The late September day was heavy, its heat saturated in moisture that clung to skin and clothing and could almost be seen in the air. Far fewer than four or five days in as many years had the weather been as such.
"Hurricane weather, boy."
Heero opened his eyes, giving up pretense to sleep. Slipping from bed, leaving Duo undisturbed, he went to the window to stare out into the night. Last time he felt this restlessness was on a trip to the deep south, a stone’s throw across the river to Louisiana. A summer’s day in the Delta, a walk down a dusty street in a backwater town leading to the river.
Shirts glued to their backs, shorts stained dark in the creases, sweat coated their skin in thin layers. Along the bank, they watched the water flow, and Heero imagined it as it had been once, full of river boats, paddle wheels and flat-bottom transporters. Duo left him at a small dock - get something to drink - he’d said, and Heero walked out on the gray planks.
Heero turned his head to look at the man, dried with age and too much sun, a shriveled raisin in a cotton shirt with mismatched buttons and long pants that didn’t quite cover his ankles. From the old man, he raised his eyes to the small shop just up from the flood level, watched as Duo waved a bottle in the air, sun casting a prism of color through it.
"I brought my own," he said, retracing steps back to the bank.
A break of light in the distance coincided with the slide of hands from his shoulder down his chest. Heero leaned back and tilted his head to the side.
"Couldn’t sleep?" Duo was murmuring mouth against his skin, tongue lapping at the salty sheen.
Duo’s pause was slight, but Heero felt the smile. Restless as the weather and his partner to match.