Tomorrow is not Friday
By Veste Notus
Wednesdays were really boring. The most boring day of the week, as far as Duo was concerned. If he had a dollar for every Wednesday he’d live to regret, he’d probably have enough money to pay those damn Ozies back for that MS he stole way back when.
But Friday… Now *there’s* a day! So much promise is held in such a wonderful, happy day. Duo always thought Fridays were the best, only because he had to wait so friggin’ long for it to come around! When it finally got there though, he could take ease because it’s just the *start* of a glorious 2 days off. Yeah, it’s good, but the wait was simply M-A-D-E-N-I-N-G for the American pilot!
Even still, as he maneuvered Deathscythe through the wave of Leos that had just attacked them, Duo thought dimly of how much he was going to hate coming home to the fact that the next day would only be Thursday. What uselessness.
What injustice.
He sliced through another five MDs like it was nothing and, turning to face his partner, Duo flipped on the communications system to radio the Wing pilot.
“All clear. After you, buddy!” he yelled into the com.
“Hn.”
What a guy.
They traveled about another fifty miles until they found the loading dock. //How boring!// Duo had to admit though… he was really revved up from that mission and the unexpected onslaught of Leos. The adrenaline was pumping through his body as they landed and he honestly couldn’t care less. Duo’s hormones were doing something crazy and he needed to calm himself down… and quick…
Duo jumped soundlessly from Deathscythe and gave her a gentle pat and a “good job”. He glanced over to see Heero do the same, in his own, unique way.
“Dude! Quit making out with your Gundam!” Duo called over. Okay, it had just been a quick kiss to the cold metal, but Duo was too adrenaline high to let that action slide by unnoticed.
He whined. “C’mon Heero!!! I have too much energy!! Pleeeease?” Duo looked at Heero in a desperate manner, waiting for him to consent. Well, he *was* desperate...
By that time, Duo was head-over-heals for the boy. It started out as just a way to satisfy them both. Neither could control the adrenaline rises by themselves, so it seemed like a logical solution to just take care of the problem together.
One rule: don’t make it personal.
They didn’t kiss that time, or any time. They didn’t hold hands, prep, foreplay, or do anything like that. It was just ‘give and go’. When it was over, Heero wouldn’t linger. It was just get up, clean up, and get out. No sentiment. Just sex. No love.
Later that day, Duo walked through the hallways of the safe house to find Quatre sitting in a simple armchair reading a book on psychology. All Duo had on his mind was *how* could Heero treat him the same as everyone else, even after they had shared such intimacy? It was simply unnerving. Duo wanted to break the rule, even though *he* was the one who established it.
//Damn Yuy! I bet he treats us all the same ‘cause he’s done us all!// Duo thought bitterly as he watched Quatre turn another page of his book.
“You’ve got something on your mind.” Quatre stated without even looking up. Duo was taken aback.
“Yeah.”
Quatre looked up, and Duo immediately forgot my anger. How could he possibly be mad at someone like *Quatre*? Quatre was too sweet to stay mad at…
“What’s the matter, Duo?” he asked sincerely, motioning for Duo to sit down and talk a while. Duo accepted his invitation to sit, not to talk. He just didn’t feel that the blonde would understand. He wasn’t really comfortable with telling anyone how he felt about Heero. It wouldn’t be right.
“It’s about Heero, isn’t it, Duo?”
“Damn.”
Duo held his breath, but nothing happened. No shocks, no screaming, no disbelief. When he looked at Quatre, all he saw was understanding. Quatre knew the whole time, and Duo felt like shit for distrusting him.
“C’mon. Let’s make dinner.”
“Huh? Oh. Sure Quat.” Duo said hazily.
Hovering over pots of boiling water and sauces, Quatre watched Duo intently as the braided boy chopped the vegetables.
“Aren’t you going to tell me what’s the matter?” he asked, as if it were his solemn duty to know what was on Duo’s mind all the time.
“Geez…” Duo looked down at his chopped carrots and blushed. “I…” Duo paused. He couldn’t admit it.
“You like him, don’t you?”
Duo looked up and caught Quatre’s eyes. “Is it that obvious?” he asked, his voice rather shaky. Quatre merely laughed.
“Yes and no.” Quatre suddenly went quiet and his face grew rather serious. “I know what’s been going on with you two, Duo.”
//Here it comes… the scolding…//
“Duo, it’s simply not healthy for you to pursue that kind of a relationship. It’s no wonder you’ve developed feelings for Heero.”
Duo felt as if he were shot through the heart with a silver bullet. “Are you saying that I wouldn’t feel the way I do if it weren’t for the sex?!” he suddenly blurted out, his embarrassment pushed aside by indignation.
“Well…” Quatre went quiet again.
“Damn it, Quat!” Duo slammed his fist on the kitchen counter. “It’s not the sex!” Duo stopped himself and collected his thoughts before calmly beginning again. “What I mean is, sex isn’t the reason I like him. Sure it’s great and all, but… I got to know him, Quat. I got to know the boy behind the mask. He doesn’t always hide those innocent blue eyes. I’ve seen them… they’re gorgeous, Quat…”
Quatre sighed wistfully as Duo’s voice trailed off. He smiled brilliantly at Duo and threw his hands up in the air.
“No further questions, Duo. I believe you, and I am so happy for you!”
Duo smiled back, his own, lopsided grin. Then a thought crossed him. “Quatre… he doesn’t treat me specially… I’m just an object to him.”
A long silence followed Duo’s verbal realization – a silence that wouldn’t be broken until Quatre called the others to come eat.
Duo dismissed himself to get changed into more comfortable clothes, avoiding Heero’s entrance into the kitchen entirely. Quatre watched, pot of hot pasta in hand as Wufei, Trowa, and finally Heero padded lazily into the kitchen and grabbed seats at the table.
Trowa sat down first, followed by Wufei. Quatre blushed as Wufei sat next to Trowa, only to have the Heavyarms’ pilot’s hand gently push him away.
“Baka. What’s the deal?” Wufei snarled, grabbing a seat at the head of the table.
Trowa cast a glance in Quatre’s direction. “I’m just saving the seat.” he said in a calm, soothed voice.
A few minutes into the meal, Heero sensed something amiss.
“Where’s Duo?” he asked through forkfuls of pasta.
Quatre politely cleared his throat and wiped his mouth on his napkin, preparing to answer the question. But just as the Arabian was about to speak, a familiar voice from across the room cut him off.
“Right here.”
Heero noticed that Duo didn’t seem nearly as confident as he usually was. Of course, that wasn’t all he noticed. Ever since he started sleeping with Duo (in the most militarily efficient of ways), Heero began to notice Duo’s… well… his *body* a little more. But not just his body, no. Heero began to mark on Duo’s whole appearance, mental as well as physical.
But he couldn’t bring himself to break Duo’s rule. No. Duo never cried out his name during those mad moments of rapture, so why should he? And if he ever did, what would Duo think of him then?
Heero shook his head as he watched the braided boy cross the room and plop himself in the only available chair – the one next to Heero. He tried not to openly stare, but it was rather hard not to. Duo was unusually quiet for a Wednesday evening. Normally, he’d be complaining or mindlessly chatting it up by now…
Dinner over, Trowa and Wufei cleaned up and left to watch a movie in the den with Quatre. It was just Heero and Duo. Alone.
“Duo?” Heero finally broke the silence, reaching out to the American boy.
Duo raised his eyes and quickly averted them again. //I can’t even look at him in the face anymore… it hurts too much…//
Instead of responding, Duo simply turned around and calmly walked toward his room. He didn’t care if Heero followed him or not.
Sure enough though, when Duo tried to close his door, Heero’s foot blocked the way. Duo let him in, but still said nothing, barely acknowledging the Japanese boy’s presence.
With a languid sigh, Duo tossed himself face-down onto his bed. He felt the bed springs move, indicating that Heero had joined him.
Soon enough, Duo felt those familiar hands begin to unbutton his pale yellow shirt. Duo didn’t respond. He knew the drill and, if it wasn’t going to mean anything, he wanted no part in it.
Suddenly, the hands were gone.
“Duo, what’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing…” Duo whispered. “…nothing that you would understand…”
“Try me.”
Duo felt Heero’s body weight shift off of him and move to the end of the bed. The braided boy sat up and just stared off, unsure of his feelings and even more unsure of whether or not said unsure feelings should be shared.
“Heero… Could you just hold me for a while?” Duo suddenly asked. He winced. //No… that wasn’t supposed to come out like that…! Duo no baka!//
Strong arms unexpectedly wrapped around Duo’s lithe body, breaking his mental trains of thought. Duo didn’t react at first, allowing Heero to be as intimate as he dared without his encouragement.
But soon, that warm, tired feeling attained only through a hug seeped into Duo’s body and gripped at his heart. With a sigh, Duo snaked his arms around Heero’s waist, lacing his fingers at the small of his back.
Minutes passed unnoticed as Duo began to memorize the feel of Heero’s body against him, though not in a demanding sort of way. It felt lukewarm and wonderful, even if it was only used as a means for getting into Duo’s pants.
Duo pushed Heero away.
Heero merely stared at Duo, uncertain as to why Duo stopped what he himself had asked for. He placed a callused hand on Duo’s shoulder, only to feel the boy shiver under the touch.
“If you want sex, you’ll have to get it like everyone else does… I refuse to let you use my body anymore…” Duo said in a hurt tone.
Heero pulled his hand away as if it were burned. “Is that what this is about, Duo?” he asked incredulously. He hesitated as realization dawned on him – he was, in fact, *using* Duo Maxwell’s body for his own personal enjoyment.
There was no argument. It was a simple truth that Heero just didn’t at all consider until that very moment. He looked down at the bed sheets and played with the stray thread on Duo’s comforter. He felt like a royal bastard for not considering how Duo felt…
“Are you really that insecure?” he asked quietly, afraid to hurt Duo’s feelings anymore than he already did.
//Ah, Yuy. That is so *NOT* the right question to ask me now!//
“Of COURSE I am!” Duo yelled, throwing his hands up in frustration as he jumped off the bed and walked toward the window. Sighing, he placed a hand against the cool glass.
//Hn… it’s raining again…//
Duo sat down on the window seat, avoiding looking at Heero. That empty ivory-colored coffee mug with the small chip in it was looking more and more interesting to Duo…
“Why?”
“What to you mean, ‘Why?’?” Duo fumed. “What good am I, huh? I mean, apart from your little sex toy, what am I?!”
“A Gundam pilot.” Heero stated truthfully. Duo looked even more enraged by Heero’s answer.
“Oh, yeah. *THERE’S* something to be proud of! I *KILL* people for a living!” Duo spat. “Even so… tell me, Yuy. What can I do that you all can’t? Huh?”
“You can make us laugh.”
Duo rolled his eyes in frustration. “Yeah. Especially ‘cause I see you cracking up all the time over my jokes!”
Heero sighed. It was true. He never truly laughed before.
“See? Heero Yuy just doesn’t laugh!” Duo said with a hint of finality in his voice. No offense to Heero, but he was feeling more than self-conscious, and the Japanese boy wasn’t doing much to help.
To seal the deal, Duo dropped all interest in their conversation and transferred it over to the mug, which he proceeded to toy with the chip for a little while.
Heero in the meantime, rose off the bed and walked to where Duo sat, playing with that damned mug.
“Just because I don’t laugh, doesn’t mean I don’t feel, Duo.” he said softly, leaning in toward Duo’s face.
“Heero…” Duo’s voice was reduced to a mere breath as the Wing pilot’s lips slowly descended upon his own.
And that’s when Duo Maxwell fell apart.
Heero cupped Duo’s face in his hands as he made the kiss gentle, undemanding. He wanted to show Duo another side of him… The side that laughed as he rolled in the grass… the side that could love and be loved…
The side that needed his love…
Heero stroked Duo’s hair and played with the free chestnut wisps. Contented to keep the kiss as simple and soft as he could, Heero was startled to find Duo’s tongue slide across his closed lips.
The American pilot’s hand suddenly appeared out of no where behind Heero’s head, silently urging Heero to give him access to the mouth he’d so badly wanted to taste all that time…
And Heero willfully granted that wish. Their tongues sparred for what seemed like hours before they finally broke, panting heavily. Duo stared into Heero’s eyes as he assessed the situation:
Their limbs were intertwined and Duo’s shirt was still unbuttoned and falling off his shoulders. Heero had joined Duo on the window seat, at the expense of pressing Duo against the glass in a show of eager enthusiasm. Duo felt warm inside. Was this the real Heero he had only caught glimpses of during their occasional tête-à-têtes?
A cold draft wafted through the room and chilled Duo’s bones. Duo tried to search Heero’s eyes for that special sign of feelings… of emotions… of anything, but all he found was the cold mask.
Heero stepped away from Duo and backed away slowly. He hadn’t intended on taking it that far. He didn’t want it to be like that… well… he *did*, but not exactly. He wanted to show Duo his feelings, but he didn’t want to break Duo’s cardinal rule of being lovers for ‘military purposes’.
In short, Heero was a mess inside. Without a sound, Heero left the room. In the distance, Duo could hear the sound of the front door open and close, and the engine of Heero’s motorcycle drift off into the rainy night.
Dimly, Duo hoped Heero brought a jacket.
Duo changed out of his button-down shirt and into his customary priest garb. Grabbing his favorite long, black coat, Duo headed out into the night, with no clear destination to go to.
He just needed some time to think.
Five hours later, Heero returned to the safe house, sopping wet and wishing he’d brought a jacket. Instead of going to his room and changing his clothes, Heero went straight to Duo’s room.
He had something to say, and no, it couldn’t wait.
The lights were off and the door was closed. //Duo must be asleep…// Heero mentally noted. Shrugging, he opened the door and crossed the threshold, grabbing a seat on the off-white chair to the left of Duo’s bed.
He could wait… He’d have to wait… He’d already been so inconsiderate to Duo, why add to his track-record?
Heero watched Duo’s chest rise and fall and listened carefully to the soft sounds of his exhalations. He was beautiful even as he slept, or at least Heero thought. The rhythmic sounds soon melted into his mind, making his world a little hazier.
//I’ll tell him… I’ll tell him… maybe tomorrow…//
There’s always hope for a Thursday.
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