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"A Reason For Me"Written By: Prynesque Disclaimer: Duo, Heero, Gundam Wing… they
are copywrited to someone else. They are being used without permission
and no money is being made. I reiterate: they aren't mine (and if
you think they are you should probably take this opportunity to get
your head checked). However, this story is mine and mine alone, and
if you so much as think of nicking any part of it, I'll hunt you down
and set my demon kitty cat on you (be afraid, be very afraid). Rating: R Warnings: Yaoi/slash, romance, angst, AU, Potential
(though unintended) OOC, some swearing, lime/lemon, alternating POV,
possible Australian-isms. Pairings: 1x2 Summary: On his last night in Chicago, Heero meets
a young man with violet eyes and a braid. Instantly drawn to him,
Heero initiates a meeting but things aren't often that simple. Notes: This story is AU. It's set in modern-day
Chicago and I think it's safe to say that that means there will be
no mentions of Gundams, colonies or any other various fantastical
science fiction-related entities. This story is also slash (or yaoi
or whatever you want to call it), so if you don't like that…
well, bugger off and come back when you have some taste! Feedback: Hell yeah? What I'm trying to say is
that if you feel the urge to review, please indulge it. I don't even
care what you say. Good, bad, it's all the same to me – just
so long as I get to hear from you. " A Reason For Me" Part Two – Chapter Six: Duo I pull the door closed behind me, waiting for a moment until I hear the familiar click of the lock sliding into place. I rattle the door knob gently and the whole door wobbles ominously. I did a rather make-shift job of fixing the busted door after the break-in; I probably should have called in a lock-smith, or something, but I don’t have the money. I’m sure Heero would lend it to me but I don’t know if I could ever bring myself to ask. But I must say I’m rather impressed by my handiwork. I mean, the lock wouldn’t hold up against a large gust of wind let alone a burglar but at least the door isn’t hanging off the hinges anymore. I extract the key awkwardly from the lock; it’s slightly bent. There are only two keys on my key ring. The first is a worn, dull bronze, the first signs of rust just beginning to appear in the grooves. The other is silver and shiny, twinkling in the flickering glow from the hallway light. One key fits the lock to my flat, the other to Heero’s. I think it’s fairly obvious which is which. It scared me at first, when Heero offered me this key; it felt like by taking it, I’d be giving him a part of myself in return, and I wasn’t quite sure if I was ready for that. The ability to trust others is not something I have in spades. And if we’re talking about trust and I’m being perfectly honest… I was scared because I didn’t know whether I could trust myself either. I mean, let’s face it; I don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to nicking stuff. And I don’t think I could live with myself if I did that to Heero again. But so far, so good. And when I say good, I mean overwhelmingly fucking fantastic… and I really mean that; I haven’t had a place where I can go to feel safe since the orphanage went up in smoke. But in that little apartment with its black and white interior and stretches of golden floorboards… I feel safer and more comfortable than I have anywhere else. A month down the track and I know every inch of that place; every corner, every cupboard, every wall, floor and door. In the kitchen I don’t have to ask where the cups are, my hand just moves automatically, landing in the right place every time. It almost feels like I live there. Almost being the key word. But even so, there are moments when he’ll arrive home or I’ll arrive home and it feels so natural that I can close my eyes and it is real. Home. Did I just say that? I did, didn’t I? And it is. It’s home. Shit, I’m in way over my head. You see, those moments… when I can’t tell where Heero’s space ends and mine begins, when it’s just our space… they’re addictive and I’m hooked like you wouldn’t believe. And now the trick is not trying to stop myself from going there, it’s trying to stop myself from staying. And I can’t. I can’t stay. I’m a street rat. I was born one and I’ll die one… end of story. That’s life; that’s just the way it has to be… isn’t it? The flickering light overhead finally gives out, plunging the corridor into darkness with a faint ‘pop’. I jump reflexively at the sound. I’m tense and edgy, filled with restless energy… not sure why. Maybe because I’ve spent the last half hour trying to psyche myself up for going out to work… maybe because I’ve spent the last half hour trying to keep myself from going straight to Heero instead. I pause in the gloom of the darkened hallway and practice my yoga breathing; in and out, through my nose. Block out the rest of the world; focus your entire being on your breath and the calm control that extends through your body with every inhalation… I can hear Heero’s voice in my head and a tiny smile slides across my face as I move across the hallway and down the stairs. It’s cold and icy when I finally emerge onto the street. I can feel the frost in the air, clinging to the inside of my throat whenever I breathe. I pull my jacket tighter around myself but the wind still slices through the tears in the leather, grazing across my bare skin. I shiver violently, crossing my arms across my chest and hunching over against the weather. I’m two streets down when I hear my name, drifting down the alley towards me, carried on the bitter wind. My body tenses instinctively but I slow my pace ever so slightly, allowing my shadow to catch up to me. “Pretty fucking freezing, ay?” A husky voice asks as a tall lean body falls in beside me. I glance sideways, subtly. Hilde. I’d recognize her anywhere. She hasn’t changed. I take a closer look, trying to see past the half frozen lips, faintly blue underneath the red lipstick, and the spiky hair, damp from the frost. I don’t even really know what I’m looking for but in the end I come to the conclusion that my initial response was right. She hasn’t changed; she’s still the same, just… older. She’s probably only a few years older than me, about Heero’s age or maybe slightly more, certainly this side of thirty, but there are lines beginning to appear on her face, lines of exhaustion and worry and desperation. And yet, there it is. That smile, splitting across her face, revealing the same slightly crooked teeth that always gave her a mischievous look… the expression seeps into her eyes, illuminating a hint of a sparkle. Hilde and I used to work the same patch, years ago before I fell in with Roly. It was a rough area and that’s putting it nicely, but Hilde always had this amazing ability to make the best of a bad situation. She could look past all the shit we had to deal with and see hope, shining like a beacon at the end of the street. And even though she never reached it, it was enough for her to know that it was there. Know what I mean? Anyway, she was pretty remarkable… and I think I used to be like that too. I think I used to see the world differently. I don’t know when I lost it… some time after the night in Heero’s hotel room. That was the trigger. That night, I got to the end of the street and I saw the hope, felt it all around me… and I walked away. And after that, no matter how hard I looked, the beacon just wasn’t there anymore. I think that was when Hilde and I stopped going around together. She once said that being with me after that was like being on downers. Looking back, I can see that she was right. She nudges me with her elbow, jolting me out of my thoughts. “Haven’t seen you round here lately,” she says. There is a slightly rattle in the back of her throat, the prelude to the flu. As if on cue, she coughs violently. “Sorry,” she apologises a moment later, with a laugh. “Bet I sound like nuthin’ on earth.” It’s more depressing than funny but I laugh anyway. “Ain’t seen you laugh for years,” she says softly, stepping closer and peering at me. She draws back looking thoughtful. “Like the old Duo is back from the dead,” she finally concludes, somewhere between a question and a statement. I don’t really know what to say to that so for several minutes we just stand there in silence. But, you know what? I think she’s right. Maybe the old Duo is back... or at least a shadow of him. All I know is that, right now, I feel more like myself than I have for years. “Something like that,” I say eventually. She laughs throatily. “’Bout fucking time.” The last word is lost as she lapses into another coughing fit. We walk down the rest of the street, silent save for her rasping splutters. She clears her throat loudly, turning her head and spitting on the ground. “So, you still working wiv Roly?” she asks, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. I nod. “Yeah, s’not bad. Safer, yanno?” This time it’s her turn to nod. “Yeah, if only the rest of us were so lucky.” My head jerks sideways to look at her. It’s a bit of a shock to hear that word. Lucky? Most of the time I don’t feel lucky, but I suppose I am. My life could be a hell of a lot worse. I’m not sure if this is a good realisation or a bad one, but in the end I suppose it doesn’t matter because I do feel slightly better. There’s nothing like a bit of perspective to make life and the universe seem more bearable. I reach out and grab the cuff of her denim jacket, pulling gently so she turns to face me. “I could talk to Roly,” I suggest. “Maybe he’d take you on.” Even as I say it, I know there’s no hope. Roly is very selective about the people he choses to work with. You have to have something really unique, really striking to catch his attention. She laughs and I’m relieved that my blunder hasn’t gotten her hopes up. “Yeah, as if. Let’s face it, Duo, I ain’t got what you got, the looks…” she trails off as one hand reaches out to me. Reflex takes over and I flick my braid out of the way, a well-practiced movement that my body performs almost subconsciously. Her fingers brush against thin air and then her arm falls limply back to her side. “The looks,” she repeats with a laugh. “The moves. You’ve got the whole package, eh?” “You taught me everything I know,” I remind her. “And don’t I know it. Wish I hadn’t. Then maybe I’d be the one walking ’round wiv Roly’s bodyguards.” Coming from anyone else, that would have sounded bitter, but Hilde just laughs, shrugging. “S’life, I s’pose.” We reach the end of the street and pause. “I gotta go,” I say, meeting her steady gaze. “Don’t we all?” she jokes, nudging me with her elbow again. I chuckle ever so slightly and she grins. “Yanno, whatever brought back the old Duo has my blessings,” she says, patting my cheek affectionately. And this time, I really smile. “Yeah, mine too.” I start to leave. Once upon a time we would have hugged, we used to be close, she and I. But this time, we don’t; it doesn’t feel as right as it once would have. But we share a smile and Hilde winks at me, grinning crookedly. I’m about ten metres away when I hear her calling me back. “Oh, hey I forgot to ask! That guy ever find you?” I pause, confused, and then walk back towards her. “What guy?” “This guy was lookin’ for you. Tall, messy hair… funny eyes,” she scratches her cheek, struggling to recall the details. “Said he needed ta talk to you. He looked real desperate, like, so I told him where you was working. Hope I did the right thing. He seemed decent, yanno?” I smile and this time it feels right. I pull her to me, wrapping my arms around her thin shoulders and squeezing gently. “You did right,” I whisper. When we draw apart, she looks puzzled, one eyebrow raised in question. I shake my head and step back. “Long story,” I say. “Does it end with the Prince and Princess riding off into the sunset to live happily ever after?” she asks. It’s a strangely sobering question, one I don’t really know how to answer; one I’m not sure I want to answer. “Dunno,” I say finally. “Probably not. But yanno, sometimes it ain’t about the ending, it’s about the journey,” I conclude enigmatically. “Since when have you been so deep?” she asks, sceptically. “Since I started doing yoga,” I reply flippantly. “Yoga? Shit, man, we’ve lost you forever now.” She grins. “It’s nice to have the old Duo back. Don’t be a stranger, yeah?” I don’t answer; she’s already turned away, disappearing back into gloom. I wait for several minutes until I can no longer hear the sounds of her plastic stilettos clicking on the sidewalk, and then I turn and continue on my way. A black Ute is parked on the corner of the next block. The engine is off but the light in the cabin in on and I can just make out the silhouette of the occupants. I heave the door open, wincing at the metallic groan of the car’s battered body. “You’re late,” Smokey says gruffly. He’s halfway through rolling a cigarette, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration. “Had to get my beauty sleep,” I reply, sliding into the car beside him. Smokey doesn’t reply but Joe snorts at me from the driver’s seat, reaching for the ignition. The car roars into life with a spluttering cough and then we lurch away down the street. It’s five in the morning by the time I finally finish. Smokey is leaning against the bonnet of the Ute, his ubiquitous curl of smoke trickling out of his nostrils and swirling away on the wind. He looks up at me as I emerge from the hotel and then down at his watch. Finally he looks back up to me and nods silently. I breathe in relief. Smokey stubs his cigarette out on the side of the car before sliding inside. Joe peers across him from the driver’s seat. “You wanna lift home, Duo?” he asks. I shake my head. “Nah, I’ll walk,” I say, just as a huge gust of wind comes sweeping down the street, lifting my braid off my shoulders. Joe laughs and I just hear his words over the roaring of the engine, “Crazy fucker!” A thick black puff of smoke escapes the exhaust-pipe with a rattle as the car pulls away from the curb and speeds away down the street. I am halfway home when I stop still on the gloomy street. Torn, I hesitate in the darkness. In the end, my strength leaves me; I’m too tired and worn to fight this internal battle tonight. I take a sharp right and keep walking. I don’t stop until I’m standing outside the familiar building and the doorman is stepping forwards to welcome me in, to welcome me home. And I smile. Heero jolts awake the moment I open the bedroom door. His eyes glow like lamps in the darkness as he blinks at me and his shoulders are tense; even in the dim gloom I can make out the sculpted curve of his muscles. He exhales slowly and then lowers himself back to the mattress, his head finding the pillow and his eyes flickering closed again. I shower, taking longer than I normally would. Usually I’m terribly conscious of how Heero’s hot water bill must have swelled since I started coming here, but today, in the wee small hours of the morning, I relish the feeling of the hot water skimming over my shoulders and down my back. All the dirt is washed away, the make-up, the sweat, the foul stench of Smokey’s cigarettes… and I feel clean. Heero’s back is towards me when I finally emerge from the bathroom, dressed but my skin still flushed and the end of my bangs slightly soggy. I slide into the bed beside him as gently as I can. He stirs momentarily but doesn’t wake. I shuffle across the mattress towards him, pausing only when there is barely a few inches between us. A treacherous thought crosses my mind. It would just be so easy to reach out and touch him and I wonder what it would feel like to run my hands down the smooth, muscled planes of his back. It’s really very tempting… I have to bite my lip to restrain myself from doing something stupid. It’s moments like these that I’m reminded of just how complex my relationship with Heero really is. I mean, sometimes it feels like we’re just friends… no, that’s not really the right word… mates, we’re just mates; we can laugh and joke together and things are light and easy. But sometimes it feels like more than that… when we talk or even sometimes when we don’t, it feels like he’s the only person that really knows me and understands me, and in those moments the words ‘friend’ and ‘mate’ just don’t seem to do justice to our connection. And then just to complicate things even further, there are yet other times when I want him so much I could scream and every touch or gesture feels like electricity. And even within those moments when I decided that really what I want is something more than friendship, there is a further range of emotions that just confuse me even more; sometimes I want him kissing me, touching me, inside me, around me… and sometimes I just want him to hold me and love me. And sometimes, I’ll catch his eye and I know that if I were to ask him to do any of those things, ranging from the purely platonic to the blatantly sexual, he would. I’m not used to having that sort of power and there are times when it feels like such a reversal of roles; I never really know what to do with it and so even in our most comfortable moments, I still feel like there’s this sort of uncertainty. I try to keep my feelings guarded, to avoid having to confront that ambiguity, having to confirm it one way or the other. I always picture Heero that first night I met him, so stiff and blank and I try to act like that. But of course, there are times when neither my acting nor Heero’s expressionless mask can hide it; we’ll brush against each – in the kitchen making dinner or in bed at night or in the morning mid-way through our yoga – and I think we both know and something will almost happen between us. But I always pull back at the last moment and nothing ever actually does. And that confuses Heero, making him more uncertain and even more reluctant to act. Sometimes I think I’m sending him mixed signals and I feel guilty for messing him around like that. But mostly I think I’ve managed to make it clear that we’re just friends, however many rebellious thoughts I might have about it being otherwise. But it’s for the best. I mean, let’s face it; a relationship between us would never work out, would it? I’ve been with ever horny pervert under the sun while Heero is… well, I don’t know what he is, but he certainly deserves better than me. Like that blonde, leggy, what’s-her-face from the TV… the senator’s daughter. She’s gorgeous; perfect figure, perfect smile… the sort of girl you wouldn’t be ashamed to take home to meet your parents. Heero deserves someone like her. They’d be perfect together. I bet they’d have beautiful children which her grace and pretty blonde hair and Heero’s amazing eyes. They work together, too. It’d be like some perfect office romance which ends in a big beautiful wedding with her all dressed in flowing white and Heero looking so handsome in his penguin suit. I wonder if Heero would invite me to the wedding if they did get married. Suddenly I feel this horrible knot in my stomach. My fingers clutch at the sheets unconsciously, my knuckles turning white. Relena… that’s her name, Relena Peacecraft. I’ve never met her, I’ve only ever seen her once on a TV screen and yet I hate her. I know I shouldn’t but I just can’t help myself; this horrible bubble of jealously just rises up inside me whenever I think about her. I force myself to relax, the sheet slips from my grasp, crinkled from where I’ve been gripping it. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to control my heart rate. When I open my eyes again, I realise that I’ve managed to shuffle an inch closer to Heero. I can feel his body heat seeping into me across the tiny distance. I sleep fitfully and in my dream I’m walking Heero down the aisle to where this blonde vision is waiting. He takes her hand and steps up to the altar without so much as even glancing back at me. And I’m all alone. The sensation of falling wakes me again; I jerk back into consciousness, nearly falling off the mattress in my dazed state. The bed beside me is empty. It’s half past twelve and Heero is long gone. Off to work where that pretty little bitch is waiting. You know, she’s probably really nice and that just makes it worse. I groan and flip myself back over onto my stomach, burying my head in Heero’s pillow. His scent surrounds me and I stay like that. An hour passes before I finally manage to roll myself out of bed. My eyes are still droopy with sleep and my limbs are lethargic from previous exertion. I can’t stomach the thought of trying to coordinate my movements enough to pull off the Salute to the Sun so, instead, I lurch into the kitchen, my hand automatically reaching for the Fruit Loops. I take the cereal box and the milk through to the living room and fold myself up on the couch with a bowl and a spoon, the crunching of sugar and slurping of milk blending seamlessly with the b-grade sound affects of the mid-day movie. I’ve munched my way through almost the entire pack of Fruit Loops before it occurs to me to stop. All that’s left is a mere handful of fluorescent-coloured circles in the bottom of the box. I feel guilty and slightly nauseous, capped off with a seething, twitching mass of sugar-induced energy. My legs are still jiggling restlessly four hours later as the seven o’clock news begins. Heero’s late and I am simultaneously having visions of him being run over by a subway and/or running away with his blonde colleague. I switch off the TV and do a few rounds of the Salute to the Sun to try and expend some energy. It’s counterproductive more than anything else; I fall over twice through lack of concentration and when I finally give up I’m feeling frustrated as well as restless. In the silence of the apartment, the ticking of the clock on the mantle piece seems deafeningly loud; tick, tock, tick, tock. It’s endlessly repetitive and within minutes hurling the damn thing out the window seems like a pretty good idea. But I doubt Heero would appreciate that. Now the time seems to be ticking away faster just to spite me. Soon I’ll have to leave to work and I won’t have gotten to see Heero all day. OK, I know I’m pathetic but right now I could really use a friendly face. I make a split second decision and reach for the phone. I dial the number quickly before I can talk myself out of it. “Yeah?” Roly’s voice is deep and gravely, scratched from years of smoking and drinking. I take a deep breath. “It’s Duo. I can’t work tonight; I’m sick,” I say hurriedly, trying to sound as weak and pathetic as possible. “So? You’ve worked sick before,” comes Roly’s caring and sensitive reply. “Yeah, but I look like shit,” I lie. “Nobody’s gonna want me looking like this.” Silence follows and I wait for his response, my fingers drumming restlessly on the kitchen counter. “Alright, I’ll run someone else instead. But this better not become a habit, yeah? You’re one of the top earners on my books but if you stop pulling your weight, I’ll drop you in an instant.” It’s not a threat, merely a statement. “And I don’t think either of us wants that, yeah?” he continues. I nod, even though he can’t see the gesture. He’s right. I couldn’t go back to the way I used to work. I’ve gotten soft, I know… relying on Smokey and Joe to back me up, relying on Heero to bring me back to life. “But I still expect my cut for tonight… late notice and all,” Roly adds, bringing me back to earth with a swift bump. I sigh. I can’t really afford to pay Roly and not make any money myself but by this stage, I’m beyond caring… all I want to do is curl back up on that couch and wait for Heero to come home. “Fine, OK,” I say reluctantly. Roly doesn’t answer; instead, a shrill beep indicates that he has hung up. I follow suit feeling simultaneously relieved and depressed. I have only just replaced the receiver when the phone rings. The sound startles me and I stumble backwards through the doorway into the living room, tripping over the rug and falling on my arse with a thud. The answering machine clicks on after the sixth ring and Heero’s voice fills the room, “You’ve reached Heero Yuy; leave a message after the tone.” For some inexplicable reason I’m expecting to hear Roly’s voice again. I panic momentarily as I wait for him to speak, my mind whirling. “Oh, hello Heero; it’s Quatre.” The relief I feel is palpable; my stomach lurches back into place as Quatre speaks again. “I was expecting you to be home by now… I hope you’re not still at work.” I find myself smiling; I can’t help myself… I’ve always wanted to have a friend that worried about me like that; someone who calls just because they care so much that they need to know that I’m OK. Quatre’s voice is soft and gentle but there is a certain strength to it; the voice of someone who gets underestimated a lot, but rather relishes proving assumptions wrong. “I was ringing because Wufei said that you weren’t coming home for Christmas like you had planned,” Quatre continues. My heart leaps and I wonder if I’m the reason he changed his mind. “Trowa and I were thinking…” The voice cuts off and there is a low muffled rumble in the background as someone interrupts. Quatre clicks his tongue irritably. “Oh fine, I was thinking that maybe we could come over and see you for New Years. You can say no if you’d rather we didn’t or if you have other plans but we do miss you and would love to at least see you for a few days. Have a think about it and call me back. Trowa sends his love.” There is a muffled exchange and then, “Hello Heero,” a smooth deep voice says. “Don’t let Quatre bully you into anything.” There is a stifled sound of indignation in the background and Trowa laughs. “You know you do,” he says, his voice slightly muted as he hands the phone back. “I’m going now.” Quatre still sounds rather huffy. “Call me when you get home. And I mean that; I don’t want to be hearing from you a week from now. Bye, Heero; take care of yourself.” Quatre hangs up and for a second time a shrill beep sounds. The sound of the front door opening is lost in the whirring noise of the answering machine tape rewinding but I swivel around when I hear Heero’s voice. “Duo?” he asks, looking down at me from the doorway. I must look like a complete nutter, sprawled on my arse on the floor underneath the phone. Heero’s eyes flicker upwards to the answering machine, which has just given a final beep and then lapsed back into silence, and then back down again at me. “Quatre just rang,” I say. A momentary look of something that I can’t decipher flickers across Heero’s face before it is wiped blank again. “I didn’t answer it,” I reassure him immediately. “He left a message.” “Hn,” Heero responds, turning away to hang up his coat, damp from the sleet outside. I hate it when he says that; I can never tell what it means. “I’ll listen to it later,” he concludes. He smiles at me when he turns back. “I wasn’t expecting you to still be here,” he says quietly, moving across the room towards me. “I called Roly... told him I couldn’t work,” I say, looking up at Heero who is right in front of me, hovering. He holds out his hand and when I take it, he lifts me effortlessly to my feet. He smiles again. “Does Chinese sound good for dinner?” he asks. I grin in reply. In spite of having consumed more than half a box of Fruit Loops, I’m starving by the time the food finally arrives on our doorstep. While Heero serves himself, I ponder how to phrase what I’m thinking. “Quatre said you were staying in Chicago for Christmas,” I say eventually, trying to sound casual, as Heero passes me the Shantung Chicken. “Hmmm?” he says, licking a trickle of sauce from his finger. “I have to work.” I vaguely register that he’s talking but my mind is too busy replaying the image of Heero’s tongue curving around his finger. I swallow heavily. “What?” I say belatedly, dragging myself back to the present. Heero raises one eyebrow and then repeats himself. “I have to work.” There is a minute of silence as my heart sinks. I look up when Heero clears his throat. “Actually that’s a lie,” he says sheepishly, a moment later. He hesitates and then, “I thought maybe we could spend it together… that is, unless you’ve made other plans.” My heart leaps again and it takes all my strength not to start grinning. Inside me, something that looks suspiciously like my Inner Child is jumping up and down with manic glee. Heero is still surveying me nervously, waiting for my answer. “Well, I was planning to go to Aspen for the season…” I’m having difficultly keeping a straight face. “But I suppose I might be persuaded to stay,” I finish hurriedly. “Is that a yes?” he inquires, looking up from his fried rice, his face impassive. “Can we get a Christmas tree?” I ask in response. “That’s a yes,” he confirms on my behalf, allowing the relief to finally show on his face. “Only if we can get a Christmas tree,” I insist. He smiles. “We can get a Christmas tree,” he agrees, picking up his chopsticks. Catching my eye, we share a smile across the now empty take-out containers, one that lingers on each of our faces for the rest of the meal.
“Chestnuts roasting on an open fire,” I sing quietly to myself. A frazzled-looking woman, laden with bags and boxes, casts me a strange look as she passes and I keep the rest of the song to myself. I try to imagine roasting chestnuts with Heero, only Heero doesn’t have an open fire and I’m not entirely sure what chestnuts actually look like. The fantasy is somewhat ruined after that. I continue walking, wondering just when I managed to come up with this unrealistically fantastical Christmas dream and why I’m secretly hoping that Heero will be able to pull it off. That seems rather unfair, doesn’t it? Expecting Heero to create this magical Christmas fantasy for me when really, he doesn’t exactly seem like the sleigh-bells-and-partridges-in-pear-trees type. But he did promise that we could get a Christmas tree… I can feel my spirits starting to lift already. I haven’t seen Heero in four days; not due to any strength and willpower on my part but because I’ve been working non-stop in the hopes that Roly will give me a day or two off. I didn’t think it was very likely as Christmas can be quite a busy time for… well, people like me. I mean, all the guilt-ridden, closeted husbands forgo their visits in favour of spending the season with their wives and families, but then, just to balance it all out, all the lonely and depressed come out of hiding looking for company which certainly makes for a dismal but demanding way to spend Christmas night. But you know, I suppose the good thing about working with Roly is that he doesn’t actually care whether I work or not. All he’s interested in is getting paid. Of course, that usually means that I have to work because if I don’t then I have no money and Roly will find someone else who will work and can pay. But I think the pittance I have saved away will be enough to cover Roly’s costs if he does decide that a couple of nights off are too much to ask for. When I raised the idea of a holiday to Roly he didn’t seem particularly impressed and actually, come to think of it, he didn’t really give me an answer at all; he just grunted and then coughed and then hung up. But I know for a fact that both Smokey and Joe have Christmas Eve and Christmas Night off which is an encouraging thought. I think I’ll take that grunt as a yes. It’s close to eight o’clock when I finally arrive at Heero’s apartment building. Earl the doorman is not working tonight, replaced instead by a tall, thin man with pale eyes and adorned with a faded Santa hat. I find myself missing Earl’s crooked smile and rasping voice. It took him a while but he’s finally stopped seeing me as something that should be left outside on the curb where it belongs. He doesn’t care that I’m not on the list and I think he doesn’t even see the clothes I wear anymore. I feel slightly apprehensive facing this new figure who doesn’t know me and isn’t aware of the bizarre arrangement that I have with Heero. Even though I’m not wearing my usual street-walking clothes and don’t have to go through the awkward first impression that eyeliner and fishnet stockings automatically bring, I still feel painfully underdressed in my torn, faded jeans and ripped jacket, as though this new doorman will instinctively know that I’m not classy enough to live in a joint like this. “Earl on holiday?” I ask, trying to sound confident, as the door swings shut behind me. The tall, thin man nods, surveying me with misty eyes. “Gone home for the holidays,” he explains. “You a resident or a guest?” he asks, reaching for his list. “Oh, um… resident,” I say, and it’s not quite a lie. “19-01. I… share with Heero Yuy, sort of.” I can feel my face starting to heat up but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Yuy…” He pauses in thought, setting his list back down on the counter. “Oh yeah, Japanese bloke… messy hair, doesn’t talk much.” He looks up at me for confirmation. “That’s the one,” I say, lamely. He grins, pleased with himself. “I’m trying to remember all the residents,” he says by way of explanation. “It’s difficult, though. This is a big building. I reckon I’ll just have learnt everyone’s names when Earl gets back. Murphy’s Law.” He laughs and I nod, smiling, because it seems like the polite thing to do. He clears his throat and looks back to me. “And you are?” “Duo. Duo Maxwell,” I reply. “Jacob,” he responds, his eyes crinkling in a smile. “Nice to meet you.” We shake hands briefly and then he steps back, fumbling for his chair and sitting heavily. I take this as my sign of dismissal and with a final smile I escape in the direction of the elevator. Heero is waiting for me when I let myself into the flat. He is half sitting, half leaning on the back of the couch, his arms folded and his long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He straightens up before I even have a chance to step over the threshold. He pauses, running his eyes over me and I realise that he’s probably never seen me dressed in clothes that aren’t either my working clothes or his. A slightly bemused look crosses his face. “You look…” he begins. “… like less of a whore?” I suggest, fiddling with the zipper of my jacket as I stare at my feet. He ignores me. “Different,” he concludes enigmatically, pulling on his coat. “Shall we?” he asks, nodding towards the door. “Where are we going?” I ask, looking up at him. He freezes, halfway through buttoning his coat. “You said you wanted a Christmas tree,” he replies; there is a hint of uncertainty in his voice and those deep blue eyes bore into mine. My lips quirk into a smile which quickly morphs into a grin. “I did, didn’t I?” I say, stepping back into the corridor. Heero doesn’t answer but his fingers resume their work, sliding button into buttonhole. When he’s done he glances up at me, a slight smile gracing his face. I beam back, feeling a child-like sense of anticipation and excitement that I don’t think I’ve ever felt before. He laughs, stepping forwards through the door so that we’re toe-to-toe; his breath is warm on my face. I resist the urge to jerk away, instead allowing myself to relish the closeness. He casts me a funny look and we both move away as one. We walk down the corridor, side-by-side, the barest of gaps between us. With every second step, our arms brush against each other. I think we’re both smiling. Jacob waves to us as we emerge from the elevator and Heero hurries me across the lobby before he can draw us into conversation. “He talks too much,” Heero says once we’re out on the street. I laugh. “Just like you don’t talk enough,” I reply. “Hn,” is his only response, but the corners of his mouth turn upwards ever so slightly. Suddenly I feel a drop of wetness on my cheek. I look up to see the first flakes of snow starting to fall. A lump forms in my throat. I’ve never really liked snow; it always makes feel cold and miserable, wishing I had somewhere warm and cosy to be instead. But tonight, it’s magical. Tiny perfect icicles drift down on the wind, catching the light from the streetlamps, sparkling as they swirl around me. “It’s snowing,” I say softly, catching Heero’s arm. “It’s winter,” he responds, practical as ever. I shake my head, not bothering to explain. Neither of us makes any move to separate and so we continue down the street, arm-in-arm. Three blocks down in the car park of the supermarket, a harried-looking man is selling Christmas trees. He struggles to sell a tree to a mother whose daughter steadfastly refuses every size and shape of tree presented to her. “No! It has to be perfect!” She pouts, stamping her little foot stubbornly. By now even her mother is starting to look harassed and irritable. “Let’s just get this one, sweetie,” she implores. “It looks fine.” The little girl shakes her head, her blonde curls dancing. “No, no. It’s wrong. I don’t want that one!” She glowers at the tree. The salesman sighs heavily. “I’ll be with you folks in a minute,” he calls and the mother casts us an apologetic look. I smile back, feeling sorry for the poor woman. “Hey, Heero?” I ask suddenly. He turns to me. “Hmmm?” “What tree do you reckon we should get?” I ask. He gives me a confused look. “It’s just a tree. They’re all the same,” he responds. “No, they’re not. It has to be perfect.” I raise my voice slightly. “We have to get that one; it’s the best one here,” I say determinedly. The little girl swings around to stare at me and then swivels on the spot to see where I’m pointing. “I want that one, mummy!” she exclaims, running to the tree I’m indicating and happily smoothing a crooked branch. The mother sags in relief and I wink at her. The little girl barks orders from the curb as she observes her mother and the salesman wrestle the tree into the back of their station wagon. The salesman watches them drive away before turning back to where Heero and I are waiting. “Sorry about that, folks,” he apologises. “Have you picked a tree?” “We should get something small,” Heero says beside me. I nod distractedly, searching through the rows of neatly cut trees. At the end of the farthest row, a little tree has fallen sideways and is lying on the pavement looking distinctly dejected. I prop it up again and take a step back. It’s only about a metre tall and is slightly lopsided. “This one,” I say, smiling. Heero nods. “We’ll take that one,” he says, handing the money over to the salesman who looks extremely relieved at the lack of fuss. He waves us goodbye cheerfully and then turns to a family who have just pulled into car park. Heero tucks the tree under one arm and then holds the other arm out to me. I duck my head, blushing slightly, but take his arm anyway. We’re nearly home when a kid on a motorized scooter comes hurtling around the corner. Heero drops the tree and knocks me out of harm’s way. I stumble backwards into an alley and land with a thump amongst a stack of empty rubbish bins. The boy on the scooter rams straight into Heero. They collide with a crunch, the force of the impact tumbling them over in a tangle of limbs. The boy scrambles away as Heero rights himself, brushing the snow away, a fierce glare on his face. The boy withers visibly and mumbles an apology as he collects his fallen scooter and hurries away. Heero is still glaring as he makes his way over to where I’m slumped in the snow. He lifts me effortlessly to my feet; I slide uneasily on the slippery ground and Heero steadies me, one arm tight around my waist. “Are you alright?” he asks. “I’m fine. You?” Heero nods and slowly, cautiously, releases me from his grip. I consider stumbling for dramatic effect in the hopes that Heero will hold me again, but in the end I decided against such a pathetic act. Heero steps away to collect our abandoned Christmas tree but just as I move to follow him, I’m distracted by a plaintive cry. I peer into the darkness of the alley, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the gloom. I take a couple of steps forwards, wondering if the sound was just a figment of my imagination. I’m just about to turn away when I hear it again. I creep further into the darkness and drop to my hands and knees. Cowering behind a broken crate, I discover a tiny, slightly mangy-looking tabby cat. I reach out a hand slowly. He flinches at first, hissing at the intrusion, swiping at me with his tiny paw. Shrinking away from me, his entire skinny little body is shaking from head to paw. Tentatively, I extend one finger, brushing gently against the cat’s cheek. Still shaking, he leans instinctively into my touch, ducking his head under my hand so that my palm slides down the length of his spine in one fluid stroke. I withdraw my hand and the cat looks up at me, half-confused, half-demanding. He totters forwards on unsteady legs, seeking my warmth. I stroke him again and he mews pitifully, looking up at me with big green, glassy eyes. He’s so small and pathetic and alone; I am instantly drawn to him, overcome by the intense desire to cuddle him up to me and protect him from the world. I wonder vaguely if this is what Heero felt when we first met. The cat butts his head against my knee and when I reach out my arms, he allows me to gather him up; he buries itself in my chest, tucking his nose into V made by my open zipper. Slowly the shivering ceases and the purring begins. I sense rather than see Heero come up behind me. He peers over my shoulder and his breath is warm against my cheek. I turn my head slightly to look up at him; a peculiar look flitters momentarily across his face. “Have you ever seen Breakfast at Tiffany’s?” he asks, the question reverberating around the alley. “No. Why?” I respond. He shakes his head. “Never mind.” He shuffles closer, his chest against my back, and snakes one arm down over my shoulder. His fingers brush gently against damp fur and a tiny head emerges, sniffing suspiciously at Heero’s fingers before nudging them into a stroke. Behind me, I can feel Heero smile. “Come on, the snow is getting heavier. We should get home before the three of us freeze to death,” is all he says. He disappears back out onto the street where he heaves our neglected Christmas tree back under his arm. I cuddle the cat against my chest, zipping my jacket up around it; the warm, solid weight is comforting. The cat pops his head up through my zipper and nudges my chin with his nose. Suddenly Hilde’s words come back to me. “We’re very lucky, you and I,” I whisper to my furry cargo. He cocks his head to the right and stares up at me, blinking owlishly, before disappearing back into the folds of my jacket. I hurry after Heero. He is halfway down the block, Christmas tree still tucked under one arm. I fall into step beside him and we walk a few steps in silence, just close enough for our free arms to be touching. A moment later, he takes my arm and I curl into him, letting my head fall down to his shoulder. Jacob opens the door as we approach, surveying us curiously, his gaze lingering on our linked arms. He doesn’t seem to know what to say so he doesn’t say anything. We shake the snow out of our hair and it’s melted by the time it hits the floor. A tiny head pops up from beneath my jacket, startling the elderly doorman. He steps back, perplexed, and his eyes follow us across the lobby until we disappear into the elevator. Heero and I finally separate in the elevator, our limbs untwining, and it feels strange not having his warmth at my side. In the apartment, Heero slips out of his shoes and leaves them neatly lined up by the door. He props the tree up against the fireplace and disappears. I extract myself and the cat from my jacket, leaving it hanging over the back of one of the dining room chairs. When Heero returns, he is carrying a towel and a bowl of milk. He sets them both on the coffee table and moves to turn up the heat. I fold myself up on the rug, cradling the cat in my lap. He leans into my touch as I gently rub him dry. Heero perches on the coffee table, watching me as I work. His knees are pressed up against my back and I lean back, allowing him to take my weight. When I’m done, the cat’s fur is sticking up on end and he looks rather bemused. His tail twitches of its own accord and he yowls plaintively. Heero sets the bowl down on the floor beside me and our guest seems to recover his wits, tottering away on wobbly legs and eagerly lapping at the milk. I smile up at Heero, feeling a bubble of happiness well up inside me. He slides down off the table to sit beside me and we watch in silence as the cat devours every last drop of milk. When he’s finished, he curls up beside me and starts to clean himself, tail twitching sleepily. Heero and I turn our attention back to our newly acquired tree. In my mind, I have this dream as to how this is supposed to go. Heero smiles when I tell him, indulging my whim. Heero produces and assortment of decorations and I eagerly sort through them, lifting each one to the light and admiring it. Heero turns on the radio and the appropriate tunes of Jingle Bell Rock fill the apartment, blending seamlessly with the cat’s steady purring. We dress the tree together, and Heero confesses that this is the first time he’s done this too. It feels good to be sharing a first with him and neither of us is embarrassed when we discover that we are equally as inept at the whole decorating business. We spend a good half an hour untangling Christmas lights and by the time we’ve finally draped them around the tree, we’re both laughing with relief. I wrap the left over tinsel around Heero’s neck. He regards it suspiciously, casting me a look that succinctly says, ‘Do I have to?’ He concedes when I nod and I’m secretly thrilled. The cat wakes sleepily, stretching sinuously. “We should give him a name,” I say as Heero hands me a box of shiny silver baubles. “Like what?” Heero asks. A scrap of tinsel falls from his shoulder as he moves and the cat captures it between his paws delightedly. I pause and for the life of me, I cannot think of a single name that seems to fit the tiny little creature that is currently lolling on its back playing with a wisp of red shiny tinsel. I frown. “I dunno. Something appropriate…” I trail off and Heero laughs at me. “Oh, shut up… it’ll come to me later,” I say, full of confidence. The only response I get is Heero’s continued laughter. I stop still and stare at him. His hair is still damp from the snow and a train of red tinsel is wound around his neck, trailing over one shoulder and down his back. His face is uncharacteristically relaxed and unguarded and those deep blue eyes of his crinkle at the corners as he laughs. The lights from the Christmas tree dance across his face and he is illuminated from behind by the flickering red glow of the fake fire. It’s an altogether beautiful sight and I want to tell him this but I can’t seem to find the words. He stops and meets my gaze and I realise that my mouth is incredibly dry. “Duo?” he asks. I jolt out of my daze, feeling my face flush. “Do you want to put the star on?” Our fingers touch as he hands me the twinkling gold star. It’s lighter than I’m expecting but the metal is cool against my skin. I set the star on the top of the tree and suddenly it doesn’t matter that this tree is a little small or slightly bent, it looks perfect and I’m overwhelmed by something that I’ve never felt before, something that I don’t even think I can describe. A smile of wonder and delight breaks across my face. “Beautiful,” Heero whispers and when I turn towards him, I realise he’s looking at me instead of the tree. Suddenly all the back ground noise and light fades away and it’s just me and Heero, together. My throat is very dry and I wet my lips almost unconsciously. Heero is leaning closer, those deep blue eyes bright with an emotion that I can’t quite pin-point. I find myself leaning up to meet him, even though my head is screaming at me to pull away. We are so close that I can feel his breath ghosting across my lips. We are just about to touch when the cat mews loudly, breaking the magic and dragging me back to reality with a swift and painful bump. I jerk away, startling Heero who pulls away as though he has been stung. I swallow heavily, lifting my head to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry… I can’t… we can’t…” I mumble, unable to express what I really want to. Heero is frozen for a moment before he speaks. “No, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have…” He breaks off and clears his throat awkwardly. “It just wouldn’t work,” I try to explain, feeling helpless. “Of course,” Heero answers promptly. His face is blank again but his hands are curled into fists by his side. For several agonising minutes we stand in silence, not looking at each other, cloaked in awkwardness. Finally the cat mews again, breaking the horrible stalemate, demanding attention. He totters first over to me, winding around my legs, and then to Heero who bends down and scoops him up. Heero strokes him gently, tugging at one ear, and I find myself smiling. “He’s probably hungry again,” Heero says softly. I nod even though he’s not looking in my direction. He steps up to me and delivers the wriggling bundle of fur into my waiting arms. His hands brush against my mine and I look up to meet his gaze. In spite of all the awkwardness and tension that was left in the wake of the failed kiss, Heero smiles at me. He squeezes my hand to let me know that everything is OK between us and I struggle to stop myself from falling into his arms. We try to continue as though that little moment never happened but things are slightly strained between us. Heero orders pizza and when it arrives we curl up on the couch, eating straight from the box, the cat perched between us, watching every bite. He licks my fingers clean and I find myself giggling as the rough tongue grazes across my skin. Heero laughs as well and then suddenly stops. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says abruptly in a moment of tenderness that is quickly replaced by his usual efficiency. He flushes as he waits for my response. I wipe my hands on my jeans. “Me too,” I whisper, feeling that those words don’t do justice to the relief and gratitude I feel. Heero breathes deeply, closing his eyes, a tiny smile on his face. When he opens them again he looks straight at me; the deep blue is strangely unnerving and it feels like Heero is looking right into me. “I have something for you,” he says softly. I swallow awkwardly. “You didn’t have to do that,” I start. “I wanted to,” he interrupts firmly. He disappears for a moment and when he returns he hands me a small package wrapped neatly in brown paper. He seats himself beside me and waits, absent-mindedly petting the cat. I can sense his slightly nervous anticipation. I gently unfurl the paper; it rustles loudly and the cat moves away from Heero, peering at my present with interest. His tail twitches and he sniffs at the air. I take a deep breath and open the paper. A flash of gold winks up at me from between the folds and my heart skips a beat. I freeze, suddenly overwhelmed. Eventually I extract the familiar watch; I would recognise it anyway. For years, it was my constant companion. Its weight is comforting in my hand and it feels like it’s exactly where it’s meant to be. I am uncharacteristically lost for words but in the corners of my eyes I can feel the prickle of impending tears. A moment later, a stream of inane babble threatens to escape and I bite back the words, not wanting to ruin the moment with senseless chatter. Instead I curl my fingers around my precious gift and shuffle closer to Heero. Before I know what I’m doing, my arms are locking comfortably around his neck in a fierce embrace. He tenses momentarily and then his arms wrap around me, pulling me close, holding me tighter than I’ve ever been held before. The tears don’t fall and my mumbled, “Thank you” is lost in the warmth of Heero’s shoulder. We stay like that for countless minutes, neither willing to be the first the break away. When we finally separate, Heero has a vaguely dreamy smile on his face and I realise that sitting here on the couch with possibly the only person I care about in this entire world, bathed in the light from the fireplace and the Christmas tree while the snow falls down outside, every dream I’ve ever had about the perfect Christmas is wiped away, replaced forever by the memory of this one evening. ~ * ~
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