The Little Things Arc
Part Sixteen: Sunday Afternoon
by D.C. Logan
It was a restful, quiet and lazy Sunday. Sort of. Perhaps a
little too quiet--well, at least in Duo's opinion. Heero
had brought work home again and the only sound worth noting
was the light clicking chatter of his fingers on his
computer keyboard. As was the case with most of Heero's
roster of talents, he typed with an economy of motion and
an intrinsic grace while never looking at his fingers. Many
were the happy times that Duo had fallen asleep on bed,
sofa, or floor to the pink noise of Heero working.
But not now, not this time. As comfortable as it was to
stretch out across the lumpy acreage of his sofa, a recent
technical thriller in hand with a plot that bored him
senseless and dialog that had looked interesting on an
initial scan but that was falling rather flat at the
moment--it just wasn't doing anything for him. He wasn't
hungry, he wasn't bored exactly--he just needed to move...
He stalled for time by watching Heero instead. His focus
was on his work, his hands floating over the keys with a
rapid cadence and pauses in a regular cycle. During the
pauses, he would lift his head slightly and look up to the
left. Since he was facing the window, Duo couldn't verify
his expression--but he'd bet almost anything that he had
one of those thoughtful long-distance stares on his face.
The kind that would rack focus if he suddenly appeared in
front of him. Keystrokes. Pause. And again.
It gave him an idea. A not altogether original one--but
Heero hadn't complained when he'd done it last--so he had
hopes of surviving a repeat of the experience.
Slowly, moving one fiber of his body at a time, he eased
off of the sofa. He made sure to transfer his weight
smoothly from the raised cushions onto the support of his
braced hands on the floor and crawled, moving a hand or
knee into position on the floor and slowly, incrementally,
shifting a portion of his weight onto the limb. Each
calculated move bringing him closer to his target. Sitting
defenseless (well, never *really* defenseless) at his desk.
He moved into a crouch at the base of Heero's chair and
reached up slowly, moving an inch and holding, moving and
holding--allowing his target to acclimate to his presence
one small motion at a time. And, when the target was in
range, he lightly stroked the tip of his braid across the
back of Heero's exposed neck.
Heero froze--completely transfixed by the unexpected
sensation. That was part of the soldier still in him, he
never started or jumped, he just shifted his awareness
before his nerve synapses took over and his hands lowered
of their own accord to rest on his thighs. His eyes,
previously bright with intellectual intensity, glazed over
and the lids slackened.
As Duo continued to lightly stroke just the extreme tip of
his braid across one of Heero's most erogenous zones, he
noted that Heero's lower lip trembled almost imperceptibly.
It fascinated him.
It was his only warning.
It was easy to forget, even with living side by side with
him, how very fast Heero could move... especially when...
properly inspired. Duo didn't see or hear the chair tipping
and crashing to one side, didn't actually see Heero move at
all truth to tell. But the next moment, he was on the floor
with Heero pinning him there--and apparently parts of his
body were rather pleased to make their mutual acquaintance.
That was quick--and most welcome.
What *was* unsettling was the feral glint in Heero's eyes
as he took in Duo's panting breaths and flushed face.
And Heero consumed him.