What Happened to You, Heero?
Part I: Christmas Eve
The night, dark as normal, I think. The doorbell rings, and I climb out of bed to answer the door. It is cold. The floor seems ice itself. I look for, and find, my slippers, to trudge down the stairs. No protests, because I live alone.
Sometimes that angers me, and others I am wholly happy for it.
Where did I put that door? Oh, yes, right outside the kitchen where it has always been. Damn, I should know my humble abode better than this by now. Heero would scold me for this. He’d ask where my gun was, and he’d chide me on having it beside the doorknob. He’d tell me that I am asking for death and then, he’d pull my braid and ask me why I’m not more careful about my life than I appear.
And I’d whimper and he’d kiss me.
Damn I miss that.
But that isn’t why I live alone, I swear.
Remembering him is not making me celibate.
I swear.
Who the hell do I think I’m kidding? Quatre even knows by know.
The doorbell rings again.
I am going to rip that thing out of the door in the morning. And I’ll cut the wires and let whoever is ringing electrocute themselves on it. Eat that you stupid paperboy.
Staggering over to the door, I realize I have a peephole, and stare in it.
The other side of the door is blocking the body of someone I used to make love to. Unlock the door. “That you, Heero?”
“Yes.”
He’s slurring his words. How much did he put away tonight?
I’ve never seen you drunk, Heero, you’ve always put away as much as me, and carried me home afterwards, when I would fall over in the street. You’d pat my back and speak to me in a drawling voice, “Come on koi, I want to sleep with you tonight.”
But you never took advantage of me, despite the fact that I always woke up in your arms, and you would whisper to me that you’d never had anyone like me before. You were always stronger, Heero, than that, and you would always deny my clinging arms.
“Come in, Heero, I’ll make you something to wake you up.”
I don’t have to carry you, despite the fact that you’re leaning on my shoulder, to the couch, and you sit, and sprawl, and pick up my remote. “Don’t break it.”
“Of coursh not, Dlou.”
God, you must be piss drunk now. I hope you’re still not stronger than I am. I don’t want to, or at least I wasn’t planning on being… well, I don’t want you to rape me tonight, Heero, and I’m not in the mood for sex tonight.
You’re quiet while I’m in the kitchen, and don’t even cringe, or at least not audibly, as I work my trusty old blender. After checking to make sure it doesn’t smoke, I bring you the glass and drape myself across the opposite arm of the couch. You sip once, and look at me.
I nod and you down the whole glass. I can see your head spinning as you almost slam the glass on my table. Gingerly, you lean back against the pillows. I put one hand on your forehead. “Yeah, I knew it. You’ve got a fever. Here, I’ll bring you a blanket.”
You nod sleepily, and stretch out with your head where my body just was. I smile almost contentedly. You were never abusive with me, no, you were always overly careful. I love that about you. I always have. Even when you’re drunk. For the first damn time in your entire life you come to me completely drunk, and you don’t even try to touch me.
Never wonder why I love you, koi.
I bring another glass, and a blanket. “Here you go, Heero.” You smile at me, rather nicely, actually. “You just sleep this off, and I’ll be around when you wake up, ne?”
“Hai, Duo.”
Quietly, I head upstairs. Interesting Christmas present, drunken Heero on my doorstep. I don’t know whether to be pleased or angry. At least I can give him his presents, now. I don’t know about his size anymore, but at least I can cook the whole turkey this year.
How many times have I done only half? Let’s see… 196, 197, 198. Hmm, only two. So, maybe I’ll have to check the freezer tomorrow. I don’t like to eat simulations on holidays. Maybe Heero will laugh.
I hope not.
I see it as an excuse to buy real food.
Oh well, get into the sheets, the warm, comfy bed.