Warnings: Spoilers up to episode fifteen-ish, hairkink.

Author note: Okay, my face it a bit red here, buuut kitsune_no_ame was sharp enough to point out that Sumeragi Ri Noriega is her CB codename, and her real name is Kujou something. AHAHA. XD;; So, yeah, Graham totally wouldn't be calling her Sumeragi. *FAIL* However, I am FAR too lazy to go back and edit everything, but I just thought I should make a note.

Song Suggestion: This is the song I was listening to on repeat for the first half of the fic. It's called "Let's Talk About Spaceships" by Say Hi To Your Mom, and it is my ultimate Graham/Billy pairing song. So, it may help establish the mood of the fic, a bit. It's a fun song, so give a listen. ^^

Graham knows Billy still thinks of her. He's told Graham about her once or twice, never by name, but as someone he'd carried a torch for in the past. When the name Sumeragi Ri Noriega comes up during the Moralian conflict, the pieces fall into place. A name and a legacy of emotional scars, and later, when he looked into the matter and found pictures, a face.

She is very pretty. Gorgeous, even. Flowing chestnut hair, voluptuous proportions. No wonder Billy was in love with her. Still is, maybe.

There is a hard, tense coil in his gut at the thought, and he doesn't ask Billy. He doesn't want to know about this woman. What Katagiri wants to keep to himself - well, it's none of Graham's damn business and that's it.

Graham's not jealous.

They don't have things like that between them. They know the score - two men, career military, working together day and night. At work, during the day, he's Katagiri, and in bed he's Billy. It's simpler this way. Convenient. They can't always be heading to civilization off-base and finding random willing partners, to say nothing of finding someone more permanent. They're too busy with the Gundams wreaking havoc on a world-wide scale.

It's just sex, and friendship, and their shared assignment. So when duties for the day are finished and on the off-chance that neither one of them is working overtime hours, they seek each other out. Stress relief. A release of the tension that gathers in Graham's shoulders and behind Billy's brow. That's all it is.

That's all they can have, and it'd be ridiculous to read any deeper meaning to the soft looks Billy throws his way sometimes. It'd be nothing short of idiotic to think that just because Billy falls asleep afterwards with his arm around Graham's waist and his face pressed against Graham's tussled hair that...

No, there's nothing to it. The military bunks are small and it's a long walk between their quarters. And Graham isn't jealous of Sumeragi Ri Noriega. He's never even met her. Besides, he has more pressing concerns than wondering about Katagiri's past lovers. It's a waste of time.

He thinks maybe he should tell Billy they can't do this anymore. The arrangement has lost its effectiveness. After Moralia, the tension in Graham never subsides anymore, not even when he relinquishes control and lets Billy fuck him into the mattress. He can't stop himself from wondering if this was how it was when he was with her, if he made the same noises and moved the same way and came as hard. Graham is angry at himself for speculating at things that don't matter, and he can't sleep well. He finds himself staring at Billy's sleeping face in the dimness of his assigned quarters.

Once, Billy wakes up and catches him at it. Graham is propped up on one elbow, debating whether he should get dressed and leave, try to sleep in his own bed for once. His rustling draws an almost pouty frown to the surface of Billy's face before his eyes slide open. Graham freezes, low thrill of panic skittering down his spine as if he's guilty of something.

"Hm?" Billy asks, too much asleep still for real words.

But Graham is wide awake, and the words are right there at the tip of his tongue - I've got to go, this isn't working, it's unprofessional, we have to stop. He should say them. The silence grows, and Billy just lies there, waiting. His hair is a messy wreath around his face, tangled across the pillow because he can't stand sleeping on it. It leaves his neck exposed, and Graham can almost see the strawberry-dark marks he knows he has left on Billy's throat. He blinks sleep-heavy lids over liquid black eyes, a soft tilt to his lips.

And the words vanish, just like that.

"Nothing," Graham says. "Go back to sleep."

"Hmm," Billy replies and moves forward, wrapping himself around Graham. He kisses him with the same softness, pulls him down, and whispers. "Only if you come with."

And, somewhat surprisingly, Graham does. They sleep with their limbs twined together and their bodies pressed so close the only things between them are shared breath and heartbeats. He sleeps solid, like he hasn't in weeks, and the scent of Billy's skin follows him into his dreams.

He doesn't read anything into it, though. There's nothing going on between the lines. Billy was more than half asleep, and he doesn't ask Graham about the exchange later. Obviously it meant nothing, just an easily forgotten moment. There is no reason for Graham to hold onto the memory at all, especially not when it's back to business the next day, and Billy shuts himself in researching with the Professor every night for a week.

The tension returns with a vengeance. By the time the brass starts coordinating war games in conjunction with the HRL and the AEU, Graham is itching for a fight. He channels his frustration away and doesn't let it show, because now he has a new rank and a whole squadron to contend with. Daryl and Howard are steadfast as ever, and he tries not to rely on them too much. He has to win the respect of his men on his own.

He throws himself into the work, and that's almost enough. He doesn't have to fake his eagerness to test the limits of the OverFlag troops and the suits themselves. He doesn't have to force his sheer adrenaline-powered high while he pilots, anticipating the next time he comes face to face with the elusive Gundams. If it strikes him as ironic that he works to take his mind off what is supposed to be his distraction from work, he doesn't read anything into that, either. He really does love his job.

It's the night before he leaves for China that Billy finally finds him again.

He's packing his gear in his quarters when Billy knocks on the door. Graham is surprised, as much by the visit itself as the strength of his own reaction to it. His heart feels full, each beat squeezing fierce warmth through his veins as he lets Billy in.

"Haven't seen you around in a while," he comments, grinning unrestrainedly as he closes the door and turns to face him. "How's the research going? Have you and the Professor found out anything yet?"

Billy wears his white suit, the one with the short jacket that makes his long legs seem even longer, and his dark tie is loose around his collar. It's a little odd - Billy's been slouching around in his labcoat and that blue tunic of his for weeks now - but it's nothing to give Graham pause. He blinks at Graham once, as if this wasn't what he'd expected to hear. Then he gives a wan smile in response.

"You'd be the first to know, when we do," Billy says. He considers Graham for a moment. "You're certainly in a good mood."

"Yeah, I suppose I am," Graham replies. He's still smiling as he goes back to his open bags and piles of clothes on his bed. "These war games have the potential to be very interesting."

"You think the Gundams will try to intervene." It's not a question. They both know enough about the situation to guess at the real motivation behind the unheard-of alliance between all three world powers.

"It seems likely. Even if we are ostensibly acting in concert with the other nations, we're still propagating war in their eyes-"

His words die in his throat when Billy's arms wrap around his waist and damp, insistent lips press a kiss at the top of his spine. He's only wearing one of the thin gray t-shirts he puts on under his flight suit and a pair of loose-fitting black track pants, and he can feel the heat of Billy's body all down his back. Billy's hips are snug against his ass, and Billy's breath ghosts across the exposed skin of his neck, laced with an alcoholic sharpness.

"Have you been drinking?" Graham asks, surprised again.

"Hm, I suppose. Went off-base this evening," Billy admits smoothly.

"Oh," Graham says. His high spirits falter with the unexpected flicker of confused hurt. They usually go off-base together. "Why?"

Billy laughs a little, just a shade awkward. "Well, I have been working an awful lot lately. I figured it was a good time to unwind, before things get hectic again."

Graham pulls away from his embrace to turn around and study him. Now that he's looking for it, he can see that other's face is slightly flushed, his eyes behind his glasses a little glossy. He's not completely sloshed, but he's definitely had a few. Graham has always thought that Billy makes a pretty drunk. He pushes the sting of not being invited along aside as unimportant, tries to focus on the moment at hand.

"You should have mentioned," Graham says, his lips quirking. "I could afford to unwind a little myself."

Billy returns the smirk. "Maybe I can still help with that."

And then he leans down, and they're kissing. It's demanding, and Graham has to bring his hands up to clutch at the sides of Billy's jacket to keep his balance. Billy tastes of those odd, electric-colored drinks he prefers, but underneath the mask of booze Graham smells something else. Something delicate, like flowers or maybe berries. It takes a moment for him to place it.

Perfume. It's perfume. On Billy's clothes.

And suddenly, it all falls into place. The suit, going off-base to a bar without telling Graham, coming back like this. Katagiri's been to see Sumeragi Ri Noriega.

And it's wrong, all wrong, because she isn't supposed to be here between them, not in Graham's own quarters, not with Billy's mouth over his. The faint scent of blossoms strips away Graham's carefully constructed understanding of just what he was doing with Billy in the first place. His stomach drops like he's just taken a nosedive at five Gs.

He's fallen in love. Hopelessly, utterly in love. With Billy, of all people, and he is jealous, and there is so much going on between the lines here that he just never wanted to admit. Graham has never been the kind of man to lie to himself about anything. To realize he's been doing it all along without realizing it looses a wave of acidic and scathing anger within him.

He's been so, so stupid, and he's let his emotions get away from him. This would complicate things. This would end badly, and he should have broken this arrangement months ago. Should never have started it. He should end it now. Now that he knows that being used as a convenient fuckbuddy is not enough to satisfy him, and certainly won't satisfy Katagiri.

Because Katagiri is still in love with her.

Graham finally breaks away from the kiss, intending on telling Katagiri that he can unwind by himself, or that he has to pack instead. But he can't seem to make his fingers let go of Billy's jacket. He can't help but notice that Billy is here with him. And this time, Graham does read into that. It can only mean one of two things: Billy had chosen him over her - and at this point, that seems unlikely - or things were not going so well with her in the first place.

It occurs to him that he's never backed down from a challenge. There isn't much to go on, but where there's a will, there's a way. As far as Graham's concerned, this is an opportunity. He's not a long-term strategist - he can't plan wars, but he knows all about battles. And this could be the battle that wins it all.

"Graham?" Billy's voice cuts into his thoughts, and Graham comes back to earth. "Is something wrong?"

Graham meets his gaze head on, sees the uncertainty plainly. He wonders if Billy knows everything that just ran through Graham's head, but he doubts it. He isn't that transparent. But he comes to a decision then, and he knows that much shows in the steel he can feel in his gaze. Billy's eyebrows rise when he sees it, too, and he stills, like prey before a hunter.

Graham raises a hand, cups the back of Billy's neck, and pulls him down for another kiss. If the first had been demanding, this one scorches, almost violent - teeth click, Graham's tongue plunges into Billy's mouth, lips a long, desperate slide. Billy's startled by it, he can tell, but he lets Graham turn them both around and push until Billy's knees hit the edge of the bed and they both fall.

Piles of clothes fall to the floor, so much collateral damage. Graham plasters himself flush against Billy. He sucks Billy's lower lip into his mouth and bites down hard enough to draw a gasp from the other man that steals his own breath away. Billy's hands find their way inside his t-shirt, and Graham's skin is so hot he wonders how those long, firm fingers can feel like brands.

The scent of flowers is still wrong, though, and Graham can't have that. Their clothes are hastily stripped off, fumble-fingered over buttons and zippers and neckties. He can't get enough of the taste of Billy, spread out beneath him like a gift.

Billy's hard already, was halfway there since that first embrace, and the jut of his cock against Graham's hip threatens to send him into a kind of frenzy. Is he thinking of her while they did this? Had it been that way this whole time? He wants to erase that woman from Billy's mind, wants to hold him down and claim him and mark him so everyone will know just who he belongs to. Graham wants to know that he is the only one to make Billy gasp, make him writhe, and he wants Billy to know that, too.

Graham is a man who takes what he wants, and he doesn't share. He formulates his plan of attack.

His hand has threaded through Billy's hair under his ponytail, and he tightens his grip, pulling Billy's head back to bare his graceful pale throat. With his free hand, he reaches between them and latches onto Billy's erection with a rough squeeze just as he sinks his teeth into the tender flesh below Billy's jaw.

The sound Billy makes is somewhere between a shout and a keen, and his whole body jerks, arches, thrusts up against him.

"Jesus Christ, Graham..."

He growls low, pleased. His name on Billy's lips, that's what he wants to hear. Tactically speaking, it's a perfect success. But that's not all, not even half of what he wants. He has to press his advantage.

He pulls back just enough to look Billy in the eye and say, "Gonna fuck you, Billy."

Billy's eyes widen almost comically at the words, his breath stuttering. "O-okay."

Graham feels the feral grin stretch his lips wide. He lowers his gaze to watch Billy's Adam's apple bob with a thick swallow, and he gives in to the urge to trace the bump with his lips and tongue. He pumps his fist around Billy's cock as he does so, drawing another half-strangled sound from the man. God, fuck. He loves this. He feels powerful, feels like he's flying, and his heart is pounding hard in his chest.

It takes a supreme effort of will to let go.

"Turn over," he grits out. His voice is distorted and gravelly, he barely recognizes it.

But it makes Billy shiver. And he obeys, so pliant, so willing. For Graham's touch. For Graham's cock. Yes. That's it. There's no one else here, the scent of that woman cast off like Billy's necktie, and this is what Graham wants. He makes room for Billy, watches him bend his knees and lift his ass. He's shaking lightly when Graham runs his hands soothingly up and down the smooth skin of his back, and Graham knows that this is not something she ever did for him. Maybe he'd been a replacement for her when he had Billy clasped close between his thighs, grunting and rutting into him. But not like this. Billy won't be able to pretend it's her behind him, inside him. The knowledge sends a thrill through Graham, and his cock is heavy and hot between his legs.

The tube of lube is retrieved from the nightstand and Graham pours some in his hands, warming it briefly. He kneels in the 'V' of Billy's spread legs, slides his fingers down the cleft of Billy's ass. Billy gasps, squirming when Graham traces the tight ring of muscle he finds there.

And then he pushes in, and Billy says, "Oh, God."

"Don't be so formal," he purrs and starts working him open. "Call me Graham."

Billy's hands scrabble for purchase in the sheets, knuckles white, and he's so tight that Graham knows this has to burn, has to sting. He almost wants to slow down, but instead he leans forward, reaching out his free hand and grabs Billy's cock to distract him. His own breath hisses between his teeth when the motion brings his own cock, damp with his juices, into contact with the ridiculously soft skin of Billy's inner thigh.

"Relax," he commands, adding a second slick finger.

He knows Billy's enjoying this, knows it because when his scissoring motions get deep enough to brush against that spot, Billy's breath explodes outwards and he shoves himself back against Graham's hand. Graham groans, twists his fingers to exploit his new discovery, and Billy's shakes return. He's dropped down, face shoved against a pillow to muffle the sounds he's making.

Christ, he's beautiful, miles of sweaty skin and interesting angles. He's so hard, too, making himself slick under Graham's calloused palm, and he moves like he doesn't know which way he wants to go - which of Graham's hands he prefers. Graham wants to babble at him, tell him every true thing that runs through his mind - you don't know what you do to me, she can't have you, stay with me, I just realized but I love you, fuck, I love you.

But he can't say any of that, so instead he presses open-mouthed kisses along Billy's spine and shoulders, nipping at the goosebumps that rise. He draws his fingers out, lets go of Billy to get more lube, and returns with a sharp motion that makes Billy buck and moan. He's ready, they both know it, and Graham has to bite his lip to keep himself grounded. Not yet. Not yet, because Billy's ready but he's not where Graham wants him. He teases them both, grinding his hips slowly against Billy's thigh, until their labored breaths start to take on a sort of pained note, aching and frustrated.

"Graham, Graham, please," Billy groans. He's fucking himself on Graham's fingers, hips snapping backwards, begging for it with voice and body. And that's almost it for Graham, but not quite. Not enough.

"Say it," Graham demands - or maybe pleads, he can't really tell anymore. He drives his fingers in mercilessly, watches Billy's muscles ripple in reaction. "God, Billy, say it already."

Billy raises his head, cranes his neck to look at Graham, lips red and cheeks glowing and eyes shining, smoldering expression too lustful to be called a glare. "Dammit, Graham, fuck me."

Yes, and that's it. That's what he's been waiting for.

Graham pulls back again, this time slicks himself, his hands trembling with the strength of his need. And when he slides inside, they both moan. Billy is all hot wet velvet around him, tight and twitching, and Billy is cursing under his breath but he's trying to push back already. Graham's hands grip his hips hard enough to leave bruises the shape of his fingers over the curve of bone, because if Billy keeps it up Graham's going to come way too fast.

"Christ, just fuck me," Billy cries, squirming and trying to urge Graham into motion. "Come on, Graham, oh God, please..."

"Fuck, Billy, I--"

He's at the end of his tether, and Billy's still gasping broken encouragement, and he can't, he can't keep himself still. He curses under his breath and pulls almost all the way out just to hear Billy's frustrated moan before he slams in all the way. And then again. And again, and then he's fucking Billy hard and fast and deep.

And all Billy can say is, "Yes, yes, fina--ah!--finally..."

Graham couldn't agree more. Christ, it's been so long since Graham insisted on topping - he doesn't care which way around they fall into bed, not really, because good sex is good sex and with Billy it has always been great. He tosses his sweat-damp bangs out of his eyes to watch Billy, a wanton splay of limbs and passion rocking back on every thrust, his ponytail curled tantalizingly over one shoulder.

And as much as he doesn't want any further mental images of Billy with that woman, he knows Billy would love all that silky brown hair to play with, to bury his fingers in, to pull...

The growl comes from deep in his chest, possessive and rumbling. Before he can give it more conscious thought, his hand closes around the thick rope of hair, tugging firmly but not cruelly. Billy gasps and rises up on his elbows, spine bowing, turning his head with a question in his eyes. Graham drops down, pressing his chest against Billy's back, and wrapping his other arm around Billy's body.

"Brace yourself," he pants against Billy's shoulder.

With that paltry warning, he heaves Billy up and tips him back. Then Billy is straddling his lap, and his cock slides impossibly deep, and their panting breaths shudder in tandem. Graham pulls Billy's hair back, making him arch his neck, and then he bites Billy's shoulder as he jerks his hips upwards. Billy makes sounds like he hasn't the breath to scream.

The angle is perfect, drawing forth the reactions that mean he's hitting Billy's prostate with every movement they make. The furnace at the base of Graham's spine is stoked high, burning and rising to a fever pitch. It won't be long now. That woman is as far from his thoughts as the Gundams. His world has narrowed to this sweat and this need and this friction, this man in his arms, this feeling rising in his heart like it could burst from keeping silent for so long.

He drops his hand from Billy's chest to find the firm, wet cock raised like a victory flag against his belly. Graham wastes no more time, pulling and stroking in rhythm with his increasingly erratic thrusts, his mouth seeking out every inch of Billy's skin that he can reach.

One last thrust, and Billy comes - his body trembling like he's falling apart and trying not to, his semen splashing through Graham's fingers, muscles clenching like a vice around Graham's cock.

"Graaahaam," Billy moans, rough and broken and beautiful and yes, that's it.

It's an explosion, the world rocking on its axis, breath knocked from his lungs by the concussion, and the satisfaction of a perfect shot. It's the fucking Fourth of July, colored bursts behind his eyes, and if he makes a sound he can't hear it for the thunder of his heart in his ears.

He doesn't blank out, but he has no idea how long it takes for them to move again. They're both still winded, so it can't have been that long. Billy pulls away first. Graham shudders when his sensitized cock slips out of him, a pang of loss on its heels.

Before he can feel bereft, Billy returns, sweaty and sticky, wrapping himself around him with all his long limbs. He seals his mouth over Graham's without hesitation. This kiss is different from the ones before. Slower, more intense, full of sleeping heat and a fierce sweetness Graham's too cautious to name. He curls his arms around and rests his hands gently on Billy's shoulder-blades. His heart is in his throat by the time they break apart.

Billy rests his forehead against Graham's and sighs. His eyes are closed, and his voice sounds raw when he says, "You're going to have to re-pack everything, you know."

Graham chuckles a little, the smile lingering on his lips. "I'll get up early."

"You're going to have to wash your bedspread, too. It's a mess."

"Even earlier, then."

"It's pretty late, as is." Billy sighs again, but this time it sounds weary. He pulls back and doesn't look at Graham when he adds, "I guess I should let you get some sleep."

He moves to pull away again, but Graham tightens his hold and won't let him.

"Don't be stupid," he says. "Can't walk all the way back to your quarters naked."

Billy laughs. "I hadn't planned on it."

But he relaxes again and lets Graham wipe the both of them off with his cast-off t-shirt. He lies down beside Graham after the alarm clock is set and the lights are shut off. Billy's tired from drink and sex, and he drops off almost immediately, but Graham holds off, mind still whirling with all the revelations of the evening.

After some time, as he watches the slow rise and fall of Billy's breathing beneath the covers, the flicker of his eyes behind closed lids, Graham strokes Billy's bangs back from his forehead and plants a feather-light kiss in the wake of his fingertips. A candle of hope burns warm and sure in his chest. He can do this. He can fight for Billy, and he doesn't even have to meet his rival to win. And Graham will win. Losing just isn't in his nature.

"You know, Billy," he murmurs softly, too quiet to wake the man. "Falling in love might not be so bad. But only if you come with."

End