Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Twelve ❯ Heard It Through the Grapevine ( Chapter 11 )

Chapter 11

"Heard It Through the Grapevine"

When the flight attendant passed again, she politely stopped to give the newest edition of the New York Times to the young blonde woman who’d requested it. Beneath a pair of glossy and distant sunglasses, she smiled in return with a polite thanking as she put her ice water into the cup holder with one hand. Beside her, an older woman was talking casually to the politician about something that sounded vaguely like tentative, distant plans to visit some foreign land embroiled in dispute. The attendant noticed she was hardly paying the topic a bit of attention and left first class with a faintly amused smile on her face. There were other passengers to attend to, more eavesdropping to be had.

Beneath those concealing dark shades, Relena Peacecraft was hardly concerned with the issues her advisor was spouting at her now that she had obtained that morning’s printing of the New York Times. She was not just scanning for the crossword puzzle. While her trusted political guide continued on with her verbal agenda, so absorbed in the prospects of spreading good PR that she hardly noticed Relena unfolding the newspaper and smoothing out the front page so she could lay her eyes on the bold, black-print headline. The paper crinkled stiffly, the sound drowned out by the advisor’s continuing voice, and Relena quickly removed her sunglasses. Her expression was nearly scandalous by her standards. She gaped quietly, staring down.

"I don’t believe this," she said, shaking her head. "They’ve already printed the pictures, for heaven’s sake."

That managed to sufficiently quiet her older advisor, who quickly looked over to see the unflinching headline crawling over the top of a rather well-taken photograph of the Vice Foreign Minister receiving a bold and calmly premeditated slap to the face from an eminent female Pakistani politician after listening to one of her speeches emphasizing the necessity of complete peace in the post-war world of the Earth Sphere. Printed above it, enough to nearly infuriate Relena’s even composure, were the words, "Vice Foreign Minister Needs Schooling in Reality? Pakistani says, ‘About Time’!"

Relena folded the paper again, her face crinkled with distaste. "It’s useless, then, to leave Sam back there to manage the situation. Someone had probably sold the story to New York before we even set our alarm clocks." Her unpleasant expression turned on the glass of ice water sitting neglected at her arm, thoughts beginning to turn in her head of just what the political atmosphere would be like when she stepped off the plane on American soil. Nothing seemed rather promising, and the half-emptied glass offered no response.

"Would you like me to relay the message to your publicist?"

"No, I think he’s already aware of it. He’ll return on his own, when he realizes that all his work will be at home, rather than where it should have stayed," Relena answered with a sigh, still holding the folded up newspaper in her hand. When she realized she could still glimpse the ink image of her own face, contorted by the sudden physical statement, she quickly handed the thing to the woman sitting beside her and asked her politely to read it for her while she stood and, in irritation, made her way to the bathroom without another word.

Duo walked ahead of the apprehended to the black-and-white sitting crookedly at the sidewalk and opened the door to the backseat without a word. Past Officer Lewis, nursing a gash on his forehead with an ice pack, sitting on the hood of another car. Past the clumps of orphan children and the newly gathered on-lookers that’d come to catch a glimpse of the new disturbance, to catch a sight of a little adventure they couldn’t find in their daily lives. There were three cars altogether, one officer to take the prisoner, and two that were presumably to help settle the traumatized crowd of kids ranging from kindergarten to middle school. The latter two were already out of their vehicles, and walking about the milling group, who hung instinctively near their home while the two men tried to organize them, keep them from wandering off.

The arrested party kept dutifully silent as he was escorted into the backseat and stared dully forward, at the metal grate separating the front and back seat that possibly modeled the course of the next few months or even years of his life. Even then, Duo thought to himself as he slammed the door securely close, knowing what direction your life was headed, even if it was an unpleasant direction, was something he wouldn’t have minded having during his teenage years. It would have saved him unnecessary pains. His eyes remained locked on the addict’s face while he stared in from the outside, feeling miles away emotionally from the irrational fool of a young man and knowing that they didn’t have so much difference from each other.

Heero locked the door and Keller shifted his head to stare out the other window.

"He’s not going to be any happy when they take him into custody," the Japanese pilot muttered quietly, almost pitying him. "But he’s been a fool. He’s the only one to blame for what he did."

The sun had long risen up out of the clutches of the city skyline and it gleamed on the police car’s back window after it had been shut and Duo leaned against the car with a sigh emptying his lungs. He glanced up at the sky and the lethargic clouds hovering there for a second, at the heavens watching the ridiculous carousal of mankind, shaking his head in mild amusement. "Well, ain’t it the truth. Hell, I never thought I’d be on this side of an arrest," he said with a chuckle, his chilly hands shoved in his jacket pockets. "Never thought I’d grow to be this old, either."

Heero had removed the makeshift handcuff and now stood by the car, looping it around his waist again, nodding his head in agreement. "Aa. I still feel as if we’re all just here on borrowed time," he added when his fingers nudged the buckle into place and he looked up to his American comrade. A tired smile peered out from underneath his disheveled dark hair. "And I’d rather not spend that borrowed time seeing any more violence than I have to."

"I didn’t think you’d ever find violence justified. Not after what we saw," Duo snorted in return, tilting his head toward Heero.

The tired smile stretched a bit further and through it he could sense the distinct taste of war experience flavoring his answer. "You’re right; I don’t. So I have a lot of wasted time. But to spare even one life from that violence is never a waste."

"It’s that Peacecraft influence, I’ll bet," Duo teased with a sly, toothy grin a mile wide that was doubly forced. He decided, though, that he would indulge his own pitiful joke and folded his arms snugly as he lifted an eyebrow at the other pilot, his back still against the cold metal of the police car. "It sounds awfully surreal to hear you talk of pacifism, you know. I’m not sure I’m ready for it. Relena’s forced the soldier to soften up, has she?"

Heero raised his own in response, smug but a little surprised. "Soft?" he asked amusedly. "Is that what you call what I did to save you back there?"

He grinned ruthlessly in return. "You call that saving?"

"I had some idea of what I was doing, though," Heero reminded him smoothly.

"Oh ho!" Duo replied, straightening up, violet eyes bright. He fearlessly stuck his face into his comrade’s, twitching his nose at him and his simmering little smirk smartly. "Hey, if I had known you had such witty banter in you, Officer Yuy, I would have rattled your cage far more than I did. I was starved for some good conversation in those god-awful schools, and you sat there that whole time, tighter-lipped than as if someone had sewn your mouth shut. You knew it was driving me crazy, didn’t you?"

Heero answered the intimidating motion with his own intermission, staring back into those defiant eyes. He drawled in return, "I might have spoken up, but I doubt there was time to talk with your mouth running at fifteen clicks an hour."

The sly reply pleasantly surprised him. "My, you’re just spot on today, aren’t you?" Duo inquired with a quirky grin, maintaining that stance with equal fearlessness.

"Or you may be off, Shinigami," was the response, with only an arched eyebrow and unwavering smug smile.

The American laughed heartily, feeling the emotional scars recently inflamed start to fade into a comfortable state, far too charmed by the blue-eyed pilot to dwell on the painful memories of his own days as a young orphan for long in his presence. He lifted an eyebrow and blew a little incredulous puff of air between his grinning lips. "You know just what to use for you cute comeback every time, don’t you, Yuy? Aw, whassamatter? Now all of a sudden you’re tongue-tied?"

His following laughter went unwelcome by the reassuring, simmering smile on the Japanese pilot’s face and it faded off almost abruptly when Duo realized the expression on his best friend’s face had changed so drastically. The chuckle died in his throat awkwardly to see that the attractive tilt of Heero’s lips was now the pursed, almost scowling picture of concentration and those pretty blue eyes had a tinge of anxiety dying them darker to match. He tried to force another laugh, however sheepish it may have come out, to lighten the sudden heaviness he did not understand nor expect, but nothing but a weak rasp would escape him and he was left grinning dumbly. He felt inanely vulnerable and even with the sounds of the city and people talking and the engines rumbling in the background, it made it seem like they were the only souls left on the earth.

So when Heero made a brief grimace and lifted up a hand to his hand, it was as good as shooting Duo through the heart with an arrow, for he felt stupefied and paralyzed to the spot. The chilled metal pressed flat against his back from the small up to his shoulder blades launched a bout of shivers to travel up and down his spine. His nervous smile melted away when Heero’s thumb came to rest gingerly just below Duo’s eye, and the American finally realized what had caused the uneasy concern in his comrade. He flinched slightly, staring back silently, as Heero brushed the wound from the butt of the pistol and he withdrew his hand immediately.

"Sorry," he mumbled out from behind a clumsy tongue, shying his eyes away.

He did not have a clever bantering response for that action and even Duo Maxwell found himself at a momentary loss for words, his jaw gaping slightly and quietly. For him and his drumming heart, it came as a little relief when he heard a voice of a coworker call out for the Japanese pilot and draw his attention and those bottomless blue eyes off his face. It also spared him the trouble of wrangling the lump in his throat to the side in order to speak up. He breathed a sigh of relief in his mind, though he wasn’t sure exactly from what fear he was escaping.

"Yuy!" came the less than amiable tone as someone barked from down the sidewalk. "Hey, Yuy!"

Heero’s head turned toward his name instinctively. Duo saw the fine, defining edges of his expression sour and knew at once that it was his old co-working buddy, finally arriving on the scene and prepared to enact some more aggravation on the Gundam pilot, it seemed. "What took you, Mayfield?" he asked with a similar level of fondness. His face set up its defenses, his scowl dug its trenches; Duo had not forgotten what it was like to be on the sharp end of his glare.

Though however strange their situation, however ridiculously young they might seem, he had always believed that just the mention of a Gundam pilot should invoke some degree of high respect, whether it was reverence or antipathy was just a matter of personal opinion. And Duo could see how riled Heero was to be denied that regard every time this man approached him. And he could also see, from years of secretly interpreting his slightest moves, that wasn’t going to confront him on that very issue. He could be such a kitten at times, Duo thought with a mental grin.

"I had some trouble getting here, if that’s what you want to hear, Yuy," the man answered tautly as he sauntered over. There was a definite hitch to his step that could impair his mobility should he need to get physical on a dispatch, and the confidence and experience in his eyes indicated that if he had not been injured, his gait would have matched his swaggering expression. "If I had been as close as you were, I bet I would have gotten here much earlier than you. What were you doing this whole time, anyway? Smellin’ the roses?"

He stopped before them, chuckling, and it gave Duo an opportunity to size up the nuisance to his best friend. As he began to see more and more into Heero’s life, as it had developed in the years of their separation, that he was surprisingly sweet and composed while surrounded by people who seemed to scoff at his being a Gundam pilot. From what the American had seen so far, living through the wars and single-handedly preserving the well-being of the planet didn’t amount to a sum to be respected to some people around here.

Officer Mayfield was just at that age where Duo suspected he’d been one or two years out of prime soldiering age, and he’d escaped the violent blunt of what had taken hold of the world a decade ago, what had sculpted Heero and Duo into the men they were today. Just as ironclad COs shaped untrained enlistees into a well-oiled war machine, the war and even the dire situation that led to this world conflict had been a harsh hand that hammered and hewed them into pilots, a violent teacher who’d taught them to survive. And without a similar experience, there was a definite space for eyes not to meet.

He was probably nearing his own retirement age, but it would be after long years of working, along with the lingering resentment of an injury, which had in turn led to an opening, and in turn had led to Heero’s hiring and the beginning of this animosity. And then, Duo thought in amusement, Heero had outstripped him and been able to retire in only a few years. Yes, he could see how that could have the possibility of annoying people.

"It’s good to see you again, too, Mayfield," Heero answered back evenly.

"Yeah, I figured as much," the other man answered, tinged with sarcasm, though it wasn’t as biting as Duo would have expected.

His eyes were now shying off their original target and running over the American man standing next to the Gundam pilot he knew, trying to decide who he was. A second passed and there was no outstanding recognition. It was disheartening—oh, yeah, everybody with a television set recognized the Minister’s fiancé, pilot of Wing Gundam, officer in the Seattle PD, young and handsome war hero, blah, blah, blah—but show them a picture of Duo Maxwell and ask them to identify it, and the reply was always, "Oh, I don’t know. Did he kidnap or murder someone?"

Mayfield did not ask that question, but Duo knew that he was probably wondering that somewhere in a corner of his mind. "I don’t think I’ve met this new friend of yours, Yuy," he said cautiously, hinting they should be introduced.

"He’s not new. Actually—" Heero opened his mouth to begin, a little resentment simmering beneath the surface. He too, wondered why not a single sole could name the pilot of Deathscythe, though it was more from the point of view of someone who envied the anonymity a little.

"Oh, no," Duo interrupted smoothly, "that’s all right. I think I’d like to introduce myself if you don’t mind, Heero."

And as he stepped brazenly forward, extending his hand in a brotherly extension of sociability, he felt the sharp pinprick of one of Heero’s knowing stares landing on the back of his head. He could see straight through to his longhaired friend’s motive and knew, with a little drop in his stomach, what he planned to do, behind that mile-wide grin, that brash display of teeth. Duo was as energetic as ever, was his conclusion, and he just had forgotten just how ruthless he could be with throwing around that winsome smile.

Before another word could slip out of Heero’s mouth, Duo’s began working it’s sly magic again before he could interrupt. When Mayfield offered out his hand in return, Duo quickly snatched it up and gave it a quick and confident shake. "Nice to meet you, Officer Mayfield. The name’s Duo Maxwell. I may run and hide, but I never tell a lie—and that’s me in a nutshell."

The older officer seemed genuinely amused by this and he laughed as their hands parted. "That’s… quite the interesting introduction there," he complimented him. "You think of that all by yourself?"

"Oh, I’ve had years to work on it," Duo answered, though through his grin he looked a little irritated by the question when the sly corners of his lips twitched unhappily. "And so far, I’ve managed to stick to my motto."

"Congrats are in order, then."

"Thanks," he grinned back.

Setting his hands on his hips, just above the standard policeman’s belt ornamented with a radio and an issue sidearm, this Mayfield, who, by the way, had yet to impose any real respectability onto the American pilot, titled his head and let loose a crooked smile of his own. His intent hazel eyes went from Heero to his confident, quick-tongued friend who had asserted and introduced himself with a dazzling smile.

"I’m curious to know just how you know the department’s shining officer Heero Yuy, here," he announced casually, shifting his weight onto one leg, looking like a true slothful officer. "I mean, I always thought that quiet people would attract quiet friends. You just don’t seem like Yuy’s type. Did you go to school together, or something?"

"In a way, you might say. We go way back—what, ten, eleven years?" Duo purred, turning his head to turn a grinning glance over to their mutual acquaintance. "And anyway, how do any of us know who’s really your type, right, Heero? You are getting hitched to the Vice Foreign Minister, after all."

Heero was surprised by the harshness of his forced, grinning smile, but the hidden hostility slowly easing its way to the surface, directed at his co-worker, and, most surprisingly, as Duo turned his head back around bearing that same skeleton grin, some even toward him. But, just as was his habit, the whirlwind that was Duo with something to say and the passion to outright say it had already opened his mouth again. Even though he was standing just beside the Japanese pilot, as soon as he sensed the hostility, however minute, he seemed to be separated from him by a striking brick wall and he was no doubt charging up to strike out at the unsuspecting Mayfield.

Lord, but was Duo ready and raring to pick a fight today.

"You know, I even knew him back when he was a Gundam pilot during the war," Duo added smoothly, as if it were an offhand comment.

"Well, you two do go a ways back, then," he said with a tinge of admiration. "From what I heard, Yuy was a real hellion back then. I even saw of his destruction first hand, you know, though I never thought that the pilot of such a magnificent machine would be someone like a scrawny little teenager."

The American’s eyebrows raised and between his curiously pursed lips he hummed loudly. His interest was secretively wicked, though. This man was just setting himself up all too sweetly to be knocked down again, and he was relishing it. Relishing it like a gourmet chocolate on his tongue. "Oh, you did?"

"I spent some time in the military as a medic—I was called to the scene after he thrashed Luxembourg," Mayfield announced with a certain amount of pride. He then glanced over to Heero with an arrogantly glowing smirk. "If widespread destruction and death were anything to be proud of, you would have been dubbed a real war hero, you know, Yuy."

While he was glancing past the American for a moment, making that well-intentioned comment, it instantly struck up another fire in Duo Maxwell, who was gritting his teeth violently in the back of his mouth to prevent himself from immediately snapping out at this man. Heero was a war hero, and he’d been a selfless, self-sacrificing and courageous soldier to earn that title—he was the only human being to single-handedly save the Earth, and he might have been a hero? Oh, no, now he was crossing a very dangerous line. But in spite of this, his outward show was smooth, genial, interested.

"Well, no need to tell me!" Duo laughed cheerily. "I’ve seen the kind of destruction you’re talking about firsthand, as well, and I’d like to think I raised some real hell myself."

"You were in the military, as well? But you would have been so young, weren’t you?"

Venom blossomed on Duo’s falsely friendly smile as the prey had finally fallen into his trap, and he was eager to dig his fangs into this disrespectful man. "Oh, don’t you know? I wasn’t in the Alliance military, persay, because you see, I was—Ow! Christ!"

A fierce tug on the long braided tail of hair that trailed down to the back of his knees sent a distinct and profound pain directly into his scalp and an automatic cuss leapt out of his mouth. By no means was it modestly restrained and unsuspecting Mayfield was taken a little aback by the sudden curse to come off that smooth-talking tongue and he warily eyed his new acquaintance, seeing no outright cause for it. Of course, what he couldn’t see was Heero’s hand wrapped securely around the plait of hair. Duo felt, it, and he craned his head around to give his best friend a thickly malicious look, as if to say, "How dare you! I almost had that conceited sonofva—", but his lips only had the chance to form into a knurly little scowl before Heero had calmly cut him off.

"You know, Mayfield, I have something very important to discuss with my partner here. So I’ll be borrowing him, if you don’t mind," he said. His arm twitched downward again and Duo uneasily refrained from glaring at the older officer too harshly at the harmless reminder.

There was definitely a hint of suspicion in Mayfield’s critical, hazel brown eyes, though they didn’t know what to quite make of this situation. Now that Duo’s smiley façade had been cracked, by means of a simple tug, he could sense a significant atmosphere of tension between him and the longhaired man, and he was more than willing to nod in agreement. The American’s eyes growled at him, in frustration, as he said, "Uh, yeah. That’s fine. I’d better be taking this kid into the station, at any rate." His weight shifted cautiously to his other leg, ready to part from the intimidating pair. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Maxwell, and I guess I’ll see you later, Yuy. Good luck with your fiancé, then."

"Thanks," Heero bid him tonelessly, his fingers still clenched securely around Duo’s braid, concealed. "Take care of yourself, Mayfield."

Duo dutifully plastered on another wide, accommodating grin when his impolite target slipped away from, just as he’d been so close to ripping him to shreds for the absolute disrespect he’d shown his best friend. He could still feel his teeth gnashing in frustration as the older officer slipped into the driver’s seat and shut the doors. As soon as he felt the corners of his mouth sinking into a more appropriate expression, he felt the fingers squeezing again around his braid, tugging in warning. God, but would he have loved to snatch it out of his grip and go after that snot, but he knew better than to fuck with Heero, especially when he was serious about something. He considered nearly ripping his scalp from his skull an indication of seriousness.

And so, he had to watch his prey simply drive out without so much as even a good warning and at another demanding tug, he hollowly waved him off. Heero then let his long tail of hair free, once the black-and-white had begun to accelerate off down the street, and felt the whirlwind that was an angry Duo Maxwell turn around and breathe steam at him. But he was ready for it.

Inside the police car, the departing officer shifted to glance one last, curious time into the rearview mirror and take one last look at the upstart Gundam pilot who’d risen to distinction in the department only to bow out a few years later. Before the angle grew too great and they disappeared, he caught a glimpse of Heero Yuy and his partner Duo Maxwell, clearly raising voices to each other. Actually, Heero looked rather calm—it was his friend who was sufficiently burned up and jabbing a finger in the air at his side.

He blinked, and the image was gone. Now only the sleepy, snow-trimmed brick and glass faces of stores and buildings and parked cars filled the mirror. With a shrug, it let it go from his mind and focused on driving.

But just because he couldn’t see it didn’t mean that it wasn’t happening.

"Well, if you want to sit there and listen to that jerk sneer at you and sneer at what you’ve done for the world, then by all means, Heero, go ahead! But if ever see him again, I swear he’ll get set straight! I’m not gonna stand for it. Don’t expect me to sit back and watch you take that abuse. He knows perfectly well who you are and he treats you like some run-of-the-mill greedy, opportunist teenager. After all the shit you had to go through, all of us had to go through to obtain peace, you’d think that people would be able to respect that."

Heero just sadly shook his head, letting out a long and weary sigh so that his shoulders slumped visibly. "Duo, let’s just go back to the car," he said reaching up and putting his hand on his arm.

Not surprisingly, it was shrugged off lividly. The American’s violet eyes flew open in offense before narrowing and his sharp akimbo stance tightened up, looked more threatening. "So you’ll just take it?"

"I don’t want to have an argument here. These kids don’t need to hear it," he said plainly, trying to use his blue eyes to his advantage to help plead Duo to just drop it.

After a few seconds of their stand-off, with the American trying to get it across into the Japanese’s occasionally dense skull that there had been a wrong committed and it was not going to be ignored, and the Japanese trying to silently ask him to just let the issue slide, it was already over. Giving a blustery sigh, Duo finally caved in to those eyes. But he wouldn’t admit it and proudly stalked off the sidewalk and started walking down the street. Heero sighed again and followed him, knowing that this would be no concise battle, and that it would indeed be a battle.

The Wing pilot easily loped up and began walking beside the other, moody pilot, watching him for a moment. Yep. Definitely not happy. But that would not mean he’d pick up the topic again, no matter how much he had to watch his friend sulk. He was going to miss the sound of his voice if he was too stubborn to speak up, but it was better than having him worrying needlessly about him. Heero’s face took on a delicate, fatigued smile, satisfied for the moment, and he turned his gaze to look at the skyline, absorbing the surroundings quietly.

Silence kept itself for a few minutes, just Heero and Duo walking, but it couldn’t last. Eventually, Duo grew tired of trying to ignore the swelling offense he felt at how Heero had been treated, while it was constantly ringing in his head, and touching an even deeper fear in himself that if Heero, who had single-handedly preserved the Earth, was unappreciated, that he was doomed to live a wretched life himself.

With his fists balled tightly in the pocket of his jacket and the steam from his breath clouding in his face as he moved, Duo kept his severe expression trained on the blacktop below his feet. "I just don’t think he’s got any right to treat you like that," he said stiffly.

Heero’s response was automatic, expectant, but calm and his eyes remained on the skyline. "Maybe he doesn’t, but I have no right to start a fight with him about it."

Duo exploded with frustration. He planted his feet stubbornly and whipped his body around to confront him, the long tail of hair making an equally stern arc through the air as he spun. Those violet eyes were burning, and he jabbed his finger angrily at the ground. "The hell you don’t! You saved him and everybody else on this planet a lifetime of misery, picking through rubble and living in fall-out shelters, and you didn’t not pay for it, either! Frankly, I’m sick of everybody just spitting at what you’ve done for them and thinking they can shove you around. They should damn well pay attention in history class, because we’re the ones who are going to be remembered in years to come, and if they think they’ve got the right—no, the balls—to disrespect us—"

"Duo, it’s fine. Let it go, please. I can’t have you hurting yourself from too much ranting," Heero interrupted, with a slightly amused smile sifting through.

His disgruntled face became even more crooked. "Har-har-har. Very funny, Yuy. I’m being serious here."

"You’re also sinking down to his level by doing this, you know. That’s half the victory for them. And besides, you’re only feeding an unnecessary fire."

"Oh, I really don’t think so. And at his level, he’s staring up at the soles of our shoes and he’s got to squint," Duo said sourly, scowling at the image of Mayfield in his head, making a sneer at Heero’s face and laughing. "And it happens to be very necessary."

"No? Well, that’s not how it looks like to me from here."

Duo’s hands were at his hip again. "I’m starting to think you need your eyes checked, Heero. When was the last time you actually went to get those baby-blues checked out?"

Heero lifted an eyebrow at him plainly. "For your information, three months ago."

"And?"

"20/20, as always."

"Things change."

This is when even the Wing pilot’s threshold of tolerance was crossed and he rolled his eyes dramatically, for once, and groaned, "Oh, god, Duo, give me a break! Drop it!"

"I’d give a break in a second, you know that. It’s everybody else I’m worrying about. Hell, I’m the one who’s given you more breaks than anyone else, and a couple of break-outs out of some serious shit, too," came the reasoning response, and Duo pointed a finger at him to emphasize this point.

Heero just gave him a bewildered look, shaking his head of disheveled brown hair. "Do you realize how little sense your starting to make?"

"Hey, I’m running with this! It’s a rant— so get off my back!"

"I will, as soon as you get of Mayfield’s."

"Heero, you know, if you weren’t just too damn cute for your own good, I’d have the right mind to knock you over the head and hope you find some sense rattling around in there!"

"But you may not be of the right mind, and that’s the way I prefer it. And I’d prefer if you just let the issue be, because I’ve already come to terms with it and I just don’t want to fight."

The Japanese pilot stood there, staring at Duo, awaiting his brash mouth to run off with him, pouring out arguments or just plain cursing out. But he didn’t, and a few seconds later, he had just let out a sigh, signaling his admission of defeat. But Heero wasn’t stupid—he could see that that defeated concern still simmering just below the surface in those moody, pouting violet eyes that remained on him, over a minute frown and his hands edgily stuffed in his pockets. Actually, it was a rather charming look on him, along with the color in his cheeks brought on the by the chilled Seattle air in December. Heero allowed a smile to take control of his face and Duo’s sour look relented a little at the sign of affection, though it was still painfully obvious how much he hated to be wrong, how much he hated being proven so by his best friend.

So he extended his arm to wrap it around Duo’s shoulders. The American still stubbornly looked away, not completely willing to accept his defeat, but he loosened up considerably when he felt Heero press him against his side in a friendly squeeze.

"Come on, Duo. Don’t look so sour. If I can smile…" When he still did not give a response, only stand near the edge of the street, staring at the slush decorating the cold blacktop, Heero laughed quietly in that husky voice and tilted his head. "I’m flattered, Duo, I really am. But you shouldn’t worry about me so much."

Finally, that flushed American face turned up to look at him. They were still pressed together, and Duo felt his side warming up pleasantly, but somehow he felt they were impossibly close and he could count every eyelash that fluttered over those blue eyes of his. His heart stammered, his blood thundered, and he was very occupied with the thought of why he didn’t turn away, only smile softly at him—No! He couldn’t be thinking like this, came the fearful shout from his brain; he couldn’t be imagining himself kissing an engaged man, let alone Heero Yuy! If he thought about it, hell, he just might do it!

The thought was ever so tantalizing, though. God, but was he hottest thing on two legs he’d ever seen, even above his precious, polished Deathscythe.

But Heero only chuckled and leaned back, pulling with him the fine spiderwebs of tension apart and taking his tempting lips just far enough away as he said, nudging Duo’s shoulder, "We’re supposed to be on vacation, remember?"