8-17-2001

Kracken
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, but I really would like too. Please don’t sue, strange people don’t have any money and I’m plenty strange!
Warnings: Yaoi, guys getting mooshy mooshy with each other, violence, angst, Duo torture, Heero being a meany. Bad guy splatter. Duo’s P.O.V.

Tie Me Up
(Sequel to Black and Blue Love)

 

The alarm makes me jump almost out of my skin. “Damn, Duo Baka!” I mutter as my fingers fly over the keyboard of the computer. “Just a few minutes, that’s all I need. Damn protocol alarm! I knew better than that! Heero’s going to kill me! He is definitely going to kill me!”

The room is dark, the glow of the computer screen interrupted by the strings of code I’m pouring into it. Access denied. Access denied. Access denied!

“Fucking machine! Fucking code! Why isn’t it working?”

It’s too late. My mission is a failure. If I don’t leave now, they’re going to capture me. Still, I can’t bring myself to leave. I bang the keyboard with my flying fingers, sweat beading my face and eyes narrowing with desperation.

Acces denied. Access denied. I want to cry, but I don’t have time. I’m the ultimate hacker, the best there is. How many times have I bragged about it to anyone who would listen, especially Heero?

Access denied. Access denied. I don’t want to fail. How can I face them if I do? How can I face Heero? He’ll hate me, I’m certain. That’s what I really can’t face.

Access denied. Access denied. The gun presses against the side of my face. My fingers stop. I swallow and let my hands drop into my lap as I swivel my eyes to see the three Oz guards.

They are older men, war veterans. They know what I am; damned Gundam terrorist, their most hated enemy. How many of their friends have I killed? How many sisters? How many brothers? Fathers? Mothers? My hands, so chill in my lap, are steeped in blood. I know what to expect. If I was in their shoes, I suppose I would act the same way. brutal, vicious, and hell bent on exacting some revenge before the higher ups find out there’s a prisoner.

I go down in a melee of fists and kicking boots. Someone grabs my braid and uses it for leverage. I hate that. It always makes me go berserk, that stinging of the scalp, that sudden fear that I might lose something so precious to me. My beating gets more brutal as I struggle. They pin me down at last and... I don’t want to think about how they’re pulling my pants down. I just close my eyes and pant, trying to flood my body with enough adrenalin to dull the pain I know is coming. Still, I can’t help talking. I never shut up. Anyone will tell you that. This wasn’t an exception.

“You shouldn’t do that, “ I manage to say through my busted lips. “My-My boyfriend is very jealous!”

They’re disgusted. I find that funny. Here they are, about to rape me, and they’re disgusted that I’m gay! They make the mistake of loosening their grip. I think they’ve decided to just beat me to death instead. Too bad for them. I slip my hand into my black coat and yank out my knife.

I’m a trained killer. I don’t feel sorry for them. I don’t hesitate and wonder if there’s a better way of dealing with the situation. I don’t simply try and run. I do what I’ve been trained to do. I kill, everyone, without a blink or a twitch. They don’t even have time to get their guns out of their holsters. They just clutch at the knife wounds I give them, across the throat, in the gut, in the face, under the chin. It isn’t pretty and it isn’t quick, dying by a knife. I just take one of their guns and shoot them in the end. By that time, black, thick blood is oozing everywhere. I’m covered in it, but that’s proper. I’m Shinigami, after all, Death.

“Well,” I find myself saying to the room of dead men as I pull up my pants, “at least you don’t have to answer to Heero. He wouldn’t have been so easy on you.” I laugh, a little hysterical, as I sit down at the computer and try to hack it again. You see, I didn’t want to answer to Heero either.

Access Granted. I grin and begin singing a soft, happy tune as I watch reams of information begin to download to our remote station. I wait for the ‘complete’ to flash and then I close the connection and enter my virus. By the time Oz realizes it’s there, it’ll chew through all of their system’s data.

Escape time. I’m good at that too. I’ve entered the virus into basic systems maintenance. Lights go off, alarms and locks fail, communications go down. They can’t coordinate a search now. They can’t track me either. All I have to do is become one with the shadows.

I stand up and then abruptly sit down again. My body feels like shit. Pain stabs through my lungs and guts. The room whites out. No! No! No! I will not pass out! Getting out is part of the mission! I refuse to fail! I refuse! Get up, damned body! Get up, Duo, Baka! You are going to escape!

I’m shaking with the pain, but I force myself to my feet. Move! Move! Move! I put one foot in front of the other. The whiteness of unconsciousness plays at the edges of my sight. I take deep, steadying breaths, panting like a woman in labor, trying to increase my adrenalin.

Broken ribs, maybe one in the lung, I think, as the pain shoots up my side and grinds inside, deep, and all encompassing. Bruised kidney, hopefully, not a ruptured spleen, or I’ll be dead soon. Ruptured disk in my lower back for sure. My legs are tingling with numbness even though my back is alive with pain. How far can I get like this? As far as I have to, I tell myself determinedly.

Too many damned hallways! I’m lost, wandering, sunk in a haze and wondering why someone hasn’t captured me already. I wish they would. I just want someone to put me out of my misery. At one point, the pain becomes so bad I throw up and collapse. Sprawled and sobbing on the cool floor, I don’t know how much time passes. When a hard hand takes hold of me, I’m relieved.

“Just shoot me now, please,” I whisper to the pool of vomit next to my head.

“Baka!” Heero’s voice growls. “You’ve alerted the whole base to our presence!”

“Hello to you too, Lover,” I reply with a broken smile. I’m not surprised by the blow to the face. It almost spins me into unconsciousness as he hauls me to my feet by the front of my jacket.

“We are in danger,” Heero hisses, but I feel more threatened by him than any Oz guard. He asks about what’s most important to him, “Mission completed?”

I nod and he relaxes. I know he would have left me and gone back if I had said no. I don’t blame him for that. I would have done the same. It’s what we’re trained for, what we believe in. We both understand, would have understood, and wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

“I’m hurt,” I tell him; a severe understatement, but I have my pride. “You might have to carry me.”

“Shut up, Baka, and walk!” Heero snarls in reply. “We have to get out of here, now!”

Oh, come on! You were expecting sympathy, worry, words of love, from Heero Yuy? Don’t hold your breath! You’ll suffocate before any of that happens!

The air is cold and it’s raining as we leave the base and flee into the forest. Perhaps flee isn’t the right word. Stumble like broken dolls, is more descriptive, my arm flung over Heero’s shoulders and my legs barely holding me up as he drags me after him. I’m smaller than him, lighter too, but not by much. It isn’t easy for him and I don’t know what he went through before he hooked up with me nearly face down in my own vomit. He had been working on his part of the plan, sabotaging enemy machinery. Of course, his part of the mission had gone through without a hitch. He wouldn’t have left if it hadn’t. He wouldn’t have been there to save me either. Whatever he felt for me, I would never rate higher than a completed mission.

We have to rest. No, I have to rest. Heero isn’t about to admit that kind of weakness. I pull away from him, ignoring his curses, and sit on a fallen tree, the rain pouring down and making me a miserable, pain filled, lump of Human fallibility.

Heero just stands there, panting a little, his only sign of fatigue, and glares at me. I think he’s actually counting the seconds I’m wasting. His hand is behind him. He has a butt holster. When his eyes narrow, I know what he’s thinking. He won’t leave me alive for Oz to find.

“K, I can go on now, Heero, no need for-”

We were in a fucking forest! There are hundreds of trees, hundreds of places, and an infinite time for something to happen. Why did it have to happen to me, just then, and in that very spot? Kind of makes you believe in fate.

I hear the crack of a tree limb breaking. I feel Heero grab me hard by the arm and pull. I feel myself brought up painfully short by my braid as something smashes down on my hand. I howl with the increase of pain until Heero claps a hand over my mouth. I scream against it, jerking and shuddering, until I’m just too exhausted and near unconsciousness to do anything any more. He lowers his hand then, cautiously, looking behind me as the rain trails down his face in rivulets and drops off his chin.

I look too, after gathering the courage. It’s worse than I imagined. The tree limb is big and heavy. My braid disappears between it and the fallen tree I’d been sitting on. My hand is under there too, buried up to my wrist. It’s definitely broken.

“Huh!” Is Heero’s only, exasperated comment. He digs with his fingers around my hand and wrist and then tugs sharply. I feel it slide across slippery mold and pulped mushrooms attached to the dead tree. I gasp and whimper, biting my lip so hard it bleeds. The blood mingles with the rain running down my face.

My hand slides free. It’s definitely broken. It hurts so bad I can almost see it pulse and swell with each shocking wave of agony. Still, I ignore it, well, as much as I can, worrying about a far more important part of my body; my precious braid.

Heero tugs. He tugs again. He braces a foot against the tree and grits his teeth as he pulls. I whimper some more, not from pain this time, but because of my fear for my hair as Heero, at last, gives up. It’s not an easy thing for Heero to do. Mission not accomplished.

“No,” I say, before he even suggests it.

He doesn’t argue. He paces, a hand wiping at the rain on his face, trying to find some solution. I want to cry. I really want to cry. Don’t you see it? Can you understand how much it took for Heero, the Perfect Soldier, the unfeeling, cold fish, bastard, to not slash my braid in half and drag me off? Maybe nobody can see it but me. I’ve watched his face, his moods, his slightest body language for a long time now, ever since I realized that I loved him and wanted to know if he loved me too. As definitions of Heero’s feelings go, this was a biggie. This was definitely a sign of deep and abiding love. He really, really cared about-

Heero jumps on me suddenly, rain and mud splattering me as he begins to beat the crap out of me. “Baka! Baka! Duo Baka!” It was like a song or a chant. Heero had taken a step too far. His training was kicking in at the worst possible moment. Emotions were a liability. He was in a dangerous, military situation. The conflict of interest was more than he could handle.

I defend myself, kick out, punch with my good hand. I’ve learned a thing or two since I began stalking my Heero tiger. One of my punches connects solidly with his chin. Maybe he let me do it, I’m not sure. It seemed too easy. The pain of the blow shakes Heero back to his senses. He steps back, breathing hard and cursing between those breaths. I know then that he doesn’t know what to do, how to free me, how to not have to kill me.

Heero pulls out his gun. I stiffen. This is it. The soldier just made a decision, the only one possible.

“I love you anyway, Heero,” I say and he stands and blinks at me as the rain pours down over us both. “I know you can’t help it. They trained you too well, so well, that you won’t even feel bad about it later. That’s okay. I don’t want you to feel bad. We never had a chance any way. Me and my screwed up life and you and yours. How could two messed up individuals find happiness together? The answer is, we weren’t going to. You would have killed me sooner or later or I would have had to kill you to stop you. I am Shinigami after all-”

“Shut up, Duo,” Heero growls. He steps forward and puts his gun away. His hands lock on the heavy tree branch, testing it against his own strength. I see a look on his face and I know the branch isn’t going to win. It’s probably the same look he wore when he self destructed. Total dedication to a cause.

Pain isn’t a consideration with Heero, or the frailty of flesh. It’s frightening to see a man strain with every ounce of energy he has, to hear joints popping, and to see muscles and veins twitching and standing out with a single-minded effort. The branch could do only one thing, give way before that determination. It creaks, and slides, and then topples over with a crash, branches catching at me painfully as it slides by me onto the ground. My braid comes free and I pull it close to examine it.

“It’s all right!” I can hardly believe it. Muddy, knotted, but still in one piece. My Shinigami pride and joy, the keeper of my memories, was still with me.

Heero had dislocated his shoulder. He snaps it back with the smallest of grunts and grimaces. “Get up, now, Baka, and kiss your hair another time.”

Okay, I was kissing it, but it was an attempt at humor by Heero, someone whom I thought incapable of it. When he reaches down to help me up, I wrap my arms around him and give him a kiss on the cheek, warm and thankful. He doesn’t jerk away, his skin just twitches like a nervous animal.

I know I’m in danger, but I don’t care. I slide my lips along his cheek until I meet his lips. I’m not prepared for him to grab me with his one good hand and jerk me against his hard body. He devours my mouth, breathing inside of it, jamming his tongue in, hurting my damaged lips. Heero doesn’t know how to be gentle. This hot kiss was all he knew of foreplay. He throws me on my back right after that, jerking down my pants, as if we were perfectly safe and not stretched out in the rain and mud.

Crazy, you think? Couldn’t happen? Adrenalin does strange things to men. It can make them strong. It can make them endure. It can also make them unbearably horny. Being two young teenagers, we reacted to the overdose of adrenalin as if we had been dipped in sex hormones and set on fire. We would have done it, right then and there too, except that I knew it would kill me.

“You’re jeopardizing the mission.” I pant the words. I’m still in horrible pain. He’s on top of me, hitching my legs up. He freezes as if I had just kicked him in the face again.

He’s going to beat me to death, I think, but it’s a detached thought. I really want him to continue. I want him to fuck me. I want to be with Heero even in the mud and rain, even though I’m in terrible pain. How can I stop him when this is the first time that he doesn’t have to be tied hand and foot to have sex with me? It’s a triumph. I’m not sure it’s a triumph I’m going to survive.

The soldier kicks in. I can see the guilt and the distaste at himself, that he’s broken training and tried to do this with me. I can see him thinking, ‘This is why I was trained not to love, not to have emotions, and not to have sex. It does make a soldier vulnerable. It is a distraction.’ It moves behind his dark eyes like print on a white page. My fault, those eyes accuse in the end.

“Let’s find the Gundams,” I whisper, sick at heart and wishing now that I had let him do it. He’s lowered the wall between us again. I’m just Gundam Pilot 02 again. A necessary evil. A competent set of hands at Deathscythe’s controls. For that and that alone, he will deign to save me.

It’s harder now. Heero can’t grip me with only one good hand and arm. The one that had been dislocated, was numb. I, with my broken hand, can’t hold onto him too well. We stagger like drunks through the forest and hope that we don’t run into any patrols. In our state, we can’t put up much of a fight.

****************************************************

I pass out. When my eyes open again, I’m in the cockpit of Deathscythe, naked and wrapped in the soft blanket I always keep just for such emergencies. The lights of the control panel blink at me. I check them automatically and am pleased to find everything working and in order.

“We have to maintain silence for awhile.” Heero was busy tapping at his laptop, perched precariously in the small space and face intent on the screen. I see him hit the send button. He’s still wet and in his clothes. Duty first before comfort, always.

“K,” I manage to croak. The pain is fuzzy now, kept at bay by pain killers. My hand is splinted. My ribs are wrapped in thick gauze. I feel stitches under my chin and along the inside of my broken hand. Curled up in the control chair, I’m almost comfortable, except that I’m freezing. A Gundam has heat and air conditioning, but it’s minimal. It wasn’t meant to keep someone who’s naked, and partly in shock from wounds, comfortable.

The laptop beeped. Heero reads something intently.

“What?” I wonder.

“From Dr. J,” Heero explains shortly and keeps reading.

I hate that man. Heero does too, but he never disobeys the man’s orders. Everyone knows why. I don’t have to describe the torture he put Heero through to train him to be the obedient robot he is now. I’m sure the message he just sent the man detailed the mission down to my stuck hair and the fact that he had almost fucked me in the mud. What will Dr. J. think of that? It didn’t follow any mission parameters I knew of. I wonder how he had answered Heero? Kill the Baka before he shakes your training any more or, maybe, come back and be tortured into being obedient again? You can’t tell hormones to be obedient, especially not a young man’s. Surely Dr. J knows he can’t fight against that? I think about it and my curiosity can’t be bottled up any longer.

“So?”

“So?” Heero repeats absently.

“What did he say? Good mission? Thanks for the information? What?”

Heero closes the laptop and looks at me, just looks for the longest time. His blue eyes burn with some emotion I can’t begin to describe. I’m suddenly very afraid.

“I told him that the mission was completed. I briefed him on all the details. I...,” he falters, pressing his lips together for a moment, and then he begins speaking again, “I told him that you had breached my training. That I had sexual urges for you. I asked him if I could be retrained.”

That hurt worse than my wounds. “So, what did he say? When do you report?”

Heero shakes his head stiffly. “I’m not to report. Dr. J. explained that I have reached an age where it is necessary to have sexual contact in order to maintain my peak performance. He told me that it is good that I wish to have sexual contact with men rather than women. No commitment. No entanglements.”

“Did you tell him you wanted to fuck me?”

Heero nods.

“And?”

“He was pleased,” Heero replies. I was stunned until he adds, “Dr. J believes that my training is sound and that I will not hesitate to order you into dangerous situations. He is pleased that I chose you, mainly because of security considerations. Outside sexual contacts endanger our secrecy.”

“No commitment. No entanglements.” I sigh. The drugs were making me dizzy, pulling down what common sense I had left to me. I can’t stop my tongue as I wrap my blanket tighter about my shivering body. “I guess you didn’t tell him that you love me.”

I duck into a ball as best I can, realizing what I had said too late. When Heero doesn’t move to murder me, I cautiously uncurl enough to look at him. He’s still staring at me intensely. He says one word that makes my world stop. “No.”

That could mean two things. No, he doesn’t love me, or no, he didn’t tell Dr. J he loves me. I’m an optimist. I chose to believe in the latter. I know better than to ask Heero which he meant. He’s gone far enough already.

The world starts again. I smile and close my eyes. I need sleep. I need strength. I need to plan my next attack on my Heero tiger. I’m shocked when I feel Heero take hold of my legs and begin pushing them up. My eyes fly open again and I see that he’s pulling down his spandex. It’s obvious by the way he’s hitching my legs up, and pushing away the blanket, what he wants with me.

“Heero?” I squeak it.

Heero comes close to a satisfied smile. “I have permission.” Maybe that’s all he had ever needed. The Perfect Soldier wasn’t in conflict any more. His god, Dr. J., had told him it was all right to be this Human.

“My ribs,’ I whisper, hating to kill the moment yet again.

“Cracked, not broken.”

“The pain..” I’m doubtful of his diagnosis.

“Torn muscles in your side.”

Still, I don’t want my knees pushed down on those tender ribs. I don’t want to take the chance that they are worse than Heero thinks. I also don’t want to remember this moment in pain and fear of death. I want to enjoy every moment.

“Let me...” I push his hands away. Maybe he thinks I’m rejecting him. He isn’t gentle, my lover. He doesn’t know how to be. Sex and the emotions that go with it are too new to him. His skill is sorely lacking in both areas. At that moment, he only knows that he ‘wants’ and that I’m denying him satisfaction.

Heero grabs me hard and I think, ‘he’s going to do it anyway. I’m about to be raped.’

“No,” I say, loud enough to startle him and make him pause. “I’ll use my mouth on you so you won’t hurt me.” I take his large cock in my hand. My hand looks like a child’s next to it. “I’m fragile, Heero. You have to not squeeze, not grab, not hit. I’ll be your toy, your good fuck, and your love, but... don’t break me. You can, very easily. Just...,” I think quickly and then I know what to say. “I’m like the controls on your Gundam Wing when you’re flying her. Light and gentle or you’ll crash, k?”

Heero thinks this over as I stroke him slowly. His face is flushed. He ‘wants’ very badly. He nods, once. “Hai.”

“Training session, number one,” I say to lighten the mood. “How to fuck Duo Maxwell and have him survive it.”

Heero’s mouth twitches. It’s more than his usual grim smile. He looks down at my stroking hand. “Teach me,” he says simply.

I pull him forward with my hand and take him into my warm mouth. I’m tired and drugged. I don’t know if I can last long. I don’t need anything for myself, the drugs have killed that along with the pain, but I want to give Heero first class pleasure and I fight the drugs to stay alert and concentrate on my art. It was art and I am good at it. On L2, people had paid good money to have my talented lips on them. It felt wonderful to give it for free, to give it all to someone I loved.

Heero shudders and groans as my warm mouth strokes up and down on the monster between his legs. I take it deep, past my tonsils, the drugs helping my muscles there to relax. When I come up to the tip, I swirl my tongue roughly around the gland, dipping it into the slit deeply as if it were the center of a whirlpool of sensation. My good hand massages his balls, strokes the sides, rubbing the sensitive spot just behind. He bucks and grabs my hair with both hands hard, but I simply stop all motion until he takes the hint and releases me. His reward is having me continue deep throating him and swallowing to make that ring of muscle just past my tonsils contract on him.

“I can’t... I need...,” Heero stammers. “I need in you!” he finally forces out. He pushes me back into the chair. It’s padded and comfortable, but I know what Heero has in mind won’t be. He reclines the chair with feverish speed and pushes me down onto my back. It’s hard to fight back. I’m almost out of strength.

“You can’t!” I argue as he hooks his arms around my legs and begins pulling me towards his pelvis. “We need oil. You’ll split me wide open! You can’t just spit on a huge cock like that and expect it to go in!”

Heero groans. “There must be something!” He begins rummaging through compartments. Things fall out, manga, fast food bags, plastic knives and forks, a porno magazine with men in it. Heero throws things right and left. Some of it lands by me. Some unintentionally hit me. When small packets rain down on me and the chair, I lift one and squint in the dim light to see what it is. Mayonnaise. An idea comes to me. I’m almost reluctant to suggest it, imagining what I’ll have to do later to clean myself out, but Heero needs me so badly. Nothing like sacrificing for someone you love.

“Uh, Heero?”

He turns and looks at me hopefully. I waggle the packet at him. He comes over to see what it is. "Mayonnaise?"

“It’ll work, I think,” I tell him, still reluctant.

Heero is running his hand up and down his hard on. It’s such a deep red. He must be in pain. What he says next, stuns me, and makes me believe that there’s hope for him yet. “Gentle.”

“Gentle,” I echo.

“Like the controls on my Gundam Wing.”

“Yes, or you’ll be burying me in the morning.” I didn’t want to kill the mood, but talk like that didn’t phase the Perfect Soldier. It was as if I was giving him a mission. He was taking his training session seriously. I almost expect him to say, ‘Mission accepted,” as he breaks open the mayonnaise packet and squirts its contents over his cock.

I reach out and help smooth it all over, taking some of it on my fingers. “Let me get ready,” I tell him as he starts right away to get into position. He holds himself back with an effort, groaning. I wonder, as I slide fingers inside of myself and make the ring of my anus relax, if he’s going to come without my help.

I don’t need to worry. Heero doesn’t fail missions. When I nod, though, to let him know I’m ready, he turns into an over eager boy chock full of hormones in an instant. He can’t control himself very well. He yanks me against his pelvis and grinds his cock into me. At least he doesn’t try to lay on top of me or hike my legs up against my chest, I think as I grit my teeth and refuse to scream. Heero just uses his strength to hold me in place and fucks me sitting in the chair.

There’s a point where pain became pleasure, or, maybe, one in the same. I know, with more sessions with Heero, my body will get used to him and it will stop hurting, but for now, adrenalin kicks in and helps the drugs put me in a place where that pain can’t reach. I drift, just liking the strong feel of his body, his arousing grunts, and his masculine thrusts in and out of me. I love men. I love their smell and their sex. I love being dominated by their strength. I have all of that with Heero and much more. He’s definitely a man’s man and I love him, which is the most important thing of all. I can do without the rest if I can just have that.

Heero comes with a strangled cry. I had drifted, missing the moment of release when his contorting face had become almost animal. I do get to watch it regain its humanity, slowly coming back from the plateau of delight to stare down into my bemused face.

Heero utters a Japanese word, softly, distinctly, all of his walls and defenses lowered for one brief moment.

“What?” I smile up at him.

Heero touches my face, caressing my bruised skin, unintentionally rough. He can’t say it again in English, but I think I know what it is he’s trying to say. It’s in his eyes for any fool to see. Who needs words?

Squeezed between me, the chair, and the console, Heero’s butt is almost against the comlink screen. Still, he stays in that uncomfortable position, wanting, maybe, like me, to make the moment stretch as long as possible. Who knows what tomorrow will bring or even the next moment?

“Duo!” Quatre’s outraged voice booms through the speakers. “Don’t moon the view screen! Where are you? You should have reported an hour ago! Stop this silly prank at once and look me in the face!”

Heero looks as embarrassed as his stiff face can manage. I wonder if he’ll move and reveal this new relationship to the others. I wait and forget to breathe. Slowly, Heero takes one step sideways. I see Quatre puzzle over me, sprawled, naked in the chair and then he widens his eyes when the owner of the ass turns and shows himself to be Heero.

“I uh,” Quatre’s fair skin goes as red as a beat.

“What is wrong?” Wu Fei’s face appears beside Quatre’s. By that time, I’ve pulled the blanket over myself. Wu Fei scowls. “What have you done to so upset Quatre?”

Quatre reaches over him, presumably hitting the termination switch of the com link. “They uh, need some privacy, I think, Wu Fei,” he says before the link goes dead.

I’m worried about Heero. This is all so new to him. I’m afraid he might get violent again. I study his face. It’s as blank as a board now, his eyes distant, as he thinks.

“Heero?” I ask cautiously, tensing and getting ready to roll into a protective ball.

“Acceptable,’ Heero says at last, meaning the revelation of our relationship. I let out a breath of relief. I suck it in again when he leans very close and kisses me quick and hard on the lips. I’ll have to teach him a proper kiss, I think, but that thought is lost in the maelstrom of emotion when Heero says very seriously, “Very acceptable.”

It’s a declaration of love! It is! I am not crazy! I am not imagining it! Heero Yuy loves me! Ah, you still think I’m crazy! Well, I’m Shinigami. I kill. Heero is the Perfect Soldier. He kills. Our hands are steeped in the blood of the enemy and the innocents who were unfortunate to get in the way. We take what we can get when life tries to be kind to people like us. We don’t deserve love, but we want it anyway, hope and strive for it, maybe even imagine it in a ruthless killing machine in the shape of a blue eyed Japanese teenager. Yes, I’ll take what l can get. I’ll take it with both hands and tie it up so that it never gets away.

 

***Owari****