, and not movement period. He hates being needlessly disturbed, but he's sleeping by the wrong guy for that, 'cause I love provoking him. Any other morning and a shift in my breathing pattern would result in a pistol primed and pressed against my temple, his heavy breath and narrowed eyes the only thing that matters in my world. But since he knows it's me, he only sulks and pouts 'till I take pity on him for being so damn adorable.

With me, he can relax long enough to be a child again, and that thought alone is more than enough to fuel my survival instincts for the next 25 centuries.

I ruffle his hair again, watching in fascination as, no matter what I do, the rebellious strands fall back into their stylishly chaotic mess. I swear his hair has as much stubborn determination as he does, which pretty much means I should give up on ever accomplishing anything with it.

Of course, if there's one thing that can be said about me, it's that I never know when to quit.

I push more of his hair around, reveling in the increasingly annoyed noises he's making, feeling a wicked smirk form. I pause momentarily, then get a great idea. Shifting on the bed (and pulling on my own hair -- I'll have to make sure my braid's well clear of Heero from now on) I lean over and snicker quietly as I start to divide a large chunk of his hair into sections. It looks almost long enough to braid, and I want to test my theor--

A hand shoots out from beneath the covers, so quick even I barely see it in time, though I make no effort to escape the iron grip on my wrist.

"Duuuo," comes an inhumanly scratchy growl from somewhere in the pillow, "Don't."

I feel my smirk twist to an amused, mockingly innocent grin. "Don't what?" I ask angelically, fingers still buried in Heero's hair in the Aborted Braid Attempt.

Heero shifts and slowly his head raises, eyes burning and glaring intensely. He looks up just enough for me to see those chaotic blues glittering from behind long, mussed brown bangs.

"Every morning you try the same thing. Don't touch my hair."

"Not every morning," I protest, letting his dark hair slide through my fingers with slight regret.

"Nearly," Heero grunts, dropping his chin down so he's no longer supporting his head. His eyes still stare from the depths of that brown jungle and for one intense moment all I want to do is brush his bangs aside and watch for emotions moving through that endless blue.

Instead, though, I just stare back for a few moments, hoping to win this mini battle of wills. 'Course, at some point even I can't handle that heavy gaze anymore, so I give up. "Fine, fine," I mutter sulkily, starting to move away.

His grip only tightens on my wrist. "Why don't you ever let me sleep in?" he demands, sounding partially upset but mostly curious. His eyes intensify, the way they always do when he's more serious than normal.

I shrug as best I can, turning my attention to using my free hand to pull my braid out from under his dead weight. It's slow going and I know he won't leave me alone until he gets an answer. "I dunno," I answer truthfully, though I know he won't believe me.

"Bullshit, Duo, you do this every morning," is his immediate retort as his grip tightens slightly more. It's not painful yet, but it doesn't exactly feel too good either.

Told ya he wouldn't believe me.

Actually, I'm not really sure why I always do this to him. I know how much it means to him to get those moments of peace when he can grab them, but something in me revolts and immediately starts messing around with him. "Maybe I just like seeing your Pissy Morning look," I tease playfully as my gaze darts up to briefly meet his. I see just enough to know his eyes narrow suspiciously.

Maybe I'm actually afraid to let these small fights pass me by, 'cause I know if anything's too perfect, it'll be stolen. Maybe I'm afraid if I don't wake him early, I'll find out later that he was dead, that I'd been sleeping next to a corpse for the last few hours. Maybe I'm afraid if I don't squeeze in a few more minutes with him, he'll leave me the next time he goes, and I'll be left alone with a supernaturally frozen bed and an empty, gaping hole of a soul.

But I can't tell him that, 'cause then he'll know how much he means to me, and he'll be in danger. Or he'll feel the need to reciprocate, then he'll think I'm in trouble... And, well, everything would just go from there I'm guessing.

He is silent, something that unnerves me since he's supposed to be snapping at me in a very annoyed tone. I avoid eye contact until I'm sure my own eyes won't betray anything deeper than sheepish humor. It takes a moment to regain my façade, but I manage, and I glance back.

He's staring at me still, but now the intensity has broken down and all that's left is that incredibly soft and vulnerable expression he has when he's vaguely hurt.

Damn you, Heero. Evil, sadistic bastard. Damn you!

"Gonna let me go or are we gonna be in bed all day?" I grin, forcing my voice to be less challenging than I feel. He wants to play games, does he? I can be just as much of a cheater as him. It's not fair pulling those puppy dog tactics when I'm trying to evade something so serious!

He watches me for a moment, giving my wrist an extra squeeze in warning, then releases his grip. I tug on my braid again, looking imploringly at his eyes, and he finally acknowledges my problem by rolling off my hair.

"Thanks, Heebie," I chirp, hopping out of bed and jumping into the bathroom before he can pummel me for using that nickname. I'm already snickering evilly as I throw my clothes carelessly into the corner and step into the shower. The water is freezing when I first turn the knob, and it'll probably be that way for awhile -- our stupid water heater broke 3 days ago and neither of us has gotten around to fixing it yet. It probably wouldn't take much effort, but I'm lazy and Heero's distracted, and it's probably just as well we have only cold water for now. We may have only snuggled our entire relationship away, but that doesn't mean some mornings one of us doesn't wanna do more.

The question of sex has come up once or twice in the past, but it never goes beyond words. It's weird, since we're both teenage guys, and we're supposed to have the sex drive of a cat in heat on aphrodisiacs, but it's just... I dunno... not time yet. For one thing, I know the basics of male on male sex, but not much more. I haven't bothered to research it 'cause I really don't want to look at it like a mission or assignment -- I want it to be one of those things that just happens, and we figure it out as we go. Actually, I think Heero knows everything there is to know about the subject -- or at least whatever can be freely (or illegally) researched. That idiot probably looked it all up the first second of our relationship.

Relationship.

Man, that's such a weird word coming from me. I feel like I should be a housewife or white-collar husband, but I'm just an ex-terrorist with an ex-terrorist boyfriend.

It's been about a year and a half since Mariemaia had her day in the sun, and only about 9 months since me and Heero finally got off our lazy, procrastinating asses and did something about our mutual attraction. It's been nice... real nice.... We were hotter for each other the first 3 months, so that's when most of the heavy petting, wet-hot kisses, and mutual jacking off happened, but it's been fairly steady, though less often, since then. Heero was actually the one who asked about sex first, and maybe under other circumstances I would've been all over him in less time than it takes to think 'HELL YEAH!', but the way he said it scared the shit outta me.

Actually, it was his eyes.

He had that maniacal gleam, that haze of lust that clouds anyone's eyes -- male or female -- when they start gettin' ideas about people. I know, 'cause I've been the subject of that gleam one too many times in the past. I always knew then to get the hell outta there and fast, and I still know now. So when he asked with that look, I kinda shrugged uncomfortably and made some non-committal answer. He nodded, and while part of him seemed disappointed, I also noticed some relief, and I felt better 'cause I think I saved both of us a shitload of trouble.

We have a house together, and actually two bedrooms for those "fight nights" (damn, but we've had some nasty ones) but we generally both sleep in the guestroom, since there's one huge bed and it's really, really fluffy. I keep wondering why we gave the guest the best bed, but then I guess maybe we both subconsciously wanted to give ourselves some more excuses to sleep together as often as possible.

I don't know about Heero, though I'm suspecting it's the same for him, but I have never felt more safe or happy than I do when I'm sprawled all over his warm, toned body, with a heap of fluffy blankets separating us from the chill wind. I use him as my pillow more often than the actual thing, but he never seems to care. And I always want to shiver with pleasure whenever his arms snake around my waist and back and hold me so close it hurts only 'cause it feels so good.

I'm usually a pretty jumpy sleeper myself, comes with being a streetrat, but when I'm with him, I do what he does... listen for danger, fuck everything else. It's nice to get a chance to feel so carefree, but it's also frightening as all hell. I feel like I'm growing weak, like I'm losing control or something, and with every second I lose more defenses, I lose more chance of escaping unscathed. I mean, fuck, what'll I do if he dies? The war is over, but we're still involved with the cleanup, and, honestly, there'll be a war everyday of our lives simply with unwanted publicity and sore losers... and that's just taking into account professional terrorists. There's always the chance some fuckoff in office will blow and take everyone else with him. Or maybe some stupid ass gang from downtown will decide our neighborhood is a good place for drive-by-shooting practice. I mean, I know we're both Gundam pilots, whether or not the Gundams exist anymore, and I know it takes more than a year of happiness to screw over my reflexes completely, and I also know there's no way either Heero or I could ever lose all our instincts, nor will we let ourselves. But even though I know all that, I still can't help getting these intense moments of panic once in awhile that are so powerful I feel like I'm gonna die any second from overload.

And it's terrifying -- not 'cause the panic makes it that way, but simply 'cause I'm panicking at all. I never used to panic. I never used to freak. But I find myself doing that more and more lately... and, I gotta say, I really don't like it.

Heero'll probably be banging on the door soon for me to get out of the shower. Even though we don't have hot water, he still acts like I'm gonna use it all up.

Idiot.

He's so paranoid it's a wonder he's not always jumping at his shadow.

As I flip off the water with a full-body shiver I laugh quietly. Oh, wait. He has... about every time we go anywhere crowded. It's funny, but it's also kinda sad, how neither of us can let go of the war. I don't know if that's good or bad survival-wise, and I suspect it's both, but I guess if it keeps us alive longer and saves us from Joe Schmoe with a Bazooka, it's about as good as it'll get.

I've gotten used to using very little water and time when I shower and get ready. I still have this paranoia from L2 that the water's all gonna run out and I need to hurry, and besides, after being so deprived of it my entire life, I don't wanna sit there wasting such a valuable resource, no matter how much I love the feeling. So, even though Heero pounds on the door half the time I take showers, he really has no right. Considering my hair is so long, I take extremely short showers, and he can go fuck himself.

I blink as a random bout of lust strikes me at the thought. I groan softly, toweling my hair more vigorously than necessary as I squeeze my eyes shut. It's gonna one of Those days, isn't it? DAMNIT, I hate Those days! I guess I'm more male teenager than I thought, but that doesn't mean I have to be stupid. I chant my phrase over and over in my mind as I try to convince myself that I don't want to just fuck Heero and be over with some of the frustration. #I can wait, I can wait, I can wait, I can wait, I can wait, I can wait....#

And I can, really. It's just... that stupid paranoia of losing him....

What if we wait too long? What if one of us dies and neither of us will know what it's like...?

I've kissed before I met Heero. I had a friend who wanted to know what it felt like, and we were both two stupid kids with nothing better to do. I've groped both males and females a little, but nothing serious, and I've been groped too. Heero knows I have a little experience, and I think he, like everyone else, assumes that since I was on L2 I was a whore like about 90% of the poor population was. But I was one of the defectors, like I always am, and I guess, even though I'm kinda lying by not setting him straight, I don't want to explain why I keep saying no. 'Hey, Heero, I know you think I'm professional and all, but I wasn't. I was told to sleep only with the one I love, and I plan to do that, but I want it right before I take that step. Here are some flowers as a token of my everlasting appreciation. I love you, honey-bunny, and wanna spend my days next to you.'

Most likely, he just wants to fuck for lust's sake, but, damnit, I refuse! I know gay relationships are supposed to be the work of the devil and all that shit, but it's a lie, and so I ignore those claims. But I still believe in sleeping with someone only when you're really fucking serious, and, well, I guess me and Heero aren't. Who knows, maybe we never will be. So, even though I love him more than anything else, I would understand if he slept with someone else just to relieve tension... 'cause I sure as hell am not gonna do it for him anytime soon. I feel guilty about denying him that much, but he doesn't ask aloud often (his eyes do it for me enough -- though even that isn't too much lately) and I feel more justified in pretending ignorance. I wanna be here for him, but I don't wanna compromise my own ideals for that.

My hair is still sopping wet in the braid, and since I'm not leaving it loose to dry faster, it's gonna probably be leaving large splotches of water on my clothes all day. That's one thing that's a major bitch about long, thick hair and a penchant for a braid. That, and Heero sometimes forgets to start from the bottom and go up when I let him brush my hair. Gods, I have to admit, those pains can almost be worse than war injuries -- if only 'cause I've been trained to take broken bones, and not major snarls and tangles. I'm used to them when I'm working with my hair, but I think I let my guard down a little, or maybe don't put it up enough, when it comes to others. That's probably 'cause the only people I've ever let touch my hair are Sister Helen and Heero, and Heero is a little rougher than she ever was.

I snicker as I kick the door open and stride into the guestroom. Heero left and already cleaned up the room, a bad habit we both have of taking all evidence of our presence from an area before we leave. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear I was crazy and have been imagining Heero being here all along since not even a hair or dent mars the bed now.

Downstairs soft music is playing and I smile brightly. I was really surprised to find out Heero loves music as much as I do, to the extent that he always has it on in the background. He claims he needs background noise to truly get work done, but I, being cocky and self-absorbent, think he feels more at ease with a reminder of me. After all, he didn't develop this quirk until long after he'd met me and my everlasting chatter of doom, and I suspect that's a large reason why right now I'm hearing archaic songs from the pre-colony era blasting on our radio. I dress quickly and hop down the stairs, wearing my customary all black now with a red shirt beneath, since I've long ago given up on the priest outfit.

I almost laugh out loud when I hear the song that's playing 'cause it reminds me of Heero's obsessive-compulsive side, and always makes me feel better.

"Hey Heero," I grin as I stroll into the kitchen, "would you walk 500 miles for me?"

He barely glances up, noting I didn't let him brush my hair this morning (one of his favorite pastimes for some odd reason) then actually seems to consider the question. I'm surprised -- usually, if he's in a good mood he'll partially smile and shake his head, calling me an idiot. If he's in a bad mood he tends to just ignore me. But instead of doing either he watches his breakfast and shrugs. "I would do what I needed," he finally answers, and I can't help laughing at his tone.

"Anything for the mission!" I shake my fist at thin air, posing exactly like Heero and doing my best impersonation of him, "Anything at all!" I look at him cheerfully as I fall into the seat, expecting a glare and indignant retort, but instead I manage to just catch a desperately pained expression that's hidden behind the newspaper.

Suddenly feeling like an ass, and not knowing why really, I lean forward and lightly touch his arm, "Hey, Heero, what's wrong?"

He seems to ignore me but I see the tightening of his one-handed grip on the newspaper. The air suddenly seems a little tenser and I have to admit I'm totally perplexed. What the hell did I do? He usually doesn't mind it when I tease him....

Relishing the warmth of his skin, I rub my palm across the back of his other hand that's resting casually against the tabletop. His hands are rough, calloused and usually chapped, but they're more special than anything else I'd ever want to touch 'cause they're everything Heero is. Hard but warm, strong but gentle, worn but childlike.

Gods, please help me, but I love him. I love him, I love him, I love him, and the more I think it, the more I realize it'll only intensify from now on. My heart and chest ache and my stomach flutters a little at my emotions and thoughts, but I ignore them. When Heero doesn't respond to that comforting touch I lift his hand and rub my cheek against his palm lightly.

He told me once I remind him of a three-way lightbulb. I laughed and told him sarcastically, "How romantic, Heero. You know, you remind me of a lawnmower sometimes." He looked mad and I didn't learn until several months later the reason behind that statement, which was explained only 'cause I got him extremely drunk one night. He told me that when I'm sad everything seems so dim, like there's just enough light in the room to know what's missing. When I'm in a good mood, he said, I light the way for others, something like a candle in the dark. But when I'm ecstatic, he murmured, this beautiful glow softening his entire body, I brighten the whole room, and my eyes are almost too dazzling to watch. I never thought I would ever -- EVER -- hear Heero Yuy say 'dazzling,' let alone while describing someone as grubby as me! But when he said that, my whole world shattered like a house of distorting mirrors, leaving me free but surrounded by desolate shards. I was afraid to move, to breathe, to say anything when he told me that -- as if I would literally break the moment and the room would suddenly become a ring of fire and burnt flesh, 'cause this had to be a dream, and all my good ones turn to nightmares. But instead, Heero smiled at me, such a pure, innocent, loving smile my heart literally skipped a beat. He leaned forward and brushed his cheek against mine, suddenly pulling me forward into a tight, needy hug that I desperately returned.

That was the night I realized how much I love him, and how I could never live without him again.

So this morning, my cheek nuzzling his palm, no response save a twitch of his fingers, I suddenly realize I should say something beautiful and profound like he did that one time for me. The problem's that, while I may talk a helluva lot more than Heero, he knows how to punch you as hard with his words as he can with his fist. He's got this way with saying things just right and making me want to melt into a puddle and die just to preserve this piece of heaven he's given me.

I'm searching my brain frantically for a good line, but all I can think is, "Ping! Level 2 of the 3-way-lightbulb, comin' up!" It's absolutely worthless, not even vaguely amusing, but it's the only thing my traitorous mind will provide and I need to do something, so I say that with a cheery chuckle.

Apparently this is another one of those times when I should have just shut up and left well enough alone.

Heero's entire body tenses and he suddenly jerks his hand from my grasp, scooting his chair back and throwing the crumpled newspaper on the floor. I stare, stunned, at the scattered news sections, and slowly look up Heero's enraged, quivering body until I meet his wild, agonized blue eyes.

Ohhhhh shit. I think I just royally fucked something over....

"Heero...?" I ask, balanced on the edge of my seat as I half-stand, half-rest, unsure of what to do. My voice sounds vaguely scared and lost amongst the confusion, but I can't make myself care too much right now. He's never looked at me like that before, and he's certainly never moved away from me so fast, not even when I used to think he hated me. I reach out for him but he only recoils violently, stepping back and staring me down with so much betrayal in his eyes I want to cry even though I don't understand what's happening.

"Can't you ever take anything seriously?" he hisses, venom actual audible in his voice. I jerk back as if stung, my eyes probably incredibly wide and stunned, but before I can speak he continues. "Don't you care about anything?" he demands in that same vicious, wounded whisper.

"I..." I try to respond, but my words are thick and choking me. "Heero, I don't...." I try again, almost gagging at the expression of fury he aims at me.

"You don't give a fuck about life, do you? You don't want anything serious -- you just want your fucking jokes all the time!" I remain where I am, staring stupidly at Heero, unable to think beyond the barbed wounds those hateful words create. It hurts even more 'cause I know, I know, it's not true -- that I care, probably too much, but I can't admit it. I can't --

He suddenly reaches down, swiping the newspaper off the ground and advances on me, shaking the paper. "Look at this, Duo!" he demands, shoving the obituary section in my face, "People are dying everyday, Duo, and all you do is make some joke about it! You used to care but now...." He stares at the paper in his hand a moment and I think I see his eyes softening for a second before they turn harder than before. He looks up again and stares hard into my face, but whatever he sees must not be what he wants 'cause he looks disappointed. I blink, about to ask what he's doing, but he's already tossing the newspaper down again and walking closer. I stand and stumble back, tipping over the chair and barely avoiding falling with it, just wanting to get away 'till I know what the hell is going on. His eyes are so powerful and severe I feel almost physically burned from that unholy fire, and I sure as hell can't look away. He keeps advancing on me 'till I feel a wall bump into my back and panic settle in my brain.

I've felt this wayyyy too often -- the jittery nerves, pounding heart, and adrenaline high that comes with being cornered. Without thinking about it, I know I'm probably already tensed and ready to spring, but before I can jump out of the way he yanks my right hand between us, leaning in as he tightens his grip then shoves my hand to his heart.

"What about this, Duo?" he asks, voice a little louder, a little less angry and a lot more hurt, "Do you want to laugh at my heart too? What should I do to help you? Do you want me to tell you something else important in my life so you can joke about it until you can't breathe through your laughter? Should I, Duo? By all means, you should be happy." By now his voice is nearly just a whisper, and his next words are empty and lost, "Fuck everyone else in the universe, ne? Forget what I feel because I don't matter...."

His fingers abruptly drop my hand, which falls to my side like dead weight. I blink once, slowly, stupidly at Heero, uncertain of what to do. We've fought before, but it's never been like this.

It's never hurt so much....

"Heero," I choke out softly, my voice catching on his name, "I -- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"Forget it," he says in a low, commanding tone, "It doesn't matter." He turns on his heel and walks across the kitchen, heading out the door. "I'm going for a walk. Don't bother waiting up for me," he says almost coldly over his shoulder before he disappears from my view.

I listen to the door shut behind him, and it sounds disturbingly final.

Did I just do it again? Did I fuck up again? I didn't know he was so pissed -- I wouldn't've even said anything if I knew! I don't know what to do.... Does he secretly want me to follow him or does he seriously want some alone time? If I leave him in the state he left, will something happen to him since he's not paying attention? Or -- worse -- a thought that stops my heart for half a beat -- will he not come back...?

Before I know what I'm doing, I throw myself out the door and pound down the sidewalk toward his rapidly retreating form. He doesn't glance over his shoulder, but I know he hears me, and he quickens his pace. Any other time I would probably leave him be, but I'm so afraid this is actually really important that I need to talk to him. I don't want to lose him!

"What do you want now?" he demands of me when I finally catch up, slightly panting at his side. He must have run right away to get so far away before I ran myself.

"I'm sorry, Heero," I try again, "I didn't know --"

"You never know, Duo," he interrupts me coolly, staring straight ahead and refusing to acknowledge my presence other than through speech, "That's the problem."

I walk beside him through the cool Autumn air for a moment, gathering my thoughts. "...So it's only the jokes, right? I can stop -- It's not like I'm addicted... and even if I was I could just go to Jokers Anonymous." I wince the moment I say that. #FUCK, Duo! What a fucking wonderful time for another lame joke! Fucking IDIOT! #

Heero glances sidelong at me, his look absolutely scathing. I shrink away slightly, sheepishly rubbing the back of my head. The air is fairly cold, I'm only wearing pants and a t-shirt with socks, and the water that's seeped into my shirt is making the wind seem like ice.

I still want to kick myself or maybe just rip out my vocal chords so I can stop royally fucking up, but I can't help it. Whenever I'm afraid or nervous, it's like the part of my brain that monitors my mouth shuts off. I babble, or make stupid jokes, and just make an all-around ass of myself.

Heero walks faster, shoving his hands in his jeans as he bows his head to the wind. "See, Duo? Nothing is serious to you -- not even me."

"But you are serious!" I protest, immediately waving my hands in denial when he stops in his tracks with an absolutely livid expression. "That wasn't a joke," I assure him, and he eyes me suspiciously before grudgingly striding again, stepping another inch or so away from me. I scrunch my face up and tug fitfully on my braid as I try to word things right. No one would ever believe me if I told them I, Duo Maxwell, am the one having troubles wording things to, of all people, Heero Yuy!

"I -- you are serious to me," I try again, yanking harder on my braid. #FuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK!# I scream in my head, tears wanting to scream from my eyes as I start to panic, #Don'tmakemesayitdon'tmakemesayit PLEASE, Heero, don't make me say it!#

Heero looks over at me skeptically. "I mean this, Duo. I'm not kidding."

"I know! " I snap at him, aggravated that he's not making this easier on me, "I don't know what the fuck is wrong, ok? I'm sorry for whatever's pissing you off and I really didn't mean it and if you would just stop looking at me like that maybe I can figure things out!"

Heero suddenly stops in his tracks and whirls on me. "You want to know what's wrong, Duo?" he demands, eyes narrowed.

I stop too and nod challengingly, "Yes. I do."

Heero reaches forward and shoves his finger into my chest above my heart. "THIS is what's wrong," he replies, staring hard into my eyes. "You're losing yourself to fear and taking your heart with you."

I reel back in surprise, but immediately anger washes through me at his accusation. "And who the fuck are YOU to lecture me on hearts and shit? You've been a fucking wall all your life!"

Heero leans in and seethes dangerously, "At least I'm structured and not a gaping hole like you."

I grab his hand and shove it away furiously, moving my hands in emphasis with each point. "You have NO RIGHT to accuse me of being any less important or disciplined than you! I got my missions done just as well as you! I helped everyone through the war with my humor just like you did with your strength!"

Heero abruptly circumvents my jerking hands and seizes my shoulders painfully. "Kami-sama, Duo, do you honestly think it was your jokes that helped us?" he demands, sounding exasperated.

"Of course it was!" I reply immediately, pushing at him but he doesn't let go, "What else would it be?"

He gives me a small shake, his voice angry and annoyed, but sad, "It was you, Duo. Just you. Not your jokes, or your smile, or even your carefree laugh. It was your presence that saved us, that saves me everyday, and I'm really, really tired of hearing you hide it."

I struggle against him angrily, not really listening to his words, because I'm afraid of the change they may cause. Instead, I push harder and rant in my mind.

How dare he -- how DARE he screw with my life! I know it was my jokes; I know it was my smile! It couldn't've been anything else. I've always been like this and I always will be. People like hearing my laughter, not my fears. They like seeing me grinning, not struggling with tears.

I...

I know I'm not enough on my own... without all that.

If I were enough, I could've saved more people. I could've saved...

Could've helped....

Suddenly all my anger, all my fear, all my self-hatred over the years grows and spreads through my body from my stomach outward, giving me a bitch of a headache and a really painful stomachache. I want to scream at my body to just explode or be fine. I want to hit Heero for bringing this up, until he's as black and blue on the outside as I feel inside. I want to scratch and claw and rip and shred and...!

And...

And suddenly... my fight seems so useless.

Why can't I give up my past? Heero has. He started a nightly meditation and I really think it helps him. He's been correcting himself every time he makes a mistake or does something stupid. He smiles more, and laughs more, and just... touches more.

But what do I do?

I can see it now. I can remember every single time he ever came up to me with something serious, something that screams stable and secure, and I freaked. I don't know how to handle stability -- I've never had it before. Never had a life where I didn't have to worry about it being stolen mercilessly at any given second, where you can't even leave your own shadow behind you too long or even that will be brutalized and plundered.

I'm used to a world of chaos, fear, and those addictive adrenaline rushes that can keep me going for hours if timed just right.

With Heero, I knew I'd have something more. And I'm afraid of that -- 'cause if I have something important, everyone will know.

And if everyone knows, they'll steal my treasure for their own.

I fall limply against him, listening to my anger fall like icicles chiming and shattering in a cold winter wind. I feel lost, drained, and empty, but mostly, very near dead. "Hiding...?" I ask wearily, finally.

I think I see relief in his eyes as he replies quietly, "You idiot." The tone of his voice is gentle, so I know that's used like an endearment. "You don't ever listen to yourself, do you?" He sounds amused, but it's pained, like he's hurting for something I don't feel but should. It reminds me of the tone I've heard once or twice in my life -- that of someone talking to their loved one, happy to see them alive, but finding they have amnesia. Gently, they tell their loved one his or her name, favorite color, favorite food, and most annoying habits. It's a bittersweet, injured tone, and right now it's killing me more than all the anger he's capable of ever could.

I feel so... inadequate. Like I've disappointed and betrayed him, and didn't even realize it 'till long after he paid the price for my stupidity.

"What... do you mean?" I venture, feeling naked and alone in the cold Autumn wind.

Heero remains exactly where he is, almost as if he's too weary to move. His hands rest on my shoulders now instead of squeeze, and when he speaks even his voice sounds tired. "You run and you hide but you never lie -- but that's not true, is it, Duo? You're always running from harm by hiding behind your wall of jokes and smiles. I have been watching you, but I don't think I'll ever understand how you work." He shakes his head slightly and tightens his grip, staring at me with one of his Important looks, "But you lie -- you always lie -- if only to yourself. Every time you ignore this," one of his hands drops to brush against my chest over my heart, "You lie."

I stare at him, confused and wordless for one of the few times in my life. I know Heero was working on his humanity, but when did he get so good? How long have I been pissing around when he was trying to grow? How many times have I missed something important in his eyes...?

Gods, I feel stupid now. I just... feel like such a self-absorbed asshole, and it's even worse 'cause I have no idea how long this has been going on! How much more of my life -- of our life -- would I have missed if he hadn't said anything?

It's like opening my eyes to realize I've been living in a dark hole my entire life, and it's about time I see the sun.

Heero is watching me, maybe cataloging my emotions so he can analyze this later, or maybe he's just curious. Either way, I feel like I should share this revelation -- that if I tell him what I'm thinking, it'll suddenly be all better and he won't be mad and I won't feel so stupid.

"Heero -- I --"

He brings his loose hand up to cover my mouth as he drops the other from my shoulder, then pulls back to continue to stare contemplatively into my eyes. I shut my mouth and stare back, my eyes probably questioning and confused if my heart has any say. I think he's considering something 'cause he's pulled his eyebrows down in that adorable wondering face, but it's hard to tell since he's starting to guard his emotions again. The moment lasts just long enough for me to feel like I should be saying something, but before I can do anything he grimaces in a strange kinda uncomfortable, mostly relieved way.

"No," he shakes his head and says in a strong voice, as if replying to some unvoiced question, "I could never leave you. I love you."

My eyes nearly pop out of my head in shock. Did I just...?

I can't think -- everything's running around in my head and my heart's beating so fast and loud and I feel like I may go into shock if I don't let some of this tension go.

All I can think is:

That bastard. That ABSOLUTE, FUCKING bastard! He just said it! He changed the rules! It's not fair -- he can't say it -- he can't tell me that! Nonononono, this isn't real... he can't say that... he's too afraid to, I KNOW he is, so this is a dream and he didn't -- he didn't just say --

"I love you, Duo," he repeats, saying the words firmly and without a doubt, his gaze capturing mine and holding it so when he speaks again I see the absolute conviction hidden in his dark blue eyes, "I love you and I will never leave you. But you can be such an asshole sometimes...."

I feel my eyes shining with the tears I've been unable to release for years. I refuse to cry, I refuse to cry! Instead, I take a steadying breath and he lets his hand drop from my mouth, as if he was afraid to before 'cause he didn't know what I'd say.

My disjointed thoughts can only pick up on one thing. So I can be an asshole, huh? "So... can you...." I retort in a harsh mutter-whisper, trying to look away so I can come up with a joke so this moment doesn't last. Surely he'll forget he said that he said -- I mean, surely he doesn't mean it....

This whole conversation feels like a dream. I feel so removed and dazed and I want to keep hating Heero, maybe even loathing him, but I can't. Instead, all I can hear are his words, over and over.

I love you. I love you....

I honestly never thought I'd hear someone tell me that and mean it. I don't even know if I want to hear that -- 'cause now...

Now he'll be too important....

They're gonna take him away... or he'll go... or....

The silence is a second too long and I need to say something, to act like I'm not so scared I'm about to run screaming and never stop, even though that's true. So I try to close my heart and open my mouth and maybe I'll make it out alive....

But the hope is vague and pathetic even in my own mind and Heero's watching me so intensely and closely I can't break his hold on me anyway. "Follow your heart, Duo," he advises in a strange mixture of loving encouragement and soft anger.

I don't want his advice now anymore than I want his pity. "I thought you said it was wrong," I reply slightly bitterly and my voice sounds sour even to my own ears.

One hand reaches up to brush my bangs from my eyes. "I said you're misled," he tells me softly, his left hand squeezing my shoulder reassuringly, "Not that there's no hope."

I try to look away again, but even his stare is as strong as his body, which basically means for once I have no chance of avoiding this. I automatically still try to think of a joke, but the attempt is only half-ass even to myself, so I give up and sigh. "Damn you, Heero," I mutter, watching him in resignation as, once again, all my anger and tension leaves and I'm left feeling so cold, empty and afraid, "You're playing dirty."

He notices the pain in my voice and nods. "Truth hurts," he offers, still staring at me expectantly, urging me to say something I'm not ready to say. I want to scream at the bastard for putting me into this mess, then storm off just to see his expression turn to pain. I want to hurt him and hurt him until he cries, or hug him and kiss him until he melts.

But another part of me wants to break down and sob and wail until I don't even have the moisture to swallow. I want to hold him close, so close, and never let go again. I want to babble endlessly into his ear about everything he's ever been to me and how I can't leave him either, 'cause I....

I've said it before to myself; I should be able to say it again. I should be able to...

He's looking at me again, his eyes breaking down every barrier I ever put up as he studies my eyes, my lips, my cheeks, my hair, my eyes....

Is he looking for something in me?

Can he see the words I wanna say? Can he see the parts of me even I don't know about?

I look away and try to find my thoughts again. A van passes through the street; its windows tinted and dark in the bright morning light. The van's moving slowly, almost as if the people inside are watching us, but I glance over and see there's a red light up ahead and realize that's the only reason. As I turn back to look at Heero again, I catch a glimpse of us in the tinted reflection off the van's back windows.

We're both still about the same height, though we've grown and Heero's filled out a little more. He's standing a few steps away, his hands at his side, but forward, as if he really wants to touch me but is too afraid to. The van is slow and my eyesight is excellent, but I only vaguely notice his determined, tragic expression in the muddled, dark window.

Instead, all I can see is my own terrified, staring face that looks pathetic even to me, and I don't even wanna think about what Heero's been looking at. The sunlight glints off my cross just in time for me to see it flash in the reflection before the van disappears down the block.

My hand automatically reaches up to grip my cross, my other hand twitching to stroke and tug on my braid. I'm distracted as I hear a bird or two call out. There've probably been tons more but this is the first time I've let myself listen to my surroundings since I came out here. My shirt is really wet against my back now and the concrete sidewalk is starting to get hot through my socks. The wind keeps blowing softly and I feel my bangs brush annoyingly against my cheeks, tickling and taunting me.

My thumb runs repeatedly over the worn front of the cross, something I've always done since I got it. I barely notice my other arm wrap around my stomach as I watch the happy Fall day around me shake and lose its intensity. As I stare across the street, I swear I can almost see my friends from Solo's gang and the other orphans at Maxwell Church laughing and running and smiling. My first instinct is to run to them, but a woman walking down the sidewalk passes right through Lindy, and I remember that they're not around -- they don't exist anymore and never will again.

Solo appears around the corner, followed by Sister Helen and Father Maxwell, and they smile and wave at the kids. My hair stands on end and I look quickly back at Heero, maybe wondering if he sees what I see. He's staring across the street, a slightly pained look on his face, but when he sees me watching him he turns back. From his eyes I know he is seeing his own personal Solo's gang laughing carefree.

Tentatively, he reaches out and brushes his fingers across my shoulder and upper arm. "Let it go," he says softly, but I can hear the pain and I know it's as hard for him as it is for me.

I'm already shaking my head, "I -- I can't --" My fingers are gripping and stroking the cross so hard and fast my knuckles and fingers are starting to hurt, but I don't care and I can't stop. I look frantically back and they're all still standing there, though now Solo is running with the kids and Father Maxwell and Sister Helen are watching with smiles.

I could get lost forever watching them jump and laugh and run; it's almost as addictive as adrenaline rushes and sugar highs. I want to run over and play and skip and laugh too, but I remain here, stuck to my spot through simple fear.

Suddenly I feel a hand on my shoulder and I tear my eyes away from across the street to stare searchingly into Heero's eyes.

"Duo," he says softly again, quieter and more raw this time, but also stronger and more insistent, "Just let. It. Go." His hand comfortingly rubs my shoulder then falls to my upper arm.

I look back across the street again and am about to tell Heero that I never could, that I would be abandoning them and I promised myself a long time ago I would always remember their sacrifice... but then a new child runs around the corner and my heart skips a beat.

Sprinting with a stupid laugh and jumping lithely over a few of the kids is a short, dirty boy with long brown hair that's matted and loose. He stops in front of Solo and starts talking excitedly, his hands moving and posture saying he's the most important, strongest person alive.

I can barely swallow and breathe, but I manage. I watch for a few more moments as the boy and Solo laugh together, then get into a mock wrestling match as the other kids cheer on. I look quickly over at Father Maxwell, and he's staring straight at me with one of his little smiles and nods. I grip the cross harder as I stop rubbing it, staring at his smile, feeling a full body chill run from my head to my toes. I shiver and tremble, feeling Heero's hand clutch my arm tighter. Sister Helen looks over now and smiles widely, her teeth flashing white against the darkness of her clothing. I forget to breathe as I watch them, following Father Maxwell's every movement as he stares pointedly at me, then calls the boy over. The little brown-haired boy (Gods, was I ever so young? Do I still look like that with my hair down...?) wanders over to Father Maxwell, who talks to him. Looking defiant and deadly serious at the same time, the boy nods and shakes his head, then abruptly grins. With an excited smile, he throws himself at Father Maxwell's knees and whoops happily.

^^"Duo?" Father Maxwell's voice called to me as I played outside. I peeked around the church's open door and snuck in. I hated getting in trouble, but it always happened. It just wasn't fair!

"Duo," Father Maxwell smiled down at me in relief when he saw me, "I heard you got in trouble again today."

I nodded, watching him defiantly. I got in trouble at school again, but it was the other kid's fault! He shouldn't've been so mean.

"Were they teasing you?" he continued gently.

"Yeah," I nodded as I wiped my nose with the back of my hand, staring up at him, wide-eyed.

"Do you hate who you are right now, Duo?" His voice was so calm and soothing....

I shook my head. "Nuh-uh. They're just really mean jerks."

Father Maxwell's smile got bigger. "That's exactly right, Duo. Don't let them bother you -- you're exactly who you should be." He ruffled my hair slightly and smiled again, more gently. "Why are you looking at me like that, Duo? Don't worry -- just be yourself. And the next time they bother you, just tell Sister Helen or me. We'll go straight to the school and work out the problem."

My eyes widened so huge, I thought they were going to pop out of my head. With a happy yell, I threw myself at his legs and hugged him fiercely. ^^

#Even then I doubted myself. I ignored what my heart said and tried to follow others. I... I don't want to be caught in the past....#

My hand automatically tightens around the cross, then slowly, deliberately lets go.

The scene is already starting to fade, but the reminder isn't.

I look back at Heero, and he is still standing beside me, watching me carefully for any reaction. I stare back for one moment before I put my hand on top of his and squeeze. "C'mon, Heero, let's go home," I say with a smile and turn back the way we came.

Heero smiles slightly, relieved, and nods. "Are you alright, Duo?" he asks me as he moves to walk at my right.

I look over at his eyes, then down at his left hand, and suddenly reach over with my right to grab it. Lacing our fingers together, I let all my worries and restrictions and weighted conscience fall one by one with every step I take toward my new life with Heero. "I'm great, Heero," I tell him honestly, and I know he'll know it's true simply from my tone.

He nods and looks down at our hands, then back up at my eyes. I watch him and smile even wider, 'cause I can finally see all the little bits of beauty I was trying to ignore before, like the way the sun shines on his hair and makes his eyes glitter, or the way he looks so adorable when he's unsure of himself. I squeeze his hand and by now I feel like I'm beaming, but I don't know if I actually am.

I don't feel the need to look back or touch my cross or hair as we walk away. I know that the scene never existed outside my mind, but it still served its purpose. I remember Sister Helen telling me stories at night about love, or strength, or trust, or comfort. I remember Father Maxwell saying he just wanted us kids happy -- that we needed to find faith in all those around us and never let go.

I remember Solo smiling and laughing, and for once he's not dying in my arms during the memory. It's like I can finally see the good times as well as the bad. Like I finally dropped some wall inside that was keeping me frantic and afraid, pushing away everyone who meant anything to me even if it just hurt me more in the end.

I look at Heero, and I know not everything will go well. We'll get in fights, we'll get angry, and maybe we'll even give up on each other in the future. Maybe we'll never know sex or hugs or deep, soul-shattering kisses. Maybe we'll never exchange vows or rings or even stories when we're old and grey with nothing to talk about but our pre-war lives and how they affected us. Maybe I won't ever even see him again after we get back in the house, or maybe he or I will even die tonight, leaving the other desolate and deserted.

But the Maybe's aren't the Will Be's, and I need to stop staring so hard at the future and all its possibilities that I never get a glance at the present. I have to stop living in the past, watching and re-watching all my mistakes 'till I could tell anyone word for word what I did wrong and how I could fix it.

I need to be free and I gotta have faith.

Heero is looking away so I take a moment to study him intensely. I know he sees me in his peripheral vision, but it doesn't matter. After a second of scrutinizing, I grin then move closer so our arms are brushing.

"I guess I love you too," I say before I can talk myself out of it, trying not to wince as those bold words finally leave my mouth and hang so heavily in the air.

Heero looks at me sidelong and smirks, but I see his eyes soften and shine. "I know," he says confidently.

I stop for a second, which causes him to stop too since our hands are still linked. I stare at him incredulously, wanting to laugh at how smug he sounds, but also wanting to hug and kiss him for knowing me so completely. I guess it's not weird he picked up on the obvious, since I could tell from his eyes that he loved me too.

But it's one thing to think 'I love you,' and another to say it. Even more, it's one thing to think he knows, and another to hear it.

As I stare at him, I remember that song from before, the one that always makes me laugh. Some of the lyrics run through my head repeatedly as I start moving again.

/When I come home, yeah, I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who comes back home to you. And if I grow old, well, I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who's growing old with you.

When I'm lonely, yes, I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who's lonely without you. When I'm dreaming, yes, I know I'm gonna dream, Dream about the time when I'm with you/

It's funny -- just this morning the idea of Heero running 500 miles just to be with me seemed so absurd and hilarious. But now...

I'm comforted.

It sounds like a promise Heero made that he never had to say aloud. He may not run 500 miles but he said he'd do what he needed to, and now I know...

I'll do what I need to too.

'Cause I love him, for better or for worse, 'till death do us part... and even then I'll go down to Hell just to drag his sorry ass up here and tend to his wounds while I tell him how stupid he is.

Heero looks over at me abruptly, and for one brief moment I panic 'cause I think I said that out loud even though I swear I didn't. But he only smiles and nods at me, for what I don't know, then quickens the pace to pull me home.

We walk up the driveway and slip into our house, Heero pulling the door shut behind us. I turn to say something to him, even though I have no clue what it will be, but he stops me by suddenly pulling me forward and kissing me quickly but meaningfully on the mouth. I boggle, completely not expecting that, and I guess Heero wasn't either 'cause he steps back and looks away in shy embarrassment. He hesitates slightly, then turns to go into the kitchen.

I blink...

I blink again...

I hold my hand up and touch my lips, feeling my cheeks heat up.

We've kissed before, but I guess it never seemed to mean as much as that unpredicted, sudden kiss just did. I hear Heero closing a cupboard and opening the fridge, and I'm suddenly struck with a strong sense of belonging. This all feels so right, maybe even pure and fated, and I have to take a second to stop myself from fainting right now or running and tackling Heero.

Instead, I waver on my feet, and try desperately to think of something else. Of course, all I can see is Heero's cheeks reddening the slightest bit as he shifts and turns, embarrassed and surprised by his own actions.

He looks so sexy and adorable like that....

A rush of heated blood passes through me, tingling through my suddenly hypersensitive body and ending up in my groin. At first I wanna groan in annoyance, but the thought is gone as quick as it came and I'm left grinning wickedly as I watch Heero move to sit at the table. His body is still well toned, and I love the feel of his hard muscles beneath his warm skin. I can almost feel his hair through my fingers, his lips on my mouth, my cheek, my neck, my skin....

I shiver delightedly and smirk lecherously as I wander into the kitchen. Heero glances up, takes one look at my expression, and his eyes slightly widen in surprise. I can see suspicion, fear, and excitement in his body language, but the most important thing I see is lust and care. My smirk only widens as I realize Heero probably sees the exact same thing in me.

Sliding into the chair by Heero, keeping my eyes locked importantly on his, all I can think is one phrase:

Maybe the bed'll be a little more noisy tonight....

As if he can hear me, Heero smirks, then looks down at the newspaper again. His hand rests lightly around a glass of water I just noticed he poured. As he reads, I shift my weight and stare at his water, loving the way it ripples and moves Heero's image around, like a distorted mirror playing with his face.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring, or even how today will end. I have no idea what will happen tonight, if anything, or if this revelation of ours will last.

All I really know is, for now, I'm happy to sit by Heero and watch his reflection bobbing in the water, changing and forming and rearranging, but always returning to my powerful, wonderful, necessary Heero.

Suddenly I feel his hand on my own, pressing and caressing and soothing, and I look up to see his eyes sparkling at me with so many emotions I almost feel light-headed just trying to see them all. He brushes my bangs out of my eyes again (Gods, I love it when he does that!) and smiles, squeezing my hand.

I glance once at the water and how it reflects his face, then look up again to get lost in his endless, eternal blue eyes. I'm already feeling giddy and excited again, and all he's done is stare.

I don't think of the water again as Heero leans over and brushes his lips against mine again, words suddenly seeming so unimportant and pathetic in the face of these searing feelings. And as his tongue smoothes over my chapped lips, I whimper-moan and open my mouth to invite Heero in. Even the van and children from my past are completely forgotten, but I no longer care.

After all, who needs a reflection anyway?

Now I've got the real thing.

Lyrics of:
500 Miles
by The Proclaimers

When I wake up yeah I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who wakes up next to you
When I go out yeah I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you
If I get drunk yes I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you
And if I haver yeah I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who's havering to you

{Refrain}
But I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walked 1,000 miles
To fall down at your door

When I'm working yes I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who's working hard for you
And when the money comes in for the work I'll do
I'll pass almost every penny on to you

{Refrain}

When I come home yeah I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who comes back home to you
And if I grow old well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who's growing old with you

{Refrain}

When I'm lonely yes I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who's lonely without you
When I'm dreaming yes I know I'm gonna dream
Dream about the time when I'm with you