Smells Like Teen Spirit
by Shannon the Twisted Link Worshiper

(x) X (x)

Game 30
Start Me Up

(x) X (x)



“Well, you sure look nice, Trowa,” Mrs. Barton said to her tall, green-eyed son as he entered the kitchen and sat down at the table. He was wearing a white polo and dark blue jeans, his skin glistening like he’d just stepped out of the shower moments ago.

“I know,” Trowa answered his mother as he glanced down at his watch.

“Are you going somewhere?” she asked, glancing up just in time to see her other boy walk into the room, hair messy as always and looking just a tad scruffy.

“Yes,” Trowa answered, smiling at Heero as he sat down opposite his brother. “Quatre and I are going to see this new science-fiction flick at the movies and then we’re going to get something to eat.”

“That sounds nice, dear,” Mrs. Barton said, opening one of the cupboards to take out a glass, which she then filled with milk. She brought it over to the table and set it down in front of Heero, who didn’t even ask how she knew that a drink had been the reason he’d come down in the first place. “What about you, Heero?” she asked as she walked back towards the counter on the other side of the kitchen. “Do you have plans for this evening?”

‘“Yes,” Heero said, lifting the cool glass off of the table to take a sip of milk.

Trowa sniggered; he had always found it highly amusing that someone as prickly as Heero liked milk as much as he did. Heero glared sharply at him, not realizing that his brother wasn’t making fun of him for actually doing something social.

“Where are you off to, then?” Mrs. Barton asked amiably as she returned to the table with a mug of coffee. “Going out with friends? A date, perhaps?” There was no mistaking the mischief in his mother’s voice.

Trowa sniggered again, though this time, it was because of the bright red patches that had appeared on Heero’s cheeks.

A loud honk from outside saved Heero from having to say anything to his family as he quickly chugged the last of his milk and dashed out of the room. Trowa exchanged a quick look with his mother before they simultaneously got up and followed Heero to the foyer, where he was just opening the door to leave. Trowa moved to the doorway just as Heero was walking outside, catching the door before it slammed in his face. He smiled to himself as he watched Heero dash down the front walk and practically leap the fence on his way to the small, black coupe purring in the street. The smile widened into a grin when he recognized a certain lacrosse team manager sitting behind the wheel, a black baseball cap perched backwards on his head and a pair of round sunglasses balanced on the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, it’s that nice Maxwell boy! Don’t you think it’s great how Heero’s become such good friends with him?” Mrs. Barton said as she joined Trowa by the door, watching as Duo pointed at Heero and burst out into laughter. Even the spying pair couldn’t help but chuckle as well when they realized that Duo had been making fun of Heero for the milk mustache that was still adorning Heero’s face. Duo revved the engine and started to pull away from the curb while Heero self-consciously rubbed the milk off his upper lip with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, I do,” Trowa said, still smiling as he watched the car hurtle off down the street at a speed that was way too fast to be considered even remotely safe, swerving around the corner at the end of the block with a loud screech. “I really do.”



(x) X (x)



Duo’s foot was plastered against the accelerator as he drove to the designated address written on the paper he and Heero had found in Mueller’s wallet. Just because he wasn’t engaged in a race didn’t deter Duo from speeding, and he was always of the opinion that if he couldn’t hear his turbo whistling, he wasn’t going fast enough. The radio blasted underneath the sound of the wind whipping around the black car as they zoomed through the town. Heero seemed surprisingly relaxed, eyeing the side mirror mounted on his door and tapping his fingers to the beat of the song roaring through the coupe’s speaker system.

“Just wait, Heero,” Duo said, a little worried that Heero’s meditative demeanor suggested that he was bored. “It’ll get more ass-kicking when the sun goes down and the flags go up. Going fast is one thing; racing is something entirely different.”

Heero nodded simply to acknowledge that he’d heard Duo’s comment, his fingers still tapping out the beat of the music. Noticing that, Duo thought back to the time he’d visited Trowa and found Heero playing guitar on the stairs, something that surprised him more than it probably should have. Of course Heero was good at just about everything a person could be good at, but the subtle movement of his fingers suggested that Heero had a greater passion for music than just idly strumming a few chords here and there to pass the time. So he did what he usually did when he was curious: he opened his mouth and asked.

“Yes, I guess I do like music a lot,” Heero said, realizing what he was doing and quickly balling his hand in a fist on one thigh. “It’s another one of my relaxing escapes. You know, like studio art.” He looked nervous as he added, “Why, does that bother you or something?”

“Are you kidding? I invented music fanaticism!” Duo cried, flabbergasted. “I just never took you for the type, I suppose.”

“You never took me for a lot of things, and now look at your opinion of me,” Heero was quick to say, though there was more joking friendliness to his tone that defensive bite, which would have certainly not been the case when Duo first joined the lacrosse team.

“True, true, very true,” Duo nodded, admitting defeat to Heero’s point, another thing that would have never happened at the beginning of their relationship.

They drove on, idly chit-chatting here and there as they went and laughing like old friends everywhere else. That, combined with Duo’s excessive speeding, made the trip seem far shorter than it was and before long, they were turning down a quiet, familiar street that Duo recognized as the one he’d stopped on when Heero was drunk. Hoping Heero either wouldn’t remember or wouldn’t say anything about the kiss if he did, he slowed down and pulled to the middle of the block, where Solo was leaning against his Epyon and waiting.

“Oh ho! Little Monster made a show!” Solo drawled with a sneer, his hands clamping down on Deathscythe’s hull as the black car came to a stop beside him. “You know, I was really beginning to worry that you’d chicken out after Mueller said he delivered the challenge. Heard you had a bit of a... disagreement.”

“If by ‘delivered’, you mean got beaten the crap out of, then yeah, that’s what happened,” Duo said coldly, the amiable chatterbox that had been sitting in the driver’s seat mere minutes ago gone like an old dream.

Solo’s eyes narrowed when he heard that piece of information, suggesting that he had heard a different version of events from Mueller. Duo almost felt bad for Mueller, who had obviously altered the story for Solo, hoping that he would avoid punishment for screwing up. Unfortunately for him, if there was anything Solo hated, it was being lied to, which guaranteed that Mueller’s fate would turn out a thousand times worse than it would have if he had just been honest with Solo to begin with. A good portion of Duo’s motto about never lying came from his White Fang days, where he had learned quickly that lying was an easy way to make your life a lot worse than it already was.

“So, it looks like you souped up that old tin can of yours,” Solo said, changing the subject icily, proving to Duo that Mueller had touched a nerve with the lie. Duo wouldn’t be surprised if he never saw Mueller again.

“Damn straight, I did--and don’t call my Deathscythe Hell a tin can!” Duo snapped. “It’s been able to beat your ass more times’n you can count before I fancied her up, so all’s I gotta say is that it’s gonna pummel you on this one!”

“Tsk, tsk, harsh words from such a little boy,” Solo tutted, shaking his head as he straightened up. He dug around underneath his jacket and pulled out a cigarette and a lighter, which he then used to spark the tip of the fag before tucking it back into his pocket. “You know what’s riding on this one, Monster?” he asked, puffing away on the stick of nicotine.

“Everything, if I remember right,” Duo ground out tersely, his knuckles turning ghostly white as he gripped the steering wheel. “Though what you mean by that could be just about anything.”

“You’re bright for a mutant scum ball,” Solo said, blowing a thin stream of smoke into the air that puffed gently across Duo’s cheeks, causing the longhaired boy to wrinkle his nose. He may have smoked once in a while himself, but that didn’t mean that he liked getting a mouthful of the nicotine-laced smoke in the face when he didn’t want it. “Winner-takes-all, that’s right. You win, you get whatever the hell you want. We win,” he reached behind him to pat Epyon’s hood, “we get you an’ your tight little ass whenever the hell we want it, no questions asked, period.”

“You know, for someone who hates us ‘mutant scum balls’ as much as you do,” Duo said bitterly, his eyes glinting with some unnamable emotion, “you sure like fucking us hard, don’t ya?”

“Only ‘cause you hate it so,” Solo replied eloquently, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Besides,” he went on, leaning into the car and cupping Duo’s defiant face with one hand, “when you’re on the streets, it’s bad to let a good thing go to waste. Surely you of all people should know that, Duo.” His tone was almost kind, but there was clear malice to his words and intentions.

“Shut up, Solo,” Duo growled.

“If’n that’s what you want,” Solo shrugged. “What d’ya want as your prize, eh?”

“For you to leave me the fuck alone for good,” Duo decided with hardly a second thought. He glared straight ahead, refusing to meet his former friend’s eye. “That decided, go away so we can race and stop touching my fucking car.”

“Touchy, aren’t we? That time of the month, is it?” Solo taunted, backing up, hands raised on either side of his head to show that he wasn’t fingering Deathscythe Hell anymore.

“Shut up, Solo!” Duo shouted, his body tensing with anger. He looked like a coiled spring that had been pushed as close together as physics would allow, just waiting to fly open and lash out. “I said let’s race!”

“My, my. Always were quite the feisty one, weren’t you, baby?” Solo crooned as he leaned back onto Epyon’s maroon side. He took a final drag of his cigarette and then flung it to the street, snuffing it out underneath his shoe.

“I believe he asked you to cut the crap, Solo.... Solo, that is your name, am I right?” Heero spoke up, turning his violent, blue glare on Solo. He put a reassuring hand on Duo’s quivering shoulder to calm him. “Don’t step any more out of line. You won’t be happy with the consequences.”

Solo whistled, his lips curling into a dastardly sneer that distorted the long scar on his face grotesquely. “O-oh, so you brought your bitch with you, huh?” he said unkindly as he started to move around Epyon so he could get into it. He licked his lips ferally, “You know, Monster, I must commend you on your tastes. Your bitch is pretty tasty-looking. Maybe we could play with him too... like a kind of package deal, you know? What d’ya think of that one?”

“I think you’re an asshole,” Duo said, his patience wearing very thin. He had hoped to avoid the banter with Solo and cut to the chase, but apparently that was too hard a thing to ask for. Worse still, Heero had to hear all of it, and it was so shameful, Duo almost wished he could die right there.

Solo snorted and turned his back on Duo at last, wrenching Epyon’s door open moodily and climbing into the driver’s seat. The sound of its engine roaring to life added to Deathscythe Hell’s own rumbling engine. Another White Fang member Duo didn’t recognize was sitting in the passenger seat, a dirty leer on his face. Heero was glaring past Duo at the passenger, willing him to die with just his angry stare. Meeting Heero’s eyes, the unknown White Fang boy placed a pair of fingers on his lips and then spread them apart, licking the place where they joined his hand in a very suggestive manner. Heero was appalled by the gesture.

“Just ignore them, Heero,” Duo warned, hardly even looking twice in Epyon’s direction.

The same boy Duo recognized as the starter of their last race was already walking into the street with his pistol. As he started rattling off the rules and conditions of the race, Heero finally said what had been bothering him since they’d arrived.

“How long has this gang been abusing you, Duo?” he asked frankly, though there was a hint that the whole thing bothered him much more than he was letting on.

“Well... there was a time that Solo would never even think of laying a finger on someone who didn’t want it,” Duo began uncertainly, feeling a little awkward with the time and place of the conversation, not to mention who he was having it with. “But it’s really not such a big deal,” he quickly added with a nervous laugh, still averting Heero’s eyes and staring straight at the starter ahead of them. “I mean, it’s just a quick fuck in the ass, hard and rough and all that. Then I’m done and safe until next time. It’s not like it happens a lot anyways. I’ve only ever lost two or three times....” Duo’s words fell into a bout of unsteady chuckles.

“Two or three too many times,” Heero deadpanned seriously, his own eyes staring straight ahead. “Duo, that isn’t--”

“Look, Heero, I know what the fuck it is,” Duo snapped irritably. “Just drop it, okay? It’s my life, not yours. You worry about you and I’ll worry about me!”

“Duo, I want to worry about you!” Heero said sharply, turning to face Duo at last. He studied Duo’s profile with a very serious eye, searching for even the slightest twitch of response from his longhaired friend. All Duo did was turn up the radio just as the starter began his countdown to the start of the race.

[Every time we lie awake,
After every hit we take.]

“Three,” the starter said, raising his pistol into the air, his little body illuminated by the bright glow of the two cars’ headlights.

[Every feeling that I get,
But I haven’t missed you yet.]

“Two....” The starter began running down between the two cars so he could be well out of their way when he gave the final signal. The last thing he wanted was to be run over by the two speeding maniacs.

[Every roommate kept awake
By every sigh and scream we make.]

Heero was taking in all the things around him with a sense he didn’t even know he had. There was a tense heaviness in the air that surpassed anything that he could hope to understand, considering he was only a third-party intruder on what seemed to be an age-old ritual. He was disgusted that Duo had fallen into the habit of just succumbing to White Fang’s terrible demands and he decided then and there that he would help save his new friend if it killed him.

“One....” The starter was now behind the two cars. Heero could see him reflected in the side mirror.

[All the feelings that I get,
But I still don’t miss you yet.
Only when I stop to think about it....]

“Go!” The starter finally fired his pistol, sending both Deathscythe and Epyon flying ahead. Heero felt his body plaster itself against the back of his seat as Deathscythe flew into full action, already going much faster than Duo’s top speed on the way over. A quick glance over at Duo painted a far different image than he’d seen before. Instead of the usually cynical and upbeat Duo he was used to seeing was a whole new breed of Maxwell with rage and pain in his eyes and a thirst for revenge.

The street they were on was straight and narrow, tunneling through the town for at least six blocks before it started to deviate into side streets and mountain roads. Despite the sinking feeling in his stomach as Deathscythe Hell gained more and more speed on the straight-away, Heero couldn’t deny that the rush was one of the most invigorating he had ever felt. The cold, biting wind flew over the windshield and whistled around his face, whipping his thick, long bangs out of his face, sweeping them back over his scalp.

Looking across Duo, he saw Epyon running even with them, its driver shadowed in the dark night and sparse light around them. Still, Heero was willing to bet that Solo’s face depicted an image of grim determination, though Heero still thought that Solo’s drive came from all the wrong reasons. It actually sickened him to think too much about what kinds of things Solo wanted to do with Duo.

Duo, on the other hand, was throwing himself into the race like he never had before as he screamed the chorus to the song on the radio. His eyes blazed and his fingers were clamped unnaturally tight around the steering wheel, loosening only when the need to use the gear shift arose. Whether this newfound passion was stemmed by the notion of booting Solo out of his life for good or proving to Heero that he wasn’t the bratty little boy he appeared to be, Duo wasn’t entirely sure. All he was absolutely certain of was that more than just a win or a loss was riding on this race.

[I... HATE ...
Everything about you!
Why do I...
Love you?
I... HATE...
Everything about you!
Why do I...
Love you?]

Duo’s baseball cap had long since blown off his head, a casualty to the night. His long braid flew out behind him, long wisps of hair flying free of their plaited confines. Heero thought that the image of Duo with unkempt hair really lent itself to the mechanic’s current frame of mind: wild and unbidden. Despite the alien appearance Duo carried, Heero felt honoured and relieved that Duo wasn’t so uptight about shedding his outer defenses. Seeing the raw emotion scrawled on Duo’s face, Heero was granted one of the most intimate looks at Duo’s insides that he had ever been granted. Heaven knew it had taken Heero quite the swallow of pride to do the same for himself, but once he had taken that initial step, there had been no going back.

“Hold on tight, Heero! Here’s where it starts to get a bit bumpy!” Duo yelled as they neared the end of the street. Epyon swung out on the left-hand turn first, shooting down the next road on the agreed-upon course in a glimmer of burgundy paint and red tail lights. Duo whipped Deathscythe Hell onto the street after Epyon, pushing the accelerator all the way down to the floor, soon neck-and-neck with his opponent again.

“I sure hope you know what the hell you’re doing, Duo!” Heero shouted back over the screaming radio and the whining wind. It wasn’t that Heero didn’t trust Duo, but given the situation, even the bravest person in the world might have started to get just a little nervous. Especially when that person’s safety was in the hands of someone whowas on the borderline of lunacy.

“No promises there!” Duo smiled darkly as he reached down for the booster rigged between the two seats. Still grinning like a madman, Duo pressed one of the buttons, eliciting a loud explosion from somewhere underneath the car, sending it throttling ahead of Epyon in a cloud of green and gray smoke.

[Every time we lie awake,
After every hit we take.]

The new rush of speed that overtook Deathscythe Hell when Duo used the booster was something that Heero couldn’t find the words to describe. Was it frightening? A little, yes. Exciting? Definitely. Still, despite his insecurities about the whole ordeal, Heero decided that he would jump on any chance Duo gave him to ride with him on another one of these races. For a moment, Heero forgot about the possible results of the race and focused on just the pure, invigorating feel of the moment. He had never done that with any of the games he’d played before, always intent on the outcome: whether he would win or lose. And though Duo had so much more to lose in this race than any lacrosse game Heero had ever played, Heero supposed that he was beginning to see what kept Duo coming back for these dangerous races. Perhaps this had been what Heero’s late father had been trying to tell him with that line of advice he had always pressed when he was alive....

[Every feeling that I get,
But I haven’t missed you yet.
Only when I stop to think about it....]

“Ya like that, Heero?” Duo asked, flashing his devil-may-care expression quickly in his direction. “I told you this was what real fun was,” he chuckled darkly.

“I never doubted you,” Heero replied, a little unused to yelling at such a loud volume just to be heard; he was usually a very soft-spoken person. “I would actually hold you to knowing more about fun than I would,” he went on, returning Duo’s sly smirk. “Didn’t you tell me that once?”

“Yeah, way back when I was a jerk,” Duo responded automatically, drumming his palms against the hard steering wheel. He chanced another grin at Heero. “But I’m not such a jerk anymore, am I?”

“No more than me,” Heero said with a shrug.

“That’s right!” Duo agreed. He found their conversation a nice distraction from the tense race, and had he not felt the little prod in the back of his mind that kept reminding him of where he was, he would have easily been fooled into thinking that it was just an ordinary night out on the town.

With Heero.

“You know,” he ventured, “you’re not as boring as you think.”

“As I think?” Heero quipped sardonically, arching one eyebrow.

“As I thought....” Duo corrected in a low mumble, though the joking manner was still evident in his tone. There were a few moments of passing silence before they started laughing like old friends at the exchange.

[I... HATE
Everything about you!
Why do I...
Love you?]

Duo reached down for the booster again, but as he pressed the button, he felt a wild shock rocket through his hands, causing him to jerk away from the turbo in surprised pain. “What the fuck!?” he exclaimed, looking down between the seats, a dismayed look crossing his face when he took in the sparks dancing around the console. “Aw, shit! This can’t be happening to me now!” As if to rub the malfunction into Duo’s face further, Epyon shot out ahead of them, killing the gain Duo’s last boost had given Deathscythe Hell over the other car.

Heero looked down to see what had suddenly gotten Duo so riled and upset, his mouth set into a grim line of worry when he saw what the trouble was. He glared at it, scrutinizing the mess of metal and wire as he searched for any possible causes for the trouble. His fingers traced along a pair of slim, red wires, stopping when he found them neatly sliced in two. “It’s been tampered with,” Heero announced plainly.

“Wha-at!? I can’t believe they would actually sink so low!” Duo shrieked, glancing down at the top of Heero’s brown-haired head, hunched over the booster console. Snapping his vision back to the road, his eyes glared molten holes into Epyon’s rear bumper. “Those bastards must have done it before we came in this afternoon!” Duo deduced, his voice a low growl. “Fuck it all to hell! What if there’s something else they’ve fooled with!?”

Heero’s voice was all-business as he continued to search for any further damage. “Do you have any tools in here? Electrical tape, maybe some pliers?” he demanded, hoping his voice wasn’t as gruff as it sounded to his own ears. He justified it by taking in the weight of the situation and hoped Duo wouldn’t revert to thinking him a heartless, rigid bastard. “It’s not a hard problem to fix.”

“It’s a hard problem when you’re going this fast!” Duo said, worried about the possibility that he wouldn’t have what Heero needed to fix the problem. And he was certain Heero could do it; if Heero’s hacking demonstration had been any signal to Duo that the Japanese boy was mechanically or electronically inclined, then Duo was willing to put full faith into him. “Here... uhm....” Duo didn’t think he could explain well enough where he kept his emergency stash of tools so he opted for his one other option. “Just make sure we don’t get killed,” he said simply, grabbing one of Heero’s hands and placing it on the wheel, the motion enough to communicate what he needed Heero to do.

With Heero bent across the two seats, guiding the car with one hand on the wheel, Duo took the time to twist around in his chair, groping around in the small space behind the two seats for the little, red toolbox he kept stashed back there. Unable to see the road, he wasn’t aware of Epyon as Solo swung it sideways across the road in an effort to block the way and send Deathscythe Hell careening into its thick, impenetrable hull.

[Only when I stop to think about you,
I know.
Only when you stop to think about me,
Do you....]

“Mother fuck!” Heero swore, swerving the car as best he could with his one hand to avoid disaster. Deathscythe Hell lurched oddly, slowing its momentum a little. Epyon was already speeding down the road, away from them, so even though there had been no collision, Solo had succeeded in giving himself yet another lead.

“It had better be good, Yuy! If I find out you dented my baby doing something stupid, I’ll cream you,” Duo threatened as he frantically pawed around in search of his toolbox.

“I somehow doubt any trouble we incur could be labeled as ‘good’, Duo. Hurry up!” Heero said, once again choosing to exercise his odd sense of humour at an even odder time.

“I’m trying, buddy!” Duo shouted just as his fingertips brushed against the metal handle of the toolbox he’d been groping blindly for. “Aha!” he cried, grabbing the box and pulling it around into his lap. “Okay, let’s see it,” Duo said, trading the toolbox with Heero for control of the wheel. Any thoughts he had about the growing distance between Deathscythe Hell and Epyon were kept quiet and hidden behind a carefree smile.

Heero silently opened the small box and looked over what supplies were available to him. Ignoring the situation around him, the speed, the wind, everything, he focused on the problem at hand and the best way to go about it, just like he’d always been taught to do. He removed a roll of duct tape and a pair of needlenose pliers, deciding that they were the best items for the task. Discarding the box on the floor, he bent over the turbo, determined to fix it so that Duo could close the large space between them and Epyon. If that damn, cheating Solo still manages to win, Heero swore silently to himself, I’ll personally kill him for tampering with Duo’s car.

Stripping the red wires, Heero carefully wound the severed ends back together, feeling the prickle of electric shock when they were properly joined. He used the duct tape, the fixer of all things worth fixing, to secure and bind the wires so that they wouldn’t fall apart. Tossing the pliers and the roll of tape to the floor, where they landed by the toolbox with a thud and a clang, Heero said, “Okay, try your turbo now.”

Duo had placed utmost faith in Heero to fix the problem, but he had never expected the Japanese boy to be so ridiculously quick about it. Had it been any other time or place, Duo might have taken the time to wonder where Heero had learned to be so damn good at everything a person could possibly be good at. Instead, he just said, “I sure hope this works.” Then he squinted his eyes shut and reached for the console.

[I... HATE
Everything about you!
Why do I
Love you?]

Duo pressed the button, and though he had mentally prepared himself for the worst, let out a loud whoop of glee when he found that Heero’s hasty repair job had been enough to do the trick. Deathscythe Hell let out another loud cough of green smoke and it went flying off down the street after Epyon, bringing its front bumper nearly in line with Epyon’s tail. “Heero, I could kiss you!” Duo exclaimed out of habit, not really paying attention to what he had just said or what the suggestion did to the colour of Heero’s face. Duo was too busy laughing like a madman as Deathscythe Hell continued to pick up speed. “Fuck you, Solo!” he screamed above the radio.

[You... HATE
Everything about me!
Why do you
Love me?]

The designated circuit was considerably shorter this time, the race only set to last as long as a quick jaunt around the town’s outer streets. Considering the minor setback, Deathscythe was plugging onward remarkably, even with Epyon as they neared another hairpin turn. “Hold on to your pants, ‘Ro! Gonna be another wild one!” Duo warned as he swung the car around the corner, its back-end swerving unsteadily as it rounded the turn.

“Duo?” Heero actually sounded remotely panicked.

“Yup?” Duo’s lips peeled back across his teeth as he leaned over the wheel, his sadistic expression giving him the twisted appearance of a young boy with matches or explosives... or both.

Heero squirmed slightly, gripping the handle on the door as he said, “If we get out of this alive....”

“No ‘ifs’, ‘Ro. We’ll make it out of this alive and laughing our butts off to boot,” Duo silenced him with a wave of his hand. Heero’s eyes widened slightly as Duo removed his hand from the wheel; he decided that he liked it much better when Duo was in as much control over the car as possible. “I just hope you buckled your seat belt, s’all,” he added, morosely sarcastic as always.

“Why does that not console me?” Heero wondered sardonically.

“Dunno,” Duo laughed with a shrug. “Guess you’re just funky that way.”

“Funky?” Heero wondered aloud, not sure he had ever heard anyone use that word in even remote proximity to his name. He furrowed his brow, “Funky like you?”

Duo let out a spastic chuckle. “Yeah, ‘Ro. Funky like me.”

[I HATE!
You HATE!]

Heero smiled at the assessment, deciding that he liked the word, odd as it was. Looking back at the road ahead of them, he realized that they were nearing the end of the race, the street they had started on just a few blocks down the road. Epyon was still running even with them, and a quick glance at Solo in the driver’s seat proved to Heero that the blonde gang leader was starting to get a little worried. Heero snorted, the noise just short of being an animalistic snarl.

“What, no more tricks, Solo!?” Duo shouted, realizing what Heero was staring at. “I’m shocked you’d think that just cutting my booster off would hold me back! I’m the God of Death, remember!?” More of Duo’s evil laughter ensued as he reached for the turbo console again, ready to press one of those dastardly speed buttons. Strangely, the sound was just as invigorating to Heero as it seemed to be to Duo.

[I HATE!
You love me!]

Heero twisted himself around in his seat to try and catch a glimpse of Solo’s face as Deathscythe shot off ahead of Epyon. He had somehow been expecting the whole race to be a lot dirtier than it was turning out to be. Unless they have something... else... planned, Heero thought, feeling his heart sink down somewhere in his left thigh. He unconsciously clenched his fist as he turned back around, vowing for the millionth time that he would destroy Solo if he even thought of doing something to Duo.

[I... HATE
Everything about you!
Why do I
Love you?]

As the song came to an end, Deathscythe Hell came flying over the point where the race had begun, thereby signaling its finish. Duo neatly swung the car around and brought it to a halt, winking at Heero as he turned of the engine. Then, unbuckling his seat belt and rising up in his seat, he flashed a victory sign with his fingers at the seething group of White Fang members waiting on the nearby curb. “That was disgustingly easy!” Duo shouted at them pretentiously. He stuck his tongue out at them; “Next time, make sure you’ve done something to offer me a challenge!” He ignored the deadly looks he was getting from the gang and continued to taunt them, even as Epyon pulled up shortly afterwards.

“Duo....” Heero said in a warning voice, tugging on the back of Duo’s shirt. Duo seemed to either be ignoring him or too involved in his win to care.

The second Epyon stopped, both doors kicked open and Solo and his passenger both climbed out, stalking over towards Deathscythe Hell in unbridled fury. They were followed closely by the other White Fang members, who all seemed just as irate as their leader about the outcome of the race. ”Fucking slut!” Solo shouted above the dull, angry clamour around him. “You used some of your mutant magic to cheat, didn’t you!?”

Duo was suddenly serious again. “The only cheaters around here are the ones right in front of me,” Duo spat, taken aback that Solo would even attempt to make such a claim. “And the only ‘magic’ was the magic Heero worked with his fingers when we found out what you’d done, you cheaters! We won fair and square!”

“You really got that bitch house-trained, don’t’cha?” A voice growled from deep within the crowd as it neared. Duo felt Heero’s hand tighten on his shoulder, as if to remind him that he was there to back him up if and when things got ugly.

“Pity! We don’t get to have fun breaking him in ourselves!” Someone else answered the other voice.

Duo gritted his teeth, not at all liking the tone or the conversation. “I don’t believe these bastards,” he growled under his breath. “How can they take joy in stealing pleasure from an unwilling victim? I can’t believe I used to run with these guys! They never used to do anything like this!”

“Vile hearts,” Heero answered simply, his eyes narrowing as he examined the crowd further. Every time he saw this gang, the less he liked them, no matter how hard Duo protested that they had been good at one point.

“It’s all my fault, you know,” Duo muttered. “If I hadn’t been a mutant--” He was cut off when Heero’s blunt fingertips dug painfully into his collar, eliciting a slight gasp from Duo.

“Don’t you ever say that,” Heero whispered harshly. “You’re--” He didn’t have time to finish his thought, because by that point, White Fang was close enough to touch, and there was no time to waste exchanging pleasantries.

They were all pressed up and thrashing against the driver’s side of Deathscythe Hell, Duo doing his best to beat them off the poor black car. He was standing on the seat, one leg kicking furiously at the boys surging up against them. Heavy, steel-studded boot flying like mad, he was able to keep them off, landing his foot in various faces, stomachs and sides as they came. Heero was right behind Duo, his fist flying out every now and then to keep a stray attacker off Duo if he was too busy to see them coming. The screams, yells and swears were loud and echoed all throughout the street, yet somehow, seemed to fall upon an oblivious town.

As White Fang became rowdier and more dangerous, a nasty voice in the back of his head was prodding Duo to just vaporize and escape. But Duo decided quickly that this wasn’t an option; this time, he had someone else with him. He couldn’t just ditch Heero like that, especially since he had been the one to invite him along. Though Duo was sure that Heero would be able to hold his own by himself, Duo didn’t think it would be right to just turn tail and run. He had to... stick by his side to the bitter end.

“Fucking sore losers!” Duo raged as he laid a powerful kick on the side of Alex’s face, causing the heavyset blonde to bleed profusely from a bruised head wound. The angry thug growled and came back at Duo, reaching forward to grab the longhaired mechanic and drag him into the middle of the fray. Duo, too busy trying to beat off another attacker, didn’t realize that Alex was in motion, and didn’t even predict his onslaught. He screamed when he felt Alex’s meaty hand wrap around the tail of his braid and pull, dragging Duo into a strange position, which laid him with his feet planted firmly on the driver’s seat, his head forced downwards on the outside of the car.

The world seemed to start rolling in slow motion when Heero saw Duo get hauled down. Unable to see Duo’s head anymore, Heero felt that little seed of rage that grew inside of him burst, his eyes becoming blank with need to beat Duo’s attackers to a bloody pulp. He wanted to rip them apart. He wanted to kill them.

A huge roar surged from Heero’s throat as he lunged forward, gripping the side of Deathscythe Hell so tightly that small dents began to form under his fingertips as he squeezed. At first, no one paid him any mind, not seeing the frightening blue glow that lit his eyes as his dark, vengeful aura started to actually take shape, a huge blackish-purple cloud that rimmed his outline. “I’ll murder you all!” he screamed, leaping forward from the car like a tiger that was jumping out of the shadows at its prey. He landed his flying-tackle right on top of Alex, taking him down to the street and getting him away from Duo. Now sitting firmly on Alex’s stomach, panting and full of blind anger, Heero raised one fist and brought it down onto Alex’s cheek. A sickening crunch snapped through the air as his knuckles fell upon Alex’s skin, and when Heero pulled his fist back again to lay another punch on his victim, he was dimly aware that it was dripping with blood. He slammed the bloody fist into Alex’s face again.

And when Alex looked up at his assailant, he saw a monster; a monster that made him pale and cold with fright.

Duo tried to get a good look at all the commotion up from his odd, dangling position, seeing the world upside down. He had heard Heero’s yells and threats, and had felt an awful surge of power from the Japanese boy right before he’d gone flying over him, diving right into the center of the wild crowd. His eyes widened when he finally caught sight of Heero, hunched over Alex as he beat the literal shit out of him. Duo had to wince when he saw a spurt of blood come flying up from Alex’s face, even more so when he heard the snap of more bones. It was far different from the incident with Solo at the pizza joint, more violent and vengeful. The time before, Heero had just been extremely angry, perhaps merely fringing on what had happened to him now. This Heero was close to insane. White Fang members seemed to be flying about and hitting the pavement without Heero even laying a fist on them.

The two anonymous hands that had been holding Duo somewhat above the pavement suddenly dropped him, and a quick physical change was the only thing that saved Duo from falling badly on his neck. He rematerialized in a crouch on the street, close enough so he could get to Deathscythe Hell. The gang seemed to have backed off of him, and it only took a few seconds of staring to figure out that they were all turning their attention to Heero and Alex. Duo wasn’t sure if they were just standing around and watching or if they were actually making a concerted effort to help their friend. Duo decided to hang back for a moment to see for sure how things were playing out. The last thing he wanted was to throw himself into another violent mob, or worse still, into the path of the even more violent Heero. Getting hurt by his ally would not be a good way to get injured; Duo settled on waiting until things really started to get out of hand before making a move.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of an old man with round glasses and long, silver hair lingering on the sidewalk, leaning heavily on his cane. At first, Duo thought he was just a passer-by, until a few more glances proved that the man was indeed hanging around with some hidden purpose, intently watching the fight on the street. Duo’s suspicions were confirmed when he realized that if the man were really just someone happening by, he would have been long gone to get help to break up the fight. Duo only hoped that he hadn’t been noticed; there was something about the man, despite his old, frail, weak appearance, that chilled him to the bone.

When Duo returned his attention to the actual brawl, he realized that Heero was starting to lose his edge. Though he was still pummeling Alex madly, (who had long since passed out), he was in the process of being pried away by four or five of the White Fang boys while the rest of them tried to land a bruise or two on him whenever they dared to take the chance. The odds were certainly flipping around in White Fang’s favour, alerting Duo that he had better give Heero a hand soon, before things got worse. He sorely regretted getting Heero involved with White Fang. All he had wanted was for Heero to enjoy the race; the last thing he’d expected was to engage in one of the ugliest fights with White Fang he’d ever seen. Without another thought, he leapt in there, deciding it was time to return the favour Heero had done for him at the pizza parlour. “If you don’t get the fuck off him,” Duo warned as he started battling his way towards Heero, “I’ll slit all your throats while you’re sleeping!”

By the time Duo was able to wrench the hands clawing at Heero’s spring-coiled body, he realized that he had chosen to intervene not a moment too soon. Heero was starting to look weary, and sagged in Duo’s arms when he was finally able to wrest him into his own possession. As Duo pressed Heero’s heaving body close to him, he weaseled his way out of the throng, ignoring the threats and taunts of the snarling gang around him. Heero was still awake, but severely drained and in danger of passing out himself. “It’s okay, Heero,” he whispered to his still-feisty bundle, hoping to distract him with his voice and a touch of good humour. “You’ve fulfilled your violence quota for the day.”

Looking over his shoulder, Duo saw Solo elbowing his way through the gang, presumably to get to where Alex was lying, unconscious, in the middle of them. Duo was surprised to find himself relatively unnoticed as the gang turned their attention to their leader and their fallen comrade. “Look at the big mess you made, Heero. Damn, you’re better at starting trouble than I am... and that says something!” Duo said softly, settling down on the curb across the street, Heero slumped tiredly against his chest. “What happened back there?” Duo wondered aloud, realizing that Heero’s attack on Alex seemed to have been called from absolutely nothing.

“They... were after you... again,” Heero offered weakly. Duo looked down to see Heero smiling faintly at him. A bruise adorned the Japanese boy’s right eye, and his bottom lip was split wide-open with a dribble of blood leaking down his chin. His flesh was red, dirty and covered with more bruises, across his cheeks and down his arms. In the dim street light, Duo could make out a gross amount of dried blood caked on Heero’s knuckles, splattered on his lower arms and dotting his face and clothes. To put it shortly, Heero looked like a train wreck.

“Well, what about you?” Duo snapped a little irritably. Heero’s actions made absolutely no sense. He didn’t like to see recklessness, especially if it was on his behalf. “You threw yourself in there like you didn’t care. You could have really gotten hurt.”

Heero’s dark blue eyes, the only part of him that still seemed alive and glittering, darted back towards the middle of the street, where White Fang was slowly dispersing. Solo was nowhere to be seen, and for some reason, Duo had a sneaking suspicion he’d gone off with that old man who’d been watching the fight, as he was also strangely missing. Mueller and another young boy were setting the unconscious, beaten Alex into Epyon’s passenger seat while another White Fang member, who was sitting in the driver’s seat, started the engine. Alex probably wouldn’t have been able to move anyway, even if he had been awake; it seemed like various bones were broken all over his body and he was covered with even more blood and bruises than Heero was. Duo shivered at the thought of the quivering teen in his arms being able to dole out so much damage.

Duo frowned, following Heero’s eyes as he looked around. “You don’t have anything to say!?”

Heero just shook his head and leaned against Duo’s chest again, closing his eyes. Though he looked contented and glad to be able to close his eyes and rest, Duo figured it would probably be a stupid thing to do. If Heero had a concussion or anything of that sort, the last thing he needed to do was fall asleep!

“Come on, pal. Let’s blow this popsicle stand,” Duo said, shaking Heero slightly, causing him to stir awake with a small groan. The sound of Epyon motoring off down the street filled the air, signaling that White Fang had departed. The street was empty now, save for Deathscythe Hell, and if it weren’t for the tire marks and the blood splotches littering the pavement, it would have been a very peaceful sight. “You think you can walk?” he asked Heero, getting to his feet with Heero still lounging against his chest. The Japanese lacrosse player swooned when Duo loosened his grip on him. “Guess not,” Duo said, quickly wrapping his arms around Heero to support him again as he guided him back down to the curb.

Duo adjusted Heero’s stiff limbs into a more comfortable position, which found the Japanese boy leaning upright against a nearby lamp post, bathed in its gentle, ethereal glow. “Jesus, for a little guy, you weigh like you’re made of lead or something,” Duo grunted when he finally accomplished the task of moving Heero. He thought he heard Heero mumble something about intense training, but wrote it off as tired rambling as he settled down on the curb, his feet stretched out into the street. “Hey, hey, stay with me, ‘Ro,” Duo said, turning slightly to slap Heero’s cheek . “You know, if I wasn’t so mad at you for acting like such a dumb-ass,” he went on, leaning against the lamp post too, “I’d be oozing with compliments about your fighting. What’s this, the third time you’ve saved my butt? Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“Around,” Heero said softly, trying hard to sit as straight as he could. He still looked rather dazed, and his bruised eye was swelling shut. He was idly pawing at his lip, like he wasn’t sure if the warm stuff that had dried on his skin had come from his body or not.

“You feeling better?” Duo asked, glancing over at Heero. He sure didn’t look any better.

“Sort of.” Heero was absently looked up above them. The star-poked sky was dirty with purplish-gray clouds, hazed by the golden light overhead. Even if Heero wasn’t about to admit it, any moron could tell that he was in far worse shape than the last time he’d gotten himself into a fight with White Fang.

“You’re a fucking liar,” Duo laughed good-naturedly, smacking his thigh to emphasize his point. “No normal human being throws himself into the middle of a dangerous, fighting gang and gets out ‘sort of okay’. It’s just not possible.”

“Says you,” Heero responded almost automatically, though his voice still sounded pained. “You’re a mutant.”

Without even realizing it, Duo’s fingers gripped the sharp edge of the curb even tighter at Heero’s comment. He wasn’t sure if Heero had meant anything by what he said or not, but it still made Duo’s body tense. “Even I wouldn’t do something so stupid,” Duo said curtly, focusing almost too intently on the road.

“What was stupid about what I did?” Heero wondered incredulously. His exploring fingertips had moved from his lip to the large shiner decorating his eye, which made him wince every time he tried to touch it. “I was confident in my abilities.”

Duo snorted, not in the mood to play their old games. “Even so, you’re one, and they’re... well, a lot more than one!”

“I can count, thanks,” Heero said with a glare. “It wasn’t the first thing on my mind.”

“Alright then, Mister,” Duo yelled far louder than he intended to as he swerved around and clambered onto his hands and knees, shoving his nose right into Heero’s personal space. “Then why don’t you do me the gracious honour of telling me just what the first thing on your mind was!?”

Heero wasted no time in trying to come up with an answer. “You,” he said decisively, giving himself a short nod of his head.

Duo looked at Heero from the corners of his eyes, his lips shaped in an odd half-frown of disbelief, despite the fact that Heero’s answer shouldn’t have been any surprise to him. “Me?” He was sure he sounded so intelligent.

“Sou da yo.”

Duo quirked his expression slightly and backed off a bit, though the general meaning behind his features remained the same. “You’re not well,” Duo said, pulling out the old, worn sarcasm shield. “You’ve manifested some strange obsession with me, and it’s not... not normal for a guy like you!”

Heero’s reaction was delayed this time as his eyebrows tightened over his nose and his lips dropped into a frown. “No.... I don’t think so,” he said slowly, as if he wasn’t sure he had understood what Duo had just told him.

“What d’ya mean, ‘no’!? Of course it’s strange!” Duo wondered eyes wide as he sat back on his calves. He pointed to Heero, “You: prep”; he pointed to himself, “Me: mutant.” Then he waved his hand between them, indicating them both, “Does not compute, does not compute!” Duo let out a frustrated groan, shaking his head, and then banged the heels of his hands against his forehead.

“Duo....”

Duo was suddenly very cognizant of a rough, callused hand slipping underneath his chin and cupping his cheek, drawing his hands away from his face. Said callused hand was now slowly turning his head to the side, forcing his eyes to focus on his dark-haired companion sitting nearby, looking like a fallen, earth-bound angel in the soft, yellow light. It took Duo’s slowly-moving brain a couple seconds to comprehend that the hand was attached to Heero’s arm, which was now bending slightly at the elbow, drawing his face towards its owner’s. Since when was Heero sitting so damn close? Duo wondered dumbly, realizing that Heero’s eyes were shining mere inches from his, flickering between their thousands of various hues, unable to settle on just one simple colour.

“Duo,” he said again, this time a little more huskily. His eyes were drawing nearer, so close that Duo had the illusion that he was leaning into sip from a pair of large, twin puddles of water. He squinted his eyes shut when he felt a heavy puff of air wafting from Heero’s lips on his chin. He was dimly aware that Heero was whispering a song. Even though Duo’s eyes were close, he knew that Heero’s lips here hovering near his.

“I know I’ve dreamed you
A sin and a lie.
I have my freedom,
But I don’t have much time....”

And then it happened. Duo felt Heero press his mouth against his, his lips gently pushing against Duo’s as he fought for even a tiny taste of Duo. The friction caused Heero’s split lip to start bleeding again, but it didn’t seem like Heero cared or even noticed as the warm, metallic liquid started to dribble down between their lips. The soft sensation of Heero’s tongue licked Duo’s lips lovingly, helping them to slowly part and receive the kiss more openly.

Duo didn’t know what to even begin thinking about the whole thing. Yes, Heero was kissing him, but did that mean that Duo really wanted that? But somewhere between the sexual fantasies and the angry abhorrence, the admiring and the fighting, their newfound friendship and their one-time rivalry, Duo realized that it was. Looking back and reading between the lines, Duo realized that it was something that Heero seemed to have wanted very much himself, for far longer than Duo. When disappointment fell over Duo as Heero slowly pulled his bloodstained lips away, Duo mentally smacked himself, figuring that if he hadn’t been so rough on Heero, he might have gotten this a lot sooner.

Heero was looking at Duo with that same, smitten expression on his face, somehow managing to look beautiful in the moonlight, despite the bruises and cuts. “I’ve wanted to do that since the tenth grade,” he whispered, fingering his lips again and closing his eyes.

“You’re not drunk again, are you? Just how hard did you get smacked in the head?” Duo said with a little trepidation, his eyes narrowed slightly. A thought flashing back to past incidents where they’d found their lips plastered together overtook his mind. “It’s not like we haven’t kissed before.... ”

“Yes, but this time,” he whispered, “you kissed me back.”

Duo swallowed a breath, realizing that what Heero said was true. This time he had reacted to Heero’s kissing, like he had wanted it. What scared Duo most, though, was that he really did want Heero’s kisses. What happened to me? he wondered, unsure of what could procure such a change in attitude towards the Japanese lacrosse star.

Heero didn’t say anything else, but merely leaned in and, placing a hand on each of Duo’s round cheeks, kissed Duo again, harder than the first time. He kept kissing Duo again and again, sometimes rough, sometimes soft, like that first kiss, as if the repeated action would eventually beat into Duo’s brain that he was in a perfect state of mind. He slowly pulled away and looked into Duo’s swirling purple eyes, searching for something, anything, that would indicate what Duo’s thoughts were. He kept his hands on Duo’s cheeks, leaning their foreheads against each other. He was singing quietly again.

“Faith has been broken.
Tears must be cried.
Let’s do some living
After we die.”

“Heero?” Duo found himself seeing Heero in yet another new light. Heero always acted so rough and tough around everyone else in the world, even Trowa, his own brother, but here he was, baring his heart to Duo shamelessly. Duo had never noticed before how Heero always seemed to melt like butter whenever they were alone together. And now Duo could feel himself melting as well, and he had no idea how to even begin to explain it to Heero, much less himself. He had never associated so many emotions with just one person in his entire life. He loved Heero; he hated Heero. He wanted Heero to be around forever; he wanted to never see him again. He was ugly, yet beautiful, dark, but bright. It finally dawned on Duo that what he disliked wasn’t Heero himself at all, but rather his own inability to accept what he was feeling for the cobalt-eyed lacrosse player. He had hated his own close-mindedness.

“Duo? Ne, Duo?” Heero rubbed small circles on Duo’s cheek when Duo didn’t say anything for a couple moments and slipped into an odd, wordless zone. A wet droplet splattered on the top of Heero’s thumb, halting his soothing caress when he realized that silent tears were slipping down the longhaired mechanic’s face. “Nani ga, Duo?”

“Why, Heero?” Duo asked, nibbling the inside of his lip as he squinted his eyes in an effort to dam his tears.

“Why what?” Heero sounded a little confused. It didn’t help that he looked absolutely adorable with such a lost countenance crossing his delicate, sexy features, even when they were marred by numerous bruises and cuts.

Duo pulled his head away from Heero’s, turning and quickly pressing himself against the lamp post so that his back was facing Heero. “Why’s a guy as cool and hot and wonderful as you chasing a mutant gutter slob down?” Duo asked bluntly, trying to mask a sniffle. “You could have anybody you wanted, but you pick the reject hippie-boy from the streets. Am I your charity project? Your little Cinderella waif?”

“Because I want to be with you,” Heero answered with a shrug, speaking as if it were the simplest concept in the entire universe.

“Look, Heero,” Duo said with a small chuckle, covering his mouth with his palm to muffle the laugh. “That’s cute and all, but it just doesn’t work that way. The gorgeous guy who haunts your dreams isn’t supposed to ever really like you.”

“Are you saying that you have dreams about me?”

Duo turned bright red when he realized what he’d just admitted. His earliest fantasy about Heero, which remained still one of his most vivid and exciting dreams, flashed quickly through his brain. “Yes,” he finally admitted with a sigh, hanging his head. “It’s okay if you’re kind of grossed out, but I can’t help it. Jerk or not, you’re one sexy bitch.” He was starting to hide behind his crass language again.

“Was that a compliment or an insult?” Heero asked with a smirk. He was lounging in a position similar to Duo, slouched against the lamp post, his legs splayed across the sidewalk. Heero looked away again, suddenly finding something further down the street highly interesting as he said, “If it makes you feel better, I have dreams about you too.”

“You what?” Duo had no idea how to take that piece of information. It was extremely surreal.

“I dream about you all the time,” Heero clarified, as if he were speaking to a small child. He turned his head so he could look at Duo, meeting a pair of hooded, purple eyes. “I can’t help it, Duo!” he suddenly exclaimed, unsure of what the mysterious emotion swirling in Duo’s deep, crystalline eyes was. “I don’t know how it happened, but the moment I saw you that year I first came here, I knew I had to kiss you. I just had to....” He reached out to touch Duo’s face again, his rough fingers playing across Duo’s skin softly, exploring lovingly. “You’re everywhere! I can’t do anything without thinking about you.” He sounded ashamed as he went on from there. “And when you joined the lax team, I could have sworn I was going to explode. Just seeing you there everyday, sitting on the bench....”

“I still don’t understand how....”

Heero sighed and raked a hand through his thick, spiky brown bangs, which were crusted with bits of blood and grime from the fight. “Do I have to spell it out for you?” he asked, turning his intense blue eyes towards Duo again. “I’m in love with you, Duo.”

“In... love with me? You love me?” Duo’s eyes grew wide, unsure of how to take this new piece of information. Somehow, he wasn’t as surprised as he thought he should have been by this announcement, which was actually more shocking to Duo than anything. Whether it was because Heero had dropped certain hints here and there that kind of alluded to this admission or the fact that Duo had subconsciously wanted it to be true, he wasn’t sure. The only thing he was truly aware of were the millions of butterflies flitting around his stomach and tickling his nerves. His emotions had never been so confused in his entire life. How could one person so effectively turn his entire world on its head just like that?

Heero sighed again. “Yes, Duo,” he said with a hint of exasperation. “Since it’s out on the table now, I’ll tell you again: I love you.”

Duo still looked extremely flabbergasted and disbelieving. Duo tried hard to cover up his uncertainty. He was afraid of the concept, part of him more than ready to push Heero away as he usually did. Yet at the same time, he had never felt more comfortable about something in his entire life. With such conflicting emotions, it was needless to say that Duo was more nervous than he had ever been in his entire life. “Yeah, well, so what?”

“So what? So plenty!” Heero reached out for Duo again, cradling his face in his hands again as he leaned in to kiss Duo once more. “Do you understand that, Duo?” he whispered against Duo’s lips before seizing them in another rough, yet tender kiss. And then another, and another, still kissing Duo repeatedly as if he were trying to exhale his meaning into Duo’s mind with his kiss. “Is it really so hard to grasp?”

“Not... really....” Duo breathed quietly. “I just... Well, I just never expected someone like you to be, uh... to like a guy like me that way....” Duo’s large, purple eyes darted to the side, focusing on Deathscythe Hell sitting in the middle of the road. “Heh, what would your lady-friend, Relena, think of that?” he laughed softly, trying to lighten the mood and perhaps divert the subject of conversation.

Heero’s eyes narrowed. “She’s not important right now,” he said a little coldly.

“Wouldn’t you at least rather have a date who you know definitely likes you?” Duo asked, reaching down to grab the tip of his braid. He gripped it around the thick band that knotted its end and started dusting the top of his thigh like it was a little broom. “I mean, it’s not that I really dislike you anymore... but I mean, isn’t it--”

Heero made a noise in the back of the throat that cut off Duo’s words mid-sentence. He said, “The things worth having are the ones you have to work harder for.” He shook his head and let out a loud breath of air, which shook his entire frame as it passed his lips. “God knows you’ve been a whole wild adventure,” he murmured quietly. “I’ve been climbing mountains and falling down cliffs for you.”

Duo stared at Heero with curious, still-surprised eyes. It was slowly sinking in that Heero cared more deeply for him than he could have ever hoped to dream. It still seemed almost too good to be true, though when the word ‘good’ had become associated with Heero, he wasn’t sure. “You’ve got the bruises to show it,” Duo commented wryly, daring to exercise humour in the delicate scene. He gingerly stroked Heero’s bruised eye, which made the Japanese boy wince. He chuckled, “Am I really worth all that trouble?”

“Yes.”

Duo stared at him, his mouth dropping open slightly. Heero sounded so sure of himself when he announced this, like it was the most certain thing in his entire life. The way the starlight and the street light bathed Heero in round patches of filmy illumination made him look gentle and angelic, like a phantom that haunted the secret corners of Duo’s mind. Was Heero really human at all? Or was he heaven-sent?

“Heero,” he said bluntly, as if trying to explain something to a small, dense child, “I’m an eighteen-year-old loser who steals and deals with gangs. I cuss, I get in fights and I have a bad attitude. I get made fun of for looking like a girl with my long hair and my big, stupid eyes. Hell, I’m not even good-looking!” Duo didn’t quite understand why he was talking like he was trying to convince Heero that he wasn’t good enough for him. Perhaps, somehow, Duo had convinced himself that Heero was too good for him. He wasn’t sure why he even cared. “Heero, believe me when I say that you can do a hell of a lot better than me.”

“How could I do better than you if what I want is you?” Heero wondered, complex in his simplicity. Duo flushed a fascinating shade of blush pink that seemed to glow in the soft light. “I think you’re beautiful.”

Duo rose up into a low crouch, bending one arm so he could lean on the lamp post. He leaned down so his nose was barely inches from Heero’s, probing deep into those intense, Prussian blue eyes. Lost and locked in Heero’s gaze, Duo was entranced by the odd chasing comets of cerulean blue that ran circles around his irises, shimmering black pupils accented with squares of yellow moonlight all glittering beneath the shadows of his long, dark eyelashes. There was no shame, no aversion or any other hint of dishonesty in those deep wells of swelling blue. “How could I not believe eyes like yours?” Duo wondered out loud, his voice muted in the still, night air.

Heero chuckled lightly, turning slightly and wrapping one arm around the lamp post as he leaned in to nuzzle Duo’s nose, brushing a light kiss on his cheek. “And here I was thinking that I’d have to get out a hammer so I could knock some sense into that thick skull of yours.”

“You’ve got a wry sense of humour for a jock,” Duo said, reaching out tentatively to try and brush an thick, errant spike of mahogany hair out of Heero’s face. He examined Heero closely for what seemed to be the millionth time. There was something about all the bruises covering Heero’s perfect face that seemed to bring out Heero’s humanity. He no longer looked like the handsome, rich jock at the top of the social food-chain that looked down his nose at everyone under him. Instead, he looked like a simple half-Asian with blue eyes with slender limbs and a lithe body. He was just Heero. Duo shook his head, unable to comprehend the things dashing circles around his brain. “You’re an exception to the rule, an infinite rarity.”

“What rule is that?”

Duo leaned in a little more, still searching Heero’s eyes for heaven knew what. “The ones I made up about you,” he whispered, surprised at his own words even as they came tumbling out of his mouth. His fingers curled around the thick, ribbed post, trying to ground himself, give himself more support, as he tilted his head a little, bending down to caress Heero’s lips with his own. A different feeling washed over him from initiating the kiss this time. He felt in control, and yet, he was giving it away to Heero, who was beginning to respond enthusiastically to the loving action. Their tongues lapped and played lazily with one another as their kiss visited various levels of intensity and need. “I’ve been such a moronic jerk,” Duo paused momentarily to speak, still hanging off the lamp post as he rested his forehead against Heero’s. “How’d I go all this time without ever noticing...?”

Heero just smiled and started to sing softly again between kisses. He was certainly no choir boy, and he might have even been considered to be a hardly passable singer. Yet there was still something very soothing about Heero’s deep voice. Duo decided that he liked the way it came out like a low, sensual purr and growled in the back of his throat.

And that was how Duo knew that he, in turn, liked Heero too.

“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.
Wild, wild horses,
We’ll ride them someday.”



(x) X (x)



a/n: I know you all are grinning like idiots now... or squealing.... Worth the little wait, huh? Everyone who’s ever complained that I take too long to update can learn not to take the weekly posts for granted. (Actually, there’s a very funny story as to why this got delayed, which involves a spontanious trip to Madison, Wisconson and geometry....) Anyways, the chappy title is a Stones song, in case you’re wondering. Also, the insert song belongs to Three Days Grace. (Even though it’s about drugs, it works, ya know? They’re like drugs for each other )

Oh yeah, and for everyone who entered the contest on my site, I’ll be posting all the entries as soon as I put this chapter up there. I’ll announce the winner as soon as I’ve finished the prize. Yay!