by Uru-Chan

Sunlight trickled through a space in the blinds, glistening in a tangle of chestnut and naked limbs. A single gold-flecked eye glared from beneath jagged bangs, cobalt warring with reflected light.

Heero blinked reflexively, tilting his head into the shadows. Quit staring like a love-sick idiot. There's someplace we gotta be. The Japanese boy shifted slightly beneath Duo's weight, peeling the limp fingers from his chest. Shinigami responded by burrowing his cheek into the crook of Heero's arm, one hand clenching the other's waist. The Wing pilot flinched as Duo's thighs closed against his leg, the boy's arousal pressed unconsciously between them. Heero's eyes slid shut, calloused fingers gliding along the narrow, pale back. He clutched the smooth, pert flesh of Duo's buttocks, exploring with a kind of drowsy fascination.

Shimatta...what the hell are you trying to do to me? Last night...it was all I could think about; wanting to beat the shit out of you for playing with me like this, or maybe just shove you down and teach you a fucking lesson. I wasn't thinking straight; ch', I wasn't thinking at all. And then when it was over, and I realized what I'd done... A slight smile tugged at the sullen boy's lips, hand squeezing gently at Duo's flesh.

I don't know why you forgave me. But I do know one thing. That wasn't a one night stand.

The dark-haired boy attempted to shift, pulling the sleeping pilot flush against him. Instead, the American rolled abruptly onto his back, one wrist striking the headboard. Smirking slightly, Heero kneed Duo's legs apart, straddling them as he cupped the boy's face. Mine, he announced fiercely, repeating the word for the sheer pleasure of it. Iie-matte...The arrogant smirk faded from his face, replaced by a sort of wonder and vulnerability. Mine. But only because you want to be.

"H-hanaseyo~" Shinigami wriggled with discomfort, brows knit in a tiny frown. The chestnut head tossed fitfully, exposing dark smudges beneath the American's eyes.

Hn. Haven't been sleeping, have you baka? Something on your mind, is that it? Or someone... His fingers tightened unconsciously, and Duo whimpered softly beneath him. Heero relaxed them, ashamed, stroking the slack mouth with his fingertips.

Hidoi ne-you look like shit! You're useless as you are--a liability for both of us. Nanase, Duo. I don't know who this Solo is, or what the fuck's between you. But if he loved you, he wouldn't let it come to this. He'd realize whatever the hell he's doing to you is hurting you. Maybe he really thinks you're indestructible. I guess he doesn't know you like I do. Take it from me, Duo; whatever he feels for you...it can't be love.

"Fresh fruit! Fresh frui~t! Shiny red apples, ripe delicious oranges!" A small boy stood uncertainly atop an empty crate, one hand grasping the cart for support. "Hey Mister! Man, do you look parched! Bet you've been carrying that heavy pack from clear across town! I bet a ripe juicy orange is just what you need! What do you say? On sale today-but only for you!" Heero grunted a negative, hefting his pack as he surveyed the nearest intersection. A freak power surge had all but destroyed his beloved laptop, and he'd made very little progress with the local venders.Hn. Maybe I should've woken that baka. Seems the shopkeepers have a sweet spot for him. Either that or they wanna kill him. Shimatta! Forget it kid. No time for bloody oranges.

He'd almost reached the curb when he caught the boy's expression. The brilliant smile vanished from the grimy little face, replaced by age, dread, and hopelessness. It reminded the Wing pilot of a certain loudmouthed American. I wonder if Duo ever sold fruit to stay alive. Heero recalled the long-haired prostitute from his first day on L2, and his stride grew determined.

"Oi, Kid. I changed my mind. I'll take two."

Heero Yuy slumped wearily against a stairwell, relaxing in the shadow of the alleyway. One wrist swiped at his mouth, creating a smear of sticky orange juice. K'so. Should've been gone by now, not hiding from a goddam malfunctioning sun on this pathetic excuse for a colony. The Wing pilot kicked at a discarded orange peel, utterly disgusted with the situation. Maybe I should go back for Duo...Ch! Heero no baka! I'm gonna let him sleep. I can do this on my own, even if I have to walk from one end of L2 to the other.

The clatter of metal startled Heero from his reverie, and he leapt to his feet, target sighted. C'mon, c'mon...into the light...Just a little further...A fit of mewling erupted from the shadows, and several tabbies fled from a toppled garbage can. Hn, he muttered, flushing slightly in embarrassment. Just a bunch of alley cats. Nevertheless, he stood poised, weapon trained, unable to lower his guard. Something...I sense something-

"Jumpy, aren't you? Why don't you put that thing away." Heero's wrist jerked, flawlessly targeting the source of the smug voice. His finger tightened on the trigger as the tall, t-shirt clad figure glided into view.

"Iie. Why don't I just kill you right now?" the Wing pilot retorted. His mouth turned involuntarily in a snarl, weapon trained on that pale, arrogant face. The green eyed boy smirked, pausing, arms crossed, before the Japanese pilot.

"Why would you? Unless, of course, you feel threatened by me. Do you?"

Cobalt eyes narrowed as he swallowed his reply, shoving the gun into his waistband. I can't frighten you with death. And I don't think Duo would appreciate fifty bullets in your fucking head. I think it's a safe bet that Baka's the only pawn in this game. Arrogant son of a bitch.

"Not much for conversation are you? But I suppose Duo's loud enough for the both of you. Where is he anyway?" Solo drawled, resting his shoulder against the far wall. "Oh, I'm sorry. Was there a disagreement? I hope I wasn't involved..."

"Ch'. Whatever happened--we worked it out." Heero turned toward his pack, calmly adjusting a series of clasps.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Solo exploded, composure crumbling. "Kisama! You-you fucked him didn't you!" The Japanese boy froze, fingers tightening along a threadbare strap. "You did! It's written all over your goddamn face! So, it didn't mean anything to you, did it? Watching him move for me, knowing he's spread his legs for half the men in that goddamn club! You cheap fuck!"

The strap slipped easily from Heero's fingers, and the pack slumped to the pavement. Swiftly, his hand closed on the flesh of Solo's throat. He flexed his fingers leisurely, marveling at the skin's softness, the lack of persperation.

"You're just full of shit, aren't you?" The Wing pilot tightened his grip, shoving the taller boy to the wall. "If you knew Duo...If you knew anything-"

"I do know him-better than you could possibly imagine. He's mine, you little shit, and whatever the fuck happened last night, it doesn't change a thing." Heero smirked abruptly, withdrawing his fingers to grasp at his bag. The green-eyed boy glared at him, stunned by his sudden composure.

"Nanase. We both know Duo sleeps around. What difference does it make if he slept with me?" Heero's brows rose sharply in surprise as Solo's fist closed on his tank.

"Duo belongs to me," the taller boy ground out, tugging at the Wing pilot's shirt.

"That's not a descision you can make," Heero replied stoically, peeling the boy's fingers free. Gathering his belongings, the Japanese pilot walked toward the street.

On to part thirteen. Back to part eleven.