1-23-2002

Title: We
Author: kittikass
Warnings: sap, maybe language, maybe OOC
Rating: PG-13? I don’t know…
Feedback: if you want to: kassi4ever@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: i don't own these guys

 

We

 

I enter the apartment slowly, not wanting to disturb the silence. The weak afternoon sun gives little light, streaking the small apartment in shadow. As I hang my keys on the lacquered rack beside the door, I can see the dim outline of his body, stretched out on the couch. I approach, socks slipping quietly across the tile, he doesn’t move, and I realize he is asleep. I gently hover over him, just watching, and then swoop low for a light kiss on the temple. He starts awake, unconsciously half-sitting, banging his forehead against my chin.

“What the…” he growls, hands fumbling under the fleece blanket for a gun. Not finding one, he blinks back the sleep, his rumpled face turning towards me. “Heero? Oh, god, I fell asleep, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what the hell happened…” he starts, his mind still clouded.

I laugh softly, just a chuckle. “It’s ok, we are safe here.” Noting the bewildered look still on his face, I perch myself on the edge of a tired cushion and mesh my fingers through his own.

He responds, squeezing my fingers tightly, and then he laughs, louder than I had. “I was having the weirdest dream.” He chuckles harder, turning his body to look out the window over my shoulder.

“Yeah? What about?”

“Well, “he starts, but now the small laughs have grown into almost violent convulsions of his entire body. “Hilde had this huge semi-truck, and it was bright-ass lime green, you know, like that sign over there?” He points with a graceful finger out the window at a large billboard selling some sort of liquor tinted with a fluorescent green dye. “Give you cancer, that shit will. Anyway, she wanted me to drive the truck, but instead of just hopping in and driving, you had to run alongside of it, and kinda guide it with your hands around some turns, you know, like pushing it?”

I nod vaguely, studying his face as it turns to me, his laughter dying. I think he is waiting for more than just my nod, so I squeeze his hand and ask “What then?”

Satisfied, he returns to his story “And so after I get it around a few corners, I have to pull open the door and jump in, and then I can drive, right? So, I finally got in, and was real happy to be driving and all, but then I notice that there’s no mirrors or anything, and the front windshield is all dirty, so you can hardly see out.” He smiles again, which I return.

“So I’m driving on this weird little street, and all of a sudden, I can kinda see a huge ditch coming up, and there is this tiny bridge across it. So I try to aim for the bridge, but I miss, cause I can’t see to good out the window, and I go straight through these bushes, that are like, bordering this ditch. But I didn’t really know I missed, till the semi starts to fall.”

I gently ask, “Did you hit the bottom?”

“No, that’s the weird thing, somehow I got the door open, and jumped out, and grabbed onto the bushes and hauled my ass out before the whole truck crashed to the bottom.”

“So what’s the bad part?” I prod.

Expression changing once again, he chortles. “No, this is the funny part. After I get my stupid ass back up onto the street, there’s a bunch of people standing around, you and Hilde, and a bunch of others. Then she starts screaming at me, ‘Look what you did to my truck! I hate you!’, and all this crap. It was kinda funny.”

I snort, joining in his quiet laughter, and wonder if he really thinks so light of it. “You need to stop sleeping after watching so much television.”

Looking somewhat sheepish, he lowers his eyes, and says “Yeah, maybe. So how did the re-con go?”

It appears the dream is no longer a distraction, so I brief him on the next target. He listens attentively, asking a few highly intelligent and insightful questions.

That’s one of the reasons I admire him so much, he is always alert, ready for anything. Hiding behind a meager education and sailors tongue is a mind as quick as any of the other pilots. Although not everyone recognizes his intelligence, I try to let him know how much I respect him, mostly by giving him the information and letting him take care of the details. I think he appreciates this.

I realize that I have trailed off my description of base security, staring into his eyes, and I am again surprised how distracting thoughts of him are, even when he is right in front of me. But, no fear, he is also staring at me, face still a little disheveled from sleep, but his eyes bright in the half gloom.

“Are you hungry?” I ask, a little breathless.

“Hm? Hungry? Oh, yeah, I could sure go for some lobster.” He stands, tosses the blanket onto the sagging couch, and stretches briefly before tugging on my hand still clasped in his.

“I’m sorry,” I answer with a small laugh “we are out of lobster, but I think we can find some tuna, or maybe even some fish sticks, if you feel like seafood.”

He cringes, making a small retching sound, pulls me to my feet, and I return his light kiss before we head towards the kitchen.

After a small meal, we start back towards our former seat on the couch, the room now lit in red and gold by the waning sun. Duo, in the lead, stops halfway into the room abruptly, and I let myself collide with his solid back.

“Do you want to stay out here, or just go to bed?” he whispers, sounding almost afraid of the answer.

“I have no problem with heading straight to bed.” I answer just as softly in his ear, enclosing his waist with my arm.

“Good” comes the relieved murmur, and he changes directions, me happily in tow.

Afterwards, resting on sheets cooled by the cracked window, I stare at his profile. He sleeps again, exhausted by recent injuries and hectic schedules. The setting sun throws his scarlet silhouette on the opposite wall. He rests on the bed, looking beautiful and bruised, a line of pimples running along his jaw. The blue blotches across his chest and small imperfections make him seem more real, more lovely.

I am thankful for the short time we have together, here in this dismal place. I could easily stay here, in this sad apartment, if he could stay with me. I want everything to stay the same; I want to come home from some blue-collar job and find Duo, my Duo, here waiting for me. I want this: me, he, and we, mutually content.

I sigh and wrap a sinewy arm again around his waist. I know the war comes first, I know we have colonies to defend, and I know I love him. I hope his dreams remain as funny as he thinks they are. I just wish for once, my dreams would collide with reality, and I could keep him by my side, just as we are.

 

End