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"Greeting Cards"Written By: Kaeru Shisho Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing
or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Yaoi, funeral practices, AU, fluff Pairings: 1+4, 1x2x1, 3+H, 5xH, 3x4, 6x9 Summary: Each chapter is based on Heero’s
greeting cards and Duo's mortuary. "Greeting Cards " Chapter 32 -- March Hair The phone was jangling as I unlocked the door, so I ran like hellcats were after me to get it. "Hey! Duo Maxwell here." It was Howard my ex-boss from L2. Wouldn't have guessed I'd be getting a call from him, at all. "Howzit going for you, Maxie-boy?" "Howie, that you man? I couldn't be better, actually, and work's not so bad either, heh, heh. I have me a business partner to help out now. How 'bout you? Folks still dying to see you?" We mortuary owners have always shared an ornery sense of humor. "Well, the truth is, not so much. Some New Agers set up a fancyass funeral home not far up the road and it's dug into trade." "I'm really sorry to hear that. How can I help?" "Glad you asked." This was where I was sure he was going to ask me for money. He'd loaned me plenty when I bought my business, and I could just about pay him back now. Too bad. I'd been hoping to contribute to the house fund Heero and I were putting together. "My place is going belly up; in fact, I called to see if you could use more help. I've got some fine employees that will be needing jobs." I did feel bad for him, but I couldn't help but think how the timing couldn't be better for me. "Oh yeah? And how about yourself?" "Oh, I got some things going on, money squirreled away. I'll be okay." "How about a temporary job?" I asked, hoping not to have to explain why both Trowa and I would be vacationing at the same time. "Whatcher have in mind?" "About a week or two. You could come bring your employees help set them up here while I'm here to show them how I do things and then stay on as manager while my partner and I are...on vacation for a couple days." "This business partner's not something else to ya is he?" "No, oh no. No mixing work and play. Not me. Just we got some friends in common and this could help out and let us both go." "Okay, sounds good for everyone. What's your timing?" "This probably sounds crazy..." I paused while I thought about how to put what I wanted to say. "Coming from you, Maxwell, I'd expect nothing less." "In that case, I need you tomorrow. So, think about that, while I check with my partner, 'kay? Hold that thought. I'll call you back in ten. Bye." I let that soak in a minute and rang up Trowa on my cell phone. I got his boyfriend. "Happy Pi day, Duo!" "Pie day?" "Pi—that magical, mystical number representing the ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter. The date's, um, 3-14 and Pi is 3 point one four dot, dot, dot." "Ah, I get it. Number nerds, rejoice! 'Fei-man's into numerology; he'd appreciate it." "He is? Oooh! I will have to call him! Maybe he does Pi-ku? That's Pi haiku readings and recitation contests, which is...no that's Japanese. Maybe Heero does that? That's two calls to make." "Um, Quat--?" "You want Trowa? I'll get him, but he's unwinding in the shower. I only picked up because it was your caller ID. Oh, here he comes." "Tro'?" I asked, but Quatre hadn't given up the phone yet. "It's too late to sink your teeth into a slice of pi-cred at the Pi second-- 1:59:26 p.m. is already past! Okay, here he is!" "Hey." "Tro'? Yeah, I know we just parted company, but I just can't bear being apart, heh, heh..." "Duo, are you insane?" "Ah, no. Okay, here goes--" I made a quick explanation of Howard's predicament and how I saw using it to everyone's advantage. "Just wanted to run it past you for your approval. If you don't like him or any of his people, the deal's off, okay?" "He'd have to be a real jerk for me do that. It amounts to looking a free horse in the mouth." "I always wanted to know what that meant," I joked. "Only problem I can think of will be our guys getting their noses outta joint over all the new hires. Oh, and you might want to run some numbers to see if we can handle the increase in payroll. Don't want the business to suffer from temporary cashtration." "Cash—what?" Had I heard him correctly? "Cash-tra-shun, the act of buying something big, ordinarily a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period." "Gotcha! No, we're cool if I don't pay you and me for the week. Don't worry, I'll bet the increase in business will more than cover us in the future, 'cause we can take on more business and get back to the pickups." "Good point. It's only for a few days anyway and as long as the new guys don't eat our people before we get back, it sounds like a bit of luck for us." I agreed and got back to Howard. Looks like I would be getting a pickup driver, a morgue attendant, personal assistant, and an alternate funeral director. I was hopeful that I wouldn't lose business while mucking about on Zodiac Island. Apparently, Pi was my lucky number. (o) "I'm giving the party," Trowa told me. I would have begged off celebrating St. Patrick's Day at a local bar had the invitation come from anyone else. I know Quatre and he were clubsters and bar dudes, but 'Ro and I were not, him in particular. "Quatre has reserved a private room." Nice try Tro-man. "Well, that helps." Trowa saved the clincher for last. "Chang's bringing the Datatrons a half an hour before the party." So, that's why Heero and I showed up right on time. Heero had our evening scheduled right down to the last minute, so when I was ten minutes late picking him up, he actually demanded that the taxi driver make up the time. The taxi driver stood his ground. "It's only a five minute drive!" "Then we should have arrived five minutes ago," he countered. Finding no way out of that argument, the man drove like a maniac and we walked in the door five minutes behind schedule. "Right on time!" Quatre cried out when he saw us. Trowa shook his head and pointed to his wrist, where a watch would be if he wore one. "Good job, Maxwell." Heero sighed. I'd let him down. Ruined his record of always being on time. I was such a bad influence on him. Heh, heh... "It is really all right," my boyfriend told me. "Chang is not here yet." "We're cool then?" I had to make sure or the night would be a bust. "Yes." When Fei' and Hilde did arrive fifteen minutes later, he carried a heavy box right past us and into a back room Trowa had reserved. No one had to tell us to follow promptly. We were on him like yellow-jacket wasps on a Sunday picnic. "Eh, eh, eh! Give me space!" "Then move faster." Heero was in no mood for dilly-dallying. The Datatrons sounded very cool, but having one of those little buggers in my hot little hands was cooler than cool. "You will find that they are pre-loaded with all our numbers, Zechs' included, for instant communications." The Preventers agent looked proud as all get out. Trowa did not. He held his device as if it were a snapping turtle. When the devices were turned on, they all "came up" requesting codenames to login. All typing came to a halt and the room was silent. "What's with the codenames?" Trowa asked first. "These are names for your datatrons followed by your personal codename, which you'll discover were taken from the Zodiac project. Mine is '05' so you can deduce your own." "I have to name this thing? That is so—" "Fun!" Quatre cheered, practically. "Silly, I was thinking." Quatre frowned at his boyfriend. "I'm naming mine Sandrock after my first pet tortoise. Sandrock04. There, now I can login." Heero surprised everyone by participating with some enthusiasm. "Wing01—for where it can take me." "That was quick," Duo whispered to him. "The sooner I get this over with, the sooner the device is mine," he explained. "Yeah, okay, ah... mine's Shinigami02, for obvious reasons." Duo grinned and typed in the required login information. "C'mon, Tro', be creative. You can go with 'clownfreak04' or something." Trowa sighed and gave in. "Nanashi...03." "What's that?" Duo asked. Heero translated for him. "It means 'no name', in Japanese." Duo looked over his business partner. "You are so—" "Dry?" Trowa suggested. "How about some beers?" "No objections." And the party started. When the beer arrived it was by the pint and dyed very, very green. It was going to be one of those nights. Wufei continued to instruct us on the finer points of the datatron feature set, the maintenance, and the support plan, despite the fact that no one was listening to him after he gave them the tour of the desktop. He sat in a huff. "It's okay, babe," Hilde told him. "They'll all come running to you when things don't work right." "That was supposed to make me feel better? I don't have time to hold their hands with those things." "But won't you feel better when you tell them to figure it out and listen next time?" She laughed and drew a smile from him, too. Much as he had done the year before when these people were just becoming acquainted with one another, my Heero handed out silk shamrocks and pins. I made him pin mine on my ass. "Hopin' for luck!" Trowa made no move to take the offering. "Are these o-fuda substitutes?" I loved Heero's smile and this time he'd stretched it almost to the grin stage. "Yeah, you could say that," Heero answered. His blue eyes narrowed as they raked Trowa over, looking for a place to attach the charm. I don't know if Trowa thought he might pin it on his ass, too, but it re-animated the dude. Trowa snatched the shamrock from Heero and pinned it to his own shirt upside down. "It will keep away the pinch fiend," Heero told him. Trowa retracted in mock-horror. "Don't let Quatre hear that." Oh, Quatre heard. His attention had never left his lover and mine and their conversation. I don't think he wanted Heero's hands on Trowa, even if it had only been to pin on a good luck charm. I think Trowa liked having a boyfriend who coveted him, even if he let the jealousy monster out once in a while. And here he came. Quatre wasn't leaving Trowa in Heero's hands a second longer. I thought it was rather funny. The two guys were friends. It was good for them. Heero went on to say, "More than 80 percent of the people of Sanc avoid being pinched by wearing green." "Is it a big card event?" Quatre asked, politely showing interest in my boyfriend's activities. Either that or it was a way for him to hide how he was wedging himself between the artist and his boyfriend. In his glib fashion, he answered, "As far as cards go, the greenest of holidays is a handy tent pole between Valentine's Day and Mother's Day." Platters of bar food arrived. Waves of waiters dressed the tables in green cloth and loaded them with flatware, napkins, and plates. And pitchers of beer, not green, dotted each table. "Oh, man!" I was at the chortling state. "Hot wings!" While I sampled from the nearest assortment of goodies, I watched Quatre and Trowa busy in the corner of the room. On a raised platform, a stage, stood amps and microphones. Quatre opened his violin case and I nearly went into shock, but choked on a gulp of beer instead. He was going to play? We had dated and I never knew he played anything but hard to get. Trowa stood near the stage and rang his beer mug with a spoon like a dinner bell. It got everyone's attention. "Before I'm too drunk to do this," Trowa said, "I promised Quatre I'd duet with him. So... here goes." Quatre had his violin out of its case and was tuning it. Trowa raised a flute to his lips and blew a few notes to test the tuning again, before launching into a fast jig. It was so cool, actually. They played through a dozen songs, all selections of Celtic music chosen for the occasion, some fast some slow, all good. We were all clapping along and Hilde danced, I think that's what she called it. Quat waited until we'd had three rounds of beers before cozying up to Heero. I wondered what in hell he was whispering in my man's ear and why my man was agreeing to it. "What's up? Rocks?" "Blarney stones," Quatre said. "We are going to paint them." This I could not believe until I watched Heero unload paint, glitter, markers, and fake jewels onto one of the tables. Like a bunch of crows, we were all attracted to the assortment of sparkly things. "Um, 'Ro?" "Take a rock," he instructed, "and decorate it." "How?" With an artistic flourish, he wrote out appropriate sayings: Live, love and laugh Kiss me I'm Irish Luck of the Irish Good Luck Lucky enough to be Irish Oh Blarney! Erin go bragh "Use these and shamrocks," he explained. It helped the most when he painted the first few as examples. He painted the lettering in white and sprinkled glitter over the wet paint: "La' Feile' Pa'draig." "I won't even try to say that. What's it say?" Trowa was first to ask. "It's Gaelic. It means Happy St. Paddy's Day." "Do another a different way to give everyone ideas," Quatre urged him. "All right." "What's that you wrote?" I asked. Naturally he'd painted up one with Gaelic words he hadn't put on the list. "Pog mo' Tho'n," he explained. "It means 'kiss my ass.' This one's for you." Wufei muttered something involving shoving datatrons into far too small an aperture in the human body to be comfortable, and Trowa refilled his beer mug. We got the idea, blamed having to do such a silly thing on Winner, and set to. At that point Heero led the entire group in painting rocks, and turning them into blarney stones, which turned out to be loads of fun. "Tell 'em a story," Trowa urged me to fill in time and space, I supposed. "Okay." I put a finger to my temple and looked thoughtful, although dotting my face with glittery paint probably made me look funny. Of course, I knew what I was going to say. I'd come prepared. "When the Sanc Kingdom was old and small--," "That would have to be before the annexation of the surrounding towns about—" Wufei paused to recall the exact date, so you know he had to be a bit drunk. "Yeah, that long ago. Well, the local folks started running out of places to bury people, so they would dig up coffins and take the bones to a bone-house in order to reuse the grave." "A bone-house for God's sake?" Hilde groaned. "You know the most God-awful stuff." "I know." I grinned. Didn't stop me! "When reopening these coffins, a quarter of the coffins were found—" "That's one out of every twenty-five," Wufei clarified with a hiccup for punctuation. He seemed to have difficulty keeping his focus. He swayed a little as Hilde painted his fingernails with glitterglue, but didn't stop her. "Why were they being opened up?" Quatre asked. His diction was a bit slurred and only Trowa had an answer for him which was short, "For sex," sending his boyfriend melting into giggles. I raised my voice a notch or two to drown them out. "Opened the coffins to discover scratch marks on the inside. This meant that they had been burying people alive, a practice commonly frowned upon." "I should think so," Wufei agreed solemnly. "Oh, geez, Duo--" Hilde appeared ill, but it could have been from overeating. Another reason lurked just on the boundaries of my memory. Nope, forgot. "To prevent this from happening, then, they thought they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, run it—the string, not the arm-- up through the coffin, up through the ground, and tie it to an above-ground bell. Someone then would sit out in the graveyard all night to listen for the bell. This was the origin of the term 'graveyard shift,' and someone could be 'saved by the bell'." "Or if not," Trowa put in, stealing one of my jokes, "They'd be a 'dead ringer'." Wufei stared hard. "You just made that up, didn't you?" "Nope!" "Why thank you for the brain-nudge," Hilde said, laughing. "Ugh, I think the paint smell is getting to me." My smile turned more smirk-like. "I know one more factoid from old Sanc lore, if you'd like to hear it?" "I would," Heero said. Bless my love. I'd thought he'd fallen asleep. "Okay, then, you know how most people get married in June?" "We can't," Heero said. I sighed tremendously because he'd sounded so sorrowful, or it was the beer. "Well, they do because way back before indoor plumbing they took their yearly bath in May and still smelled pretty good by June. However, if they were starting to smell, brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor." "I don't believe a word of it." That was a Wufei utterance. "That reeks of idiocy," Hilde said just before spilling over onto her boyfriend's lap in a laughing fit. "I might argue with you, but I won't. A woman has the last word in any argument. Anything a man says after that is the beginning of a new argument," I smiled and inched my way toward the only table with any food. "Anyone want something while I'm up?" "Tell us another story," Trowa urged me as if he were ordering another round of drinks. I shrugged my shoulders and began to pace a few seconds, thinking. The gleaming metal serving trays jolted my memory. "Got another one. Traveling back into Sanc's past, when folks with money had dinner plates made of pewter—" "We've got those!" Quatre illuminated us. "Dozens and dozens. But... we don't use them." "Pity," said Wufei. "Probably for a good reason." That was Trowa about to steal another line from me. He'd heard these jokes hundreds of times, my guess, from my work chatter, so I couldn't really blame the robber. "You are so right. Food with a high acid content would cause some of the lead in the pewter to leak into the food causing lead poisoning and death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next few hundred years or so, tomatoes were considered poisonous." "Oh, so that's why!" Quatre said excitedly. "That's so neat!" "I think he's full of lead," Hilde said. "And it's gone to his head." "I must question the truth of that story as well," Chang chimed in, naturally. "There are lots of plants in the tomato family that ARE poisonous, and that gave them all a bad reputation." "Maybe so, but that doesn't make my story untrue," I argued. "Well I don't believe it!" Hilde snapped. "The poison in lead wasn't understood at the time, Hilde my time-warped friend," I argued back. "In fact--" Oh, I remembered another story without a Trowa-prompt and got right to it. "Lead cups were used to drink ale or whiskey. The combination would sometimes knock the drinkers out for a couple of days. They'd just fall in their steps on their walks home." I demonstrated by collapsing on the floor myself. Lying on my back, I could talk just as well and not totter from one side to the next. "Then someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days, and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up; hence the custom of 'holding a wake'." "What?!" Hilde cried out. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Trowa and Heero laughed. "Oh, for God's sakes..." Wufei groused. "You sure know some creepy stuff," Quatre noted. "You don't know the half of it." And I wasn't about to tell him because then he might not want to come along on our tomb raiding adventure. The evening ended with everyone participating in Karaoke singing. There is nothing I want to say about that, or remember past the vision of Wufei warbling a love song to Heero. It could have been Hilde. Dark hair, blue eyes... It probably was, but I was a little fuzzy at that point. (o) I was getting used to having extra hands in the mortuary. My new secretary was the middle-aged Ms. Plum. Her first morning on the job resulted in a new filing system, an orderly updated scheduling system, and a website for Maxwell's Mortuary. Plum gave me the royal web tour, staring with a good shot of the building on a clear day and a clear mission statement: "Our mission is to offer the pinnacle of perfection in services and facilities, without losing our compassion and the understanding needed by the families we serve." She had interviewed me over the phone the day before and I could see that she'd liberally scattered stuff I'd said all over, like: "Helping families depends on a high level of dignity and care for your deceased loved one." And with earnest testaments to: "Our greatest inspiration comes from the firm belief that our passion and love for funeral service will assist in delivering exceptional care to each family we are privileged to serve." It was Trowa who suggested Howard taking over graveyard duty after we returned from Zodiac island. "We could offer longer hours." "I don't think he'll go for that," I'd said. "He's helping us out here as a favor." "Ask." I did. Regardless of my ex-employer's earlier assurances that he had other work lined up for himself, he quickly accepted the night shift manager position. Okay, so Howard had told Trowa stuff he hadn't felt able to tell me. Losing his business probably stuck in his craw more than he wanted to give away to me. Anyway, this change to our business appeared on the website as: "When you need us, we are there, 24 hours a day, every day." Ms. Plum must have worked all night herself collecting glowing testimonials from some of our more prominent Sanc citizens. I fell in love with MS. Plum, even though she was female and old enough to be my mother. We got along great and she adored Trowa. Not that I didn't like the guy, but I wondered what their connection was. "She collects circus memorabilia," he said. "And--?" "I introduced her to my cousin." "And--?" "Catherine runs a circus, now and loaded her with all the paraphernalia she could ever want." "Good man." Trowa never beamed a smile, but his mouth twitched. "Quatre thinks so, but for entirely different reasons." "Yeah." I chuckled and went back to the autopsy room. I wasn't doing the work. I was supervising my old crowd and the new crowd working together and counting the days until we all left for the island adventure. Endive, being her usual overbearing self. "Cardiac arrest is what kills nearly everybody. What caused this woman's heart to stop is the mystery," she was telling one of the new guys from Howard's, Ned or Ed or Fred, maybe. Andres was on the later shift and had just come in and suited up in the changing room, preparing to take over for Endive. "I suppose you're wondering why I'm here, Divy-wivy?" "Never. You're here to relieve me of duty. I can read the schedule as well as you," Endive said. "I wanna see what's up with this corpse, then I'll go." "Just can't let go," Fred commented. "Don't you think I can do it?" "Can you?" she snapped. "Don't you have a pick-up to take you out of here?" "No, and don't think it's 'cause I can't get me one." "I'll collect the gastric contents and see what I can find," Andres said, disrupting what he must have thought might turn into an argument. I watched him carry the gruesome load to the sink and stated picking it over and almost stepped in to smooth over any bad feelings. Trowa stopped me. "Let them work it out," Trowa advised. "It's hard." "Yep, but in a day or so they'll have to get along without us here." Trowa- one heck of a great guy. "Yeah. Probably so. Like you say, we're on a countdown now," I said. I sauntered over to where 'Dres was removing the stomach contents. Fred sniffed and commented with surprise, "Minty fresh!" "Yeah, that's a new one on me," 'Dres said. "Can't complain, though." "You say mint?" Endive asked. "See if you can find some leaves, but even if you can't, save the stomach liquid. I have an idea." She ripped off her gloves and got the phone to the police while she read through the paperwork. "Inspector Acht? Yeah, I'm Endive calling from the Maxwell Mortuary and Funeral home and I'm doing an autopsy on a woman here tagged with your ID on the paperwork. She arrived early this morning. You found her? Good. Did you search her trash? Kitchen. Okay, I'm wondering if you discovered several used tea bags or a near-empty tin? In particular, a type of mint tea. Yeah, I'll hold." Fred trotted to the sink and took a peek. "I can't believe she swallowed that many leaves sipping tea." "She must have eaten the stuff," 'Dres agreed. "There, that's all of it." "Want me to weigh that for ya?" Fred asked. "Thanks, sure, then record the number on the form and take it over to Divy." And Fred carried off the stainless steel bowl, happy as a clam. "Yeah, I'm still here. You found an empty box of what? Pennyroyal?" Another of Howard's people, a quiet mousy girl sat at a new computer monitor, clicking at light speed. "Found it! Pennyroyal is a member of the mint family. Some drink it to break up gas and prevent nausea. It really is only toxic if its oil is ingested in large amounts." Endive shouted, "Hold on. What have you got for me, Fred?" I met Trowa's look from across the room, his eye's eyes twinkling. Yeah, the teams were bonding pretty quick. I missed what Fred said and more details from little mouse girl, so lost in warm fuzzy feelings that I was. "...Thanks. That much? Oh my—Inspector? Yes, the deceased swallowed a great deal. It induces abortion, but in massive quantities it can cause cardiac arrest. Probably. Uh, huh, but we'll test for pregnancy, too. Sure thing. Bye." They completed the autopsy, closed her up, and sealed the case: a stupid, desperate teenager two months pregnant medicates herself improperly trying to induce contractions and accidently kills herself. Another death and mystery solved- the last for this team that day. "Glad I stayed out of that one," I told Trowa. "Glad they worked things out without our interference." "Yeah, looks like we might have a business when we get back." Trowa shrugged his shoulders. "A growing one. You going to be able to handle the bookkeeping alone still? Payroll alone will take hours to do." He was right. I'd hardly be more than a glorified bookkeeper most of the time to keep up. "I doubt it. Guess I'll have to look into a service when we get back." Trowa looked as if he had more to say. Sometimes he needed a nudge to over whatever hump he'd encountered. "You want to do it?" "Bookkeeping, hell no. I'm incapable, but--," he hesitated, thinking a little more. "Um, later, okay? We'll discuss it later." "Sure." After that, the last few days of work were uneventful. Everyone was consumed with preparations for the "Zodiac Island Party," as it had become known. (o) The picture was a field of yellow daffodils with a single blue iris flower in the center. I opened the card Heero had sent me in the mail and read it again: "If there is one smile that makes a difference, one touch, one voice I long for, It's yours, my lover and friend." This was the first time he'd mailed my card. It was fun, I guess, but I really missed the personal touch. I missed his being there when I first saw his art so I could hear his explanation of how he'd thought it up or how he'd painted it. This way it was just me imagining the words coming from his voice. I needed his voice so I called him. "Hello, Duo." "Hi. Got your card." "That was fast. Do you like it?" "Why don't you come over and find out in person." "All right." I hung up and got busy. I wanted to surprise him with a little romance Duo-style. "Duo? You said to come over and your door's unlocked, so—" "Take off your clothes." "Uh, sure. Can I have a drink first?" "I'll get you water. You undress and lie on the mattress." "All right. What about you?" I smiled. "No water for me. I'm fine." "One of those moods?" he asked but clearly he'd already made up his mind that it was and didn't expect or want me to answer him. "Here." After bringing him his water, I watched him undress. "This feels strange, just undressing like this," he said. "I like to watch." "Being There." "What?" What was he talking about? "That was one creepy movie with Peter Sellers. He played Chance, a simple gardener, who had never left the estate until his employer died. His entire life revolved around TV watching and his work and he quoted programs in ways that were mistaken for profundity. Like—" He would have given me a rundown of the entire movie and would have filled the evening with movie trivia, but I had a plan. It was time to move on. I handed him a blindfold. "Put this on." "This?" He tried it around his hips. "Too small. Have you got something in an extra large?" "Funny, 'Ro." I covered his eyes and tied it in place. "Comfortable?" "Not really. But I trust you." "Good. So lie down." I let him lay there in suspense and darkness while I undressed. "I heard your zipper. Are you going to join me here?" he asked. "You'll see. Now, don't move. I'll be back in a minute and then the fun will start." "Hn." I dashed to the kitchen to collect my things. I heated a cup of hot chocolate in the microwave for a few seconds and filled another cup with ice I'd bought at the store. "Is that you, Duo?" "Shhh, yes." I set my one cup on the floor, sat on the mattress, and sipped at the warm drink. "Do I smell chocolate?" Heero asked. I couldn't answer, but then I was planning to let him know what was going on very soon. I swallowed and leaned over, and without touching him anywhere else, I sucked on his limp cock. "AH!" He nearly bucked me off. "Fuck! That feels great." I continued to pleasure him with my mouth. Loving the sound of him moans and squirming. Now for the fun part. "Your turn." "W-what?" he asked. "Not you. Him." While he rolled that one around, I reached for the next prop. "There's someone else here? Duo, what the f--?!" Then I put an ice cube in my mouth. "Gugh!" His back twisted. He coiled. He was like a live wire in my hands. I freed my hair from its braid and spread it out over his chest. "Him, Shinigami." Heero tore off the blindfold and, well, attacked me. In a good way. And when we could no longer move, we just lay there, him using my hair for a blanket, fingering a hunk in his hand. "I almost forgot this!" And I almost had. I pulled a slim, metal-clad book from under the pillow and rested it on his stomach. "Cold! What is it?" he asked. "Look." "Poetry? Thank you. You bought me a book of poems? Very old book of poems." "Love poems. I'm not a writer like you so these'll have ta do." "I want... just a second." He climbed off the mattress, leaving me to chill while he visited the bathroom. When he returned, carrying a pair of scissors, I have to admit I went on prime alert. I went on autopilot, bundling my mop at the back of my neck and twirling it into a rope which twisted further into a bun. "What are you doing?" he asked. He even chuckled darkly. My eyes didn't leave the scissors. "What are those for?" I asked. "I want a lock of your hair to put in the book, like a book mark." "You already did that." "That is a ring of hair. I keep that on my dresser at home, in my dresser. This is a bookmarker. Just a little snip." "Oh, okay." I relented, not wanting to look like a complete wuss about my hair. Snip. "Now what are you doing?" Not that he needed to tell me. I could figure it out. He bound the cut end around and around with a blue thread, knotting it in a complicated way to keep the hair together. "Now, let me read one of these to you," he said. "Okay." I lay on my back, eyes closed and listened, relishing the sound of my lover filling my heart with love words. "Love Sonnet XI I
crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. I
hunger for your sleek laugh, I
want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, And
I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight, --Pablo Neruda" Heero closed the book on my lock of hair, what he called his "March hair", and said, "Let's visit Quitratue someday." "Okay." I could deny him nothing, especially when I had no idea what he was talking about, but he'd called my heart "hot".
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