Sorry that you're getting this twice... I seem to be having an unfortunate case of absentmindedness.

<smiles too innocently> Bob says that since I'm not writing my paper, I should be doing something else, something that is actually productive.

Follows "Just a Little Longer"

And, hell, if you haven't figured it out for sure yet, this is Duo and Heero. Big surprise, ne?

We Should Talk

I've had a lot of time to think today. I didn't have much choice. First it was your grip on my hand that wouldn't let me move from the bed, Then somehow I drifted off, and when I woke up at my usual eight a.m., somehow we came to be curled together like...

You barely moved all day long. It makes sense now that you say that you
haven't slept in a week.

I slept off and on all day. I think I'll be lucky if I can get any sleep tonight. And in between catnaps and pretending that I wasn't hungry or desperate for a bathroom trip, I thought.

Mostly about you.

Sometimes about me.

And a lot about you and me, and the peculiarities of the relationship that finds me holding you and you holding me like the two of us never want to let each other go.

Your ears turned the most interesting shade of red I've ever seen when you finally woke up and realized that we're just one big tangle of each other and blankets, and that you've been nuzzling your face into my shirt for the ten minutes it took you to wake up.

What do you want for breakfast?

We should talk, I know we should. But it's my way to avoid these kinds of confrontations. Words are not my chosen medium. And if I don't move, and soon, my body may never forgive me for lying perfectly still for this many hours.

That was relief in that soft sigh and the subtle relaxation of your muscles. Why are you so glad that I haven't asked any questions or addressed this issue of what we are?

Are you really as uncertain about this as I am? You seem so sure of yourself, always so confident that I sometimes envy you.

One by one, you uncurl each of the fingers coiled against mine. The movement is so slow that I believe that you don't want to let go.

I flex my hand, willing some life back into it, and you wriggle to a sitting position. This is the first I've been able to see your face completely all day long, and the statement on it is unreadable.

Something about it feels wrong to me, but I don't know what, or why, or how I could make it better. I want to fix it for you, whatever it is. I just don't know how.

I'll be in the kitchen.


<smirks> The question is this: He thought, but did he decide anything?

<decides now is the time to run and hide and work on her essay>