Smells Like Teen Spirit
by Shannon the Twisted Link Worshiper

(x) X (x)

Game 20
Street Fightin’ Man

(x) X (x)



The cafeteria was bustling with life and chatter the next morning, when school came back around again. After the first two periods of the day, the student body gathered around the large room’s many tables, turning chairs to face the front of the room, where morning announcements could be made to the entire school at once. Relena stood at the portable microphone and podium set up there, waiting for the students to take a seat so she could begin the assembly.

Though that was all normal fare in her role as school president, and she had been going through this routine since the beginning of the year, today she was restless and distracted. She was too busy thinking about the street kid who she had met the night before, the things he had told her and the people who she had met through him. She had followed him down that alley and into one of the old, dilapidated buildings, where she was surprised to find a whole horde of kids, ranging from very young to almost twenty, the oldest probably being her companion, Solo. He had introduced a few of them to her, though she couldn’t have remembered what their names had been; they were all fairly plain looking people with plain sorts of names. They hadn’t been her focus. Rather, it had been the eccentric old man Solo called J, who had promised to take Duo Maxwell out of her life for good, if she could just deliver the longhaired menace to him somehow. Despite what Solo had mentioned about Dr. J and the MRP, Relena decided she didn’t care what happened to Duo, just so long as he was gone and she would be able to make Heero see that he indeed loved her!

Maybe J wouldn’t mind getting two pieces of mutant trash, she thought to herself conspiratorially, as her brother happened into the room and started over towards the table where Noin was sitting with Duo and his other friends. Looking over at the Winner boy sitting beside Noin, she added to herself: I wonder if he’s one of them too, hanging off Cathy’s poor brother like he does. Maybe I’ll put him in my debt somehow....

The shrill ring of the period bell frightened her out of her diabolical musings, bringing her to the moment at hand. Clearing her throat, one hand resting on the microphone stand, she started the assembly as she always did, her face the very picture of beauty and calm. “Today’s reading comes from Keats,” she began, reading from the spiral notebook resting on the podium. “’Beauty is truth, truth beauty--That is all ye know on Earth, and all ye need to know.’ Lovely thought, yes? ...Now, I want to begin today’s announcements with the newest big headliner: after months of planning and work, the Winner Corporation and the Barton Foundation are collaborating on the launch of the Earth’s first space colony!” She waited for the applause to die down before she went on. “Now, make sure you mark down March as the tentative date for prom this year....”

“Listen to that, Hilders,” Duo whispered, gesturing in Relena’s direction. “Perfect hypocrite. She gets up there and yawns on about truth and beauty, when all she can think about is her petty, little, pink bubble of a world, where she is queen and we’re her obedient slaves.”

“Yeah, and where Heero Yuy is her king,” Hilde whispered back, eyes darting over to another table, where said Japanese boy was slouched moodily in his seat, one ankle resting on the other knee, arms crossed over his chest as he glared forward. She elbowed Duo hard in the side, scolding him playfully. “And don’t call me ‘Hilders’!” She hadn’t missed the way Duo’s eyes had started to wander over towards Heero’s table right before she had hit him either, and smirked privately to Noin, who had been watching the whole thing.

“Sorry,” Duo winced, batting her hands away and gripping his side. “Ooh, Hilders, my spleen--” Hilde elbowed him again, harder than before. ”Oomph!” Duo grunted, rubbing his stomach as he said in a low, pained voice, “Acck, coughing up a leg here, Hilders.” He blocked her oncoming fist before it was able to connect with his stomach for the third time.

“So Duo,” Milliardo whispered to him, tuning out Relena’s painfully cheerful voice, “what’s this about you and Yuy making out like bunnies last night?”

If there were words to describe the look that overtook Duo’s face, they still wouldn’t be enough to explain the one that suddenly froze on his features. His cheeks were this weird shade of bright red that actually bordered on a more orangey-pink coral, his pupils dilated and his mouth drawn into a wide line of embarrassment.

Any of the others at the table who may have been paying even the remotest amount of attention to the line of teachers and students up front as they scrolled through their own smaller announcements were definitely not any more. “Oh really?” Hilde deadpanned, a sly smile widening on her lips. “Do tell, Milliardo.”

“It was so good!” Milliardo answered, leaning across Noin so he could speak right to Hilde. “From what I hear, Mr. Maxwell made a little stop before he took Mr. Yuy back home last night.” Milliardo grinned devilishly at Duo, who was still gaping like a fish, trying in vain to win back his dignity. “Apparently, Mr. Yuy is quite the kisser.”

“That is a load of crap!” Duo hissed, wrenching Hilde out of the path between him and Milliardo. “He can’t kiss worth shit and he was drunk too! So it doesn’t count!!” He didn’t realize what he’d said until after he’d opened his mouth and immediately wished he’d been more careful. Denial probably would have been a much safer route to take. Damn my mouth! his inner-voice groaned.

“Whether it counts or not based on Heero’s alcohol intake doesn’t have anything to do with you liking it!” Milliardo retorted snidely, bracing himself on the table with a crooked elbow and jabbing an accusing finger at Duo. “Admit it! You’d kiss him again if you had the chance.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Duo snapped before he had a chance to realize that he was talking without thinking again. He covered it up quickly. “But it’s not like it was me who was doing the kissing. He kissed me!”

“You kissed him, he kissed you, same difference.” Milliardo waved it off nonchalantly. “Don’t try and get around it! You’re thinking about it right now, aren’t you?”

“How would you know?”

“I know a lot of things,” Milliardo answered glibly, settling back in his chair and raking a self-conscious pair of fingers through his long, silvery-blonde hair. He closed his eyes and gave Duo’s mind a quick read. “Like the fact that you’re regretting that extra jelly doughnut you had for breakfast,” he said, opening his eyes again, a knowing smirk on his face. “And that you didn’t study for this afternoon’s history test, though you’ll probably end up doing well on it anyway, because you think that samurai are cool. You think this room’s a bit on the cold side and that Heero has a nice profile from this angle--”

“Alright! Shut up! I get the message!” Duo snarled in a low whisper, holding up a halting hand. He stared at Milliardo for a second, sizing him up and trying to figure out just how Milliardo had been able to rattle off those obscure facts about him at the drop of a hat.

Quatre spoke up before Duo had a chance to voice his questions though. “So you do have a mutant Sense!” he announced in a soft voice from Duo’s other side. “I thought so, that one night I came over with Noin, but I wasn’t sure until now.” He cocked his head and stroked his chin thoughtfully, “Though I’ve never been able to read thoughts like that! How are you classified anyways?”

Milliardo sighed and slouched a little. “Yeah, so I guess the cat’s out of the bag. L3PSY at your service,” he announced with a little inclination of his head. “What are you, an L5?”

“Bordering L4,” Quatre answered with a little smile. “This is so wonderful! I’ve never met anyone else in the PSY class before! It’s nice to know I’m not the only one!”

“Of course not!” Milliardo scoffed. “PSYs aren’t rare; it’s just the powerful ones that are!”

“You’re pretty high up on the scale,” Quatre commented. “I wonder what it would be like if you were any higher?”

“Only one way to find out,” Milliardo shrugged, turning his attention briefly to the front of the room, where Principal Une had just gotten up to the podium to make an announcement on book bags being left carelessly in the middle of the halls. “Oh, and Duo, if you want to buy a bag of toffee, Gifford’s has a good candy selection--oof!”

Duo pulled his hand back after nailing Milliardo good and hard in the gut, cracking his knuckles loudly before crossing his arms and slouching extremely low in his chair, his feet hooked on the rung underneath the table for balance. “Don’t fuck with me, Milliardo.” It took him a minute for Milliardo’s comment to process though. “Hey, wait, how did you know about the toffee?”

“Were you listening to the conversation for the past five minutes at all?” Hilde snapped with a roll of her eyes. Duo’s brainlessness could really irk her sometimes. She knew Duo wasn’t stupid; it was just his constant battle with anything and everything, which caused him to seem a little ignorant, that really got on her case, and sometimes she found that she could be a little short-tempered with the braided wonder because of it. Not that he didn’t deserve it on occasion, of course!

“I’m telling you, Gifford’s has good toffee,” Milliardo repeated sadistically. “Maybe you’d wanna--OOMPH!!!” Milliardo grabbed his stomach in pain, the impact of both Duo’s and Noin’s fists landing right beneath his ribs where Duo had just hit him before. “Will you stop that?” he growled at them.

“Stop talking about Heero, then,” Duo snarled back, sulking again. “You’re making it out to be like some stinking soap opera. He was just friggin’ drunk, is all.”

“Not that you minded,” Milliardo slipped in quickly, ducking behind Noin for protection. His girlfriend just rolled her eyes and shoved him off, whispering something about deserving whatever Duo wanted to dish out on him with comments like the ones he was spouting.

Suddenly, a dark shadow was looming over their table. Duo, Milliardo, Noin, Hilde, Quatre and Dorothy all looked up slowly to meet the icy glare of one Heero Yuy, who was standing in front of them, arms crossed and a very dark stare directed at the six of them. “Quiet,” he growled dangerously, his eyes focused particularly on Duo. “You’re disturbing the assembly.”

Milliardo peeked around Heero’s body to see what was going on up front, at the podium. Seeing no one but Relena at the microphone, talking about some pep rally that was to take place later that week, he resumed his former position and commented to Heero idly, “I don’t see much to interrupt.”

Heero’s glare flew from Duo to Milliardo. “It doesn’t matter. Your jabbering is distracting.”

“Really, now?” Milliardo drawled, that sly grin festering on his lips again.

“Yes, really,” Heero snapped, starting to turn around to head back to the table where Trowa was waiting. “Don’t bother me again.”

“You’re the one who’s a goddamned bother, Yuy!” Duo hissed after him, causing Heero to stop dead in his tracks. The Japanese boy whirled around and was back upon the table in less than a second, giving Duo that blank, angry glare of his again. “Yeah, Yuy, I’m talking about you,” Duo snarled with a dastardly grin curling his lips. “You’re the only one who’s a bother.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?” Heero asked flatly, his facial expression betraying nothing.

The sound of someone clearing her throat behind Heero drew the children’s attention away from the blossoming tiff between Heero and Duo. They all looked up behind Heero to see Principal Une herself standing there with her arms crossed over her chest and a very grave expression drawn upon her face. “Excuse me, but would you mind saving your lovely little conversation for later?” she asked in a sweet, yet firm tone. It was certainly one that should not be argued or messed with. She wore a maroon business coat and a tight, matching skirt that fell to her knees, neat and perfect. A pair of round glasses sat on her graceful nose, masking her piercing green eyes, hair pulled back into braids that were coiled around on the sides of her head and fastened with thin, pink ribbons. Duo had always thought that she looked like Princess Leia when she did her hair up like that.

“There should be no talking during assembly! Mr. Yuy!” She glared sternly at the blue-eyed Japanese boy, willing him to take a seat. He started to walk back to Trowa’s table, but was caught gruffly by the collar and dragged back to Duo’s table. “Sit,” she commanded, pushing him down into an empty chair beside Quatre. “No more interruptions, any of you!” With that she walked away stiffly, taking her place against the wall to oversee the rest of the assembly.

“Yes, Colonel,” Duo saluted mockingly as Une retreated. His large, curious, purple eyes darted over to the newcomer at their table, darkening as they fell upon Heero’s lithe, attractive form. “Way to leave a subordinate soldier to supervise, Lady,” he grumbled under his breath, that cheerful note of sarcasm turning more into a low murmur of cynicism. “Private Yuy,” he saluted the Japanese boy in the same mocking way he had Principal Une.

Heero’s only reaction was to glare, his hand twitching like he was fighting to keep his middle finger down. He physically picked up his chair and turned it so his back was facing Duo, his eyes focused directly on Relena at the podium.

“He’s a damn fool,” Milliardo whispered quietly, loud enough for only Noin and Dorothy to hear.

“Which one? The Winged Soldier of the Lacrosse Field?” Noin questioned, eyeing said lacrosse player inquisitively, like she was trying to unravel him with just one look.

“Or do you mean the Devil of the Theatre?” Dorothy interjected, throwing a look down the table at Duo, who was glaring holes into the back of Heero’s head with the violet laser beams radiating from his eyes. “Either one, they’re both stupid.”

“Amen!” Milliardo agreed, shaking his hands like one of those overly excitable ministers. “Good luck trying to kick sense into either one....”

Dorothy, Noin, and Hilde (who had caught the tail end of their talk) could only nod in agreement, unable to think of any words to further the point that they had all been whispering about forever.

Quatre, meanwhile, was staring at the back of Heero’s head, trying hard to figure out what was going on with the strange boy. There was no doubt in Quatre’s mind that there was something that set Heero apart from other people, no matter what Duo said. For instance, why was it that Heero was the only person that Quatre heard in his mind on a regular basis? There had been a few freak instances when he had heard Duo, Dorothy, and once Hilde, but they were so few and scarce that they almost didn’t count for anything. The times that he heard Heero, however, were much longer connections and had happened quite often. Quatre could safely estimate that he had experienced those odd connections more with Heero than all his other friends combined.

As if on cue with his thoughts, Heero’s thoughts started up in his head again, like someone turning the volume up on his voice. Trowa said I fainted again yesterday? Shit. I’ve never been that out of it before. No wonder he brought me out to that club, though I can’t exactly say that drinking was the smartest thing to do considering that. Then again, it’s not like I remembered anything, or even knew what the hell I was doing. I never remember anything whenever I go through one of my drowsy fits; Trowa knows that! What a bastard he can be, sometimes!

Quatre remembered, however. Duo had almost run Trowa and him over when they had come back to the Barton household after the game. The incident had been suspicious enough, but when Trowa couldn’t find Heero anywhere inside, he had run out to the garage, Quatre not far behind, to find Heero passed out on the floor. Quatre had started to panic, and if it hadn’t been for Trowa’s calm, it might have been blown completely out of proportion. While Trowa was slapping Heero awake, he’d explained to Quatre that sometimes Heero ran himself to a point of exhaustion and sometimes just collapsed from fatigue. Heero had awoken, unsure of where he was and very dazed. Even a couple hours afterwards, he was still the same, which had seemed a little odd to Quatre, considering that Heero had had quite some time to get it back together. Trowa didn’t pay it any mind though, acting like it was something that happened every day, so Quatre had chosen not to comment too much on it.

...And I kissed him, after I got myself totally wrecked. Heero’s thoughts were racing through Quatre’s head at a mile-a-minute, almost too fast for the blonde to process them. Just great. How do I deal with him now? I can’t remember much about it, only that I kissed him and he brought me home. No doubt I made myself look like an idiot. I’ll never live it down, I’m sure....

Quatre smirked privately. While Heero seemed to be beating himself up for getting drunk the night before, the fact remained that he was thinking nonstop about Duo. Maybe there’s hope yet, Quatre said to himself, shoving Heero’s babbling to the side so he could think on his own. He might have been embarrassed and angry about it, but so’s Duo, and it’s obvious as day that he likes Heero, even if he’s too bullheaded to admit it. Tch, Duo.... Now that’s a head I’d like to get inside of...



(x) X (x)



“...And make sure you put all your crap in your goddamned lockers! That’s what they’re freaking there for! I’m not your goddamned maid!” Duo shouted moodily to the locker room’s general populace, flinging a damp, discarded towel into the designated bin, as the lacrosse team went about changing out of the clothes they had worn for the late-night Friday practice. He would have wanted to direct his annoyance at his favourite target, but Heero wasn’t by his locker at the moment, so it left everyone else to be victim to Duo’s usually restricted wrath. He was still nursing bitter feelings about his forced participation with the lacrosse team, despite the fact that it was nearly the end of January, almost a month into the season. Even the allies he had found in Treize, and even sometimes Wufei and Trowa, proved to not be enough to keep his spirits about the whole ordeal positive.

The sound of rushing water sprinkling from the showers in the next room over and the low, buzzing whir of the fan filled the otherwise silent room. The team seemed a little muted and drugged today, though that was perfectly understandable, considering they had to drag themselves outside and get back to school as the sun was going down. No need to say that Duo was among the grumpier of the team’s members that night, not only because he’d to interrupt a rather nice snooze, but also because it was making a dent in his early weekend. It didn’t help that he had to end his nap to start his weekend off with the lacrosse team, and in particular, Heero.

He had spent the duration of the two-hour practice sitting on the sideline bench with Wufei, though the Chinese boy wasn’t up for conversation at all, and even less so for any of Duo’s boredom-relieving antics. One thing Duo had noticed about Wufei was that the boy was rabidly obsessive and meticulous about everything he did, whether it was lacrosse or art or anything. Duo also noticed that Wufei seemed to be all the more focused on things that he felt that Heero was better than him at. Though Duo found such sentiments were perfectly justified, as Heero’s flawless performances in everything he did could get downright irritating, Duo thought Wufei’s obsession could be just as annoying. Of course, when Duo had mentioned the thought to Wufei, the Chinese boy had snapped at him, saying that Duo was no better. Leaving the intent of the comment ambiguous, Wufei left Duo to brood over it for the rest of the practice.

After that incident, it was pretty easy to see why Duo was in a foul mood by the time the team was packing up and moving out of the cold to the warmth of the showers, and he was not afraid to make sure each and every player knew it, though he did fail to give Heero a habitual third-degree for breathing and taking up precious matter and space as he usually did. Heero had made himself scarce, and was dragging slowly behind everyone else. Not even Duo was going to wait around in the freezing cold just for the chance to be an asshole to the most irritating person he had ever known. Standing around like that always opened up paths for mental wandering; he’d learned early on that once you got past a certain speed, the most dangerous thing was thinking.

But that was just the problem: telling himself not to think just prompted him to burrow deeper into his head, wondering just what it was that was making him feel like a total train-wreck as of late. This is making me fall apart... literally, Duo thought to himself, plopping down on one of the benches in the locker room and burying his face in his hands, long, wispy bangs feathering out between his slender fingers as he tried to calm himself down. The combination of the stress and his surly attitude was starting to show on the outside, beginning with the subtle sheen of flyaway atoms that were just begging to be allowed some freedom to vent. Arrrgh! The stuff that other people did never used to bother me at all! Why is it that all of a sudden, my every mood lies in what stupid, fucking Heero Yuy and his dumb friends do!?

The garbled, frustrated yell that Duo let out to release his aggravation brought the low chatter to a halt. Everyone on the team stared at their manager with wide eyes, startled by his sudden outburst. Duo was suddenly very aware of how loud the water pipes and the fans were. He was so tempted to just vaporize himself and fade away, that he almost let his mutant secret out, just in hopes that he could get away. Thankfully, he was able to suppress the urge in one of the greatest shows of self-control he had ever mustered. Aware that everyone was still staring at him, he lifted his face up from his hands and said with half of a fake smile decorating his face: “Just thought I’d admit the tension.”

A few of the guys shrugged and went back to changing, figuring that it was just Duo’s odd way. Some of the others gave him some pretty disdainful looks and shot wide-eyed, sneering glances at each other, mouthing insults that Duo was too lazy and tired to do anything about. He collapsed on his side, then rolled over on his back, a foot planted firmly on either side of the bench, arm flung over his eyes and blackening his vision. He refused to move, despite the fact that he had stretched his long form out across most of the bench and just moaned.

Soon, the low chattering around him died down, dotted more and more frequently with the sounds of slamming locker doors and rattling equipment. The water and the fans bombarded Duo’s ears again, and he almost, almost found himself wishing that some of the players would come back and make some noise, just so he wouldn’t have to be left with that loud, mind-crushing silence. Removing his arm from over his eyes enough to allow a triangle of light to penetrate the blackness revealed that there were still a few guys left in the room, but none of them were talking, explaining the silence. Trowa was standing right beside his head, plastering a yellow post-it note on Heero’s locker, perfectly lined up beneath the little, metal nameplate reading ‘01’. Dorothy, hidden away in the body of a boy generally thought to be named ‘Zechs’, was just tying her sneakers, ready to bolt, while Wufei was sitting on the bench on the other side of the room, reading a book quietly, as if he was waiting for someone. Duo groaned and recovered his eyes, thinking to himself: Goddammit. What a freakin’ eyesore.

“I’ll see you later, Wufei,” he heard Trowa say, another metallic thud echoing through the room as he closed his locker.

“Me too,” Dorothy added, her sneakers squeaking on the linoleum floor as she stood up and hefted her bag on her shoulder with a low grunt. “See you later, Duo!” He heard her footsteps as she left, not far behind Trowa.

Duo supposed Wufei was still there, reading. Maybe he’s waiting for Treize or something? he guessed. There’s not a chance in hell he’d be waiting for Yuy....

As if on cue, the pipes quieted as the last person in the showers, presumably Heero, finished up and walked into the main locker room where Wufei and Duo were. Duo uncovered his eyes again, spying the door to the showers as Heero appeared, hot steam from the warm water pouring out behind him as he walked out. Duo’s jaw fell unhinged at the sight, and he quickly covered his eyes again so he wouldn’t have to look at Heero as he stalked over towards his locker. The Japanese youth was clad in nothing more than one of the school’s large, generic, white towels, which was wrapped around his slim waist two times and yet, still slipping down one hip as he walked. His skin was wet and glistened with thousands of little water droplets, his long, mahogany-brown bangs dripping over his dark, glistening, wet eyes.

Duo’s arm inevitably slackened, reopening that little window of light so he could peek at Heero again, though he wasn’t willing to admit to himself that he wanted to see that tattoo on his back again. Heero was standing right in his line of sight, and lo and behold, there was that angel wings tattoo, spread out across the small of his back, the dark lines of ink blackened by the wet sheen coating his body. Looking closer, Duo noticed a web of odd scars and blemishes underneath the detailed pattern. However, he had no time to lend anymore thought to it, as the towel started to unravel. Duo forced his reluctant arms to clamp down over his face. The last thing he needed was to be tempted by someone like Heero.

There were sounds of movement around him; the light wrinkling of clothes as Heero dressed beside him accompanied by the squeak of the door opening on its old hinges and the heavy tones of Wufei’s feet as he stood and started gathering his things to go. Another set of footsteps rang through the room as the person who had opened the door walked in; Duo was dimly aware of Treize and Wufei talking softly on the other side of the room. Heero’s footsteps soon began plodding over towards the other two, joining their conversation about God knew what. Duo still didn’t dare open his eyes; God also knew what state of dress Heero was in at that point.

The conversation between the three lacrosse junkies came to a close, and a pair of footsteps made their way to the door. Duo heard Heero grunt a word of farewell to Wufei. Treize also made a word of goodbye, though most of it was cut off as the door closed behind him. Duo wasn’t entirely sure of who had left with Treize and who was still in the room; Treize seemed to like those private discussions he often shared with his student pets. The bench tilted and moaned slightly as whoever was left in the room sat down at the edge of the bench, right over Duo’s head. No words were said, but Duo was immediately stiff with fright as a gentle tug pulled at the nape of his neck and the person started toying with his hair, twisting the thick rope of hair about. Duo prayed that whoever it was (because he considered both Heero and Wufei to be total idiots) at least had the good sense to not take his hair out of the braid; he was way too lazy and too tired to have to start a ruckus when all he wanted was a good, long sleep.

Suddenly, Duo heard the door open again. As someone else entered the room, the person on the bench dropped Duo’s hair like it was kryptonite and tensed, the movement made clear by the way the wooden bench shifted. Wufei’s voice echoed through the room: “Yuy! What are you still doing here!?”

“What are you?!” Heero snapped back, his voice much closer in proximity to Duo than Wufei’s had been. His next words proved that he was the one who had just been playing with Duo’s hair: “I thought you were talking to Treize!”

“Never mind; it’s nothing,” Wufei answered in a glib, flat tone. “But I thought you were in a rush to go home.”

“To what? A dark house, where no one lives?!” Heero snapped. Duo moved his arm away as the bench lurched again, just in time to see Heero stand up and take a few steps in Wufei’s direction. He was, Duo noted, dressed, his slim, muscled form clad in a loose, green tank top and tight, light blue jeans, with a dark blue jacket overtop. He still wasn’t wearing any shoes. “O-tou-san and O-kaa-san are taking Cathy and Relena on some trip; Trowa’s going out with his boyfriend. What do I get to do? I get to go home to an empty house, with only ghosts to keep me company.”

“Jeez, sorry,” Wufei answered, waving his hands in defense as he turned to leave again. “You don’t have to go throwing excuses in my face like that,” he grumbled as he pushed the door open. “I was just asking, my God!”

“Kisama!” Heero hissed under his breath, which was then tailed off with a low, mumbled grouse of incoherent Japanese that Duo had no hope of either discerning or understanding.

He watched as Heero sat down on the bench again and started pulling on a pair of old, ratty sneakers that had been hiding underneath it. The Japanese boy quickly leapt to his feet once that task had been completed and regimentally marched over to his locker, picking up his lacrosse bag and stick, his movements stiff and crisp, like that of a disciplined soldier. As Heero started for the door, Duo sat up, unable to stop himself from blurting out, “So where are you going now!?”

Heero paused, his large bag dropping to the ground by his feet with a loud thud. His head bent upwards for a second as he drew in a long, slow breath, before turning to look behind him so he could make eye contact with the braided boy sitting on the bench. “Going home, to my quiet, empty house, where it’s so lonely and silent, you can hear the dead talking through the walls.”

“You believe in ghosts?” Duo asked, arching an interested eyebrow, his love for a good, creepy story overriding his usual animosity for Heero. “Did someone die in your house?”

“People die everywhere,” Heero answered, his voice soft, almost ethereal. “But my house is old. I think many people have died there.”

“Is it scary when you’re there by yourself?” Duo asked, somehow entranced by the conversation. “Are you lonely there, with just the dark and the death?”

“No,” Heero said, turning away from Duo again as he picked up his bag and re-shouldered it. “I’m enough company for my house, I guess.”

“But what about the ghosts? The death!?” Duo prodded. To be honest, Heero was creeping him out just the slightest bit. Sure, Duo had quite an obsession with death in his own right, and had always taken the concept with extreme levity and sarcasm, but Heero seemed to have another, more disturbing aura about him as he spoke about it. “Don’t your parents care about you being on your own like that?” Duo couldn’t believe he was actually saying things like that to Heero. He had to keep reminding himself that he hated him.

“I’ve been surrounded by death since I was a kid. It doesn't bother me anymore,” Heero answered plainly, walking towards the door again. He stopped right before he left, though, adding in that soft, low voice of his: “They’re just shadows. It’s not like I need to be afraid... so it’s fine.” With that, he adjusted his bag on his shoulder, hitched his hand up to the neck of his lacrosse stick and left the room without even a sideways glance back at Duo.

“That boy is one strange duck,” Duo muttered to himself, bounding to his feet in one fluid motion. He straightened his black, leather jacket and left the room, flicking the lights off behind him as he slid out the door.

The dark, nighttime air was crisp and chilly, but slowly warming its way to the spring months. Duo wandered down the street, away from the prison commonly known as school, hands in pockets, staring at the ground. “Q’s out with Trowa, huh?” Duo mused to himself as he went, the notion making him feel sort of lonely. “I guess he really likes the guy. Nothing I can do about it anymore, I guess.” Duo sighed nostalgically.

He would have gone home, but he decided that going back to an empty place would just make him feel more upset than he already was. That annoying voice in the back of his head murmured quietly that perhaps the reason Duo was so bitter about Trowa and Quatre was that he felt that Quatre was replacing him with Trowa. It’s not like Quatre’s leaving you for broke, Duo, the voice said in a rather diplomatic tone. He’s just reaching out, exploring. He’ll always be your friend; you have no right to keep him for yourself. He’s got a life outside of you!

Duo groaned out loud, grabbing his bangs and pulling hard, trying to vent his frustration. All it had taken was the Noodle Incident, and his life had been totally flipped on its head. His one last, holy crusade against the school and their apparent distaste for the arts had backfired and landed him as the manager of the lacrosse team, which had brought mountain upon mountain of trouble for Duo, starting with one Heero Yuy and stemming out in endless directions. “Goddammit! Why is that stupid Heero at the heart of every single thing that’s happened to me lately!” Duo swore, absently kicking a pebble down the sidewalk as he came to a stop in front of the little community church at the end of the block. He added to his previous thought: “And everything that’s been happening to me lately has been bad, thank-you-very-much, Heero Yuy, Bearer-of-All-Things-Wretched.”

Looking up at the small, stone church before him, he let out a nostalgic sigh, thinking back to his childhood days when he was living at the Maxwell Church’s orphanage. Despite the many times families had taken him in, only to decide that they really didn’t want him, they had been happy days; at least, until he had come back to find the one mutant he’d ever known in his childhood had been adopted for good and never came back. The church burned down not long after.

This church was a bit more ornate than Maxwell’s had been. Instead of a simple wood and brick building with its one little steeple crowning the pointed rooftop, this church was made of stone, dominating most of the street corner with its tall, majestic bell-tower, real stained-glass windows and curly, wrought-iron finishes. It looked almost like a little, Gothic castle.

He plopped down on the slate stoop of the church. Making a low, growling noise in the back of his throat, he buried his nose between his knees and hid his eyes from the world around him again. He’d just been falling into that half-awake, half-dozing state, where one is still aware of what he’s dreaming of, when a firm grip on his shoulder suddenly ripped him upwards into a standing position. His eyes snapped open somewhere along the rough trip, assaulting them with the sight of none other than Solo, the one person he possibly hated more than Heero. “Hey there, Little Monster,” he drawled in that scary, alienated voice of his, twin coils of smoke streaming out of his mouth as he spoke, billowing around the cigarette dangling from his lips. Solo used to talk in this soft, faraway, dreamy voice back when they had been children, nothing like the cold one he had now. He never used to smoke either, even though a few of the other White Fang members did at that age. “Long time, no see, eh? Wouldn’t you say so, boys?” It wasn’t until Solo addressed them that Duo realized that Solo wasn’t alone; most of White Fang, his old, one-time friends in particular, were crowded in a tight semicircle around them. Speak of the Devil....

“Where’s our money, brat?” a voice spoke up. It was Alex, a cruel-looking blonde with shaggy hair that parted and fell messily over his head. Duo had to say that he definitely didn’t like the looks of the six-inch hunting knife that Alex was currently slipping out of its thick, leather sheath. “If’n I remember right, Solo beat you last time.”

“Yeah, I think I remember that too,” Solo supplemented menacingly, grabbing Duo fiercely by the shirt with both hands. His eyes darkened as he glared down at the mutant boy he’d once considered his best comrade-at-arms, roving those perfectly round, unblemished cheeks and the tart, red mouth. “Well? Where is it, Monster?” he snarled, the intonation he used with the word ‘monster’ no longer the joking one he’d used with the affectionate epithet it once was. “You’ve been dodgin’ us for almost a week an’a ‘alf now, and I wanna know just where the fuck my two thousand dollars is!” He gave Duo a violent shake to emphasize his point.

“I ate it,” Duo managed to choke out with a sly wink, still as snide as ever, despite the rough treatment.

“Mother-God-fucking-dammit!” someone else shouted angrily, a voice that Duo recognized as Mueller’s. The lanky, brown-haired trash-talker flanked Solo’s left side, idly swinging a length of chain as if to subtly warn Duo of what his consequences might be if he didn’t cough up the cash. “You fucking, cheap, little swindler!”

“That’s m’name, don’t wear it out,” Duo stuck his tongue out at him, which only made Mueller turn so red with anger, it made his earthy-brown sideburns clash with his discoloured skin.

“That’s it, brat,” Solo growled, his voice low and dangerous as he spat his cigarette out, not even bothering to snuff it out with the toe of his boot as he looked Duo right in the eye. “You know what th’ deal is if’n you ain’t gonna deliver the chinks.”

“Like fuck you’ll get it without a fight!” Duo snarled back with that cheeky grin of his, though the look in his eyes was just as dark and menacing as Solo’s was. He swung one of his heavy, booted feet back and let it crash hard into Solo’s shin, startling the blonde gang leader enough to make his hands loosen on Duo. Duo quickly ducked down and started to weasel away from the confused White Fang group, hoping to make a secret and fast getaway in all the commotion.

“There he goes!” Alex’s voice leapt up above the discombobulated sounds of commotion. “Quick, guys! Go hunt th’ lil’ blighter!”

The order was met with an almost immediate answer as the gang moved as one and started thundering down the sidewalk after Duo. The clanking and rattling of Mueller’s chain clattered above the rowdy shouts of the gang as they hurried down the sidewalk after their speeding prey.

“Shit, they’re actually gonna chase me!” Duo swore as he looked back over his shoulder, the gang hot on his heels with Solo, Alex and Mueller in the lead. He looked around, desperate for a means of escape. Just ahead, the sidewalk passed by a dark alleyway. Not even thinking twice about it, he spurred himself onward, shooting forward in a burst of atomic dust, whizzing for that alley faster than he could have ever hoped to run. The dark atomic shadow whipped around the corner, deviating from the sidewalk and throwing the White Fang group for a moment, forcing them to pause for a second to regroup.

Soon, it started to rain, and it wasn’t long before they took off again, splitting up into four smaller groups. The three leaders stayed together, taking the direct route down the ally; Solo and the other two were able to catch Duo’s little teleportation trick a mile away. As they started down the dark drive jabbing between two tall apartment buildings that loomed up high on either side of the alley, a hazy glow shining through blinds in the windows and falling down on the street in ribbed light, a smile grew on each of their faces. “Dead end,” Solo whispered maliciously to the flickering, dark patch cowering in one corner as Duo jumped from shadow to solid body. “Oops, game over, me precious Little Monster,” he cooed darkly as they neared Duo. “You lose.”

Duo, unable to keep his atomic form up in the rain, fell to the ground in a heap of tired limps and messy, brown hair. When he’d found himself at a dead end, he’d tried to scamper up the wall, a little trick he’d perfected when he was still a small, orphan child. Unfortunately for Duo, it had started to rain just as he’d tried to attempt it, and ended up falling two stories down, weakening him even more. For some reason, moisture had always put a damper on Duo’s teleporting skill; though he was no scientist, he figured it had something to do with the way water molecules tended to cling to others, the added weight forcing his own particles to try and rearrange themselves into their usual, solid order so that they could deal with it.

There had never been a time when he’d not been able to outrun White Fang. He’d only lost to them a few times. Twice, he’d found that about three months of careful evasion was usually enough for them to get bored, which resulted in a settlement to simply raise the stakes for next time. But that first time, he shuddered to think on it, and could only hope that Solo, Alex and Mueller had different plans in mind than what the three bastards had done before. Violence he could take; violation, he could not.

Mueller, chain dangling from his fist, was the first to approach, Solo not far behind. Alex stood just to the side, licking the wretched blade of that ghastly knife of his in such a disturbing and menacing way that Duo had to look away. He didn’t have that kind of peace for very long, because a strong pair of rough hands latched around his jaw and wrenched him forward. His eyes snapped open to reveal Solo’s scarred face, glowering darkly at him, a frightful smirk on his lips.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here, hmmm?” he purred. A voice in the back of Duo’s head made an idle, totally out-of-place comment that when Heero spoke with that kind of purring tone, it was much more attractive, almost sexy. Had Duo not been so focused on struggling to get free, he might have smacked himself for daring to think such a thing.

“Fuck you.” Duo spat in his face to emphasize his meaning, though the projectile saliva really didn’t make much of a difference in the pounding rain.

Disgusted and riled, Solo used one hand to wipe Duo’s spittle off his wet face. Brows crinkled he sneered, “Look, you little shit, we had two thousand dollars in the pot for that race an’ now we’ve come to collect our long overdue payment, capice? If’n you don’t got the money, then we’re going to have to find some... other ways to make that win seem worthwhile.”

“What about honour and glory?” Duo asked with his usual snide intonation. “If you don’t play to win, why keep score?”

“Cheating is as much of the game as scoring an’ cars,” Solo answered back, moving forward and jamming Duo down on his knees. The blond-haired gang leader settled down on top of Duo’s thighs, grabbing Duo’s head roughly as he hissed, “We just cheat better’n you, is all. We were sick of losing to you an’ that speedin’ tin can of yours.” Solo grinned even wider, his expression very distressing. “Care t’know how?”

“Moderately,” Duo deadpanned, still managing to be classic, vintage Duo, even in his dire circumstances.

“About a month or two ago, I ran into this doctor selling car parts, an’ we sorta struck up this conversation,” Solo started, not taking any time to make himself at home on Duo’s lap, helping himself to every part of Duo’s body he could get his hand on without loosening his kung-fu grip of steel on the longhaired boy. He ignored the dastardly expression of sheer hate scribbled across Duo’s face and just kept talking. “Turns out the nutcase had gotten his ass kicked out of some big, fancy-pants research group an’ was taking th’ underground route to success to keep from getting fucked over again by selling stuff that he still had access to from that big-ass, fancy research group.” His mouth curled up into a dark smile, “Which is how me’n the boys got our paws on some fresh Gundanium plates to help transform old Tallgeese into our new beauty: Epyon. Isn’t that fantastic, Little Monster?” He bent down and grabbed Duo’s lips in a ferocious and painful action that could be classified as a bad kiss at best, if anything at all. “Have you ever heard of Gundanium alloy before, Little Monster? It’s the strongest material mankind has ever created. Nearly indestructable it is, mmhmm....”

Duo had to fight hard to keep himself from gagging; he sincerely thought he was going to be sick. This was exactly what he had been afraid would happen, but now that it came to it, he realized he was almost too weak to really do anything about it. He was hardly able to shove Solo away, though he still wasn’t home free yet; Solo was still sitting on him and holding his face tightly. “I’ll pay you twice what I owe,” Duo begged, “just as long as you don’t... don’t do that!”

“Do what? This?” Solo asked as he dipped down for another taste.

“Gerroffa me!” Duo growled, pushing Solo away again. “Go make out with your stupid doctor friend if you want some so bad! Leave me out of it!”

“But you’re already a part of it, my dear Little Monster,” Solo cooed in that same, gross way he had before. Duo’s mind echoed its previous, out-of-place thought about Heero, making Duo shudder somewhat; the thought gave him mixed opinions, and he wasn’t sure what he should have been thinking at all right then, or if he should have been thinking to begin with. “Doctor J did nothing to deserve love like the love we’re gonna give you, right now!” With those words, he reeled back one fist and beat Duo hard across the cheek with it, his crazy grin becoming purely sadistic as a small hatching of blood appeared beneath Duo’s eye, then grimacing as Duo’s mutant genes immediately set to knitting the fresh wound together again. “Go ahead an’ squirm, Maxwell,” Solo growled, his voice commanding and sharp with violent intent. “I like it when you scream.”

He grabbed Duo’s hair and yanked his head backwards, ripping the zipper of Duo’s red turtleneck down and pulling the tight, red fabric away to expose Duo’s long, white throat. Solo leaned in, grazing his lips from the curve of Duo’s jaw down that swanlike neck, nipping and sucking as he ventured down to the place where Duo’s shoulder met his neck, clamping his teeth onto Duo’s vulnerable flesh, biting and sucking at the patch of skin and reveling in the way Duo shuddered with bottled-up fear beneath his mouth.

“Don’t... God no, Solo!” Duo ground out in a strained yell as one of Solo’s hands wandered to the small of his back and gruffly slammed his body against his, the other hand yanking on his braid painfully to hold his head back in place. “Please don’t... don’t do this to me, Solo!”

Solo stopped ravaging Duo’s skin and straightened, wrenching Duo’s head even farther backwards with another vengeful pull on his braid. “Shut up, you little mutant brat!” Solo growled fiercely. “You don’t got the money; you know the deal if’n you can’t pay up in cash. You even agreed to it when we raced, so don’t go chickening out now before we’ve finished having our fun.”

He snapped his fingers at Mueller, who seemed to understand what Solo wanted, even without words, and walked over to his leader and the captive. Mueller glanced around for a moment, and then approached a low, first-floor window that was cut into the dead-end wall, a grille of iron bars fitted over it to keep intruders out. Hastily, he looped his chain through the bars and used the loose ends to bind Duo’s hands together over his head and hold him fast against the wall. Once that was finished, Solo let go of Duo’s torso, though he still maintained his position on Duo’s thighs, so he wouldn’t thrash about.

“Go ahead an’ scream, kid,” Solo growled, daring to kiss Duo again. “Remember ‘ow I said like hearing you wail.”

It had been a big mistake for Solo to try to capture Duo’s lips again, though, for as his mouth neared Duo’s, the angry and panicked mutant grabbed Solo’s lips with a harsh bite, chomping down hard enough to draw a fair amount of blood.

“Gaaargh!” Solo cried, leaping off Duo like he was a pile of radioactive waste, cupping his split lip, blood dripping between his fingers in little, round, red tears. “That hurt, you little bitch!” He stopped nursing his abused mouth and reached up to untie his bandanna. Ripping it savagely from his head, he stalked back over to Duo, resuming his former position; he used the bandanna as a gag, tying it tightly behind Duo’s neck, the red and black cloth pulling harshly at the corners of Duo’s stuffed mouth. “Much better, you little slut,” Solo snapped, giving Duo a hard knock around the cheeks. “If you’re not going to scream like I want, then you’re not going to scream at all.” He leaned in closer, licking the bridge of Duo’s nose with no fear of being attacked again. “An’ no biting. That’s for me.”

“Mmmfffrrr!!” Duo moaned through the gag, though his words (no doubt a curse of some kind) were garbled and unintelligible.

“Yes, I love it too,” Solo whispered in that terrible voice of his, ready to go in and have some fun with his tied-up captive. The fingers of one hand had crept between them and were ripping at the zipper of Duo’s leather pants, delving inside and groping for his prize. “Mm, it’s too bad things had to turn out this way,” Solo purred evilly as he returned to that bruised patch of skin at the base of Duo’s neck, sucking and biting at it again. Duo’s muffled protests and restrained thrashing beneath him did nothing more than to egg Solo on. He ground hard against Duo, ready to milk this moment for all it was worth; after all, beating Duo in a race was something that should be rewarded well. “You would have made a good leader for White Fang, Little Monster.”

Duo’s mind was running amok, knowing that this could only end badly for him. He was aware of the hailing rain dumping down on them from the dark, cloudy night sky, and the far-off rolls of thunder echoing from the sea. Sometimes lightning would flash, lighting the dim alleyway in a wild, almost blinding bath of neon blue-white light, illuminating Alex and Mueller, who were standing off to the side, watching indifferently as Solo molested him.

Darkness enveloped them, and Duo felt like he was at his wit’s end as Solo’s hands became even rougher and more exploiting, as if they’d never touched Duo’s most intimate places before. There’s no way it could be as bad as the first time, Duo beat through his head as he tried hard to concentrate on the rain and ignore what Solo was doing, though it was nearly impossible to do so.

Another lightning bolt cracked, filling the area with bright, white light again. Duo averted his eyes to Alex, who was standing by with his vicious looking knife, his intentions for it unclear and disturbing to Duo. When the lightning subsided, Duo returned to his scared, laboured breathing, waiting for another distracting crash of lightning. He couldn’t even bring himself to think of a song to play in his head to keep his mind away from what was happening to him. When the next flash of light filled the sky, however, Duo’s eyes widened at the sight he beheld. Instead of admiring his long, wide knife as he had been doing before, Alex was being held victim to it; a shadowed figure was standing behind him, holding Alex fast with both hands pinned behind his back, the hunting knife pressed to his throat. Alex seemed afraid to talk in such a circumstance, and both Solo and Mueller were too focused on Duo to notice the predicament their comrade was in. Then his captor’s voice cut in, bringing Duo’s defiling to a grinding halt.

“Which one of you bastards started this?”

Duo wondered if he was sitting in a beam of light; what had he done recently that made him deserve such a miracle?

“I said, which one of you assholes is the one who started this!?” the person shouted again, his voice very gruff and deep, almost a monotone. As he spoke, lightning crashed and illuminated his face, whittling his features out of shadow and light.

Heero?!?!

“Answer me right now, or I slit this one’s throat!” Heero growled threateningly, pressing that grisly knife closer to Alex’s neck, a tiny trickle of copper-red blood dripping down from underneath the monstrous blade. It was about then that Solo and Mueller realized that they were in deep shit; Solo backed away from Duo, leaving him chained to the window, while Mueller looked desperately about for a means of escape.

“Well!?” Heero snapped, grinding the flat of the knife against Alex’s throat dangerously. It amazed Duo to think that someone as short as Heero could control a big brute like Alex with hardly any trouble, especially since it looked like Heero was still holding his lacrosse stick in the hand he was using to keep Alex’s hands bent painfully behind him. It made Duo wonder just how strong Heero really was. “Which one of you thought you could rape Duo and get away with it!”

And of all things to think, the only thing that came to Duo’s mind was: Did he just use my first name?!

“Yeah, so it was me,” Solo confessed with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, clearly underestimating Heero’s prowess. “But it’s not really rape. We had a bet, and he lost it. I’ve just come to collect on my end of the bargain!” Then he added, his voice becoming that dark, unfriendly tone again: “So stay out of it, kid. This is a man’s business.”

Heero’s eyes were still visible in the darkness and the pounding rain, glittering a bright, almost flaming blue as he whispered, “Omae o korosu.”

“Oma--what?” Solo guffawed, obviously still unafraid of the little Japanese teen who was currently pressing a knife against Alex’s throat. Just taking in the whole scene, Duo had to figure that something had to be said for someone who could wrestle a blade away from a White Fang member and then turn the weapon on him in the dark moments between lightning strikes. “I thought I told you to beat it!”

“The only beating I’ll partake in is the one I give to you,” Heero growled. To emphasize his point, Heero ripped the knife away from Alex’s throat and swiped it across the thug’s back, causing Alex to arch in pain as the tip of the blade ripped through his shirt and surfed across his skin. Heero released Alex and let him fall to his knees, groping his back for the long, diagonal slash that now adorned it, a bright red line of blood glistening in the rain. Casually, Heero wiped the soiled blade on his blue wind breaker, as if what he had just done was a normal practice. The image was made even more surreal by the lacrosse stick Heero still held in his other hand, making him look like a killer in one light, and like a typical high school student in another. “Which one of you goes next?” he asked solemnly, for some reason giving Duo the image of an executioner.

Mueller cast a look at Solo that made Duo think that neither one still quite understood what they were up against. The rumours he had heard about the incident between Heero and Wufei the year before, mixed with the wild way he conducted himself on the lacrosse field suddenly came to Duo’s mind, furthering his question about Heero’s true strength. He could almost hear Trowa’s voice echoing in his head: “There is no such thing as a game to Heero Yuy!”

Even before Mueller could take three steps towards Heero, though, the Japanese teen had launched himself at the gang member, swinging the lacrosse stick back behind him before slamming the head into the side of Mueller’s face with such force that the plastic frame for the stick’s netted pocket cracked upon impact and sent Mueller backwards with a gushing fount of crimson blood spouting from his nose and mouth. Heero approached Mueller’s prone body, the broken lacrosse stick dangling at one side, the freshly cleaned hunting knife at the other. Placing a foot on Mueller’s sternum and applying pressure down onto the defeated White Fang’s chest, he growled, “I told you that you should have just left him alone, but you didn’t listen to me, did you?” He bent forward a bit, putting the jagged end of the lacrosse stick under Mueller’s chin and pressing.

Solo let out a sharp gasp as he watched, whispering under his breath to himself, “Shit, it’s the kid with the angel tattoo,” though Duo still managed to catch it. Immediately, Duo’s eyes snapped in the direction Solo was looking; sure enough, with the way Heero was leaning forward, his shirt and coat rode up a little, revealing the defined lines of those wings on his back.

Solo jumped off of Duo and started to inch his way down the alleyway, back towards the sidewalk, hoping that Heero wouldn’t notice him as he made his escape. Unfortunately for Solo, Heero wasn’t as dumb as he’d been banking on, and his sharp, blue eyes locked onto him the second he’d moved from his spot by Duo. Frozen like he was caught in the cross-hairs of a sniper’s scope, Solo stood motionless as Heero tossed his useless lacrosse stick away and abandoned the clearly defeated Mueller, his eyes now set upon Solo.

“Where are you going?” Heero growled dangerously, his knife hand twitching unnaturally as he stepped closer to the immobile Solo. “We haven’t even had a chance to chat yet.”

“You think I’m stupid enough to hang around here when you’re the one person I’ve ever met who’s ever been able to land a good punch on me and live to tell about it?” Solo spat out, his fear more than a little bit apparent in his voice. “I don’t think so, Wing.”

Heero smirked and spat off to the side as he lifted the knife, the cool, steel blade beaded with glinting raindrops in the pale light. “You’re dumber than you look if you didn’t listen to me the last time we met,” Heero snarled, speaking down to Solo like he owned the White Fang leader. Clearly, it was a relationship that Duo might have been more curious to learn about had he not been so physically drained. As it was, he could barely keep his eyes open and focused.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up out of nowhere an’ acting like you run the streets ‘round here, when that job has belonged to me since before you even lived here!” Solo snapped back, trying hard to win back his pride and self-confidence with such big talk. “You run into me once, right after I’ve had one of the biggest wins of m’life, an’ got the balls to hit me! Just who the hell do you think you are!?”

“A whole hell of a lot better than you,” Heero answered snidely, tossing the knife up and catching it by the blade. He cocked the knife back like he meant to throw it, the ease with which he made the movement as graceful as a professional in the circus. Duo thought it was a little scary how accustomed Heero seemed to this kind of violent action, which just popped dozens more questions into his head. “I know your type,” Heero went on, hand moving slowly, aiming the knife. “And let me tell you something: you’re no better than the rest of the gang scumbags I’ve met in my life, so quit acting like you’re worth something.”

“I am worth something,” Solo argued, sounding more like a saint than Duo ever remembered him being. “I’m worth something to all the boys in me gang! It’s dangerous to roam the streets alone, an’ White Fang helps keep ‘em safe.” He paused for a moment before glancing over at Duo, who was still chained to the window. He then added, as if to slap Heero in the face: “Especially from the real dangers around here, like that mutant piece of crap over there!”

“Oh really? Let’s not forget who’s getting an education and climbing up in society, going somewhere with his life,” Heero said, tossing the knife and easily catching it by the blade again. His voice became dangerous again as he finished, “Your mistake was to let me catch you trying to drag someone like him down with the likes of you. You have no right to even look at him, much less to touch him.” Heero cocked the blade again. “I’m going to give you five seconds to get your ass out of here before this knife finds a permanent place between your eyes.” His eyes flickered that scary, glowing blue as he started his count. “Ichi....”

Solo barely had to hear the number escape Heero’s lips before he had taken off down the alley and into the darkness of the night, leaving the wounded Alex and Mueller to fend for themselves. He remembered meeting Heero once before, back on that night of the drag race that he’d triumphed in, when he and the rest of the gang had gone out hunting for Duo when he never crossed the finish line, clamouring loudly and drunkenly about whether it would be better to collect “cash or ass” from Duo, so to speak. They had only been passing Heero on the street, but he’d heard enough of their conversation to totally blind him with fury that they had been talking about raping someone, and he’d punched Solo good and hard in the face before continuing on his way. All Solo could remember about the kid was that wing tattoo on the small of his back, which Solo had glimpsed as the kid had started after the rest of White Fang. The last thing Solo wanted was to mess with that kid again; that one punch had been enough to prove that the boy was a hazard.

Duo was still kind of confused as to what was going on as he felt the chains slip off of his wrists with a clatter. He looked up to see Heero’s face outlined in the onslaught of rain, but for some reason, his mind didn’t register him as Heero Yuy, or a jock, or a prep, or any of those things that Duo said he wanted to purge from the planet Earth. Instead, all he saw was the saviour who had appeared in the night and protected his life, leaping to his feet and flinging his arms around a surprised Heero’s shoulders as he began to sob.



(x) X (x)



a/n: *smirking* Yeah, you all like that too, didn’t ya? Nice, long and up on my birthday too! Chappy title is a Stones song.

Oh, and for people asking about whether this is going to turn into a 1x2 or a 2x1, well, I labeled it 1x2x1 for a reason, which means (in my mind any way) that both groups will have their... uh... fun. I never did quite understand why it matters which on is on top; I mean, half the fun of these two is that it doesn’t really matter, like with, say, Tro and Q. (I really can’t see Tro being uke, nor Q being seme. Not the point.)