by D.C. Logan
After Colony history. Great. His least favorite class. He was quickly approaching the point where killing Heero was sounding like a good idea. After all, it was his fault he was in this class, as he'd been the one to put in the transfer record to this school. It was also one of the few classes they had together—again one of Heero's brilliant ideas. Duo suspected that he'd broken up the schedule for the simple reason that it made for easy opportunities for Heero to skip out on him when he needed to. He opened his textbook. Usually they left notes to each other between the pages of books—it was an easy way to communicate without drawing suspicion to themselves. Lately though, those notes had taken on a different aspect. While still cryptic enough to confuse a chance look by a fellow classmate—the messages were getting downright personal and private. Heero hadn't been able to arrange for a shared dormitory during this transfer, and after two weeks things were getting, um, interesting. Heero had never pursued him with such an unrelenting single-mindedness before.
Duo opened the book to page 195. A small slip of paper was jammed into the binding edge with one word on it: "red." He turned in his seat to glare at Heero. Heero had an unholy glint in his eye, and he stared back unflinchingly despite the looks a handful of their classmates were shifting between the two of them. Mercifully enough, the teacher had called the class to attention at that point, and directed everyone's attention to the front of the room. But Duo could still feel Heero's stare hot on his back. Red, the color of his briefs today. How the hell had he known?
It was only second period, and the other students were already beginning to suspect an approaching confrontation. Duo had initially denied any friendship with his fellow transfer, so naturally everyone in his class assumed that they were mutual enemies. The truth couldn't have been farther from that—but he wasn't about to enlighten anyone as to their real relationship. Hiding the fact that they were terrorists was difficult enough without drawing even more personal attention to themselves.
Class ended without the two of them killing each other, and they avoided any contact on the way to third-period classes—he had this one on his own. He found Heero's second note tucked between the books in his hall locker. Dammit—his new lock was supposed to be pickproof—he hadn't even been able to unlatch it without its fancy magnetic key. It figured that Heero could open it in the twenty-second head start he'd had on Duo. The guy was freaking incredible sometimes. Okay, most of the time. This note was another cryptic one-word hint: "touch." He stared into his locker, trying to puzzle out the clue. Huh, maybe the next note would explain it further. He shut the locker door and turned to leave for his next class. And found himself face to face less than three handspans from Heero's chest. He couldn't do anything he wanted to do—not with all of the students in the hall, some of them staring openly at the pair of them, waiting for the explosion. Damn.
Heero reached out and touched Duo gently in the center of his chest—directly over his heart—and pushed hard—forcing Duo to step back against the cool metal of his locker. His eyes fixed on Heero's face, trying to maintain a passive expression for their collective audience. Heero broke contact first, and took himself and his assorted Duo-cursed body parts down the hall to his next class. Leaving Duo leaning against the wall of lockers, trying to figure out what had just happened. He could still feel the burning imprint of Heero's fingertip through the fabric of his uniform. And he carried the visceral memory of the touch with him to his next class, rubbing the invisible brand absentmindedly.
Third period (Physics of Space) was uneventful. Without Heero to distract him, it was even interesting in a very basic sort of way. Or at least it would have been if thoughts of an annoyingly persuasive Gundam pilot didn't keep interrupting his studies. The class must have ended though, because he found himself walking up the long staircase to the second-floor salle without remembering the second half of it. Fencing class was next period.
He was still in the beginners group, Heero was in the expert class—only two other students were even close to his skill level—and that was with him trying to blend. Yeah, right, he blends. The good news was their instructor often had the basic and intermediate students watch Heero spar with the advanced group. Forty minutes of unabashedly drooling over his bod. With no one the wiser. Yum. He hiked up the stairs, completely oblivious to Heero's silent footfalls matching him stride for stride three steps below him. Unaware of the hungry way Heero was eyeing the fit of his uniform trousers.
Duo turned around, startled, in the locker room. Heero was standing right behind him again. Geez, how was he doing that! As sensitive as he was to his presence, he should have felt him enter the room. There was no way he should have been able to sneak up on him like that—not with his firmly entrenched street instincts. He put on an annoyed expression for the sake of their audience. "Can you stomp your feet or wear a bell or something? I'm getting really tired of you sneaking up on me."
Heero's glance tracked up and down, noting Duo's partial state of dress. He of course was completely dressed in his white dueling suit, his face guard tucked under his arm. They held the collective attention of a handful of other students who watched curiously. Heero abruptly raised his fist under Duo's nose. There was a folded note tucked between his fingers, "Looking for this?" Duo's gaze hardened. This was a private matter between them, but now it was indisputably public. Great. Heero was grandstanding. Again.
He took the note, threw back the glare, and intentionally snubbed him—turning his back to Heero's face with a complete disregard for exposing himself to a possible strike. He watched the expressions of his other stilled classmates, when they relaxed, he felt safe enough to work at shrugging back into his fitted jacket.
The class was boring after that. Instead of getting to watch Heero, Instructor Jecons had him practice lunges against a fixed target. The way his thighs were killing him, it would be a miracle if he could walk to the next class. And a reason to fax Rome if he felt up to giving in to Heero's idea of fun anytime soon. It gave him a whole new appreciation for Heero's lower body flexibility and strength though...
Duo finally read the note as he changed back into his uniform. "Tonight." Great. Okay, as much as he wouldn't really mind jumping his bones, he couldn't for the life of him figure out how Heero was going to arrange some private time for the two of them. But that was Heero for you, he just assumed that he would follow his lead. He stopped in his tracks, thinking, and a smile slowly broadened across his face. He'd have to see about that. It was time for Heero to stop taking him for granted.
He took a moment to rip a corner off a page of his homework and scrawl a response on it. Now it was just a matter of locating his opponent, and he found him standing just outside the door to their next class. He waited until he had the attention of their new audience and stalked up to him, stopping squarely in front of him. He reached out and dropped his note on top of the book that Heero was holding to his chest. Heero's look bled from curious to annoyed, but he reached up with his other hand to accept the folded slip of paper without looking at its contents.
Duo filed into the class with the others, dropped down into his seat and listened for the soft impact of Heero dropping his book on the desk behind him. He waited, counting the seconds until Heero considered it safe to read his response. Five, four, three, two... The legs on the desk behind him shifted on the tile floor with an unforgiving screech. Heero had read his reply—"tomorrow"—and hadn't been pleased. Heh. Good. He flipped the tail end of his braid over the back of his chair and settled in to enjoy the moment.
This was one of his favorite classes—21st Century Literature, and normally he'd be paying attention to the subject matter instead of the guy sitting behind him. But Heero's presence practically radiated heat and intensity. And sitting less than a meter in front of him wasn't wasn't all that conducive to absorbing iambic pentameter. Frankly, it was damned distracting. And despite Heero's high-handedness, he'd be the first to admit that their attraction to each other routinely got in the way of their cover story. ...Sometimes that was part of the attraction.
He didn't remember the end of that class either. (Heero wasn't doing his academics any favors this time out.) Definitely he'd make sure they roomed together at the next school—whatever it took to arrange it. This was driving him insane, to say nothing about what it must be doing to Heero, sitting behind him and fuming for forty minutes. And though he hadn't turned to check on him, the expressions on the students sitting on either side of him were quite telling. The next break bell would take careful management—Heero was close to the edge now. Of course, since he'd balanced him there with his last note, he couldn't really blame him...
He watched the clock, and in anticipation of the ending bell, gathered his book and papers together and stacked them on the side of his desk—preparing to make a mad dash out of the room. He needn't have bothered with his preparations. The bell rang, the teacher and the rest of the class shuffled out in their usual noisy, disorganized fashion. And he was held immobile in his seat by the hand casually resting on his left shoulder. Yeah, resting lightly, but with an implied threat of violence that kept him pinned in place while the rest of the class exited, letting the door close behind them. Leaving the two of them in the room alone. The thrill or excitement that came with the knowledge that he'd pushed Heero to his limits yet again touched a hot excited part of him that lived deep in the core of his soul. It was pretty heady stuff, and Heero hadn't even moved yet. ...But then he did.
Heero stood, and slid his hand lightly down Duo's arm until he reached his wrist. This he grasped firmly and used as a leash to drag him from his desk and half stumbling to the back of the classroom, bringing him up behind the partial shield of large empty desk. He slung Duo's body, slack with surprise and acceptance, against the wall-length chalkboard, and successfully blocked his only avenue of escape by bracing his arms on either side of Duo's shoulders and staring directly at him with open and frank interest.
This was what had been building up in him the entire day, the entire hour, the last few seconds. Heero moved his hands to frame Duo's face. He was acting like a man in love, or at the least, very serious lust. But there was a gentleness in his touch that was as unexpected as it was deliberate. Heero could easily crush Duo's skull with bare hands—but they were gentle on his body. Reverent. As if in quiet worship at his private shrine.
He lowered his face to Duo and took possession of him. His life, his soul. Duo couldn't withstand the onslaught of emotion. His balance and sense of all that was vertical collapsed, taking his body with him. And Heero followed, as he always would. His kiss promised all of that and more. Wherever you go—I follow. Wherever it takes us. No matter what.
When Heero looked down, there was a different person in Duo's eyes; the boastful noisy boy was gone, replaced by a solemn youth with a question hanging between them. And an answer unsaid.
The moment was shattered by a loud bang in the hall and the sound of the next class assembling outside of the room.
Heero straightened quickly, using his body as a shield to allow Duo a few seconds to regain his composure. A fellow classmate brashly slammed into the classroom and pulled himself up abruptly—taking in the room's occupants and the quiet between them.
"So, did you guys kiss and make up or what?" And then he stopped and took a second look at the two of them, in the back of the classroom, between periods. And he saw the look they traded between them. There was a weight to that gaze and something else behind it. Oh shit... Correctly interpreting that he'd interrupted something he had no business in, he turned and ran from the room. Heero turned, gave a puzzled look at Duo, and chased after the intruder.
Duo braced himself against the wall and slowly, painfully, levered his body into a standing position. Chalk dust was floating in the air from where his head had slammed into the slate. He's never thought of the smell of chalk as erotic before; he'd never think of it in any other way again. Moving slowly as if unsure that everything was working properly, he made his way back to his desk for his books. He shook his head to clear it, and ran a shaky hand over his hair to smooth it back into place.
"Well, isn't that just like Heero. Kiss me into a puddle and run like hell."
That staggering kiss aside, he had just enough time to make it to his next class—study hall in the library. He slipped in as the closing bell rang, and collapsed in his usual seat next to the atrium window. His mind still reeling from the intensity of the kiss, it took him a few moments to notice something different. There was a small piece of paper sticking out from the edge of his book. It hadn't been there before.
He pulled the slip of paper free, and had to laugh out loud. In Heero's precise letting was another one of his single-word notes—"tonight," but this time underlined twice, the lines the exact width of the letters. He'd made his point clear all right. And after that moment at the back of the classroom, yeah, he was willing to find Heero in whatever dank little private corner he managed to acquire.
He started to tear the note into pieces when a line of copy on the reverse caught his eye, and froze his heart. Two words this time. Two precious words from a man who only ever used one. In his neat, precise letters, in the center of the note, two whole words: "love you."