No one else is outside. The commotion that rose up with the onset of the rain -- people dashing for their cars, running into buildings, jumping on the first bus to arrive at the stop -- has quieted. Through the hazy downpour all the lights and colors are welcoming and warm.

The slightly screeching sounds of our car driven at high speed pierce the more somber sounds of the rain and I look up to see a shadowy figure in the driver's seat maneuvering as if the road were a race track in perfectly dry, sunny weather. As the car abruptly jolts to a stop in front of my perch on the sidewalk I smile and the window is rolled down.

"Oh hey," Duo says. "You look like you could use a ride."

Without a word I walk to the other side of the car and slip in, shaking off the drops that already accumulated from my three second walk in the rain. Duo starts the car abruptly and we take off again through the gloomy weather.

"Thanks for picking me up," I say and fiddle with the heat on the dash. It's early October but the rain has made everything cold.

"Yep," Duo hums, glancing over at me as I lower my hood and shake out my damp hair. "Hey!" he says suddenly, with a bite of concern.

"What?"

"You said you were going to the bank!"

I nod. "I did go to the bank."

He points a long, flexing finger at my head and uses it to punctuate his sentence since he has to watch the road. "Then what. Is. That?"

"A haircut," I say. What I love about Duo is how anything he doesn't experience himself seems perfectly ridiculous or strange to him, even the simple things.

"You didn't need a haircut!"

"I couldn't see anymore."

Duo opens his mouth for a second or two before talking. "Che! You brush it to the side," he says, demonstrating with his own long bangs.

I laugh. "That doesn't work for me."

He glances at me briefly again as we come to a stop at an intersection. The rain is falling so hard individual drops no longer come down. It is a unified blanket of water.

"You look kind of normal," he says and it doesn't sound good or bad, just normal.

I don't respond since I don't know what to say but the silence is amicable if a little frustrated on Duo's side. "You look kind of...more like a guy."

Air puffs out my nose in surprise. "Is it possible?"

Duo laughs and speeds up to get through a yellow light. We fishtail slightly but Duo barely seems to register, his hands guide the wheel with careless confidence and natural talent.

"I mean, like, a real guy."

"Oh. Clearly," I say nodding emphatically.

He laughs again. "You know, like a normal guy with normal fashion, not like, I was raised by a crazy bionic man who knew nothing about appearance and hygiene. Like, a regular guy."

My eyebrows have disappeared under my hair which is now quite a feat. "It couldn't have been that tragic, could it?" I say with laughing concern. "Crazy bionic man fashion?"

"Was J bionic actually or was that just a really couture eye patch? Oh wait, he had that arm, too. And it couldn't have been a couture eye patch if he didn't have fashion. So yeah, crazy bionic man fashion."

"If I looked so bad why did you like me?" I want to know, jokingly and yet not.

"Personality," Duo says without missing a beat and then bursts into self-amused laughter. He's wiping fake tears from his eyes. I punch him in the arm.

"Ouch!" he says, still laughing. I regret my decision as he begins to drive with one hand while the other clutches his bicep. We sail through an enormous puddle. Duo loves making big splashes in cars. I can never keep him on the road in a downpour.

Fortunately we are just a block away from our building and Duo directs the car into the garage and eases into our parking spot. With the engine shut off and the rain kept away by the concrete, multi-level garage it suddenly seems very quiet. I reach into my pocket and pull out a small cardboard box and hand it unceremoniously to Duo, whose fingers are warm and I realize I haven't touched him once since I'd gotten into the car.

"What's this?" he wants to know, but he spies the little gold sticker label on the outside and grins. "Hey thanks!" he says, pulling up the lid and fishing out a small, blue, berry-shaped candy. He pops one in my mouth before I can refuse and then throws another into the air and catches it expertly between his teeth.

Once he's swallowed he leans over and places his lips against mine, pillow soft and sweet. "Thanks Heero," he says, touched. I can tell he wants to say something else, just a little something, but he unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car. At least he wore it.

I follow. We make it to the entrance of the garage and share an amused glance. The garage is not attached to the building so in the rain or snow it's really useless. I put the hood on my zip-up hoodie back up and Duo flips up the collar on his black coat. He grabs my hand and we run across the small pavilion area into the building entrance, chuckling as we shake the rain from our heads and shoes.

"You're a sex-pop all drenched in rain," he says point-blank, looking me full in the face, not at all concerned that the receptionist and the security guard are standing three feet away. I smirk and walk to the elevator with my amusement, holding it while Duo trades quick pleasantries with our said shocked audience.

Once he gets inside and the lift starts ascending I ask, "What's a sex-pop?"

Duo laughs, clutching the wall for support. It amuses him to no end when I repeat his creative vocabulary.

"It's you," he says, stepping out onto our floor. We walk down the heavily carpeted hallway, Duo stops to snicker at something on the wall, I'm clueless, and he keys into our apartment. From the door I see that the windows over the balcony are all fogged up and the dimmer lights are on. Everything looks warm and welcoming, including Duo who is fighting to get out of his wet coat.

The bottoms of my jeans are soaked from waiting in the deluge and my hood and shoulders are drenched. I decide it's a fantastic idea to start undressing in the hallway and by the size of Duo's eyes when he turns around I see I am right. Suddenly his fingers are at my belt buckle, bending and flexing to unlatch it, pushing my jeans off my hips, leaving that task to push me into the wall, his mouth hot on mine.

"Oh hey," he says against my lips. "Welcome home from the bank."