Fate is Found in Faeryland

What do two dwarves (one going through sexual maturation and the other seemingly without a personality), a liberated human dairymaid, and an orc with a talking sword have in common? They've all, more or less, been Cursed by the monarchs of Faeryland. Can they break their Curses and retrieve what was lost? Are they in for valuable lessons about friendship and magic? Will they all get married in the end? Find out in this totally serious epic fantasy adventure!

Unique to this story: faeries can change their physical sex at will, so there are references to canonically male-presenting characters being pregnant (though it's not mpreg as such) and canonically female-presenting characters impregnating others.

Unique to this story: cameos from various other fandoms and real life



This story was last updated on April 6, 2020.

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Chapter 1 - Heero Gets Tickled
Chapter 2 - Kaoru Can't Kill Combative Creatures
Chapter 3 - Duo Buys A Sex Toy
Chapter 4 - Sano Argues With His Sword


Chapter 1 – Heero Gets Tickled

With the continuance of his search, there came a certain sense of rightness. It did not equate to pleasure as it once might have, yet it remained a distinctly positive feeling. He did not search out of a need for this feeling, but it seemed an extra validation of a journey he would have pursued in any case. The list grew shorter and shorter, and with every item he recovered, the correctness increased.

As he moved along his way, his peg foot crunching decisively into the fallen leaves that had dried to a fragile red at their edges and a sickly pinkish-grey at their centers, he believed an impression was at last forming in his head. He paused, steadying himself against the dark pink bole of an oak-like tree, and closed his eye.

Immediately he felt the flutter of Trowa’s wings against his face, and guessed the faery had flown from his shoulder to watch him concentrate at a better angle. Finally his Guide wondered, “Anything?”

“Yes,” Heero replied. “It’s dry and cool. There’s a… tickling sensation. Irritating.” He looked again, and found Trowa hovering in front of him, as he’d suspected. He’d only ever seen Trowa present as sexless, without clothing except for jewelry; and the faery’s pure purple skin and darker hair of the same hue contrasted brightly with the pink forest surrounding them — though whether the combination would normally please the dwarven eye, Heero could not say. They had already traveled some distance together across Faeryland, but had not visited the purple realm, so Heero had become accustomed to Trowa appearing out of place. He added, thinking of distances, “It’s faint. It’s probably far away.”

“It sounds like sand,” remarked Trowa with a nod. “It could be anywhere under the right circumstances, but I think all the sandiest places in Faeryland are along the east side of the mountains, which are far away. Are you sure you don’t want to talk to Dorothy first? There may be an easier way.”

“I’m sure.”

With a slightly huffing sigh, Trowa said, “If we continue traveling west, and cross the river and the plains, we’ll reach the Eintopf hills. By then you should have a clearer sense.”

Heero returned the nod, considering this course of action a logical one. “You continue to be a satisfactory Guide,” he said — the closest he could come to expressing what he thought were feelings of obligation and gratitude but could only catch a distant, fleeting awareness of. Trowa had counseled him to talk to Dorothy more than once, but always did him the courtesy of not pressing the issue. Heero appreciated receiving advice the giver believed to be logical, but also appreciated having his decisions respected.

Trowa gave a monosyllabic laugh, with what emotion Heero could not guess and did not try to. “Thank you,” le said. “You should rest.”

Heero said simply, “Travel will be less tiring when we strike the road.”

Though Trowa at first raised a minute eyebrow, eventually le just settled back onto Heero’s shoulder as the dwarf continued to stump through the forest in a southwesterly direction. After not too long, Heero could hear lir shifting, and then the sound of lir flute like birdsong close to his ear.

It made no real impression on him one way or another. In fact he only recognized it as music in that, unlike so many of the other noises heard on a journey through Faeryland, it indicated nothing he needed to take into consideration or even pay any attention at all.

Chapter 2 – Kaoru Can’t Kill Combative Creatures

Unable to catch herself as she stumbled, Kaoru actually fell on her butt in the questionable dirt of the inn-yard. Moments later, her walking stick shot out the door like a javelin straight toward her, and she barely deflected it in time to avoid a lump on her head; and not long after that, an upstairs window screeched open and, before she’d even finished directing her eyes toward it, her backpack came thudding down into the dirt nearby, followed more slowly and gracefully by her cloak fluttering through the evening air.

“I was just trying to stop them harassing that poor man!” she protested as the innkeeper began to retreat into his establishment. “I don’t see you kicking them out!”

“You weigh less,” he replied shortly.

She shouted at the closed door he left behind, “That’s because I’m human!” Then she climbed to her feet, brushed off her sore buttocks, and bent to retrieve her pack. Having cleared the dirt (or whatever it was) from that too, she slung it across her back and grabbed her cloak to throw over the top. Last she took up her staff and, after shaking a huffy fist at the inn, turned away.

Her plan had been to get a good night’s rest and some food in her belly, then cover the last few miles to Faeryland in the light of day; now she determined to finish the journey immediately and look for accommodations on the inside. Perhaps not the best idea, but she was frustrated.

Past the last straggling town buildings, over a little bridge and onto the straight road toward Faeryland, she thought she could see it — either that or the failing light playing tricks on her: a level darkness ahead like a great wall, stretching off in both directions as far as she could make out. She’d heard that a line of enormous trees formed the border of Faeryland on all sides, and it appeared now those rumors were true.

After a little rise, the road ran relatively flat for the remainder of the distance, and lights showed ahead. Kaoru peered and strained her eyes, but could at first distinguish little more than that they were lights; but after another half mile or so, she thought she could make out large lamps flickering on either side of a dark opening in the massive trees. Figures moved there, and Kaoru felt a shiver go all through her. She’d reached Faeryland at last; at last she could begin her search. But what kind of reception could she expect? And how much success?

Her attention was caught by something that seemed to stumble from a cluster of bushes at the side of the road and collapse on the cobbles. It appeared unusually pale in the growing darkness, and did not immediately rise from its fall. Kaoru, frowning in concern, hurried on toward it. Perhaps she was mistaken, and it was nothing more than a bedsheet off someone’s washline that had blown here, but she had to know for sure.

Then the living creature contracted and got to its feet, and as the human approached she could definitely make out a human-like shape. It began to stagger forward at an odd lurch, as if in pain. Kaoru found herself shuddering at the movement, for it didn’t look natural. If someone had chosen it as an artistic statement, she would have said it represented a difficult repression of the self-loathing that would otherwise prevent someone from doing something necessary they deplored. It might work pretty well, actually, but it still seemed weird.

Reluctant though she’d become to get any closer, she began to jog.

Then the thing looked up and saw her. The lurching stopped abruptly, or, rather, transformed instantaneously into a forward sprint so unexpected that Kaoru halted in confusion and sudden fear. She barely had time to get her walking stick into a defensive position before the creature was on her.

She didn’t fight well, never having trained and knowing nothing of it, but she’d found on her journey so far that her strength exceeded her expectations. Evidently hauling heavy cans of milk, churning butter, and helping with calving did something for a woman’s fitness in any case. She’d even held her own in that bar fight earlier — or would have, if her opponents hadn’t been trolls. But all they’d possessed was overwhelming size and a genetic propensity for irrational unprovoked harassment; this creature differed from them entirely.

In the heat of the moment, she couldn’t take in many more details than she’d been able to see all along: human-sized, human-shaped, very pale. But she could feel its claws when they raked her, smell its putrid breath as it attempted to tear her throat out. Her flailings with the staff made little difference, and when her enemy let out a horrible, animalistic screech of aggression, she nearly dropped the makeshift weapon. Was this what her quest of recovery would come to? Dying in terror within sight of the entrance into Faeryland without ever having set foot past the trees?

Some other sound rushed toward and around the two combatants, and suddenly a blast of wind seemingly from directly above knocked Kaoru right off her feet. She scrambled backward, losing hold of her walking stick, getting caught on her cloak, and soiling the seat of her skirt for the second time that night. And she felt the expression of shock and fear on her face intensify as she saw what had happened: a dragon had swept down from the sky and scattered the fight, landing directly between the prostrate Kaoru and her similarly discomfited opponent.

Starlight glittered and gleamed off horn and scales and half-spread wings, and off an enormous eye that turned toward Kaoru as the dragon shouted, “Get on!”

With no time to think about this, to consider whether she trusted what must be a faery in the animal form to which they were limited outside the borders of Faeryland, or to decide whether she really believed, as briefly crossed her mind, that a dragon made for a nobler death than the smelly whatever-it-was, Kaoru struggled to her feet and ran to obey. At the same time, the pale creature had also risen, and was attempting to attack the dragon with the same reckless aggression it had shown toward Kaoru. A large wing kept it off, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t find a way around eventually.

Though only slightly bigger than a farm-horse rather than building-sized as the human would have expected, the dragon at first presented no obvious place to sit, and certainly didn’t look comfortable. Kaoru made do, however, throwing a leg in a flutter of skirt over the spiny neck and leaning forward to cling with her arms as well. She only missed her walking stick once they’d taken off, but thought that not too great a price to pay for her life (if she was indeed saved).

How far they flew she had no idea; it was terrifying and uncomfortable no matter the distance. She hadn’t imagined her entry into Faeryland as quite so ignoble and awe-inspiring at the same time, and she just hoped she wasn’t screaming like a baby without realizing it. After a heart-stopping dive that stole the breath from her lungs even if she was, they thudded back to earth with a jolt so hard that Kaoru’s cheekbone bounced against the dragon’s spines and began bleeding. Eyes streaming with sudden tears and squinting against the stinging pain in her face, Kaoru could see basically nothing as she followed the dragon’s next instruction and dismounted, stumbling blindly forward. Tangled in skirt and cloak, she would have fallen for a third time if arms hadn’t caught and steadied her.

“Everyone!” called a voice very close by. “Please get out there and capture that Distorted!”

As the running steps and fluttering wings of what Kaoru believed must be ‘everyone’ passed them and abruptly changed to the sounds of animal paws and hooves and the more familiar flapping of bird wings, Kaoru caught a few comments and questions, the most common thought being, “How did it get past us?”

She straightened her clothing and adjusted her feet to wobble less, then brushed tears from her right eye so she could open it fully again, leaving the left closed. The cut on her cheek hurt almost more than the scratches the Distorted had given her (if she had that name right), but she could think about that after she’d figured out where she’d arrived and who had brought her.

The woman was the first faery Kaoru had ever seen in non-animal form, so she thought staring might not be as rude as usual. The abnormally steady flames of the lamps to either side of the entrance cast an orange glow over the area, but could not disguise the pinkness of the faery. From her dark pink pony-tail to her strawberry-colored eyes to her creamy pink skin to her translucently pink wings, she seemed to embody the very spirit of pinkness. Kaoru was reminded of her foster sister, who’d always dyed her hair that color and might be very happy to do her skin as well.

Even the amulet on its elaborate silver chain around the faery’s neck was pink, but, oddly enough, her clothing was purple. Kaoru wondered if that was really allowed. In any case, the woman looked ready for action in a close-fitting tunic cinched with black at the waist over tight black pants and tall boots, with a warmer purple cape to top it all off. The unfortunate effect of the garments conforming so well to her body was that her head appeared a trifle disproportionately large… though Kaoru wondered if that might not be simply a faery thing.

This had taken only a moment or three to observe, and before either she or her rescuer could say a word, Kaoru suddenly found herself swarmed by buzzing, darting shapes and demanding voices.

“Are you looking for a Guide, Visitor?”

“What’s your destination, human? I’ll get you there quicker than anyone else!”

“Excellent Guide rates here, Visitor! Better than any of these others!”

“If you’re looking to join a Quest, I can find you one!”

“What brings you into Faeryland? You’ll need a Guide to get it done!”

Ducking her head back slightly and raising her arms, the disconcerted Kaoru began batting at the flying things, trying to clear the air around her. But the pink woman caught her wrists and stilled her before confusion could turn to panic, and advised her briefly, “These are people.” Then to the flitting nuisances she cried, “Please give this woman some space! You can talk to her once she’s feeling better!” She turned back to Kaoru with a thoughtful expression and added, “It is ‘woman,’ isn’t it? And ‘her’ and ‘she?'”

Taken aback by the odd questions, Kaoru nodded dumbly.

“Good,” the faery smiled. “I’d hate to get it wrong.”

The flock retreated to a safe distance. Some of them, Kaoru observed in surprise, grew to full-size in an instant, allowing her to see they were indeed all faeries of different colors. They waved and smiled at her as she looked at them.

A distant call of “Sofia!” grabbed the attention of the stranger, who turned her reddish-pink eyes back out toward where she’d sent her people on a dangerous errand. Then she looked the other direction, toward a building standing not far off on the other side of a low stone wall that seemed, at least at first, to mark the path farther into the forest. “Please take this human inside and let her rest and clean up!” she ordered. Then she dashed away, transforming effortlessly back into a pink dragon at the very moment she stepped from between the great border trees.

Perhaps Kaoru had been wrong to consider Sofia the embodiment of her color, for the guard that came over to escort her inside the building, waving the other importunate faeries away far less politely than Sofia had, was every bit as pink. Kaoru watched his pale pink hair in its multiple braids bounce slightly as he walked ahead of her, and reflected that her foster sister would definitely be jealous.

The apparent guardhouse, though constructed of bright pink stone and with an unusual number of ornate flourishes, looked enough like a non-faery building that Kaoru’s racing heart began to calm as they walked inside. There, the guard showed her to a room where she could sit in peace, and promised to send some water in.

Her first action, once alone, was to seat herself on one of the plain pink chairs, push out a bit from the plain pink table, and bend over to put her head between her knees. Soon she could feel the trickle of blood on her face reversing its course, which added a tickling sensation to the stinging pain of the injury, but she stayed in that position until it had traversed her left eye and started soaking her brow. Her throbbing pulse had calmed, and she breathed evenly, so she finally sat up just as a faery entered the room with a basin of steaming water and a couple of towels. The basin, Kaoru noticed as she thanked the faery, was glazed white, but she wondered what color the ceramic might be underneath. The towels were grey. She feared she might be specifically noting the colors of things for a while here.

Alone again, she tested her equilibrium before standing fully, then stepped over to the table. With a corner of the first towel dipped in the hot water, she began dabbing at the cut on her cheek. It probably wasn’t as worrisome a wound as the scratches on her arms and chest, but the blood all over her face bothered and agitated her.

“May I help you with that?” came a voice from behind. Kaoru gasped, dropped the towel, and spun, all her hard work at getting her heart rate down suddenly for naught.

This full-size faery embodied a different color: soft green like new leaves in her skin, green so dark it seemed almost black in her braided crown of hair, laughing green eyes that looked almost human, and wings that reminded Kaoru of a dragonfly’s. She wore ranger-like clothing in a brown leather Kaoru believed came from ordinary, extra-Faeryland cows, but somehow appeared too beautiful and gentle for the role these garments implied. She smiled as she reached out a hand to further her offer of assistance.

“Who are you?” Kaoru wondered breathlessly. “How long have you been in here?”

“My name is Imugeme, and I’m a healer,” the faery replied. “Please, let me help you with your wounds.”

“That doesn’t answer how long you’ve been in here.” Kaoru really had no problem letting someone else tend to painful injuries she couldn’t see very well, but she felt suspicious of everyone in this new place, and a green faery most of all. She seated herself once again and looked up at the woman with one defiant eye.

Imugeme took the towel Kaoru had dropped and resumed the cleaning of blood off her face with small, purposeful movements. She chuckled as she did so — a rich, self-satisfied little laugh — and then spoke again. “You’ll have to forgive me for disobeying the guards and not keeping back with the other Guides. I thought I could help you better than any of them.” She laughed again; it was an almost musical sound. “And if that gives me a better chance of making a pact with you, so much the better.”

Kaoru noticed Imugeme still hadn’t truly answered the question, but decided to let it slide since at least her intentions had been clarified. “What is a Guide?” she asked, trying to give the term the audible capital she’d heard these faeries using.

“It’s very difficult and dangerous for Visitors to try to find their way around Faeryland alone. A Guide will lead you right and keep you out of trouble.”

“I have a map.”

“Maps of Faeryland,” the green faery said with another chuckle, “are notoriously unreliable. And there are always dangers of various kinds that don’t show on a map anyway.” She’d apparently finished with the blood, for she set the towel aside. Kaoru’s face felt cleaner, but the pain had only heightened, and she winced as the first of Imugeme’s fingers touched her cheek near the cut. The faery’s hand slid into full contact with her face, and Kaoru stilled, holding her breath, at the sensation of warmth and gentleness in it. Imugeme smoothed a thumb out across the spot, and the pain faded. Another sliding movement of her green hand, fingers lingering and trailing, made it obvious that the cut had disappeared entirely.

The human let the air out of her lungs all at once and gaped slightly, slowly opening her left eye to see with more complete vision the woman smiling down at her in satisfaction. She’d been unsure whether to trust this faery at first, whether to take her at her word about the difficulties of travel through Faeryland and the necessity of a Guide, but her uncertainty had been eradicated along with her wound.

“Now for these others,” Imugeme said. “The Distorted cause nasty injuries, so these will be a little trickier.” She seemed to relish the challenge.

“What do you charge for being someone’s Guide?” Kaoru wondered as Imugeme helped her out of her vest and shirt. Where the cloth had torn and grown sticky with blood, the removal was particularly painful.

“Your firstborn child,” Imugeme replied. Then she laughed heartily at the expression on Kaoru’s face. “That’s a joke, my dear! You can’t believe everything you hear about faeries!”

Kaoru weakly returned the laugh. “Well, then, what do you actually want?”

“Candied fruit. And that’s not a joke. But if you have none, I’ll take a silver piece a week.”

“Silver?”

“You can’t believe everything you hear about faeries,” Imugeme repeated, and ran her hand over the scratches on Kaoru’s right arm.

“But a silver piece a week is…” The healing felt so nice, almost hypnotically so, that Kaoru ran out of words.

“That’s my price; take it or leave it. But I should add that having a pact with a Guide will translate the speech of everyone around you, so language won’t be a problem.”

Kaoru had planned to protest that a silver piece a week was a ridiculously low rate for what appeared to be a major service around here. Instead she protested, “I’ve understood everyone so far!” They had accents — even Imugeme — but these hadn’t obfuscated their words.

Imugeme moved on to the next injury, across Kaoru’s chest and right collarbone. The water had cooled a bit, but Kaoru didn’t mind. “Anyone stationed at the border tends to speak some outside language. But the further in you go, the less likely you are to encounter anyone you’ll understand.”

“You’re right, then; I would like a Guide. I’ll take your offer.”

Imugeme withdrew from her task and placed the towel back on the table. Reaching down, she drew one of Kaoru’s hands up to her lips and then her forehead, and Kaoru felt a little thrill go through her at the touch. “The pact is formed,” Imugeme stated. “I’m your Guide now.”

Kaoru smiled. “Thank you.”

The faery gently pressed her warm, soothing palm onto Kaoru’s chest. As she smoothed away this set of scratches, she said, “I can also offer you the Protection of the green faery monarch, if you want. It will provide some physical protection, and help you avoid this kind of thing.” She lifted two fingers to tap the spot she was healing.

“Does that cost extra?” Kaoru wondered, thinking a little anxiously of her budget despite the inexpensive nature of Imugeme’s pact.

“Not at all. I just happen to be able to offer it, and I think it would do you good.”

“Then I’ll take it.”

Imugeme smiled, then bent again, this time to kiss the startled Kaoru on the forehead. The thrill that went through her in this instance felt almost like the healing, but somehow deeper, and she squirmed as the sensation settled in.

“And now,” the faery said in a businesslike tone, “while I finish with these, why don’t you tell me what’s brought you to Faeryland?”

Chapter 3 – Duo Buys A Sex Toy

Emerging from the pink trees into a more open space, Duo stopped just behind the low wall that bordered for some distance the road he’d come upon. Setting his hands on its pink bricks, he looked around with eyes that grew wider and wider as they took in the details he had expected but hardly dared to hope for. Then, his bubbling joy requiring some outlet, he began to caper in place, stamping the fallen leaves and singing snatches of a song in his own language that came immediately to mind.

His dance attracted the attention of the idle Guides that haunted every entrance into Faeryland, and ley flew immediately over to investigate. Since Duo did not intend to move a single step from this spot until he’d made a pact, he welcomed leir approach with waving arms. “Yes, I need a Guide!” he shouted. “I absolutely need a Guide!”

Ley fluttered around him making leir pitches, but he mostly ignored leir words in favor of studying leir faces and figures. When he saw one he thought he recognized, he pointed a big dwarven finger at lir and said, “Quatre, isn’t it? You were one of the Guides for that Quest worried about their Cursed crops, right?”

“How word gets around!” Quatre seated lirself on the wall and went full-size. Le crossed lir legs and placed lir warm gold chin in one similarly colored hand. “You don’t usually need a Guide — Duo, I believe? What can I do for you?” Le presented as female at the moment, or at least had breasts, probably the better to fill out the flattering sleeveless green dress le wore, and this relieved Duo mightily; if Quatre had appeared male, with lir handsome face and short pale gold hair, even Duo’s general attraction primarily to other dwarves might not have saved him from an embarrassing scene. Of course he wore a protective device inside his trousers, but he would still have known (and suffered all the uncomfortable consequences).

“A pact,” was his answer to the faery’s question. “I’ll explain everything, but just make a pact a fast as you can.”

The other Guides, seeing Duo had chosen, flew off with discontented mutters. He caught one of lem remarking that he wasn’t even a proper Visitor, which he supposed to be true, but he didn’t really care what ley thought of him at this point.

Quatre, smiling, hopped down from the wall and reached for Duo’s hand. “All right,” le said equably. “As fast as I can it is.” And after making the usual gestures and sending the usual little tingle of magic through the dwarf, le added, “What’s going on?”

Duo sighed loudly in relief, and sat down unceremoniously in the greyish-pink scatter of leaves. “I’ve been lost in this forest for a month, and that’s after wandering the plains for even longer. If you can keep me from getting lost, I’ll really owe you one.”

“I was under the impression you knew Faeryland better than any non-faery there is.” Quatre joined him on the ground, seating lirself gracefully with crossed legs under lir long skirts and leaning against the wall.

“I do! But Relena Cursed me so I can’t find my way any-damn-where! I’m half starved and haven’t slept in a bed in weeks, and…” But he stopped short of enumerating all his current problems just yet.

“So le literally told you to ‘get lost,'” Quatre mused. “What did you do?”

Duo grumbled, “Killed too many Distorted for lir to ignore. You know how le is.”

“Well, I can get you to the pink enclave — for two silver pieces a week, of course — but I can’t enter. Won’t you get lost inside and wander out again without being able to find lir?”

“I’ll deal with that when I get there,” said Duo. “Up ’til now I haven’t even been able to get there. Or anywhere! You have to help me.”

“Or we could dissolve this pact and you could find a pink faery to be your Guide,” Quatre suggested.

“But I know you. You’re reliable. You did great work with that Quest, which was why word got around, and I trust you.”

Quatre bowed from lir seated position. “I hope you know I don’t take praise as payment,” le said with a smile, “but I do appreciate it. Where would you like to go first?”

Duo gave a grunt of frustration and broke into a rant. “I’ve been working in Faeryland for fifty years without ever having a problem like this! Fifty years! And I don’t think I’ve ever needed a Guide more than twice before!”

“Every Visitor gets Cursed eventually,” said Quatre consolingly.

“I’m not even a proper Visitor. I live here!” Duo sighed, dropped his head back to look up into the trees, and tugged at his braided beard. “Well, first, you can take me to a pleasure-house somewhere.”

Quatre blinked. “If you’ve been lost for months, can you even afford that right now?”

“No,” Duo admitted dejectedly. “I haven’t been able to visit a bank in all this time, because I couldn’t find one! And faeries aren’t really my thing anyway. But I haven’t had sex in longer than I can remember, and I’m getting pretty desperate!”

“You must be going through kil’ak’brük.” Quatre somewhat astonished Duo by pronouncing the name for dwarven sexual maturation correctly and in so sympathetic a tone. “I imagine that’s hard on a dwarf in Faeryland.”

“Yeah,” Duo agreed intensely.

“Well, I’ll do what I can for you.”

“Are you offering to fuck me yourself?”

Quatre laughed. “Postre is much closer than the pink enclave — I’d say about three days’ travel, for a dwarf. You can visit a bank and sleep in a bed… and, though I don’t know that there’s a pleasure-house in town, I do know ley have some specialty shops that might help you.”

“Yes.” Duo leaped to his feet. “Yes, that’s perfect. Let’s go!”

Turning small-size, Quatre echoed facetiously, “Let’s go!” and took up a position on Duo’s shoulder.

The prospect of solutions to some of his issues invigorated Duo, but so also did the new convenience of traveling rationally with a Guide. Quatre tugged on his ear or his hair whenever he attempted to walk the wrong direction, keeping him on the correct path for leir destination. Instead of going by at random, and sometimes again and again as he moved in zig-zags and spirals, the landscape passed with a reasonable progression, and whenever the road dipped, Duo could gleefully count on it coming up again to the same rise he’d seen before it began to descend. So greatly did this improve matters that he felt he’d never enjoyed a walk through any part of Faeryland this much.

He still had to request, during the few hours of rest he took each night, that Quatre give him some privacy so he could try to find sexual release as best he could on his own… but what he really needed was a dick up his ass, or his own in someone else’s, so he rather wondered why he bothered. Happy he was to see the large town of Postre before him at the end of a long, downward-sloping stretch of road on the evening of the third day.

He’d been here before, of course, but had never considered its amenities along current lines. He knew it boasted a spacious inn with plenty of full-size rooms, and before he could allow his enthusiasm (with Quatre’s help) to lead him into the market, he secured a place there for the next few days. Then he stood solidly where he was, not daring to take a step, so as not to get lost while Quatre went out to inquire after the type of shop he wanted. Finally, looking forward most heartily to a bed and some hot meals, if not something even better tonight, he ventured forth with his Guide in search of what he so desperately needed.

If faeries were anything as an aggregate, it was very open and accepting on sexual matters. The shop, called, curiously enough, ‘Have Some of Dis Pie,’ occupied a place of prominence between a full-size milliner’s and a stack of domestic goods stores for small-size homes. And while plenty of colors decorated many of the other buildings in the area (though the wood and stone was usually local), Have Some of Dis Pie had embraced the pink pinkness of the pink faery realm. From the fluffy pink curtains to the pink silk on which certain pink items showed to advantage in the widows to the pink confetti periodically exploding over them and falling in pink swirls, what to expect inside was immediately clear.

Duo attempted to make a sharp left turn at the door and walk laterally down the line of shops, but Quatre set him right, and he managed to enter. A pink bell rang as he stepped inside, but the proprietor happened to be in the main room at the time and didn’t need its pink-sounding tinkle to alert lir of his presence. Le came bouncing up to him, full-size.

“Welcome to Have Some of Dis Pie! What can I help you find today? Actually I can help you find anything we have here, because I own the shop! Are you looking for some coochie-coochie-coo? A cherrychanga with whipped cream? A charming cha-cha? It’s almost winter — do you need a muff? A purse for your treasure? A hot box for your meat? Do you want to go beaver-hunting? You’re hairy enough to be a bear; would you enjoy a honey pot? Or if you’re just the opposite, we’ve got some nice bear-traps here! Or–”

Duo, grinning in spite of himself and the arousal he already experienced just looking at some of the items for sale, raised his hands and attempted to break in. “I actually need–”

“A nice noodle? Some sexy sausage? A tra-la-la ding-ding-dong? Are you in the mood for a prize fight? Gathering firewood? Picking cucumber? Do you need a soldier who can stand at– wait!!”

The products le showed him in quick succession had done nothing convenient for his own example of all these terms, but now abruptly le stopped, eyes wide. “You’re a dwarf!!”

“Um, yes,” Duo said.

Every part of lir, from lir giant fluffy pink curls to lir ample breasts to lir chubby belly, bounced at differing speeds as le vibrated with excitement. “Wait here!” And, giggling, le ran off into the back room. Le didn’t seem to use lir wings much, just hopped and skipped and jumped. In lir absence, Duo looked around for Quatre and, finding lir, gave an incredulous look. Quatre only replied with a shrug.

The shopkeeper returned carrying a pink box. Essentially shoving it right into Duo’s face, le opened the lid. “I think this is perfectly perfect for you! I got it from a merchant who came through town a couple of weeks ago, and le was selling cheap because le knew there wouldn’t be a lot of interest, and I said, ‘I’ll take it! I think it’s perfectly perfect!’ So I gave it a nice bubble bath, because you never know where it’s been, or where the merchant’s been, and you always want…”

Lir chatter continued, but faded into obscurity in Duo’s ears as his eyes ran greedily over the velvet-cushioned dildo inside the box. The shape of a dwarf penis could not be mistaken for anything else, and this was as finely crafted as anything he’d ever seen: accurate in form and color and apparent texture, and with a sturdy handle of hard golden wood for ease of use. He longed to touch it, but figured that would be inappropriate until he actually owned the thing.

“…curves upward when it gets erect! Not too far, but a little — like a lithefruit! It doesn’t ejaculate anything, because it doesn’t come with testicles, but it does go soft after a while — I found that out while I was washing it!” Le giggled.

“There can’t be…” Duo had to pause to clear his throat. “There can’t be much demand for a replica dwarf penis in these parts.”

“It’s a niche item,” le admitted. “Get it? Niche item?”

“I’ll take it.” He still sounded a bit hoarse.

“Okie-dokie-lokie! Twelve silver pieces! Do you want to add some lubricant? I’ll throw it in for 25 copper!”

One gold piece, worth fifteen silver, was all the money Duo had left. But since he’d already paid for his room at the inn (for this very reason), he didn’t hesitate to pull it out. The combination of that very room, a dwarf in kil’ak’brük, and this marvelous magical toy promised bliss for the next few nights at the very least.

Chapter 4 – Sano Argues With His Sword

The novelty of everything’s being pink had not yet faded, and still particularly satisfied Sano whenever he found an especially large pile of fallen leaves to jump in. He loved the crunching sound and the cushioning feel to them; he loved their sharp, autumnal smell. Faeryland wasn’t really all that bad so far. He’d already had one fairly interesting fight, and the landscape, so different from that of home, entertained him.

That didn’t mean his mood was one of unalloyed pleasure. His reason for coming into Faeryland gave him continual regret, though he tried not to think about it and certainly never brought it up aloud; and he kept experiencing a sort of itching on the back of his head that he would have thought, by now, should have gone away.

“I still feel like someone’s following us,” he declared, spinning around, walking backwards for a moment, then bending for a rock he could throw into the forest the way he’d come.

“You made yourself enough of a nuisance in that last town,” said the sword at his side, “that I wouldn’t be surprised if someone were coming after you for revenge.”

Sano turned his lanky form again to face southwest. “I’m serious! I really think someone’s following us! And you know I didn’t raise enough ruckus for it to be just some farmer or whatever.”

“‘Just some farmer’ wouldn’t follow us into Faeryland in any case. Do you really think anyone would? Nobody comes here except on business.”

Annoyed at the condescending tone, the orc deliberately knocked the sheathed weapon against the next tree. “Yeah, so maybe someone’s business is following us!”

“You really think you’re that important?”

“Just a second ago you said you wouldn’t be surprised if someone wanted revenge for whatever you think I did in Deserville or whatever it was called.”

“Even a villager’s well merited annoyance at you wouldn’t be enough to bring them past the border of Faeryland. They’re probably just outside waiting for you to come out again, and then they’ll mob you.”

Sano couldn’t help grinning. “That sounds like fun. Brawling with humans is like…” He cast about for an appropriate simile, and was lucky enough to find one physically present. “Like jumping in leaves! Crunch, crunch, crunch!” He demonstrated, flailing into the pile and scattering it with wild kicks of his booted feet.

The sword began some comment Sano didn’t catch over the noise of his play, but when eventually the orc settled down and moved toward where his Guide hovered patiently not far ahead, the remark started again. “If you’re really worried about someone following us, you’re a fool to leave such an obvious trail for them to track.”

“I’m more worried about getting you to believe there’s someone following us!” Sano broke into an impatient jog.

“In that case, you’re definitely a fool. What good would that do you?”

“Um, getting you to admit you’re wrong?” Sano said this in a tone proclaiming it to be the most obvious thing in the world.

The sword made a scoffing sound. “Your ambitions are so lofty. And what exactly do you want me to admit?”

Sano grunted in frustration. “Haven’t we been talking about this for days or some shit? I want you to admit you’re wrong about someone following us!”

“But have I ever said specifically that I don’t believe there’s someone following us?”

Abruptly Sano drew the sword and held it before his face as if looking for some visual clue as to the exact meaning of that question. But of course all he saw, in the finely polished steel that accepted no stain, was his own scowling tusked face. “You’re trying to weasel out of this!” he accused. “When it turns out someone’s been following us all along and they attack and kick my ass and I’m laying there dying, you’re going to say, ‘Well, I never actually said I didn’t believe you, so I wasn’t wrong about anything’ just because you didn’t say the exact words even though you’ve been arguing against the idea this whole time!”

“You think you’ll die, do you?” the sword, voice louder out in the open like this, asked easily.

“Don’t change the subject! You’re doing that politician thing again — messing around with words so you can deny everything later!”

The sword gave a brief laugh. “I’m surprised you even recognized it.”

“You are such an asshole.” Sano thrust the sword back into its sheath and quickened his pace.

“If it’s any comfort to you, when you do get your ass kicked and are lying there dying, I’ll send you off by admitting I was wrong about something.”

Surprisingly, this did comfort Sano a little. “Really?”

“If you admit at the same time that you’re a fool.”

Sano grunted again. “I might be a fool, but there’s still someone following us.”

“Why would someone follow us all the way into Faeryland?”

“Well, maybe someone was following us outside Faeryland, and now someone different’s following us inside Faeryland.”

“That seems extremely unlikely.”

“My people have a connection with trees,” Sano insisted. “Why do you think we’re green? I know when someone’s following me through a forest!”

“More like a connection with hops. ‘Your people’ are the street urchins of Drury Crossing, who come from all different races and backgrounds, none of which is a forest. Besides, you’ve already mentioned multiple times that the trees here are pink.”

At being so successfully countered, Sano practically roared with irritation. “Tomoe will back me up!” he cried. “Tomoe! Aren’t we being followed?!” And he sprinted forward to catch up with his Guide and settle the matter.

During this pandemic (as at other times XD), the only thing I have to offer is art. So I’m starting to write and post this story far earlier than I originally planned. In order to give bored, depressed people in isolation something to read on a regular basis, I hope to update it frequently, and as such will be using a quicker writing and editing process than usual; so it’ll be a little rough.

There are no sex scenes planned for this story. I’ve given it a rating of 4 because some of the sexual references will be pretty explicit. I hate writing sex scenes and don’t do it if I can possibly avoid it… but I’ve been known to forget that policy any time someone buys me $15 worth of ko-fi.


One Year, Two Minutes



This story has no chapters, but has been divided into three posts due to length.

1
2
3

When Quatre sat down in his usual place one Friday near the end of the semester, opening his lunch on his knees and leaning against Trowa for warmth in the chilly December air, he noted in a mixture of amusement and pity that his friends had already started the customary Pre-Weekend Harassment Of Heero.

“It doesn’t have to be someone from this school, you know.”

“Though good luck finding another school with this many gay guys.”

“And it doesn’t even have to be someone you really know well, either!”

“Yeah, you should meet more people anyway. Make more friends.”

“And if you don’t like the guy, it’s not like anyone’s forcing you to go out with him again.”

“You know I could find someone for you if you don’t want to bother looking.”

“No, thank you.” Heero would, Quatre knew, eventually drop the ‘thank you.’

Given the clockwork-like prevalence of this conversation — on some Fridays a word-for-word repetition of last week’s — it was a wonder Heero even ate lunch with this group anymore. Force of habit, Quatre thought. Well, and they would probably realize why he was avoiding them and track him down anyway, if he happened to try to find some other, solitary place to enjoy the free period.

“You don’t even have to find someone good-looking! It’ll be dark!”

“Plus it’s a really good movie; I already saw a bootleg before it came out.”

“Yeah, it’ll give you plenty to talk over with someone!”

“Pff, like Heero ever talks things over with anyone.”

“But a movie and dinner aren’t serious enough for you to worry about getting all serious with someone!”

“Yeah, it’s just a casual thing! Come on, man, you’ve gotta come!”

“No,” said Heero.

Quatre hadn’t known Heero well sophomore year — OK, really, Quatre still wouldn’t say that he knew Heero well, but at least these days he referred to him as a friend rather than just a guy he had a few classes with — but it had been obvious even then that Relena was the reason Heero had come out of the closet. Quatre thought Heero would have been perfectly happy to keep the fact that he was gay as quiet as the rest of his personality, despite how friendly the school was toward gay students, if Relena hadn’t been pestering him constantly back then to go out with her.

Of course that hadn’t really stopped; it was just that now she tried to get Heero to join the group dates she was always setting up, whereas before it had pretty clearly been one-on-one time she was soliciting.

“What is your problem?” she was wondering now. “Did you get your heart broken? And you haven’t recovered yet, and you just can’t bear the thought of going out with anyone else, even on a group date with no strings attached just for fun? It is fun, by the way, and you’d really enjoy it.”

Heero looked over at her with an expression that held a trace of ‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ but which in general was just his usual nearly emotionless look. “Relena. I’m seventeen.”

“So?”

“So, no, I did not ‘get my heart broken.'”

“You say that like you haven’t had time or something!”

Someone else put in slyly, “I think he’s saving himself for Lady Gaga.”

“What?” Heero demanded in a tone half scornful and half surprised. “For who?”

“More like he’s saving himself for all the more experienced guys he’s expecting to meet at Harvard.”

“I am not going to Harvard.”

Quatre finally decided to step in. Most weeks Heero had to take care of himself, since this happened too frequently for Quatre to be saving his hide every time, but Quatre was feeling generous today. “You know, you guys, it could actually be that he’s telling the truth — that he’s not interested in dating because he’s focusing on his grades and getting into the school he wants.”

They turned on him. “You should talk! You guys hardly ever come out with us either!”

“Yeah, but that’s because we’re…” He threw just the briefest look at Trowa, gave just the tiniest clearing of his throat. “…busy… on weekends.”

Appreciative laughter spread through the group, and Quatre gave Heero a pointed glance to see if he’d gotten the message: that it wasn’t what you said, but how you said it. Trowa and Quatre both usually worked Saturday and Sunday, and did homework the rest of the time; and, though it was true that a weekend rarely passed without their seeing each other at least briefly, it was pure myth that they spent two straight days in bed together or out on exotic dates — myth perpetuated by perfectly true little phrases like ‘we’re busy on weekends’ spoken in the right way and accompanied by the right gesture.

Heero returned the look with a faint, thoughtful scowl. Obviously he wasn’t terribly pleased at how easily Quatre was able to get around the problem he faced on a weekly basis, but at the same time seemed to be struck with an idea; perhaps he really had gotten the message.

“Maybe he’s got performance anxiety.”

“Yeah, he’s afraid he wouldn’t actually be able to ask anyone out, because it would take too many words.”

“You could write ’em a note, Heero… you know, like in middle school?”

Do you want to go out with me this weekend? Check Yes or No.

His brows lowering a trifle, Heero took a deep, quiet breath. “OK, fine, you guys. I’ll tell you the truth.”

Every head turned toward him; everyone went silent.

“I didn’t like to say,” he went on, “because I didn’t want people bugging me about it all the time, but this–” he gestured around– “is worse.”

“What?” Relena was leaning forward eagerly. “What is it? Do you actually secretly have a long-distance boyfriend?”

Heero turned startled eyes in her direction. “How did you know?”

“What?! You really do??” She jumped up. “Oh, my god, Heero, you have to tell us all about him!”

This opinion was immediately ratified by most of the rest of the group; Quatre thought that, Friday tradition notwithstanding, most of them couldn’t actually imagine Heero ever going out with anyone.

“Well,” Heero said slowly, apparently very aware that everyone was suddenly hanging on his every word, “I met him in April… he lives in Gearing…”

And thus began the biggest, most complicated, and by far the coolest and most collected lie Quatre had ever heard Heero Yuy tell.

***

This place was strange.

Oh, the classrooms and hallways and lockers and the way people dressed and the way the teachers treated the students and the schedules and the curriculum were all perfectly normal, as far as Duo could tell, but in what world did everyone you encountered seem to be talking about you behind your back from almost the moment you walked in the door ’til the time you finally managed to locate where you’d left your bike that morning and went home?

Of course it was a little weird — unfortunate, even — for someone to switch schools in the middle of his senior year. Duo would have wondered about anyone in that situation too. Then, his circumstances were pretty interesting… but how many people here could possibly know anything of them yet? Yeah, there were plenty of reasons for most of the school to be whispering about him, but this was just too early. It had started halfway through his second class, for god’s sake! What was going on here?

Applying himself devotedly, on his second day, to picking up what he could of the whispers, he thought he caught an unfamiliar name mentioned in conjunction with his own (to the confirmation that they really were talking about him): Heero Yuy. What he couldn’t figure out was who this Heero Yuy was, what he had to do with Duo, and why this talk had all started up so soon. Presumably the guy had answers, but Duo hadn’t yet been able to determine where and when he might be able to find him, and hadn’t felt like asking directly.

Sometime somebody would have to say something straight out. High-schoolers could keep up gossip in a vacuum far longer than any other group, but eventually they needed concrete to build on. And when someone finally approached him, whatever they had to say would surely tell him what he needed to know.

But it didn’t. Some clues, perhaps, were conveyed by the breathless demand, “So is he a good kisser?” but no real answers. “Nobody here,” the unfamiliar girl in the hall went on, “has been able to find out!”

Duo could have demanded information at this point, but his smartass instinct took over and what he ended up saying was, “Wouldn’t you like to know!” At which point the girl ran off giggling.

So obviously he was supposed to have kissed this Heero Yuy. Being a perverse individual, Duo was unsurprised that his first thought upon learning this was to wonder whether or not Heero Yuy was a good kisser. But his second instinct was annoyance at still being almost entirely in the dark, and after that came even greater curiosity than before.

His third day at his new school (Friday, since the semester had kicked off on a Wednesday) was as provoking as the previous two had been, and the fact that the widespread interest in him and his doings and his apparent connection with the oddly-named stranger didn’t seem to have died down at all was really making him quite wild to find out what the hell was going on. With continued perverseness, however, he was even less interested in asking anyone outright unless that person was Heero Yuy himself. Where to find Heero Yuy was the problem, since it was a big school, and asking someone where to find him would be tantamount to asking everyone why they thought he’d kissed the guy. He would snap eventually, though.

Actually it turned out he didn’t have to.

His new trigonometry class didn’t seem to be quite as far along as they’d been in the old one, so paying strict attention wasn’t yet a matter of great importance. It would be nice to have some homework that was just review, too, for a little while: grab a bit of a break while he got used to everything else here. Things like being endlessly talked about, and Heero Yuy, and all that.

He didn’t realize just how badly his attention had waned until class took him by surprise by ending. Suddenly everyone else was standing and walking out when he hadn’t even started packing. Hastily he shoved loose papers into his notebook and closed the latter, which action knocked his pen to the floor. When he returned from bending to retrieve the dropped article, a new and unfamiliar object lay on top of his things.

Immediately recognizing, from much experience, a private note, Duo looked hastily to see not what it said but, rather, who had left it. And though the guy was moving quickly, rejoining the other students leaving the classroom, Duo could tell he was the one, and got a fairly good look at him before he disappeared.

He’d actually noticed this person earlier — though he hadn’t paid him any particular attention — because of the weird hair. At first glance it looked like a deliberately emo style, but the lack of an outfit or makeup in that vein seemed to contradict such an assessment — which actually made the long hair over the face even weirder. Not that Duo saw a great deal of the face; the guy didn’t turn even slightly back in this direction to see if he’d found the note, and soon was out of sight.

With rising excitement, Duo reached for the folded paper. Was it possible that not-quite-emo guy had been the mysterious Heero Yuy himself, and here was an explanation of all the strange goings-on? This hope was dashed, however, even as a new one arose, when Duo finally opened the note.

It read, Heero Yuy’s locker is B-213, if you’re looking for him.

***

Without having to take in anything more than what the corner of his eye could show him, Heero knew exactly who it was that had appeared so abruptly next to him at his locker. He hadn’t caught sight of the guy prior to this, but knew very well what he looked like, and that he must have good reason to seek Heero out before too long. As a matter of fact, Heero really should have sought him out sometime earlier than Friday afternoon, but hadn’t really had his thoughts in order yet. Well, time to face the music.

The first he’d heard of it had been in his third class on Wednesday. Sylvia, who had been present that unfortunate lunchtime back before break when Heero had made up all that nonsense, sat behind him, and, coming in late, had barely had time to hiss at him before the teacher called them all to order, “Heero, why didn’t you tell us your boyfriend was transferring here?! He’s in my history class, and it surprised the hell out of me!”

There had been no time for Heero to express his shock or issue a denial at this point, as class was beginning. Since the teacher had only a fairly brief greeting for them, however, before getting them started on an assignment she’d written on the board, there was leisure for quiet conversation after not too long.

“Heero has a boyfriend?” was how it started. Heero didn’t know the name of the girl that sat behind Sylvia, but he could tell just from the skeptical tone of these murmured words that she, like the rest of the school, had a hard time accepting the idea.

“Yeah, he’s totally hot.” He could hear Sylvia shifting in her chair to deliver this reply to her rear, but he himself kept absolutely still; if the teacher was going to throw a dry erase marker at anyone for gossiping instead of completing their assignment, it wasn’t going to be at him.

“You saw him?” the whispered conversation went on. “What’s he like?”

“Totally hot; I just said!”

“Yeah, but what does he actually look like? Maybe I’ve seen him in the halls!”

Sylvia poked Heero in the back of the head, which was very annoying. “He looks just like Heero described him.”

Sincerely doubting that, Heero flipped through his notebook, seeking out the page on which he’d written in neat bulleted lines, just in case he ever needed to continue the deception, the points he’d made about his utterly fictional long-distance boyfriend back in December. As they continued talking behind him, he stared down at the improbable list.

“He’s got the longest hair in the world. He’s got it braided today; you can’t miss him.”

Subtly, Heero put a tiny checkmark next to Good-looking, and another beside Hair down to his thighs.

“And he doesn’t exactly have what I’d call purple eyes… they’re blue, but it’s a sort of purpley-blue that I bet you’d definitely call purple if you were going out with him and wanted to make him sound all exotic.”

The other girl giggled madly, and Heero, somewhat reluctantly, checked off Purple eyes.

“He said he just moved from Gearing when he turned eighteen; I bet he came just to be with Heero.”

Sadly, Heero checked off Lives in Gearing while simultaneously trying to shut his ears to the “Aaww!” of the other girl before Sylvia added the final point:

“I think he said he did, like, three different sports at his old school; too bad it’s too late for him to really do anything here.”

Athletic went the way of the rest of the list as the other girl mused, “Well, he could still go for–”

“Ladies, I somehow get the impression you’re not discussing the assignment back there.”

Heero was grateful for the teacher’s intervention, but had a hard time turning his own concentration toward searching for similes and metaphors in the short story they were currently studying. It was obvious that the damage had been done: if Sylvia had jumped to the conclusion that this handsome, purple-eyed, long-haired athlete from Gearing was Heero’s fictitious boyfriend, even if she hadn’t spread the news to everyone she knew, others might well have made the same connection. How on Earth had someone matching all of those improbable criteria shown up here so soon after Heero had invented them? And what was Heero going to do about it?

This question had occupied him throughout the last three days, and he’d never arrived at a satisfactory answer. It would be, he’d thought, good manners to give the newcomer a heads-up… well, it was probably too late for that, but at least an explanation of the weird treatment he was undoubtedly already receiving would be appropriate. But Heero had procrastinated because it seemed so odd a thing to have to confess and he’d never decided how to word what needed to be said. And meanwhile the gossip had only heightened, and the comments people threw him in passing become more and more embarrassing; god only knew how the stranger was taking it.

And now here was this same Duo Maxwell, having very understandably tracked Heero down, standing casually next to him at his locker, giving him an appraising look and exuding an air of curiosity and expectation with maybe just a touch of righteous indignation thrown in.

“You know,” he said at last, “I’ve had a lot of really weird experiences in the past… but having a boyfriend I’ve never met is a new one.”

Heavily, Heero shut his locker and turned toward him. “I can explain.”

“Good! ‘Cause I’m really curious.”

Heero looked around at their fellows, many of whom were surreptitiously watching them. “Not in here, though.”

“That’s fine,” said Duo affably. “I’ve gotta get my bike anyway, from the entrance that I thiiiiink is this way…” He pointed, though he looked a little lost.

Both in agreement and to confirm Duo’s guess as to which direction the bike racks were, Heero nodded. When he turned away and started walking, Duo hopped after and fell into step beside him.

As they moved through the halls, Duo’s glances in Heero’s direction seemed to indicate that he was about to start asking questions, despite Heero’s not yet having allowed the time and place to be right. Heero braced himself. Those selfsame glances, however, seemed to have informed Duo that Heero still wasn’t ready; instead of what Heero had expected, what came out of Duo’s mouth when it opened was, “So, ‘Heero Yuy’ — that’s, what, uh, Martian?”

“Japanese,” Heero informed him, grateful to have this to talk about and a few more minutes to try to come up with a way to explain things that wouldn’t make him sound like a total idiot.

“Oh, cool. Do you speak Japanese?”

“Yes.”

“Awesome! Say something for me! In Japanese, I mean.”

Heero sighed faintly, and wondered, in Japanese, why people always made that request.

Duo was grinning appreciatively. “That’s awesome,” he reiterated. “I’ve seen some of those Japanese cartoons, but they’ve always got the voices all redone in English. Oh, bikes! You found them!” He gave a gesture of mock admiration and gratitude to Heero for the feat of having led them out the correct door to locate the bike racks, and moved to unlock a fairly new-looking grey one from the midst of the line.

Standing back and watching, Heero tried, almost frantically now, to get his thoughts in order. It didn’t help that this Duo Maxwell fellow was… well, ‘totally hot’ on Sylvia’s part had been an understatement. And supposedly he was an athlete too? If Heero had been looking for a boyfriend, this guy would have been way out of his league.

Bicycle extracted, Duo rejoined Heero, cheerfully wheeling the vehicle alongside. “OK, where should we go?”

Heero pointed. “I live that direction; I usually walk home.”

“Oh! Well, I live that way too! Lucky coincidence.” In a slightly louder tone he announced, “Means I can walk you home, boyfriend.”

Somebody nearby giggled. Heero didn’t look around to see who it was or put his burning face on further display.

A brief discussion of relative locations as they left school property revealed that Duo lived a couple of miles past Heero’s neighborhood, which was itself a mile and a half from the school. No wonder he would be biking there and back rather than walking. More of a wonder was that the place was an apartment belonging to Duo and a roommate, that Duo had moved to town without parents or anything. But before Heero could question him on the interesting circumstance, Duo glanced around to verify that none of their schoolmates were nearby and then said, “So what’s the deal? With you and me, I mean. Why does everyone think we’re dating when I haven’t even ever seen you before today?”

Heero never had thought of a good way to put this, so there was nothing for it but just to confess. “It’s because I made you up last December.”

Duo started theatrically. “Are you telling me that I’m a figment of your imagination? And that all my memories of my life never actually happened? And that if something happens to you, I’ll totally cease to exist???”

Unable to remain unamused by this, Heero nevertheless explained seriously. “What I mean is, I made up a fake boyfriend to get some friends to leave me alone about finding a real one, and what I described turned out to match you perfectly.”

“Really?” Duo looked a little skeptical. “Because, not to sound conceited or anything, I’m pretty unique.”

“I know. I don’t know how it happened. I chose the most improbable things I could think of off the top of my head — the long hair, the purple eyes… I was trying to describe someone who didn’t exist anywhere in the world.”

“Huh. Weird.”

“So you showed up and of course everyone–”

“Thinks I’m your boyfriend, yeah. My eyes are blue, though.”

“It’s kindof a purpley blue,” said Heero helplessly.

“So why’d you invent me? Your friends wanted you to find a boyfriend?”

“It’s more like they’re always bugging me to find a date and go out with the group on weekends… but I’m not interested in dating right now. I don’t know how anyone can be, with the amount of homework we get.”

Duo chuckled. “OK, I get it. So you invented a fake boyfriend. Lemme guess — I was from out of town and you only saw me on weekends or something, so it was a perfect excuse not to go out with your friends.”

“You…” That pronoun was a little awkward, actually, in this context. “‘He‘ was from Gearing.”

“Oh, wow. It just keeps getting weirder.”

“Well, we do sometimes get people transferring in from Gearing — and Steppe and Coachroad — because of the whole gay thing… That part wasn’t as weird as the rest of it.”

“Yeah, how’d you manage to get my hair and everything?”

“I have no idea.” Heero shook his head, more helplessly than ever. “And I would never have said all of that,” he added in sincere apology, “if I’d known someone would show up who matched it all so well. I didn’t mean to make everyone think you were my boyfriend, I promise.”

“Not everyone thinks that, though… The guy who told me where your locker was couldn’t have thought we were dating, or else why would he have thought I… didn’t know where your locker was?”

“What guy?”

“Some guy with weird hair.” Duo dug through one of his pants pockets with his free hand, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “He handed me this in trig.”

Heero opened the note; half a glance was all it took to solve the mystery. “This is Quatre’s handwriting,” he said dismissively. “The guy you saw was probably Trowa, his boyfriend, running errands for him as usual. Quatre is a sort of… social guru. He knows who everyone’s dating, and everyone’s schedule, and a lot more about the entire school than he should. Of course he knows you aren’t actually my boyfriend.”

After a long, pensive silence, Duo said slowly, “Well… I don’t see why I can’t be.”

Heero found himself blushing hot all of a sudden. “What?” He barely got the word out coherently in his surprise and embarrassment.

“Not for real,” Duo assured him hastily, undoubtedly marking Heero’s flustered reaction. “But if everyone already thinks we’re together, why not let them keep thinking that? Then your friends wouldn’t keep bugging you to find a date, you wouldn’t have to admit you made the whole thing up, and you could get on with your life in peace.”

“That… that sounds like a perfect setup.” Having regained his composure, at least outwardly, Heero was able to speak in a fairly businesslike tone. “But… not to sound ungrateful or anything… why?”

Duo shrugged. “We’re already going the same direction to get home… I’m going to be working most days, and if you’re going to be doing homework, why not let people think we’re spending all our time together after school?”

“And…” It was a fantastic-sounding plan, but there was a side to it that Duo hadn’t touched on. “And at school?”

“Well, you seem like a decent guy, and I never mind having new friends to hang out with.” Duo grinned. “But even if we don’t hang out all that much at school, it won’t look weird if it still looks like we’re going home together every day, right? And if it turns out we really can’t stand each other at all, we can claim we broke up and just end the whole thing.”

So overwhelmed was Heero by the abruptness of this unbelievably fortuitous idea and the apparent quickness of Duo’s resolve, he couldn’t for a moment say anything. Finally, though, he managed, “But why would you do this? It’s… it seems really nice of you… and you just met me…”

Again Duo shrugged. “Why not? I’m going to be busy too; it’ll be nice if people aren’t bugging me about dating either.”

“But what if you want to go out with someone?”

“Why should I? Truth is, I got a lot going on: I’ve already got hours of homework after only three days, and I have a full-time job.” He gave a nod of satisfaction so brisk it made his braid bounce. “No, I think this will work out really well. I mean,” he added with a sidelong glance at Heero, “if you want to. Don’t let me push you into it if you’d rather just–”

“No, no!” Heero broke in hastily. “You’re right; it seems perfect. I just…” He scratched his head a little nervously. “Just can’t believe my luck.”

“It does all seem kindof astrology or whatever, doesn’t it?” In a deep, portentous voice Duo announced, “The stars aligned that day to throw together two strangers on the path of destiny.” Then his demeanor changed entirely as he asked casually, “What’s your sign?”

“Uh…” Thrown off-balance by Duo’s sudden alteration of tone, Heero struggled to remember. “Pisces, I think?”

“Hmm. No good for a Saggitarius like me. Good thing we won’t really be dating.”

Heero supposed that was as valid a reason as any to be glad they wouldn’t really be dating. “So you’re interested in astrology?” he asked cautiously.

“Sortof. It’s fun to follow. I like reading horoscopes and seeing how stupidly general they are. Like every single one of them could probably apply to anyone, no matter when you were born. The one I just read for myself the other day — no, actually, it wasn’t for myself, sorry; it was for Cancer — it was talking about relationships, and……”

The next mile, spent discussing astrology and Duo’s semi-satirical interest in it, was enough to convince Heero that some stars must indeed have aligned in order to bring them to this pass: his new fake boyfriend, with whom he would, presumably, be spending at least some time on a regular basis for a while, wasn’t just quickly decisive and unexpectedly understanding and helpful; he was also very entertaining. Heero was enjoying the conversation so much that he found himself a little reluctant to stop at the corner where he needed to break away from Duo’s homeward path.

“I have to go this way,” he said, pointing.

“Oh.” Duo looked in that direction, then on down the street where he needed to go. “Hey, I don’t have to work today, and I’m just going to go home and do homework… do you want to actually hang out? Might as well do homework together as separately, right?”

Marveling at the ease with which Duo suggested so friendly an activity to someone he’d just met, but seeing nothing wrong with the idea, Heero said, “Yeah, why don’t you come to my house?” He added somewhat warningly, “If you’re serious about doing homework. Because I have a lot of it.”

“Now, what would make you think I’m ever not totally serious about anything?” Duo demanded in the most innocent of tones as he followed Heero around the corner.

***

Duo had rather hoped to coincide with Heero on the way to school on Monday, but thought the difference in timing between a walker and a cyclist was a decent enough explanation for why he didn’t. Although he’d never hated school the way some people did, it wasn’t exactly his favorite pastime either — but today he was actually quite interested in being there. Having a secret was always fun, as was putting on a show for people; and becoming better acquainted with the quiet, intelligent Heero had its attractions as well.

Besides, this time when someone Duo didn’t know came up to him in the hall and asked what struck him as an extremely rude personal question having to do with the accuracy of the portrayal of Japanese men’s anatomy in anime porn — an inquiry whose significance would have gone completely over his head just a few days before — he was able to reply immediately and cheerfully that he would be quite willing to dole out punches to the face of anyone else that was curious.

The weather was cold, but evidently Heero’s group of friends wasn’t going to let a little thing like January deter them from eating in their customary outside spot. Anything to maintain their territory and avoid freshmen, Duo supposed. And the central courtyard was pretty nice, if a bit of a walk from the cafeteria if you happened to be buying school lunches (which, Duo had determined after some calculations, were cheaper in the long run than trying to figure out something else every single day). So the only problem left was coming up with an explanation for why he hadn’t eaten lunch with Heero last week, why he was eating with him today, and why he might not be again in the future.

Interestingly, Heero was more taciturn with his friends than he had been with a complete stranger on Friday, and evidently they’d been unable to get a thing out of him last week regarding his newly-arrived boyfriend. Since Heero had mentioned in some embarrassment that he’d put off seeking Duo out because he hadn’t been sure what to say to him, it shouldn’t be too great a surprise that he hadn’t discussed the matter with anyone else either. But it also meant that his lunch crowd was even more curious than they might otherwise have been because of the perceived secrecy.

They mobbed Duo the moment he appeared, a little later than most of them due to the aforementioned walk from the cafeteria and a disorientation about the layout of the school that he hadn’t yet quite overcome. Space was made beside where Heero sat unobtrusively in a corner so Duo could squeeze in next to him — right next to him, which was a pleasant warmth in the cold outside air, but Duo couldn’t help wondering how Heero felt about it.

The reason he gave, in response to the immediate questions about why he’d been neglecting his boyfriend, was that he’d been checking out lunch venues throughout the school — which he in fact had. His response to the information that Heero had been unhappy here without him was a serious inquiry of Heero whether or not this was true, to which Heero replied with a slight quirk of a corner of his lips that he’d been fine. His astonishing answer to the demand that he eat lunch here with Heero and the rest of them from now on was something silly to the effect of his being an itinerant at heart and unable to stay in one place long or consistently.

Then, in order to cover up the whispering that started as they all tried to wrap their brains around this and began to speculate what it would probably mean for his relationship with Heero, Duo asked to be introduced to everyone. When it became obvious that Heero wasn’t about to take this task upon himself, it was performed instead by a girl named Relena. Duo was interested to note both the all-knowing Quatre and lackey Trowa among the group, and also that Heero didn’t actually seem terribly friendly with most of these friends of his. It made Duo wonder how it was that he’d come to eat lunch with them every day at all.

Once Relena was finished rattling off names (and accompanying facts that were probably designed for further identification but that meant nothing to Duo), she settled down against one of the large concrete squares stationed throughout the courtyard. These had undoubtedly been intended by their builders as benches, but the one in this corner was used by this group as a shelf and a seat-back; Relena’s current position in relation to it put her near and directly facing Duo in what almost resembled the attitude of an interrogator across a table from an unwilling informant.

“Now,” she said in a complacently authoritative tone, “you have to tell us everything: how you guys met, what it’s been like being long-distance, what made you decide to move up here — everything!”

Duo had actually given a fair amount of thought to this during the long hours he’d worked over the weekend, and entertained himself making things up; though he hadn’t consulted Heero yet about the stories he’d concocted, he deemed it unlikely that Heero had fabricated anything too terribly complicated on his own that would contradict what Duo had to say. However, though Heero might not object, within the context of the scam, to Duo waxing eloquent on their supposed relationship, he might mind for other reasons. The briefest glance in Heero’s direction showed him already blushing faintly just at hearing the questions asked; the answers, fictitious or otherwise, couldn’t improve his condition.

“You know,” Duo said instead, with a grin, “I’d rather not take all the mystery out of that story by telling it all at once; it’ll be so much better if I just give you little hints over time. So for now, how about I tell you all about the fabulous Duo Maxwell instead?”

Relena’s expression of slight discontent was the first hint Duo had that she was perhaps less interested in him personally than as he related to Heero. But all she said was, “OK, fine.”

So he spent a happy lunch hour complaining about how his foster parents hadn’t really wanted a son, but, rather, a minion they could shape and control; how they’d pressured him for as long as he could remember to prepare himself for a military career, and how he’d never been interested; how he’d put up with their demands and insistence for a few years and then rebelled, and how tense things had been thereafter; about the nuclear-level explosion he’d occasioned by announcing that he was bisexual; and, finally, about his lengthy and careful preparations, during the year he would turn eighteen, to get himself out the moment that happy event took place. That had been last December, and as soon as school had halted for the winter break he’d moved away from Gearing.

“I came here — I mean here specifically — because of Heero, obviously,” he concluded, joggling his ‘boyfriend’ slightly with his elbow. “But also because I knew this school was all famous for being so gay-friendly. I read that one article in that magazine–”

“You and everyone else in the world,” someone put in laughingly.

Duo grinned. “Yeah, the one where they said this was probably the only school in the country where you could get beaten up for being a homophobe — and I was like, ‘I am so there.’ I figured even transferring schools in the middle of my senior year would be worth it to come here for a while.”

“And he didn’t tell me any of this,” Heero put in unexpectedly. It was the first time he’d spoken in quite a while.

“What do you mean?” Relena sounded incredulously amused. “He didn’t tell you he was moving here?”

Heero shook his head.

Taking the cue, Duo grinned broadly and expanded on the subject. “It was pretty much the best surprise ever, if I do say so myself. Whenever I was complaining before about how much I hated living at home, Heero would remind me that high school was almost over, if I could just hold on a little longer…” This fictitious advice seemed consistent with what Duo had observed of Heero so far. “He had no idea I was already planning on getting out before high school was over!”

“So you just showed up here with, what, a truck full of stuff or something…” Incredulity now tinged with delight, Relena turned to Heero. “And that was the first you knew he was coming here?”

“Something like that,” Heero mumbled. He looked embarrassed, maybe because he was so bald-facedly lying, but Duo thought this had been a good move on Heero’s part: it would at least partially explain why he’d been in a weird mood last week — anyone might be a little stunned if his long-distance boyfriend suddenly joined him in his hometown without warning.

“So if you and Heero met and started going out last April…” This was the very innocent- and harmless-looking little blonde Quatre, and he had Duo’s immediate attention. “And you were getting ready to get away from your parents all of last year… that means you already knew you’d be moving and changing schools before you even met him. Did you have this school in mind then?”

Duo wondered where Quatre, who knew the truth, was going with this question. Maybe he was just trying to guide the topic back to something that would embarrass Heero less. Perfectly happy to accept the subject shift in that or any case, Duo nodded. “Yeah, ever since I read that article…”

“So you were already interested in this school,” Quatre mused, “and then you met Heero.” His pointed yet half-veiled gaze indicated his awareness that, with the way he’d worded it, this was totally accurate. “It’s kinda like destiny or something.”

Duo remembered his own comment last Friday about stars aligning, heard the giggles and charmed noises of some of the girls in the group, and grinned as he leaned over the very small distance it took him to rub his shoulder against Heero’s. He still wasn’t sure what Quatre meant by that line of inquiry, and didn’t know that it was likely to embarrass Heero any less, but he didn’t hesitate to agree, at least verbally.

It turned out he needn’t have worried so much about Heero’s level of embarrassment. On their way home that afternoon, almost immediately they were down the street away from the school and the ears of fellow students, Heero brought it up.

“I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t happy not to have to get into relationship talk over lunch,” he said, “but I’m not fragile. You’re obviously a better actor than me, so you’re welcome to choose what we talk about to everyone, and I’ll just try to keep up.”

“Well, I thought you did fine,” Duo assured him. “That idea that I supposedly didn’t tell you I was moving out here was pretty funny, and I thought you pulled it off perfectly.”

“Thank you.” Heero smiled slightly; it was the first time Duo had seen him do it, and it was remarkable what a striking, attractive change the expression made to his face. “This is…” The smile turned into a bit of a grimace as he admitted the unpalatable fact. “Well, I didn’t think I was going to like this, but actually it’s been kinda nice so far.”

Duo wondered whether this unobtrusive person had ever received so much positive attention at school before. “Even if some of it was embarrassing?”

“I said I’m not fragile,” said Heero, now somewhat irritably. “Just because I get a little embarrassed about something doesn’t mean anything changes.”

Now Duo had to wonder whether anyone around here took Heero at all seriously in a social sense. He was an exceptionally good student — Duo knew that quite well even after such a short time — and there was a general tendency among people their age to equate that with a lack of social skills. Maybe that was at least part of the reason everyone had been so interested to discover Heero ‘had a boyfriend.’

Anyway, Duo didn’t feel like trying to analyze Heero’s place in the high school strata right now. “We’re only a day in,” he said instead with a grin that was both cheerful and warning. “It could get better or worse from here.”

“And if it’s worse,” Heero said calmly, “we can always ‘break up.'”

It wasn’t real; since they weren’t actually dating, they couldn’t actually break up. But Duo couldn’t help considering this — particularly Heero’s self-reassuringly cool manner of delivery — rather cold. No wonder, again, everyone had so marveled at the idea of Heero with a boyfriend!

After this, however, they moved on to Heero’s favorite topic (homework), with the occasional mention thrown in of Duo’s job at a restaurant not far from his apartment, and Duo pretty much forgot he’d ever felt put off.

***

“So it ended up 37-20, and they’re obviously in. With Manning in there, they’re practically unstoppable. That guy can find a receiver every single time, no matter what kind of heat’s on him; it’s fucking amazing. There’s no way in hell San Francisco can… god, are you even listening?”

“Yes,” Sylvia replied abstractedly, “and I totally agree.”

“Then what did I just say?”

“That you’ve got a crush on Eli Manning,” she replied promptly, finally turning her eyes back toward him.

“Not funny,” Alex growled. “That’s what’s wrong with this fucking school… everyone assumes everyone’s fucking gay.”

“I was totally joking,” she assured him. “But you have been talking about football a lot.”

“Well, what would you rather talk about?” he demanded in that exasperated ‘Oh, my god, why can’t girls ever make sense?’ tone guys sometimes used, glancing around to see what kept grabbing her attention past his left shoulder. Evidently he couldn’t tell what she was looking at, for he turned back to her with no enlightenment on his face.

“Look again,” she commanded, grinning. “Aren’t they totally cute?”

His expression darkened. “I’m not looking again if it’s just to see something ‘cute.'” Then, briefly, a flicker of puzzlement crossed his face and, contrary to his words, he did look again. “Oh, god,” he said as he slowly turned back. “You’re talking about that new guy Duo and that nerd guy, aren’t you? Please, Sylvia, please tell me Duo’s not gay.”

“He’s not gay,” she said immediately.

Alex breathed a huge, exaggerated sigh of relief. “Good, because he’s in my P.E. class, and if I thought–”

“He’s bi,” Sylvia broke in.

“So he is gay! Goddammit, he’s probably been staring at my ass in the locker room ever since he got here!”

Sylvia tried not to laugh. Alex actually seemed angry, but she couldn’t feel sorry for him. “I totally wouldn’t blame him if he did,” she said. “And why would he anyway? He’s together with Heero.”

Alex appeared somewhat consoled by her flirtatious remark, and also curious in spite of a very strong inclination not to be. “Is he? I heard he played soccer at his old school… and Heero’s in, like, five different Honor Societies… why would they–”

“Duo’s totally got a 3.8,” Sylva said, proud of her inside knowledge. “Or at least that’s what he had at his old school; I don’t know about here. I think Heero’s got, like, a 4.7 or something, but anyway they’re both really good students. Probably,” she added in satisfaction, “because they spend, like, every day after school at Heero’s house doing homework.”

“You sure that’s what they’re doing?” Alex asked darkly.

“No,” she tittered. “But they won’t come out with us on Fridays, and they always go home together. Duo doesn’t always eat lunch with us, because I guess he’s already got a lot of friends all over the school, even though it’s been, what, like, three weeks? And I think Heero misses him at lunch, but with Heero you can never tell.” She laughed again. “Anyway, they always go home together.”

“Why are you so interested in this?” Alex’s tone was suspicious as he closed his locker, gave the couple they were discussing one last, somewhat venomous look, and turned away to walk down the hall.

Following him, Sylvia answered cheerfully. “Because I’ve been eating lunch with Heero practically every day for two years now, and we’ve never seen him go out with anyone, and we always thought it would be cool if he did, and now he finally is!”

“I can’t believe that Duo guy’s gay.” This was more in muttered apostrophe than as any sort of reply to Sylvia.

“He’s bi,” she corrected.

“Oh, come on, like any girl would go out with a guy who’d been with another guy,” he said harshly.

I would!”

“God, would you? Have you? Seriously, if you say yes, you are not getting a ride home.”

That, Sylvia thought, was a terribly rude comment, but she had to admit that she never had gone out with a bisexual guy… and she didn’t want to jeopardize her chances of a date with Alex on Friday by calling him on his homophobia. She did, however, as a sort of passive rebellion, keep talking about Heero, and how pleased she was to see him with the very likeable Duo, all the way out to the student parking lot and half the way home.

***

The previous three Januaries had been the heaviest homework months of the school year, as if the teachers were trying to make up for the long winter break and get the new calendar year started off right, and this January had sustained that trend admirably.

“And you know how many pages he wants?” Duo was complaining as they made their usual way out one day near the end of the month. “Freaking ten! That’s practically a book! And he was very specific about margin widths and font sizes, too, so we can’t cheat.”

“Triple-space it,” Heero suggested.

Duo stared at him as if he’d never seen him before. “You’re a genius!”

Heero, who didn’t stoop to such tactics himself but somehow knew them all, and who moreover had written two seven-page essays this month and was inclined to feel sorry for his companion, gave a sympathetic look.

“But, seriously, I’ll still end up having to write eight or nine pages,” Duo groaned. “Who does that?”

“Have you chosen a topic?”

“I was thinking the Civil War.”

Heero laughed. “You can’t just do ‘the Civil War.’ That’s way too general.”

“Way too General Lee?”

Heero rolled his eyes.

“Well, I’ll figure something out. Stupid research paper.”

“Just wait ’til college. We’ll be writing twenty-page research papers, and we won’t have nearly as long to finish them.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. How’s it going with Stage, by the way?”

Willum Stage University, located in a town called Placette only a couple of hours’ drive from here, was the school Heero had in mind, and he’d just finished the application process earlier this week. For this he was duly congratulated, after which they fell silent for a block or so — one of them, presumably, still mulling over the paper that had been assigned in his history class today. But it was just occurring to Heero to wonder something about Duo.

Finally he asked. “Where do you want to go to college? I’ve never heard you mention.”

Duo pushed out his lips in a silly, almost pouty way and looked sidelong at Heero. “Iiiii don’t know if I do want to go to college,” he said a little reluctantly.

Surprised, Heero said, “Really? You’re a good student; I thought…”

“Yeah, that’s how everyone reacts,” Duo mumbled, “which is why I don’t talk about it much.”

“Everyone does tend to assume we’ll all be doing the same things once we’re done with school,” said Heero carefully, “but… some people work for a while first… some people travel… I guess some people don’t go to college at all…”

Duo made a weary, protesting noise. “You make it sound like it’s a really weird concept.”

“College has been my goal for as long as I can remember,” Heero admitted apologetically. “What do you have in mind instead?”

“I kinda want to be a chef.” Duo apparently didn’t have a great deal of hope that this would be in any way acceptable; his parents probably had something to do with that.

It sounded fine to Heero; he didn’t even have to give it much thought. “So, a culinary school, then?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Evidently heartened by the lack of immediate condemnation from Heero, Duo went on more enthusiastically. “What I think would be really cool is to have a combination restaurant and car repair shop so people could drop off their cars for whatever and then come inside and eat! Except I don’t actually want to run the place, I just want to do the cooking. I might take a few business classes just so I’ll have some idea what’s going on, but mostly my plan is to do some other cooking jobs so I can get really good at that and save up enough money to find a partner who can handle the business end of things while I make all the awesome food. And of course we’ll need a really good mechanic who…” He paused. “I lost you at ‘combination restaurant and car repair,’ didn’t I?”

Trying very hard to stifle his laughter and speak seriously, Heero said, “No, no, I think it’s a great idea.” In truth he considered it a remarkably childlike idea: something not necessarily impractical or inappropriate, but that few adults would come up with. Obviously one of those few was Duo, whom Heero couldn’t help considering, in light of this, rather adorable. Forcing calm upon himself he reiterated, “Really. Not a bad idea at all.”

Across the bike that separated them, Duo peered suspiciously at Heero. “You mean it?”

Solemnly Heero nodded.

Breaking into a brilliant grin, Duo exulted, “Hah! You’re the best ‘boyfriend’ ever!”

With a slight blush Heero said, “Who you should really talk to is my mom. She sometimes does catering. Just for small events, because it’s just her and a friend doing the cooking, but she still knows some things about the business…”

“Oh! That explains why she always has the Best Snacks Evar for us whenever I’m at your house doing homework! I meant to get the recipe for those little potato skin things, but I forgot. How come you didn’t tell me she did catering??”

“I didn’t realize you were interested.”

Duo frowned. “It’s probably not good that we ‘boyfriends’ don’t know all this stuff about each other. I mean, what if someone asked? Anyway, it’s definitely not good that we real, actual friends don’t know.”

Unexpectedly pleased at having Duo refer to him as a real, actual friend, Heero suggested, “We should have a question and answer session.”

“Yes! Yes, we should! OK, let me think of questions.”

This activity occupied them the rest of the way to Heero’s house. There, because Duo wanted to harass Heero’s mother and Heero wanted to do his homework, they agreed that the best way to go about this was for each of them to write down a list of questions, which they would then exchange and answer in between their other tasks as they had time and inclination.

Between the culinary discussion in which Mrs. Yuy was happy to indulge Duo for quite some time and the homework that Duo, who wasn’t nearly as irresponsible as he sometimes acted, started in on afterward, it wasn’t until nearly two hours later that they gave each other their questions. And then, not for the first time that day, Heero had to try to stifle his laughter.

1. What’s your favorite kind of ice cream?

2. What was one thing you used to want to be when you grew up that totally changed?

3. If you could take the characters from any movie and put them into a new movie about a DANCE COMPETITION, which movie and characters would you choose and why?

4. If you could have any animal in the world for a pet (and it would be friendly to you no matter what it was), what would you choose?

5. Do you have any awesome tattoos, and how do you feel about tattoos?

These weren’t really the sort of questions Heero had had in mind, and totally dissimilar to his list, which was about things like politics and important formative experiences… but honestly he was rather looking forward to answering them. Not only that, but it struck him after a few moments of thought that Duo actually had the right idea: Heero had conveyed plenty about his plans for the future and other such serious topics; it was the extracurricular aspects of his personality Duo would know least about at this point — and vice versa for Heero about Duo.

So, setting aside for the moment the book he was reading for English and the notes he was taking thereon, he centered Duo’s sheet of questions in front of him and set down his pencil without looking in order to choose one at random. Upon rereading it, he decided he would need more space than what Duo had allowed him, and extracted a fresh sheet of paper.

Am I limited to animals? he began writing. Because if it will be friendly to me no matter what it is, a banyan tree……


Notice


Duo came up the stairs to his dorm hallway with an overloaded backpack and frozen hands, still stomping snow off his feet and wishing he hadn’t lost his gloves. At least it was warm in here. Actually it was a little too warm, since whoever was in charge of the heating and air conditioning in this building had a penchant for stark opposites, but you couldn’t have everything.

The not-unusual sight of Heero sitting on the floor outside the door to his room with a computer on his lap and a textbook open beside him met Duo’s eyes as he approached, and Duo chuckled. “At it again, are they?”

Heero looked up at him, threw a quick glance at the warning rubber band hanging from the doorknob, and nodded with a slight rolling of eyes.

Carefully avoiding getting his wet shoes anywhere near Heero and what he was doing, Duo circumnavigated him to reach the door of his own room just diagonally across the hall from Heero’s. “I keep telling Quatre he should switch with you, but apparently breaking two rules is waaaay worse than breaking just one.”

Heero gave a faint snorting laugh. “And Trowa thinks it would be too distracting to share a room with Quatre.”

“Did you want to come in?” Duo invited him as he unlocked his door. “You can sit at Quatre’s desk instead of on the floor.”

With a glance at the time, Heero shook his head. “Thanks, but I’ve got to go in a couple of minutes anyway.”

Duo acknowledged this and went inside, but he’d only set his backpack down beside the bed before he stepped out again. “Hey, did I hear right? You’re staying here for break?”

“Yeah.” Heero was putting his things away now, getting ready to head off to whatever class he had this afternoon. “My parents are going on a cruise, so I thought I’d just stay here and get some work done.”

Awesome. I was afraid I was going to be bored out of my skull all alone in this place.”

“Didn’t Quatre invite you to have Christmas with his family?”

“Yeah, but that was before he decided he wanted to take a certain person home to meet mommy and daddy… I wouldn’t want to get in the way of their romantic holiday.”

Heero smiled. “Well, yes, I’ll be here.”

“Excellent. See ya!” And Duo went back into his dorm room and closed the door. He removed his coat and tossed it onto the chair at Quatre’s desk, then flopped down on his bed, letting his feet hang off the end so as not to get it wet, and reached for the backpack. Somebody had left him what appeared to be an honest-to-goodness Christmas present in his mail cubby downstairs, and he was eager to get at it.

The wrapping paper was a very tasteful pattern of red ribbons intertwined among big white and gold flowers on a deep green background. Duo always wondered where people found wrapping paper like this; whenever he went to buy some, he ended up with something truly horrible with the worst-looking cartoon Santas imaginable on it. Of course it didn’t help that he was drawn to the ugliest and most nauseating choice in any given selection… but still he didn’t think he’d ever seen wrapping paper this nice at any store he’d been to. Maybe he just didn’t know where to shop.

White and gold ribbons were tied around the package in an off-center double line, the crux covered by a huge white bow that was rather crushed from having been in his backpack. Duo probably would have used red ribbon with paper like this, and, looking at the fine effect of this color choice, thought he probably would have been wrong to do so. He’d never been very good at wrapping presents.

The one aspect of the package Duo thought he could have done better than whoever had actually wrapped it was the tag. Because there wasn’t one. He’d turned it over three times and looked under the ribbons, but no indication was to be found of who had sent the thing — not even a spot where an existing tag might have been torn off. In fact, if these dorms hadn’t happened to have separate mail cubbies for all the students, Duo couldn’t even have been sure the gift was intended for him and not his roommate.

Of course he was also curious about what was inside, but, since it was obviously a soft-cover spiral-bound book of some sort, this was of less driving interest for the moment than the question of the anonymous sender and their mad wrapping skills — not to mention the fact that he rarely got Christmas presents. But eventually he gave up trying to glean any extra knowledge from the exterior of the package, and tore it open.

It was a sketchbook — one of those green ones with a picture of dancing pencils on the cover. This was a little strange, Duo thought, and what made it even more interesting was that it seemed quite well used. He lifted the somewhat ragged cover, turned the first, blank page of relatively thick drawing paper, and found himself unexpectedly looking into his own face.

Duo didn’t often think much about it, but he was, like most people, familiar enough with what he would see in a mirror if he bothered to check. And he found it strange, bordering on uncanny, to have that experience mimicked suddenly by this anonymous present. For the artist seemed to have captured perfectly every detail of Duo’s face in this rich pencil, right down to the almost invisible little scar on his right cheekbone just in front of his ear. And the Duo on the page was grinning up at him as if there were nothing at all odd about this.

Further information was probably needed before he could decide exactly how he felt about this, so he turned to the next drawing. In a much better display of what Duo expected of sketchbooks, this image was a house with trees and a lake: a very picturesque landscape in the same soft pencil, its lines fading to nothing as they approached the edges of the paper. Duo nodded slightly and moved on.

The next page was a collection of small, random sketches that appeared to have been doodled during class. Except that, unlike when Duo doodled during class, these did not involve battling dinosaurs or noses with feet or flying blenders, nor did they look like crap. They were quick little drawings, but very good nonetheless, mostly of faces in various positions and expressions and shown from various angles — classmates, perhaps? None of them were familiar to Duo except for the four (out of twelve or so) that were his face.

Still attempting to reserve judgment, he turned to the next page. Here was a nicely-shaded rendering of the modern art statue thing outside one of the science buildings. The artist had done an excellent job, Duo particularly noted, giving the idea of the grass that surrounded the base without actually drawing a lot of grass. That meant this had probably been drawn back before snow and whatnot. Which meant that the previous images, including the ones of Duo, had probably been drawn even before that…

He was not particularly surprised to find another picture of himself on the next page. In this one, he was looking over his shoulder and apparently in the middle of saying something cheeky (to judge by the expression on his face); the shirt was identifiable as one that he actually owned, too, not just some random artist’s invention or a fadeout.

With a deep breath, staring down at his own penciled face on the thick paper, Duo allowed himself to think the thought that had been hovering at the edge of his mind since the very first page: this was officially really weird. Someone had been watching him closely enough to draw him repeatedly with excellent skill and accuracy, and then had given him their sketchbook as a Christmas present.

He bypassed a picture of a car without much attention to its fantastic light-on-chrome effect, and found one of himself holding — and ill-protected by — the ragged umbrella he’d finally been convinced to throw away last month when rain had given way to snow.

Then there was another page full of smaller sketches — this time mostly hands and ears, perhaps for practice — followed by an extreme close-up of Duo’s broadly-grinning face that showcased the artist’s knowledge of the fact that Duo was missing a canine on top. The resulting empty space between lateral and bicuspid had closed up on its own before Duo had reached college age, so it wasn’t something people usually noticed at a glance, but the artist obviously knew all about it. Well, the artist probably didn’t know about the childhood bike accident that had caused it, but the tooth’s absence had certainly been accurately noted in the picture.

Actually, Duo reflected as he proceeded through an orderly set of blotches that looked like some kind of experiment in shading or contrast, and another picture of himself — this one full-length from behind, with a good deal of attention given to his braid — he wouldn’t be surprised if this artist did know the reason for his missing tooth.

A key sounded in the door, and Duo found himself hastily closing the sketchbook and shoving it under his pillow. He didn’t really feel like explaining to Quatre that he seemed to have an extremely artistic stalker.

His roommate entered with that look he often wore these days, of clothing just straightened and a bright flush just diminished, trying to appear casual and innocent and failing utterly. “Hi, Duo,” he said with excessive cheer.

“Hi,” replied Duo in a very knowing tone. “Have fun?”

“Well, yes,” Quatre said, blushing. “Quite a bit.” He seized Duo’s coat and hung it from the doorknob of Duo’s little closet, then took its place in the chair at his desk.

“Good job.” Duo reached for his backpack again and dug out his laptop, then shifted into a seated position. He didn’t know how much he was going to be able to concentrate on homework at the moment, but he might as well make the attempt — at least while Quatre was in the room.

Two minutes in, exactly what he’d anticipated took place: the mental images of what he’d seen in that sketchbook swallowed up his ability to work, and, in fact, his very awareness that there was even work to be done. His hands stilled on the keyboard as he stared blankly at the screen, seeing nothing but what he was picturing in his head.

From what he’d observed so far, the artist could be anyone. It didn’t even necessarily have to be a student, though that, he thought, was most probable. But anyone that, for instance, lived in the vicinity of the school, or worked close and perhaps passed nearby on their way home, could have seen him often enough. Hell, it could be someone that worked at the school… it could even be a teacher… That was a weird thought. It really was probably a student, though.

Whoever it was, they seemed to have more than a passing interest in Duo. That little scar, the missing tooth… his friends usually knew about these eventually, either because they spent enough time with him to notice or because it came up in conversation… but Duo wasn’t aware that any of his friends drew. Besides, if any of them liked him that much, they’d surely just tell him, wouldn’t they?

Which made the whole thing that much weirder.

He might be making a big deal over nothing; there might be a message with a perfectly good explanation further on in the sketchbook. He needed to look at it again. He wanted to look at it again. Aside from itching to solve the mystery and dying to know what else was in there, there was also the simple fact that the art was really good — and, strange and possibly extremely creepy as the situation was, there was something flattering about having been the model of someone so talented so many times, about being drawn so frequently in such loving detail…

Had he really just thought of it as ‘loving detail?’ Yes, this situation was definitely creepy.

Quatre, who had seated himself at his desk and was typing cheerfully away at what from here looked like an email — Probably to Trowa, Duo thought, since it’s been soooooo long since they had any sort of interaction — had his back to Duo and was humming to himself. Watching him carefully, Duo slid a cautious hand under his pillow and slowly extracted the sketchbook. Quatre might well overlook a nuclear apocalypse at this stage of afterglow, Duo was quite aware, but there was no point taking risks. The sketchbook and the news that Duo had a stalker would inevitably call up a We need to report this!! reaction in his roommate, and Duo thought it was still a bit early for that.

Quietly, he opened the book again behind his computer screen, ready to close it and shove it underneath the moment Quatre showed signs of emerging from his happy little world. Flipping through the pages, he took up where he’d left off.

A zebra… a fantasy swordsman… another car… a praying mantis… an old, cracked flowerpot containing one lonely geranium… a pair of beaten-up tennis shoes… a direct copy of Boston’s Third Stage album cover… a barn standing among dead trees… a basket of fruit set up for a very deliberate, dull still-life… a receding street Duo recognized as being downtown not far from here… a wolf… Leonardo DiCaprio…? a shotgun… a hand drawing a hand drawing a hand drawing a hand…

And in addition to all of this, at least fifteen more pictures of Duo, one on every other page. But Duo was past being astonished by now, and was simply looking for clues as to who the hell was behind this.

The earlier drawings were all in pencil — graphite, actually, he guessed it was called — but eventually some color entered the scene, and the artist was just as good at that. Every five or six pages, with interesting regularity, there was another collection of doodles (though the word hardly seemed to fit), which indicated to Duo that the artist really was a student and had a particularly boring class every so often.

In one of the pictures of him, he was in the cafeteria eating some of the disquieting stuff they called pizza down there, and the figure next to him, though only a collection of faint, squiggly lines, might almost have been Quatre. From this he inferred that the artist wasn’t Quatre, but he hadn’t really thought it was. Still, he filed the fact away.

Then in another, he was in pajamas. This was one of the color pieces, as the artist evidently hadn’t wanted to miss the chance to capture the fluorescence of the bright little electric guitars that covered the long-sleeved flannel shirt and footed pants. Duo wondered if the artist also knew that these glowed in the dark, and felt he could safely narrow down the pool of possibilities to students living in this particular dorm. At least he didn’t think he’d ever worn those pajamas outside…

One image on which he lingered particularly long was that of a nude model posing on a mess of shiny, rumpled cloth. He’d already guessed, from various previous pieces, that there was an art class involved in this business somewhere, and this seemed to confirm it; he was fairly sure you didn’t get nude model setups like this in other contexts.

The man faced away from the viewer, and either was rather well-formed or had been touched up by the artist, who had given most of his attention to the back and buttocks and thighs. And as for the head…

No, the artist hadn’t quite gone so far as to pretend that the model was actually Duo… but, as on a few earlier pages, there were some light, meandering lines that suggested… and what they suggested here was a long braid draped over the cloth-covered whatever-it-was the model was lying on. It probably wouldn’t have been noticeable if Duo hadn’t specifically been looking for it, but it was fairly obvious what the artist had been thinking about while drawing.

So who did he know that took an art class?

Who did he know that took an art class and totally had a hard-on for him?

OK, well, it could be a woman; this was a co-ed dorm. No need to assume this was a gay man just because he was bisexual until he had some real indication of the artist’s sex.

That indication came at the end of the book.

The last page had been carefully removed along the perforated line, and lay loose against the back cover. It was another full-color piece and nothing short of exquisite — if Duo did say so himself, since it was another picture of him. It was one of those portraits that faded out just below the shoulders, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out how anyone could draw something melting out into the white nothingness of the paper like that, especially in multiple colors. But it was impossible for this or any other aspect of the picture to hold his attention for very long, for this time the artist had signed his work.

Duo sat back against the wall, his eyes locked on the neat little signature but not really seeing it anymore, his mouth hanging slightly ajar. He must have made some sound — some squeaky, choking sound of astonishment and disbelief — for Quatre turned, and Duo only barely had the presence of mind to act upon the plan he’d had in place all along against these circumstances. He just hoped Quatre didn’t see him frantically hiding the sketchbook underneath his laptop.

In response to his roommate’s curious look he managed, “The internet is so stupid sometimes.”

“I’d say all the time,” Quatre grinned. “And I can see you’re hard at work.”

“Hey, finals don’t start ’til next week.” Banter could cut into any thoughts, no matter how serious. “Besides, I’m not the one wasting time getting laid twice a day.”

It was so easy to make Quatre blush… but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a very good retort. “Obviously you’re not getting laid, Duo, or else you wouldn’t call it a waste of time.”

“Ouch!” Duo cried, laughing.

“Yeah, you walked right into that one.” Quatre turned his grin back toward his computer.

So Duo was safe for the moment, but he couldn’t be sure it would last. He needed to think about this good and hard; he needed to get out and think about this. The little room felt suddenly very cramped and restrictive. Of course it was very cramped and restrictive, but usually this didn’t bother him.

Swiftly he strategized as he quietly closed his computer, laid it aside, and began pulling the heavier books out of his backpack. He was fairly sure Quatre did not have class this afternoon, and, although Quatre now appeared to be doing homework rather than sending love notes, if Duo announced that he was going somewhere interesting Quatre would probably volunteer to accompany him. But to get outside, he needed his coat, and taking it would rather prevent his pretending he was just going to the bathroom. Damn this weather.

In the end, his ‘strategy’ consisted of stuffing the sketchbook into his backpack, gathering this and his coat as hastily as possible, and mumbling something incoherent when Quatre asked where he was going. Then, coat flapping out behind him like a superhero’s cape, he pelted down the hall, down the stairs, and out of the building, startling but managing not to run into at least five people on the way.

Outside, he made a noise of disapprobation as the cold hit him, and quickly shrugged first into his coat and then his backpack. Shoving his gloveless hands into his pockets and hunching his shoulders, he set off at a brisk walk in some direction across one of the snow-covered lawns. He should probably have kept to the sidewalk, as his shoes really weren’t made for this, but he preferred not to have to spare any thoughts for avoiding other pedestrians.

So…

Heero…

All this time, when their little group had been studying together, eating together, just hanging out, putting up with the vagaries of the dorm amenities, watching the ongoing drama between Quatre and Trowa, playing stupid pranks on each other… all that time, quiet, serious Heero had been watching Duo from whatever corner he was sitting in, with those eyes of his that missed nothing, and had half-filled a sketchbook with pictures of him.

Duo had been surprised at first, but, now that he thought about it, found it made perfect sense. Heero was always around, but nobody much paid attention to what he was doing; it would have been quite easy for him to study Duo — or anyone else — and draw at his leisure. And actually it seemed just like Heero to have done something like that… something that quietly tested his observational skills and his ability to represent coherently what he’d observed. Heero was always observing.

The thorough precision of the shading combined with the subtle effectiveness of the faint suggesting lines seemed just like Heero too. Everything Heero did he did perfectly; it was no wonder he turned out to be such a great artist as well.

Winter afternoons swiftly turned into winter evenings, and Duo could already see his breath as a heavy white mist on the darkening air. His ears and nose were frozen, and his toes were beginning to complain very seriously. He paused, frowning, and, with vague thoughts of hot coffee at a restaurant, turned his steps toward the edge of campus and the shopping district beyond.

So Heero liked him, apparently. Duo couldn’t imagine the obsessive attention paid to him in that sketchbook meaning anything else. Heero liked him. Did Heero even like guys? Duo realized that, though some memory or other seemed to answer in the affirmative, he couldn’t quite dredge up any instance where it had been definitively stated. The fact that he’d never known Heero to date… or flirt with… or express even the remotest interest in anyone certainly didn’t help.

But, then, Heero wouldn’t do any of that if he had a crush on Duo, would he? But why hadn’t he said something? How long had this been going on? How long had Heero been surreptitiously studying his dorm-mate, drawing these brilliant pictures of him, and wishing… what? Without a word to Duo…

Again, as he thought about it, Duo couldn’t really say that much surprise was called for. Somehow, pining in lonely silence seemed absolutely typical of Heero. Against this, however, his mind rebelled a bit. Because, sure, Heero was quiet, but was he really that shy?

Well, yes, Duo thought, he really was. He’d never considered it before, but of course Heero was shy. It wasn’t that stupid kind of stammering, obnoxious shyness you saw in movies and stuff; it was a cool, self-aware disinclination for certain aspects of social interaction, probably born of a sense of inability, that barred Heero from even attempting what he perceived as beyond him. And perhaps telling Duo he liked him had simply been beyond him. At that point, the ability to hide his inclination — so expertly, so completely that the object of it would never even begin to suspect — must be considered an adaptive related trait.

Because, god, Duo had just talked to him in the hall, and hadn’t had any idea. He talked to Heero fairly frequently, in fact, and had never had any idea. But now, as he looked back, he was beginning to realize that, although he talked to Heero a good deal more than Heero talked to him, still Heero talked to him a good deal more than Heero talked to anyone else.

The restaurant on the corner closest to campus made its fortune off the students with its twenty-four hour service and its overpriced coffee. Duo had grumbled about the prices on numerous occasions, but would probably continue to patronize the establishment just as long as they served that mint cappuchino he particularly liked because they put green food coloring in it.

The dining lobby was tackily hung with tinsel and lights, and cheerful secular Christmas music issued from the speakers overhead. Duo, humming absently along, looked around as he found a seat, remembering several instances of eating here with his friends — including Heero. On one particular occasion just before mid-terms, they’d pulled an all-nighter in this very corner, almost more for the sake of being able to say they’d done it than because they were desperate for more study time. At least, that had been Duo’s motive. Quatre and Trowa, at that point, had been happy to spend all night giving each other significant looks and avoiding admitting that they were madly infatuated; their other few friends had been legitimately studying for some class they shared (though there was also a lot of unrelated chatter involved); and Heero had, as usual, been buried in…

No… he hadn’t… he hadn’t had his nose in a textbook, though there had been one on the table beside him. Duo had thought at the time that he was taking notes of some sort, without considering the fact that Heero almost never wrote anything by hand and hadn’t had his laptop out. Heero had been drawing, hadn’t he? Just sitting there in the midst of them (well, OK, in the corner seat where nobody could see what he was doing, with one knee pulled up so that they couldn’t even make out what kind of notebook he was working in, but still…) drawing Duo right under Duo’s nose.

Somewhat unexpectedly, these new realizations pertaining to that innocent memory made Duo smile. Wasn’t that just like Heero… hiding in plain sight…

It was quite flattering, really. Heero was some kind of genius, after all… sometimes Duo thought he only studied because that was what was expected of the perfect student, but that he could probably maintain his position on the Dean’s List without it. Though, actually, given how much time Duo now knew Heero spent drawing (him), maybe he didn’t really study quite as much as everyone thought he did.

Whatever the case, Heero was still a genius physics major that had probably never failed a test in his life. And now come to find out he was an incredible artist too… Duo wasn’t about to start letting his opinion of himself be affected by who had a crush on him, but the interest of someone like Heero couldn’t but give him a sort of warm internal glow. Though maybe that was just the coffee.

Besides, Heero was really nice, too, in his subtle way. He was a private tutoring army unto himself, ready to help anyone in the dorm with whatever subject they were struggling with, whether or not he was actually taking it. Duo didn’t know how many times he’d run into Heero and some random acquaintance in some quiet corner bent over some unexpected textbook, one drawing attention to some unnoticed point to the sound of the other’s sudden understanding “Ohh!”

This willingness to help people out at such short notice, Duo thought, much more than the fact that Heero was roommate to someone being courted by one of the most outgoing guys in the dorm, was what had made him known to and welcome among such a wide and diverse circle despite his being not at all social. And this was the person that had drawn Duo thirty times in a secret sketchbook.

More than just flattering, Duo thought, it was a bit of a triumph. Because Heero might be kind, and Heero might be shy, but Heero didn’t put up with nonsense. And Duo was not infrequently all nonsense. Did that make him the exception to the rule? The one nonsense Heero could tolerate? A sort of nonsense, in fact — Duo was thinking of his absurd pajamas that Heero had captured down to the last bright, silly detail — that Heero actively enjoyed?

The last few slurps of his drink, which if they hadn’t been so deliciously minty he would have called ‘dregs,’ disappeared down Duo’s throat, and he set down the cardboard cup with a tap on the table as he reached epiphany.

No, ‘epiphany’ wasn’t quite right. In much the same way certain other aspects of this situation hadn’t been very surprising as soon as Duo seriously bent his thoughts toward them, so it was also no great shock to realize that the idea of Heero liking him — or, more accurately, the idea of what might come of that — was not at all unpalatable. Actually he found that the greatest surprise was that this had never occurred to him before. It was almost as if he’d liked Heero all along and had simply forgotten, and was now remembering — remembering both that he liked him and, to his chagrin, that he’d forgotten.

Which brought him to the topic of what to do about all of this. Normally, on finding that he was interested in someone, his immediate action was to ask them out — or at the very least start flirting with them pointedly until things ran their natural course. But Heero was…

Heero was a special case. Heero was special. He obviously hadn’t intended to confess this to Duo… probably assumed Duo wouldn’t respond well, and who could blame him for that? Duo had always been friendly to him, sure, but had never given even the slightest indication that he might be amenable to anything more than that. If Duo went up to him now and said something to the purpose of, “I know you have a crush on me; let’s go out,” it would probably discomfort and embarrass Heero, and Duo didn’t like the thought of doing that to him, even in bringing him what would presumably be good news.

But if he went up to him a week from now (OK, well, thirteen days from now, when finals were over) and asked him out, pretending he’d come to the idea independently, knew nothing of Heero’s existing interest, and was unsure of the outcome of this venture… that might work. Well, it would be a torment to watch Heero coming and going all week without saying anything, but Duo supposed it was about his turn. Yes, that would probably work. They could get together and try things out, and Duo wouldn’t have to say anything that would make Heero feel bad. There was no reason at all even to mention the sketchbook.

The sketchbook…

He pulled it out of his backpack and began looking through it again. It really was quite marvelous work; Duo particularly liked the pictures of animals, and thought the praying mantis was his favorite. And, to be honest, there were a number of pictures of him that he enjoyed seeing too — although, despite being aware now who the artist was and having worked through how he felt about that, gazing down at his own face so accurately depicted was still a little uncanny.

So this was the last mystery of the whole affair: who had stolen Heero’s sketchbook, wrapped it up like a Christmas present, and dropped it off in Duo’s mail cubby? Duo had no doubt that the motivation for this had been to alert Duo to Heero’s feelings for him… but who else knew, was busybody enough to want to advance things manually, and had the ability to carry out this devious plan?

Well, anyone that had seen inside the sketchbook could undoubtedly have figured it out just as Duo had. Obviously Heero didn’t leave the thing lying around, or Duo would have noticed it at some point before this; but he also probably didn’t take it with him everywhere, so someone that had been into his room with Trowa while Heero was out might have had access to it.

Trowa himself, of course, was a suspect, and therefore so, by extension, was Quatre. They were awfully busy these days getting busy in between classes, but, if they ever managed to engage in coherent conversation at any point, Duo could see them conspiring to hook their roommates up in some tricky manner just like this. He could even see Quatre picking out that elegant rich-boy wrapping paper.

What he couldn’t see was either of them being so insensitive. Trowa probably knew Heero better than anyone in the dorm; he must, if he was aware of Heero’s feelings at all, be aware of Heero’s disinclination to share them. And Quatre, Heero’s friendly rival in the genius department, could undoubtedly come up with a better way to get them to notice each other (or, rather, to get Duo to notice Heero) than stealing personal possessions and giving away secrets.

Duo ran through the other members of their group of friends, and then through everyone he could think of in the dorm. Breaking into someone’s room was not generally difficult even if you didn’t have a key, and, given that the school never changed the locks, functional dorm room keys were fairly easy to come by. In the end there was a dismaying number of people on the ‘Might Have Done This’ list; and he feared the list was still incomplete, given how many in Heero’s art class that Duo didn’t even know could also meet the criteria.

It irked him that he might never find out. The idea of this misbegotten Samaritan smugging around behind their hand at the thought that they’d put things right, that nobody would ever know, made Duo’s fists clench. Apart from the general dickishness of the plan, nobody got the better of Duo without being pranked equally in return.

Well, he would definitely have to keep his eyes open for anyone in the dorm that seemed to be unusually interested in his or Heero’s doings. That would probably be beneficial, too, because it would help keep him occupied and from showing his unusual interest in Heero before the time came. He had a feeling the next week and a half was going to be something of a trial.

And now it was about time to get back to all of that trial and week and dorm stuff. This wasn’t how he’d expected to spend his free evening, but, overall, he couldn’t really say he was terribly unhappy about it. Having his eyes opened about Heero had been unforeseen, but was already proving fascinating, and would (he hoped) end positively. Standing, he returned the sketchbook to his backpack, then took his cup to the trash on the way out of the restaurant.

The next day, Friday, he had a small number of classes and a great number of work hours, which meant he wasn’t in the dorms most of the day and didn’t catch sight of Heero until late that evening. It didn’t mean he didn’t think about Heero, though. Class had some efficaciousness as a distraction from social life, and the student bookstore where he worked kept him fairly busy, but neither could wholly strike from his mind the sketchbook, Heero’s state as revealed thereby, his own growing interest, and the future’s related possibilities.

And none of this really readied him for actually laying eyes on Heero later. For the moment he caught sight of the messy dark hair, the smooth tan skin, and the slender figure (most particularly those tight jeans), he found himself stopping in his tracks at the top of the stairs and simply staring, overwhelmed by the shocking realization that Heero was, if not the hottest guy he’d ever seen, at least in the top five. How the hell had he failed to notice this before? Why had it taken a stolen sketchbook and several hours of reflection to see something he should have been availing himself of forever ago??

It looked as if Trowa was heading for the showers, and Heero had stopped him just outside their room for some discussion or other. Duo, wide eyes still running frantically up and down Heero’s body, did not at first take in anything they were saying, but eventually, as he began to get himself under better control, he was able to make out the words.

“For the last time, no.” Trowa sounded a little frustrated.

“You’re absolutely sure?” Heero, on the other hand, sounded as calm as usual — but if this was really ‘for the last time,’ it was probably something he had bothered his roommate about on previous occasions, which meant he was actually quite concerned.

“Heero, I’m not blind,” Trowa insisted. “I know what it looks like; I would know if I’d seen it.”

Duo suddenly had an uncomfortable suspicion that he knew exactly what they were talking about.

“But–”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s a nightmare to lose something you need for class. But I really can’t help you.” And Trowa turned away from Heero and moved on toward the bathrooms.

Slipping into the other hallway, which ran to the right from the top of the stairs, where Heero would not see him, Duo leaned against a wall and didn’t budge until he heard a door close around the corner, trying to work through all of this.

He needed it for a class? God damn this luck! Duo was tempted to add, ‘And god damn whoever had stolen the thing from Heero in the first place,’ but couldn’t quite bring himself to. Despite not appreciating being put in this position, seeing Heero put in this position, despite how much of a tactless jerk he thought that anonymous person must be, Duo couldn’t regret having been brought to his senses where Heero was concerned — because how long, otherwise, might it have taken him to notice and appreciate Heero fully? He might never have.

But Heero needed his sketchbook for class. Apart from wondering what the professor was likely to make of the prolificacy of Duo within — or had stalking been part of the assignment? — Duo was now wondering what was the best way to get the thing back to Heero without embarrassing the hell out of him. He peeked around the corner, and, seeing no one in the perpendicular hall, hurried down it toward his own room to think about things in greater comfort there.

He was not at all even a little surprised to find Quatre all bathrobed up and ready for a shower when he entered his room, and was glad that he would be alone for the next… however long it took. After wishing his roommate a suggestive farewell, he flopped down on the bed just as he had yesterday, pulled the sketchbook out, and stared at it, trying to decide what to do.

Well, there was a lost-and-found in the building, but it was historically unreliable as a means of somebody actually recovered their own lost property. And there was always the option of giving it to someone else and asking them to deliver it to Heero, but, besides that seeming equally unreliable when he wanted to make good and sure Heero actually got it in time for whatever class called for it, whom could he entrust with such a task?

He’d never really fully cleared his closest friends of suspicion, and, besides, how could he word the request without making it sound strange and underhanded? They would undoubtedly mention to Heero that Duo was the one that had found the missing sketchbook, and that was precisely what he was trying to avoid.

Much the same problems were associated with his outer circle. What if he handed the thing off to the very person that had originally stolen it? What if whoever he asked to return the sketchbook looked inside it, came to the same conclusion Duo had, and spread the word throughout the dorm that Heero Yuy on the second floor was obsessed with Duo Maxwell across the hall?

No, no, no, no, no. Duo couldn’t let that happen. He would just have to sneak in there and deliver it himself. Quatre had a key, of course, which Duo was sure he could easily appropriate… If he sat around quietly here before work tomorrow, keeping his ears open, he could mark when both Trowa and Heero went out — he was fairly sure Heero worked Saturday mornings, and Trowa was likely to go somewhere with Quatre — and then he could creep over there, let himself in, drop off the sketchbook, and retreat with none the wiser.

He nodded decisively. Good plan.

Taking advantage of Quatre’s in-building absence from the room, he set about locating the key. Actually, there wasn’t much ‘setting about’ involved; Quatre’s things were always organized, and his keychain lived on a push-pin on the little bulletin board that hung above his desk. Duo wasn’t sure whether he would notice the absence of one key among four or five (what they all unlocked Duo hadn’t the faintest idea), but he hoped to sneak it back on there as soon as possible and didn’t really worry about it.

Then, having arranged this to his satisfaction, he sat down and went through the entire sketchbook again. This was probably quite vain of him, since it was almost like reading and rereading a list of compliments, but he simply couldn’t resist. His favorite picture of himself, he decided, was the one in which he was gesticulating wildly and making a funny face. There was so much life and movement in the piece, and Duo was certain it wasn’t just because there was so much life and movement in him. He wondered what Heero had been thinking as he’d drawn it. Someday maybe he would be able to ask him.

Although… the more he looked… he remembered this. Of course he couldn’t be certain, but he thought the last time he’d worn that shirt with those jeans had been when they’d all gone to that stupid movie… the one they’d gotten free tickets to from that Independent Records store, that terrible one where the main character had worn clothes something like Duo’s (which was why he remembered at all).

In the restaurant afterward, Duo had mocked the show mercilessly, and Heero had helped him. That just meant, most of the time, that Heero nodded his agreement, or smiled at Duo’s dumb jokes at the movie’s expense, but occasionally he offered some derisive jest of his own. As Heero was quite clever, these had all been very amusing. Why hadn’t it occurred to Duo at the time that Heero hardly ever joked with anyone? That Heero was paying Duo exclusive attention and enjoying Duo’s attention in return? Why had Duo then drifted off to argue with his other friends, who’d liked the movie and kept referring to him by the name of the main character because of his stupid outfit?

And Heero had retreated back into his usual corner to capture Duo’s gesture and expression on paper. Heero bringing a messenger bag full of homework (or what was generally perceived as homework), even to a social event, was so standard that no one looked twice or questioned; no wonder there were so many candid pictures of Duo in this sketchbook.

He left it open to that piece as he changed into pajamas — the plaid ones, not the ones featured in the book — and then put it carefully away in his backpack again before turning off the lights and getting into bed. Knowing he would have to let a loudly-humming Quatre in after not too long, he didn’t bother trying to sleep just yet, but put his arms behind his head, looked up into the dark, and thought about Heero.

The next day he was awakened, as was often the case, by the sounds of Quatre cheerfully getting ready for whatever romantic outing he had planned. Normally this caused Duo to grumble fairly volubly from the muffling warmth of his pillow about rich kids that didn’t have to work, morning people in general, and anyone so incapable of getting enough of his damn boyfriend that he had to annoy his roommate with his stupid weekend schemes at uncouth early hours… but today he just turned toward the wall with a grouchy noise (only partially to keep up appearances) and listened.

Quatre took an inordinately long time to get ready, for someone that didn’t wear makeup or use hair product, but eventually he finished his whatever and left. Then there was the sound of Heero and Trowa’s door opening and closing, voices, receding footsteps, and then silence. So that was Trowa gone.

Yawning, in no kind of hurry, Duo rose and dressed, still listening. It did occur to him that Heero might already have left before this vigil even started, and Duo might now be waiting for a sound that would never come; in that respect, he was fully willing to admit, this wasn’t the best of plans. But he figured he’d head over there and knock if ten o’clock came and he still hadn’t heard anything; if Heero was in there, he could just pretend he needed to borrow a calculator, and then he would know, and could keep listening.

Wait, what was that? A couple of people walking by, talking… Shut up! You’re making it impossible to hear! Except then one of them said quite distinctly, “Oh, hi, Heero.” Duo didn’t catch Heero’s reply, but he did hear the door across the hall close and the voices continue toward the stairs. Then there was silence. Hah.

Hastily Duo pulled out the sketchbook and retrieved the key he’d left sitting in one of his shoes last night, but forced himself to slow down and wait a few minutes. No reason to rush things, after all; he didn’t work until one.

Eventually he deemed it to have been long enough, and probably couldn’t have waited much longer in any event. The sketchbook was too big to burn a hole in his pocket, but his hands certainly felt on fire as he held it.

Nobody was around in the hall when he stepped out, but there were noises from other parts of the floor. He doubted anyone would think twice about his entering someone else’s room even if they happened to know which was really his, but somehow he didn’t want to be seen. So he bounded across, pressed as close as he could to the door as he unlocked it at top speed, and dashed inside.

He’d opened and closed the thing so quickly that, at the crappy little table Heero and Trowa used in lieu of desks at the far end of the room, the seated Heero was only just beginning to look up when Duo noticed he was there.

He could have bolted. He might even have made it back out into the hallway before Heero realized who his unexpected visitor was. He could have tossed the sketchbook down on one of the beds and made a break for it. But he found that Heero sitting there in the sunlight — they had a window in here, unlike in Duo’s room — his serious eyes bent studiously downward and his dark hair falling into his face, was one that it was almost painful to abandon. He wanted those eyes to look up at him, for he found himself uncertain as to their precise color. Blue, certainly, but exactly what kind of blue, he was ashamed to admit, he’d never noticed.

But even as his wish was granted — and they were the most spectacular cornflower he’d ever seen — he realized with a sinking heart that his plan had failed. Here he was, here was Heero, here was the sketchbook. They would have to have it out here and now; there was no escaping.

Heero was greeting the person he thought had entered before he’d even fully turned: “That was the quickest breakfast I’ve–” But he cut his words off abruptly when he saw who it actually was.

“Hi,” said Duo. “I used Trowa’s extra key he gave Quatre, but I didn’t think you were in here; I heard the door close twice, and I thought you guys were both gone.”

Heero was looking at Duo curiously and a little warily; knowing what he now knew, Duo thought there were other emotions in that gaze as well, but so expertly concealed that they were only visible to someone that knew specifically to look: hope, desire, fear, despair…

“I walked downstairs with them, but decided I didn’t want breakfast.” Heero’s tone sounded a little as if he was humoring the madman that had burst into his room and started talking about how many times he’d heard the door close. “So I came back in here.”

Wow. If Duo had been trying to arrange a private conference with Heero in his room alone, rather than essentially the opposite, he couldn’t have done better. He took a deep breath. “Well, I came to return your sketchbook.” And he held it out.

Heero seemed to reach for the object very stiffly and reluctantly; he’d probably already seen it in Duo’s hand, and knew what this must mean. “Thank you,” he said as he set it on the table in front of him and turned his eyes upon it. His voice was level and cool, and it occurred to Duo all of a sudden what he might be thinking — especially given the use of the word ‘return.’

“I wasn’t the one who stole it!” Duo said hastily. “Somebody left it in my mailbox all wrapped up like a Christmas present with no tag, probably trying to–” But he stopped with something of a jerk; wasn’t he supposed to be not saying embarrassing things?

“Trying to what?” Heero’s tone was still calm, and his eyes, as he glanced over at Duo again, were piercing. Captivating.

“Well…” Duo scratched his head, wanting to look anywhere but at the searching eyes and yet never wanting to look away. “I did go through it, and I couldn’t help noticing…” Noticing what an interesting and attractive guy you really are… noticing that, even if I haven’t had a crush on you all along, I really should have…

Finally those eyes withdrew as Heero let his gaze fall once again to the table and the book between his hands. “Yeah,” he said shortly. And his voice was still cold.

“Well, listen,” said Duo after an awkward silence. And perhaps the difficulty of the conversation thus far prompted him to phrase his sentiment in a way he otherwise might have avoided. “I think secretly drawing someone a million times is probably the most passive-aggressive way I’ve ever heard of to express your interest in them, and I’ve gotta say… if it was anyone but you, it’d be really creepy. Since it is you, though…” He paused. He’d seen Heero’s shoulders go rigid at his last words, and knew that Heero was anticipating intensely what else he had to say. “Since it is you,” he resumed at last, slowly, “it’s actually kindof adorable.”

Abruptly Heero stood from his chair and turned to face Duo, taking a step toward him with a hard, riveting look. It was a look that said alternately, “Don’t you dare play games with me,” and, “Please don’t break my heart.” But what his mouth said was, “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I wish you’d just told me, because–” But that was as far as Duo got; quite obviously, it had been enough. He wasn’t sure which if either of them moved first, faster, or farthest; they seemed to meet in the middle, and were suddenly kissing as if they’d been magnetically drawn.

And it wasn’t like a typical first kiss, where they were getting used to each other and figuring stuff out and still hesitant about any number of things… it was more like the reunion of long-separated lovers, each reminded in a blaze what he loved about the other, tasting with curiosity and undismayed by the changes time had wrought, settling joyfully into each other again.

When they eventually broke apart, Duo remained hovering close to Heero’s face, his breathing somewhat hastened, surprised and delighted at what he’d found here. Heero looked as if he felt much the same, though to his expression there was also an overtone of ecstatic disbelief.

“My god,” Duo whispered, “your eyelashes… I’ve never noticed before what amazing eyelashes you have.”

Heero smiled.

“And your smile!” Duo went on, seeing this. “I’ve seen you smile a million times before, but I’ve never really noticed.” And he kissed him again.

His next query was, “Why am I not surprised that you’re perfect at kissing too?”

“If that is the case,” Heero said with impossible calm, “it’s a surprise to me.”

Duo bent so his forehead rested against Heero’s. “You and your perfect face and your perfect grades and your perfect kisses and your perfect art…”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“Liked which?”

Heero actually laughed, a rare sound at any time, and one that now sent shivers up Duo’s spine. “All of it. But especially the art.”

“I couldn’t stop looking at it,” Duo confessed, “but it mostly just made me think of you.”

“Why did you want to bring it back when I wasn’t in here?”

Taken a little by surprise, it was a moment before Duo could shift gears and answer this question. “Oh, I figured since you hadn’t told me all along, it’d probably embarrass you if you knew I had it, so I thought I’d just drop it off here anonymously so you wouldn’t know I knew.”

“And skip this conversation entirely?”

“No way! I was planning on asking you out after finals! I just didn’t want to make you feel bad!”

Heero smiled a curious little smile and said, “Well, I appreciate the thought. Really. But I think you were underestimating me.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s true–” and he sounded rather displeased with himself admitting it– “I couldn’t figure out how to tell you I liked you in person, but I had decided I was going to tell you somehow… I was ready for however you responded.”

“But you still didn’t actually tell me!”

“Yes, I did. I gave you my sketchbook.”

“You… what?” Duo released him so he could more properly gesture his surprise and skepticism. “You? You did not!”

“I did.”

You took your own sketchbook and — no, you did not. I don’t believe it.”

Without a word, Heero pushed past Duo and crouched beside his bed to retrieve something from beneath it. When he stood again, he placed in Duo’s hands a roll of wrapping paper: green, red-ribboned, covered with gold and white flowers.

“I should have known,” said Duo in a murmur of wonder, staring down at it. “Of course this is really your style.” But he hadn’t noticed, before, that he had any idea what Heero’s style was. “And the way you wrapped it… all neat and nice-looking… I’m going to make you wrap every present I give to anyone from now on.”

“I would be glad to,” said Heero solemnly.

Duo lifted his eyes from the paper, grinning at Heero suddenly. “And it’s all or nothing with you, isn’t it? You can’t just tell me, ‘I’m interested in dating you,’ but apparently you can tell me, ‘Look! I drew you thirty times!'”

Now Heero did appear somewhat embarrassed. A little hoarsely he said, “I wanted you to know how much I…”

That embarrassed look on that usually-so-impassive face was just too charming; Duo tossed the wrapping paper aside, stepped forward, and pulled Heero into another embrace. “I guess it’s no weirder than writing someone a love sonnet or something,” he allowed. He was moving to kiss Heero again, but this thought made him pause a breath away from Heero’s lips to ask a little suspiciously, “You don’t write poetry too, do you?”

“I may have tried it a few times,” Heero replied noncommittally, and forestalled any further questioning by leaning in to claim the kiss Duo had postponed.

The next point to be brought up once articulation was again available was, “Without a tag, though? I mean, you had me all up in arms trying to figure out who would be such a jerk to steal your stuff and blow your secrets!”

Heero looked surprised and pleased. “You really were worried about embarrassing me.”

With an exaggerated expression of reproving austerity Duo said, “I think now you’re underestimating me.”

“I won’t do it again,” Heero promised with a slight smile.

Really, it shouldn’t be much of a shock if Heero considered him a little thoughtless, given how long Heero had been largely invisible to him despite being pretty much everything Duo wanted. Maybe Duo was a little thoughtless. Maybe this was a lucky break the like of which he would never see again. Maybe he should take advantage of this opening of his eyes to look around him more seriously in case there was anything else important going on that he was missing.

He would have to think about this later, though; none of it was answering his question.

“So why anonymously?” he reiterated. “You knew I’d find out at the end who’d drawn it all; what was wrong with letting me in on who’d sent it, too?”

Once more Heero looked somewhat embarrassed as he shrugged and said, “I guess that was just another passive-aggressive thing. I thought about putting a tag on it, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it. I’m pathetic, I know.” It was remarkable how he could make such statements so placidly, so coolly. And he was pathetic — or, at least, if Duo didn’t precisely feel sorry for him, he at least felt sorry

Throwing his arms around Heero again, he said, “I so wish I’d noticed before this how interesting and sweet and hot you are! We wouldn’t have had to go through all of this!”

“I wouldn’t have had to try and fail to approximate a perfectly normal human interaction?” Heero wondered dryly. He seemed to be blushing a little — his face felt suddenly hot where Duo’s was pressed against it — whether at his own misanthropy or at Duo’s compliments could not be guessed.

“Well, now you’ve learned your lesson,” Duo laughed. I’ve learned my lesson, anyway.

“Yes: passive-aggressiveness gets me everything I want.”

Again Duo laughed, simultaneously amused by the joke and pleased at being referred to as everything Heero wanted. “OK, one more question,” he said, “and then we can make out all weekend.”

“With a promise like that,” said Heero seriously, “I’ll tell you anything.”

Duo grinned. “OK. So what’s the symbol for the curl operator in Maxwell’s equations?”

Heero blinked. “An upside-down triangle and an X… Where have you even heard of Maxwell’s equations?”

“Some nerds outside one of the science buildings were talking about it,” Duo shrugged, “and it had my name in it so I listened. I just wanted to see if you really would tell me anything.”

“Yes, but now you’ve asked your one question.”

“I’m going to ask you another one anyway, though.”

“I may not answer.”

“Then I may not kiss you again.”

“Fine; what is it?”

“Was Trowa in on all of this? All that, ‘For the last time, I haven’t seen it!’ stuff? Or was that something else you’d actually lost?”

“Oh, that.” Heero cleared his throat. “That was a show, at least on my part. Trowa doesn’t know. But I saw you coming–” he gestured to the window– “and I wanted you to know that I needed it for class.”

“So I’d make sure to get it back to you soon and not keep you in suspense,” Duo finished for him.

“Well,” Heero said a little sheepishly, “and I do need it for class.”

“You… sneaky… manipulative… underhanded…” If Duo’s affectionate tone didn’t assure Heero that there was no malice in the statement, the coined noun with which he eventually finished must have: “…adorableguy!” He put his hands on his hips. “No more of that, OK? Just because you can trick me into doing things doesn’t mean you’re allowed.”

“No more,” Heero agreed gravely.

“And I,” Duo went on expansively, “promise in return never to ignore you again the way I’ve been doing pretty much ever since we met.”

With a rueful smile, “I’m just naturally invisible, I think,” remarked Heero.

Duo shook his head. “Not to me,” he said firmly. “Not anymore.”

Heero’s smile warmed.

“And now…!” Duo wanted and fully intended to make good on his promise of prolonged kissing, but this needed to be done first. “This… is mine.” He turned to the table and snatched up the sketchbook.

“I do have to turn it in on Monday.”

“But you gave it to me. You wrapped it up and gave it to me. It was a present, and I like it way too much to give it back!”

“It’s an eighth of my grade in that class.” Heero reached for the book.

“You should have thought of that before you just gave it away!” Duo laughed as he jerked out of Heero’s reach.

“Duo!” Heero was grinning somewhat too now as he dove again for the item in Duo’s hand.

“It’s mine!” Duo insisted, jumping aside and almost crashing to his doom against the table; the small dorm room wasn’t made for this kind of game. As Heero made another lunge he therefore added, “Maybe I’ll let you borrow it if you ask nicely.”

At this Heero straightened and met Duo’s eyes with such a fervid gaze that Duo also immediately stilled. Heero reached out again, this time not for the sketchbook but for the collar of Duo’s shirt, with which he pulled him close and then guided him into a seated position on his bed. “Please,” he said, almost against Duo’s lips.

“OK,” Duo managed weakly. The object of their discussion was already well on its way to being completely forgotten; it fell from his hand to the floor as Heero’s arms slipped around him and Heero’s lips pressed insistently against his. Duo slid his hands into Heero’s hair, pulling him closer as he deepened and intensified their kiss; and Heero was clasping him, warm and strong, as he let Duo in. And then–

“This is unexpected.”

At least this time Duo wasn’t the only one not to have noticed things going on around him; he thought Heero was just as startled as he was at Trowa’s impassive voice from the door he hadn’t even heard being unlocked.

“I like it, though.” Quatre, at Trowa’s side, looked and sounded both thoughtful and pleased. He took his boyfriend’s hand. “Let’s give them some privacy.”

“It is their turn.”

“We can go to my room.”

Trowa nodded. With an ironic salute in Heero’s direction, he allowed himself to be dragged out, and the door closed.

Once again Duo flung his arms around Heero for a ferocious hug, laughing heartily. “We have been judged!” he cried.

“And found worthy,” Heero added in amusement. He paused, and when he spoke again it was in a tone simultaneously pensive and more playful than anything Duo had ever heard from him. “I say we move them in together over break.”

Duo’s eyes went wide at the consummate genius of this idea, but the aspect of it on which he chose to comment was, “Heero, I think you just asked me to move in with you.”

“I think I did,” Heero nodded.

“Could get awkward if we break up…”

“You think we won’t even last one semester?” Though his tone was light, still Heero was discernibly disappointed.

Maybe it was just beginning-of-the-relationship giddiness, but somehow, when Duo thought about it, he actually saw them lasting a lot longer than that — and he said so. He’d been reminded, too, by Heero’s suggestion, of the fact that the winter break was approaching and he and Heero would be here practically alone throughout. Settling his arms around Heero’s waist, Duo added happily, “This is going to be the best Christmas ever.”

“I think so too.” Heero pulled him close again for another kiss.

And from the floor beside them, another Duo, in exquisitely detailed colored pencil and bearing the neat signature of Heero Yuy in pen, smiled up at them approvingly.


Oh, Heero. Nothing says love like being a manipulative stalker, right? He’s lucky Duo’s so generous (and likes him too), because, generally, the appropriate reaction to this kind of behavior is not to make out with the guy.

Also, don’t even ask me what kind of bike accident knocks out a canine but leaves the lateral untouched.

I’ve rated this story . I wrote most of it in the car during a family vacation to Santa Fe when the interstate stopped due to feets of snow. The back seat of my dad’s car is not a comfortable place to sleep.

This story is included in the Gundam Wing Collection ebook (.zip file contains .pdf, .mobi, and .epub formats).