Title: Separation [2/?]
Genre: GW
Pairings: 1x2
Rating: PG

***

    There is a knock on the door. I nearly jump out of my skin. Why didn’t whoever it is use the doorbell… unless… I leap to my feet and nearly run to the door.

    And there he is.

    My heart, beating a thousand miles a minute, seems to calm for a moment as we take each other in. He’s gotten a little taller. He was always taller than I was, but now he seems to have pulled away from me in the height department, like his body decided to stop playing games with me and just grew taller so that it would be decisive that he was taller, no hands down. His eyes, still two cobalt jewels in his tan, smooth face, but there’s something… deeper in them now.

    That makes me blink, and I realize how long we must’ve been standing here, just staring at one another, and I step back to let him into the house. He steps inside, and takes off his shoes, leaving them by his suitcase, which he kneels next to and retrieves a pair of slippers from.

    Still in the same tanktop and jeans, and I get a good look at his maintained physique. Chisled, I believe, is the word I used when breaking my plans with… Heero turns with a faint smile on his face and I can’t even remember the guy’s name.

    I reach over with one hand and manage to lock the front door before Heero and I lunge at each other, arms entangling as we kiss each other almost violently.

*

    He seems… much more relaxed than before, as he answers the door, but I heard a few of the quick footfalls that let me know he raced himself to the door to answer it. I had hoped he would remember I don’t use doorbells very often, I suppose this means that he did. We stand there, eyes appraising one another. He hasn’t gotten much taller, his smile is the same, slightly nervous smile it always is. He’s shy about ‘checking me out’ as he calls it, but remembers that I don’t mind it, I guess.

    And then, as though something about me is shocking, he gives a little cough and stands back so that I can enter the house he’s made his own. I check out the furnishings as I kneel to get out of my shoes and into a pair of slippers, and then I stand to face him.

    It seems like it’s only been moments since the last time I saw him, and, almost as one, we come together, lips first, arms winding around each other, bodies pressing up against one another. He’s gotten a bit stronger, I can feel it in his arms, and then all rational though ceases as he edges us towards the living room, hands already tugging my tank top out of my jeans.

    We break the kiss for air and I chuckle, whispering, “Definitely insatiable,” into his ear before he breaks into a grin and shoves me playfully onto the couch.

    I relax under him, and capture the end of his braid with one hand, pulling the band off of it and letting it unravel up his back. In response, he divests me of my tank top with a smirk. After a few more minutes of fevered touching, he settles down on top of me, his cheek pressed against my now-bare chest.

    My eyes close halfway and I feel sleep threatening, but I fight it.

    “It’s good that you’re here,” he says quietly, “I missed you.”

    He never said that before.

*

    Broken rituals. Normally we christen the bedroom the minute we see each other, but not this time. Normally, I wouldn’t say how much I truly miss him, because it used to scare him. He said that to me the first night when we lay wound around one another, and he told me secrets that he felt about me. Nothing embarrassing, nothing deeply personal, just observations that I could call pillow talk if I liked, or could ignore if I chose.

    I remember every word of that conversation, half-asleep and worn out as I was.

    We collapsed, as one, the tension draining from our bodies like an explosion, and he panted a few times before sliding out of me. I remember being quite proud that I had been able to wear him out. He wrapped his arms firmly, possessively around my chest and buried his face in my hair.

    “I have a mission in the morning,” he said in a clear, sharp, unmuffled voice.

    “I know,” I responded, “so do I.”

    I wanted to ask him a million things. One of the first and foremost being ‘why now? Why me?’ but I didn’t. He spoke again, “Your hair,” he took a deep breath of it, and I felt a little self-conscious, “it did me in.”

    His words were a slight shock to me, and his voice was so monotonous, so cold, that I wanted to push him away, a little. I didn’t, knew I couldn’t, didn’t have the strength at that moment to do so, but I imagined myself doing it. Making a scene, waking the room next door and getting us in trouble with the RD of the dormitory for… obvious reasons.

    “My hair?”

    “Mmm… utskushi,” he murmured in his own tongue. It sounded, wonderful and exciting to hear him say that about my hair, I loved every second of the evening with him.

    “Don’t,” he cut my next thoughts off, “don’t start something we can’t finish.”

    It made me a little cold when he said that, and I tried to turn my head slightly from him, but with his face buried in my hair, I couldn’t do that. The best I managed was an inch or two getting my cheekbone away from him. He took that opportunity to nibble on my neck and remind me of what had just happened.

    As though I could forget something like that.

    Heero, I decided in that moment, did everything with the same intensity, the same passion, once he had decided on it. After a short pause, I had to smile, realizing that he had decided on me, and he had ‘done’ me with intensity and passion.

    “Your smile,” his voice was low, “brightens your face.”

    He hauled himself effortlessly up so that our noses were nearly touching, and his eyes searched my half-lidded ones before he kissed me deeply, raking through my mouth with his tongue, as he pulled back to breathe, he added, “Sweet.”

    If I had been any more awake, I would have been turning crimson at all his praise. Something told me he was going to go on, perhaps to kiss me again, or to revive my weary body into a state of taught arousal and relieve me of the energy, but he settled back down, face in the hollow of my shoulder, and said, “Sleep, we have a mission tomorrow.”

    All I remember of the morning after was that we disentangled ourselves and very professionally took separate showers and went on our missions without saying much, which was usual for us on mission days. The only difference was that I felt luxuriantly relaxed.

    Before going to get in my gundam, I turned to Heero with a single question that struck me suddenly. He looked at me with innocent cobalt eyes and said, “Yes Duo?”

    “Did you… I mean… just so that I’d be relaxed?”

    The two of us were on the very edge of campus, in fact, we were standing before the stone wall that marked off the edge of the on-limits part of the forest, and he stopped, turning to me with his eyes narrowed.

    “Don’t, Duo,” he said simply one arm shooting out to grab me by the jaw and he tugged me forward to kiss me deeply, as deeply as he had the night before when he told me that I tasted sweet. As he withdrew, leaving me staring at him, knees a little weak and the beginnings of an arousal, he sprang up to balance easily on the point of the wall and said, “And, no, that’s not why,” before he leapt down and took off into the woods towards wherever he’d hidden his gundam.

    I had to stop and catch my breath a moment before I could hop over the wall and make my way to my own gundam. I still felt relaxed, but something, perhaps it was about the way he left, or the state he left me in, made me expectant. Still, I was grinning like a madman by the time I got to Deathscythe, and it wasn’t for a few hours, until I was waiting for the train, that the anxiety for him hit.

    He self destructed on that mission.