disclaimer: merith does not own gundam wing.. or the boys. so sad, that....

drabble requests
by merith

|| ravensilver wanted heero/duo, mission with some angst

Two weeks ago, I watched him jump from the plane, watched his controlled flight downward for as long as he was in sight; missed his chute launching. The mission was dangerous - weapons of mass destruction mixed with unscrupulous rebels usually are. But, he was chosen for the job. He was the right one for the job.

That didn't make me like it.

I wasn't supposed to be on this operation, but I used what little clout I had to become part of the command team. I had to know, had to keep track of him, even though I knew he'd come back, he'd finish his mission. He always came back.

Son-of-a-bitch better come back. I don't want my last memory of him crouched in the fucking jump-door, eyes piercing even through the dark of the cabin. Without a single fucking word said, I knew what he was telling me. It was the same litany I gave him when I was in his boots - words we rarely shared, clutching them close to keep from losing them.

Behind me there are agents coordinating assault efforts, agents in communication with other agents in the field. Their voices are the same as the insects, there, but not. The heat is oppressive in the Ops tent; usually is in the jungle this time of year. I can almost see him out there, blending in with the trees and vines; normal things like climate and bugs never seemed to bother him. And so, I ignore the discomforts for his sake if nothing else.

His tracking dot is on the move again, and I follow it, plotting its trajectory by superimposing the area map. A tiny bit of tension eases, just enough that I can look away, rub the back of my neck, take a drink of water. It had been three hours from the last movement, and my world stood still while his did. The meeting behind me is breaking up; squad leaders have their directives, and men to prep; the commander has an operation to run; I have a soldier to watch.

Only another eight hours and he will be at the rendezvous point. Another ten and I will make sure he knows with or without words.

But for now, I watch his little red dot weaving amidst the trees out in that god-forsaken jungle, and wait.

|| zazu wanted heero/duo in school fic with no specific prompt

"Yo!" a voice shouted out from the back of the room.

"Gayland?" she continued.

Heero scowled at the clock over the door, switching to glare at the empty desk to his left. He pulled his homework from his notebook, and glanced at the door again. Duo was late, which meant another detention; which meant, he was grounded for a week.


"Pre-" the girl behind Heero started to answer, her voice was still on the high note, and the fire alarm rang.

"Alright everyone," the teacher stood suddenly. "You know the drill. Single file down the corridor, out the side doors, and across the courtyard to the athletic field. Quickly now." The teacher was standing by the podium, watching her students cram the exit, waiting for the room to clear.

Pushing his way toward the front of the line, Heero scanned the hall for a familiar braid. No sign of Duo, he crossed the courtyard ahead of his classmates, head constantly turning to find a glimpse of his wayward friend. It wasn't until he reached the designated area that Heero spotted him - running from the opposite side of the building.

There were thirty-two registered students in their class, and Heero counted twenty-six before Duo caught up to him. The teacher arrived shortly after the twenty-ninth, and Heero stepped forward to advise her of the three "missing" students, effectively blocking the winded Duo from her sight.

Ten minutes passed before the all clear bell sounded, and the teacher led the way back across the grass, down the slope to the courtyard, and inside the school building. Heero held Duo's sleeve, letting the others file passed shoving, talking, laughing. He began to walk, keeping their distance.

"Idiot," he said quietly, not looking in Duo's direction.

Duo half chuckled, and looked off in the direction he'd run in from. "Yeah, well. I was going to be late and you know what that means."

"And if you'd gotten caught, it would have been worst." Heero glanced at him and back. "You were right behind me after lunch. Where'd you go?"

"Uh..." Duo was stalling, and Heero was running out of free space to talk.

"Duo," he warned, slowing his walk even more.

"I can't tell you." Duo had stopped walking, and Heero turned to stare at him.

His eyes narrowed, but Heero reached for the closing side door, and held it open for Duo. "I hope whatever it was is worth the possibility of you getting expelled."

Duo grinned as he passed. "Oh it is." He began imitating guitar sounds in an offbeat rendition of Heero's favorite song. Heero shook his head and fell in behind Duo, following him back to class.

It was five minutes to bell, and it clicked. His birthday, the concert the Saturday before, his favorite band, and an overheard discussion in the commons. Heero turned to Duo, his glare punctuated by a twitching grin.

"Asshole," he whispered.

"Yeah, ain't I?" Duo raised an eyebrow, smirking in return, and Heero went back to the finer points of conjugating a verb in Spanish.

|| june asked for heero/duo shonen ai, and fishing

Literally lying on a pile of life jackets and the canvas tarp taken from the trunk of Heero's car, Duo was slouched back on his end of the boat. He was sleeping, Heero was sure of it, and he almost stretched a foot out to accidently kick Duo's leg. Instead, he reeled in his line slowly, watched the moonlight glisten of the line and listened to the frogs croak in the reeds. The water was making gentle whapping sounds against the hull, lulling the boat with its rocking.

Duo's line pulled taut, the pole's tip dipped, sprang back and dipped again. Duo sat up, pulling his rod close, and began to tease the line with careful cranks on the reel. Click. Click. Click. There! A snapping jerk of the pole, a sudden flurry of winding the reel and a fish was landed. Heero held out the net, scooping the struggling cat in its weave.

"It's about six pounds," he commented quietly. "Keeping?"

"Nah." Duo was already turning about, reaching for his pliers. "Leave him for someone else."

Heero didn't respond, but held the catfish firmly while Duo extracted the hook. He tossed it out in the lake, and wiped off his hands. "I thought you liked to fish," he said, picking up his rod and checking the line.

"I do," Duo snorted. From the corner of his eyes, Heero saw that Duo was baiting the hook, his chin tucked down and his knees pressed tightly together holding the pole tight. "Why?" Duo's line was free, and he flicked the pole back, cast it forward, and off a short distance, a plunk sounded.

Shrugging, Heero turned to his own line, fussed with the tension, and shot a glance toward Duo. "You never keep anything you catch, you sleep every time we come out here. You don't talk about it at work..." Heero turned to watch Duo. "Why do you fish if you don't like to fish?"

Duo was still, his pole forgotten. Heero continued to wait, watching Duo. A handful of heartbeats passed, and Heero gave up pretense of fishing, setting his rod aside. He turned on his seat, his knees inches from Duo's thigh. "Truth is, I know I don't like to fish," he frown briefly. "At least, not every weekend like we have been doing." Duo shot him a look, his mouth parted to speak, and Heero held up a hand. "It was always the company I wanted," he continued softly.

"What?" Duo's voice was just as soft. "But I thought..." his hand lifted and he waved out over the lake, the boat, and Heero himself. "I thought this is what you wanted to do. You always talked about fishing, and you dragged me off to enough boat shows, and sports shops." He glared at his line, and set it aside to turn and face Heero. "What gives?"

Heero couldn't help the laugh, for all that it was short. "I used to talk about fishing because you mentioned it once." He was shaking his head smiling. "I thought you wanted to fish."

"Okay, so we both don't want to fish." Duo grinned, moonlight on his face. "What are we going to do on our Saturday nights then?"

His knee bumped into Duo's. "I have a couple of ideas."

|| cor wanted something trowa/quatre, something sweet, school fic

Quatre was standing in front of the vending machine, fingering the three quarters in his pocket, and trying to decide which bag of chips would be most filling. He rather thought the pretzels would, but he had a taste for the Cool Ranch Doritos. Food smells from the cafeteria permeated the halls, and Quatre’s stomach growled. It wasn’t that he was fond of cafeteria food, but he’d slept through his alarm, and rushed out of the house that morning. His packed lunch was still in the refrigerator where he'd left it the night before, and his wallet he could only guess where it went.

Plugging the last of his wealth into the slot, he sighed and punched the numbers for pretzels. He really was hungry, and pretzels were supposed to be healthier than regular chips. Water from the fountain would work for something to drink. If Duo or even Heero shared his lunch hour, he could filch a fry or two, or even a half a sandwich, the pair was so used to packing extra for "twoes", as Duo called it. Something hobbitish Heero said by of explanation. But both Heero and Duo - and Wufei - were out for a meet, and wouldn't be back until near dinnertime.

It was raining, making his usual spot too wet to pass the lunch hour. He avoided the lunchroom, thought about heading for the library, and settled for the theater prep room instead. A friend of Duo's was there, eating with a group of her theater friends, but she looked up and waved his way, grinning. He gestured back, and found a clear spot down by what remained of the Rosencrantz and Guildenstern set.

He watched Hilde laugh and lean close to one of the girls she sat with, and a hint of what Duo joked about whispered. Thespian the lesbian, Duo called Hilde. A chip halfway to his mouth, Quatre paused, knowing he was reading more into it than what was there.

"I don't think she is."

Quatre twisted about, looking up just as the speaker began to sit. "Is what?" he asked, temporizing. His hand closed over the bag of chips, and he swallowed, trying to wet a suddenly dry mouth.

"Interested in other girls." And the other boy flashed him a smile from underneath the hair hiding his face.

Trowa. The boy's name was Trowa. The image of Trowa on stage, in tights and doublet, superimposed itself in Quatre's vision, and Quatre had to look away. He glanced back at Hilde and her friends, grasping for something more to say.

"She's awfully friendly, though."

"She likes to play with hair, and Cathy has a lot of it." Trowa had eased himself down next to Quatre, a soft-side lunchbox sat between his feet. "Hilde likes the attention being ambiguous affords her," Trowa added, unzipping the bag.

"Oh," was all Quatre could manage. He wasn't hungry any more - at least, not hungry for food, and highly doubted he could get away with satisfying his other appetite. Even if Trowa was willing.

"Is that all you're having for lunch?" Trowa asked, pointing to the now crumpled bag in Quatre's hand.

Flushing, Quatre shoved what was left into his pocket. "I left everything at home today." He was just thinking of finding a spot in the library, maybe working on that history paper due at the end of the month, and Trowa was thrusting out a wrapped package to him.

"Here," he was saying, peering at him from under his hair. "You can have this one," his lip twisted just slightly, "if you don't mind tuna."

"If-if you're sure?" Quatre reached for the sandwich, glancing at Trowa.

"Go ahead. I've another here." And he held up another wrapped package in his other hand. "Cathy always makes me big lunches," he said, his look finding his sister across the room.

|| sharon pushed me (gently) outside my comfort zone with her request for lady une and introspection as a girl.

She catches the tail end of their conversation, not enough to understand what they had been talking about. But, the laughter follows her down the hall-pure, uninhibited guffaws blend with hardy chuckling and a single, high-pitched exclamation of a laugh. At the far end of the corridor, she pauses for a moment, and turns to watch the three - Boys? Men? - agents at a moment of temporary leisure.

That they are friendly with each other is an understatement; it is the unguarded expressions shared, the trust exuding from the relaxed stance and postures. Her lips twitch in sudden amusement. Maxwell is sprawling across the damn desk, and Winner no better rocked back on two legs with his own on the very desk Maxwell is lying on. It is the more sedate Chang who catches her eye, gives her a slight nod, and turns back to his companions.

Her smile is partly wistful as she walks the last stretch to her office. She greets her assistant with a nod and a quiet 'good morning', listens to the immediate schedule, and agrees to the suggestion of coffee. Controlled, and professional - she can barely remember a time when she wasn't.

The lights are on in her office, and she no sooner reaches her desk than her assistant is bustling in behind her, and a cup in saucer is placed on her desk with a half dozen "call-back" messages left from the night before. None are urgent, otherwise her mobile would have rang despite the hour, and she ignores them for the moment.

A brief is opened upon the blotter, a short stack of mission updates waits her perusal in the corner, and the budget-planning folder begs for her attention from the top drawer. Instead, she slips her shoes off and rubs her stocking covered feet over the expensive pile. Not quite barefoot in the grass, but she smiles anyway. Barring an emergency, she will not be disturbed for at least two quarters of an hour - start your day time - her assistant calls it.

It is with a soft laugh that she lifts her legs and places her feet on top the ridiculously expensive credenza sitting below the window behind her desk. And only then, does she pick up the cup, and take her first sip. Her eyes are drawn to the field below. The wide expanse of lawn more ornamental than functional, it served its purpose for agent training demonstrations and reviews.

Her office wasn't chose because it is the largest, and didn't necessarily have the best view. But, what view it did have reminds her of the academy where she lived as a child for a short time. When her father lived and instructed those tall, young, vibrant men. She sips from her cup, recalls being dressed in sky-blue pinafores, with crinoline skirt and patent leather Mary Janes. Recalls reeling on tiptoes across the parade grounds, singing to the birds and clouds, and chasing after men with long strides all dressed in white breeches and blue uniform coats. Her smile recedes a little, and her gaze drifts to the ceiling.

Strumming well-trimmed fingernails against hand-painted china, her memories speed ahead, to a time when she was a cadet at that very same facility - when he was her senior. They used to laugh together then; his, a rich hearty baritone, no less deviant and mirthful than Maxwell's, and hers, girlishly high and untamed. She nearly blushes now, embarrassments of the past.

The phone buzzes behind her, and slowly she lowers her feet to the floor. Her hand is reaching for the receiver, and a soft knock is given before the door opens and her assistant escorts a man of Very Important Personage inside. She smiles briefly, polite and controlled, and picks up the handset while her assistant seats her visitor, makes him comfortable.

Just beyond the window, four floors below on short-cut grass, the ghost of a girl dances, her skirt flares, her ponytails fly out behind her, and her young face is turned to the sun. Her song is carried on a breeze, and the still young woman - professional in image and demeanor - catches its notes, and saves them for later.

|| hostile (don't ask) wanted heero/duo and tube socks... (i swear, every time i thought of this prompt, bad renditions of Porky's kept running through my mind!).

His shirt halfway over his head, Heero paused hearing the door open. He pulled it off, and dropped it to the floor beside the bench. The door clicked shut, but by then, Heero recognized the click-clack sound of Duo's cleats. He didn't even turn when Duo began to whistle, but unlaced the draw on his uniform pants.

"Yo, Heero," Duo called, stopping at the next locker over. A quick spin of the dial, and he swung the door open. "Great practice, eh?" His helmet was put on the second shelf, and his hand lifted to wrestle the pads off his shoulders.

"Better than usual," Heero commented, standing to push his pants down. "At least until you tackled me." He glared Duo's way, and stepped out of his pants.

Duo laughed, snapping off his pads and tossing them into the locker. "I'm supposed to tackle." His shirt came off next, and it joined Heero's on the floor.

"Asshole," Heero growled. "I was on your team."

"Yeah." Duo grinned unrepentantly. "Got to admit it was a surprise, right?"

Heero grunted and bent to pick up his discarded clothing. "Your stunt got us extra laps. Not the kind of surprises I enjoy."

"Then how about this?" Duo was at Heero's back, his arms wrapped about Heero's waist and chest, pulling him back against him.

Freezing for a moment, Heero turned his head, his glare a half-amused smirk. "You have got to be kidding me."

"What can I say?" Duo murmured against Heero's back, kissing the nape of his neck, and licking along his collar. "You turn me on, Yuy." He was rubbing his cock against Heero's bare ass.

"Sweaty socks and athletic cream makes you hard?" Heero straightened, but didn't try to escape Duo's embrace.

Duo was making pleasure sounds, his hand dropped lower and the heel of his palm rubbed hard on Heero's jockstrap covered cock. "Just you," Duo said, the pad of his thumb brushing over one of Heero's nipples. "Do you know how many times I've wanted to fuck you out there on the field?"

Breath hissing from between gritted teeth, Heero's arm shot out, his hand clutched at the top edge of his open locker. "You are not going to fuck me in here either, Duo."

"Sure 'bout that?" Duo's body was practically humming. His hand worked its way down the elastic of Heero's jock.

With a groan, Heero pulled Duo's hand out from his underwear. His eyes were closed, and he nearly shuddered with the strain. "Later, Duo. Coach will be coming in any time now." He forced himself to move out of Duo's hold, to turn around and face him.

Duo's look was far from disappointed. Instead, his eyes smoldered, his mouth quirked in that drawling smirk he used when he got his way. "Then let's get the hell out of here," he demanded.

Heero nodded, reaching immediately inside his locker for his street shirt. Duo's hand shot out and caught his arm.

"Just leave your socks on."

|| haramis asked for wufei/relena for a change! can you believe that? she wanted to see some hair kink.

Her heels were the first to come off, the pantyhose followed. It was still early evening, but felt like three in the morning; her feet ached, her head was swimming, and her smile felt broken. His arms slipped around her waist, and he held her close for a minute.

"Bath?" he asked, his kiss far too brief to her liking.

She sighed back against him, making his hold last longer. "That would be heaven," she nearly purred, turning her head to smile at him. "Next time, I get to stay home with the baby and you get to go smooze with the bigwigs."

"You've been associating with Maxwell too much," he laughed. He started to draw away, but instead of letting her go, he swept her up, his arms slipping up under her thighs and around her back. Her surprised exclamation turned into a murmur of pleasure, and she relaxed into his hold, circling his neck with her arms.

"This is nice," she whispered into his neck, her lips finding his sensitive spot.

He grunted roughly. "Don't get used to it." But his grip tightened in a delicious way.

Her fingers were in his hair, working its band free. "I could add it to your job description to carry me wherever I demanded..."

"And I could develop a habit of tripping." But his eyes were flashing as he negotiated the stairs. "Or find a new position-"

"You wouldn't dare!" she cried in mock horror, clinging to his neck tightly. "Of course, if I were allowed to choose the position..." she left it hanging as he stopped to glare at her.

"Maxwell is no longer allowed in this house!" he declared, ignoring the sudden fit of giggles and wiggling feet.

"You know," she said sobering to smile, and run neatly manicured nails up through his recently freed hair. "Duo isn't all that bad," she glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes, holding several strands of hair between her fingertips. "He has some interesting stories to tell, and doesn't mind keeping me entertained." She smiled wider at his snort, and tucked her feet in tight as he levered them through the bedroom door.

"I never said he was a bad person," Wufei countered, crossing the room to the open double doors. "He can be over zealous sometimes." His glare sent her into a muffled fit of giggles. "And I do not want him instructing you on-"

"Never," she murmured, moving her mouth over his, hushing his words. "There is only room for one instructor, and I have the best."

He was reversing their direction, his arms pulling her close, shifting to keep her head near his own, and his mouth on hers. Her arm slid down his back, her hand clutching at his shirt, and her other hand threaded hair between its fingers.

His hair band slipped from her finger, dropped to the floor and rolled away.

|| kiere ke requested heero/duo in school fic

He pulled off his shirt still running, and used it, wadded in his hand, to wipe sweat from his brow. It wasn't so much hot as it was humid, sweat ran slick down his face and glossed his chest and back. Five miles, the coach said, and five miles he would run. His Nikes came up, slapped down, one in front of the other.

Just in front of him, his running partner ran - a buddy system, the coach called it. Safety in numbers, and all that. This long distance shit was Heero's gig, not his. Heero kicked ass at cross-country and marathons. Now, sprints had his name written all over them. He even beat Heero eight out of ten practice runs.

But, he ran the endurance runs. Builds character, the coach said. Your sadistic one, he thought. At least his view was nice.

Heero was wearing the blue shorts, the special running shorts he paid nearly fifty bucks for, the ones with twin slits up the sides. Duo watched the flaps lift and fall, giving him brief glimpses of what lay beneath - firm, well-toned flesh. And in those shorts, he was sure Heero would be wearing a jockstrap. Plain, white cotton, Duo was sure of it. He began to grin. Unlike his black and white striped Jockey's, Heero believed in functional, practical over frivolous.

A car passed, and he heard the hoots, the shouts. Grinning, he lifted a hand; Heero ignored it. In three long strides, he was by Heero's side, keeping pace. Duo glanced his way, tracked a bead of sweat, and licked his lips facing the sidewalk again.

"You going to Relena's thing on Saturday?" he asked.

"Haven't thought about it." Heero didn't even look his way.

"Other plans?" Duo asked, risking another glance. Heero's tank top was clinging to his chest, stained wet defining muscles beneath it.

"Not that I know of," Heero answered, his eyes cutting over to Duo and away. "Why?"

Duo laughed a short brief chuckle. "No reason. Just curious, is all."

Another two blocks were covered in silence, and the turn off to the school was in sight. It was the home stretch, and Duo could feel the relief in his legs already. He began his mental wake-up, let himself plan for after the run.

"Are you?"

"Huh?" Duo stumbled slightly in surprise.

"Going to Relena's party?" Heero modified his pace to Duo's.

"Oh." Duo let three strides pass before he answered. "Depends on the company."

Heero grunted softly. "What if I went with you?"

"Then I'd say you have plans." And Duo threw his shirt up in the air, sprinted after it, and let Heero try to catch up to him.

|| lil asked for a mixed bag of het, yaoi and yuri (and school fic)... i gave her pool watching and totally left off the school part of the fic

With a maid following, salver in hand, Quatre carried her to the chaise by the window and laid her on its cushions. He turned, acknowledging the serving girl's presence, thanked her and sent her on her way. A glass of ice water and a folded cloth were on the small tray; Quatre picked up one in each hand, and turned back to his 'patient'.

"Drink," he said, keeping his voice low and pressing the glass into the woman's hand.

"Yes, Daddy," she drawled mockingly. But she sipped at the water, and closed her eyes in pleasure as Quatre began patting her neck and shoulders with the cool cloth. "It was only a little too much sun, Quatre."

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, even as he continued dotting the cooling cloth over flushed skin.

"No." She smiled around the rim of her glass, sipped again, and settled back against the cushions. He ran the cloth up the inside of her arm, and she shivered in ways that had nothing to do with chill. "You really should be a good host and go check on our guest," she said instead, turning her head to watch out the window.

Quatre lifted his glance from her face, following her gaze. "They can take care of themselves. I'm not leaving you." Her expression flickered in a half grimace, and he tilted his head to look her in the eyes. "I thought you enjoyed it when I paid attention to you."

She laughed lightly, turning from the window and reaching a hand up to brush his cheek. "It's not you, this time." An eyebrow arched, and her eyes flicked to the window. "If I have to watch those two dance around one another, I will positively vomit."

His gaze searched the couples out by the pool. "Which two?"

"Our princess and her knight," she told him, fingering a lock of Quatre's hair back from his forehead. "You need another haircut."

"I like it long," he said, moving his head out of her reach. "And just what are Relena and Wufei doing that makes you ill?"

"She wants a ring, and babies complete with a cottage and white picket fence. And he's not opposed to it." Her fingers found the errant lock again, and tugged on it. "Though no one can call the mansion she lives in a cottage."

"Marriage? But they just started dating," Quatre protested, watching his friends for clues he seemed to be missing.

She hummed, her lips curving into a smile as she watched him. "Not all courtships happen while officially dating. They have known one another for at least six year - the past three very close."

"I guess," but Quatre didn't sound positive. "How do you know all this?" he asked, frowning at her.

She gave a negligent shrug of a shoulder. "I observe." Turning her head, she tapped his arm with a fingernail. "Take Heero and Duo, for example."

"What about them?" Quatre asked almost reluctantly, canting his head to the side to catch sight of his friends in the water.

"Duo's just touched Heero."

"He couldn't have! He's holding the ball. See!" He was pointing, finger following the inflated plastic through the air.

"With his foot," she announced, not even bother looking. "If Heero weren't a male, I would say he glows whenever Duo touches him."

Quatre shot her a startled look, glanced back at Heero, and began to smile softly. "What about me? Do I 'glow'?"

This time, she did smile and slid a finger down his cheek. "Radiant."

He leaned into her touch, his hand catching hers, and bringing her finger to his lips. He settled himself a little more comfortably by her side, and glanced out the window again. "What else am I missing about our friends?"

She made her humming noise again, scanning the small group at play or leisure, in the water, laying on lounges or sunning in chairs. Her focus narrowed. "Hilde," she said, her lips tightening. "She longs for what will never be hers, and refuses to look for what's in reach."

|| jade went with heero/duo office highjinks with heero in a skirt - probably not quite what she wanted, but that kink muse wasn't cooperating

Shuffling noises could be heard from behind the closed bathroom door. A very audible sigh sounded, and what suspiciously resembled the thud of a head meeting a wall was made.

"Why am I the one who has to wear this?" Heero's voice was clear even through the barrier.

"Because it fits you," Duo called out. He was in Heero's room across the hall from the bathroom, rifling through Heero's CDs. "And you are the one on the committee." He flipped one CD case over, reading the back. "Besides, it's for charity."

"But, why a cheerleader?" Heero had opened the door, and was standing in the hall now.

Duo looked up quickly, tossing the CD back on Heero's desk. He began to smile even before he saw the whole effect. "It's the whole Lolita thing," he reminded Heero. Raising his hand, he twirled his finger, and Heero complied, showing Duo the back of his outfit. "Decided against the wig?"

"I look ridiculous enough," Heero snapped, and tugged on the skirt. "You are bidding on me, right?"

"Of course," Duo smiled. He couldn't help touching the cutesy barrette holding back part of Heero's hair.

"Stop that." Heero jerked his head away. "Let's go and get this fiasco over with." He started down the hallway, stopping in the living room long enough to pick up the twin pompoms. "How is it that Hilde's kept this crap for so long?"

"She tries it on every few months to make sure it still fits," Duo said, following behind Heero as they left his apartment. "I heard Zechs is wearing one of Lu's gowns, can you believe that?"

Heero snorted. "She told me. One of her formal things. She was even planning to take him to a stylist to have his hair done." Heero looked over his shoulder to roll his eyes. "At least all I've had to put up with is your ogling."

Chuckling, Duo reached out and smacked Heero's ass. "I'm so trading Hilde anything for those spanky pants."

Heero's expletive was lost in Duo's laugh.

|| sera says pookie and i say 'how high?' .. ;)

Heero sat scrunched down on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table with a beer in one hand, and the remote in the other. It had been a hard week, full of more unpaid overtime than he cared to think about, and now, Friday night, all he wanted was just this - beer, a movie, pizza ordered and on its way, and Duo. He frowned suddenly.

"You get lost?" he called out. Duo was supposed to be popping popcorn, but he had mentioned something about Heero being too tense. The corner of Heero's mouth lifted. Tension was a good word. Easing tension was better than pizza and beer.

"I'm right here," Duo said, putting a bowl of popcorn down and taking a seat next to Heero.

"Fuck," Heero muttered, glaring at the thing Duo held in his lap.

"After pizza," Duo told him, snatching the beer from Heero's hand, and taking a drink.

"What's that doing here?" Heero grimaced; he blinked, and leaned closer to look. "What the hell is it wearing?"

Duo glanced down, smiled, and stroked a finger down the length of one tentacle. It wrapped itself around his finger, tugged on it and Duo let it draw his hand underneath its body. "Clothes." Duo tilted his head to the side, contemplating the scrap of fabric again. "Sort of."

"It's not a Pomeranian!" Heero nearly shouted.

"And I'm not an old lady!" Duo said just as loud.

Heero snorted and shifted away, glaring at the thing again. "I know that." In morbid curiosity, he touched the multi-appendaged garment covering the pseudo gelatin mass. "Did you make this?"

"Nope," Duo answered, handing Heero back his beer. He glanced at the clock, wishing the pizza would arrive already - he had plans and the pizza dude was holding them up. "Ordered it." He turned to grin up at Heero. "Bought four others in different styles too. Want to see them?"

"No!" A tentacle was caressing the back of his hand, and Heero jerked it away. "Waste of money," he muttered, finishing off the last of his beer. The doorbell rang, and he was on his feet, calling out that he'd pay this time.

"You paid last time, too," Duo told his retreating back. "I used your credit card."

|| mis is predictable in asking for vietnam stories, quatre/duo friendship ones in particular... so, this one was no hardship to write

It was just another day like the one before, if not the one before that. Hotter than most, definitely drier than some, half the platoon was sprawled in a loose circle on the backs of a half-dozen flatbeds. It was hot, though two weeks before, Quatre believed they'd all drown. After nearly two months, Quatre thought he would be used to the place. But then, he didn't want to get used to it - he only wanted to survive it. Survive the marches, survive the bugs, survive the explosions. Survive killing.

He was in a heavy drowse when the AFN switched from 'News from Home' and the weather report, and the disc jockey began going on about some festival coming up at the end of the month. At the first sounds of vocals, Quatre sat up, his look frantic to find Duo. The guitar had barely started when Duo was there, pulling on Quatre's arm, and coaxing him from the truck bed.

"No, Duo," Quatre pleaded, his eyes wide with an embarrassed horror. "Not here."

With a laugh, Duo dropped his arm. "Whatever you say man." He spun on his heels, picking up the song mid-beat, and began those shuffling steps so familiar to the both of them.

Quatre watched, apprehensive turned wistful nostalgia. How many times had they worked out the kinks of their routine? It was home; up in his room with the radio blasting, in the living room, record player on repeat, even in Howard's garage with the other mechanics watching.

The GIs were sitting up, watching, clapping in time. Two jumped from the truck Quatre sat on and joined Duo. It was a bastard mix of Chuck Berry, Elvis Presley, and James Brown thrown in - all hip thrusting and shuffling steps - it was two boys working their way through fifteen and into sixteen.

Another joined in during the guitar solo, and Quatre was up, his first strut faltering. Duo whooped, and jumped to his side. Their dance came together, synchronized just as it had been. Quatre could almost picture Iria there, laughing and clapping her hands, could almost see Josie blush with the "dirty dancing" moves.

The song ended, and Duo collapsed against Quatre, laughing. Quatre slung an arm around Duo's shoulders, and grinned at the cheers and whistles. Duo straightened long enough to bow with Quatre, before roping him back to one of the trucks. They sat side-by-side shoulder's brushing.

"It's been awhile," Duo said, wiping sweat from his brow with a forearm.

Quatre nodded without saying anything. It had felt good, letting himself remember how they'd been, how cool they thought they were then. It felt good to remember that there had been fun.

"Here," one of the GIs said, passing Quatre a beer bottle. Quatre took it with a smile of thanks, and saw Duo was already hefting his to his mouth. "For a white boy, you can dance," the soldier laughed, tilted his bottle up, and drank.

"Thanks, I think." But Quatre put the bottle to his lips anyway, drank deep, and closed his eyes against the sun.

It wasn't home, but sometimes there were glimpses of what used to be. And maybe that was enough to get him through; bring him home.

|| anne wanted trowa/quatre school fic, but she wanted them teachers

Trowa slipped into the darkened auditorium from the back, found a seat three rows from the top, and sat to listen. From the weeks of listening, he knew the last piece was being played. He let the music wash over him, ignoring the unexpected slows and too quick starts - the students were getting better. Instead, his focus was on watching the conductor; arm raised, baton whirling, body in animated motion.

The song was in its cadence, and Trowa straightened to watch the finish. A quick three blares and stops, the last note held, and released. There was a collective sigh from all players before the mad scramble of collecting sheet music, taking apart instruments and packing them away, and hasty instructions from the conductor. He watched it all from his seat in the back, watched as students teased and goofed around, as students helped clear the stage, as students left in clumps of threes and fours, or the small handful of singles.

Only when the conductor was alone on the stage, moving music stands, and stackable chairs to his liking, did he move. Trowa stood, stretched his full height, and headed down the aisle to the front.

"Your bassoonist would work better on the field than in here, you know," he said by way of greeting from the stage apron.

Quatre glanced his way, and shook his head smiling. "He's a little heavy-handed, but he is making some improvement." He had finished pushing the stack of chairs against the wall, and turned to watched Trowa cross the stage.

"Perhaps you're right," Trowa said, closing the distance. "He's be lost on the field for all that he's built like a refrigerator." He leaned close, and kissed Quatre, a simple brush of lips.

Scrunching his nose, Quatre still smiled. "You stink."

Trowa rubbed his cheek over Quatre's, catching his arm as he tried to pull away. "You try to not sweat coaching track in this heat."

"And you didn't shower?"

Trowa gave him another quick kiss. "I wanted to see you." There was the sound of talk, and students passing in the hallway. Trowa froze with his arms around Quatre, their gazes locked for a shocked moment.

Extracting himself, Quatre flashed a look to the door, holding a hand to Trowa's chest. "We'll have to rectify that when we get home."

His own look darted to the door and then in a quick sweep around the auditorium. He turned back to Quatre with an easy smile. "Are you done here?"

Quatre bent to pick up a dropped sheet of music, and placed it with the others on top the upright. "That's it for the day."

Trowa swept his arm with a flourish toward the door. "Then let's go-rectify."

|| merit requested another duo/quatre friendship school fic...and this one's in the when we were young universe

Quatre heard the near silent footsteps coming into the den, and rather than risk looking, he turned to his companion instead. "I still think you should talk to Heero."

"For the last time, Quatre - NO!" His last word a shout, but his fingers and thumbs flew over the control in hand. "I'm not the one who fucked up this time, and I'm not going to be the one who apologizes."

"I know you're not the one who messed up." Quatre took a deep breath, waited a moment to finish off his opponent, and then began to speak again. "I'm not saying you should apologize to Heero - heck, Heero knows he messed up and should be the one saying 'I'm sorry'." Pausing the game with a quick touch of a finger, he turned to face Duo. "So will you talk to him?"

Tossing his controller to the floor, Duo glared at Quatre. "The only way I'm going to talk to that bastard is if he's on his knees begging for me to. And since that's not going to happen, just forget about it."

"But what if he was?" Quatre asked softly, his eyes flicking past Duo and back.

"Wha-" Duo was slow to turn, and when he caught sight of Heero - on his knees with his hands on his thighs - he shoved himself backwards, bumping into Quatre. "Fuck! What the hell's he doing here Quatre?" Duo was instantly on his feet, his glare darting between the two still on the floor.

"I'm sorry, Duo," Heero said quickly.

"Fuck this!" Duo turned on his heel and started for the door.

"No! Wait!" Quatre was on his feet, and jumping over the couch, just managing to reach the door before Duo. He pulled it shut, standing guard. "You have to talk to him."

"Out of my way, Quatre."

"I'm not leaving until you talk to Heero." Quatre's chin rose, and his arms spread, each hand held the sides of the doorframe.

"I don't want to talk to the bastard, and you can't make me!" Duo shouted. Quatre glared back at Duo, holding his tongue, holding his position. "I thought you were my friend. Was I wrong about you too?"

Even knowing where it came from, it still hurt. "It's because I'm your friend that I'm doing this," he said softly. "This isn't school, this isn't Heero's place. This is neutral ground." He glanced over Duo's shoulder to see that Heero now stood in the middle of the den watching the both of them. "You can yell at him all you want."

Duo looked over his shoulder, his mouth set in a hard line. "I want to fucking hit him," he said, his voice low but not less intense.

"Then hit me," Heero offered, hands held wide. "I wasn't thinking, and what I said came out wrong..." But Duo was there, inside his personal space, his face thrust up against his, nearly ugly in its contorted fury.

"You son-of-a-bitch!" Duo shouted. "Who gave you permission to say that shit? You never open your mouth about anything, and all of a sudden you're Walt fucking Whitman, and everybody knows about us."

"I-" Heero started and stopped, his hands still held wide.

"You what? Huh? You're sorry? Yeah, you're going to be sorry."

Duo made a fist and pulled it back. His arm started forward, and Quatre closed his eyes, not wanting to see the impact. When he didn't hear anything, he peeked through slit lids. Duo's hand was flat on Heero's chest, and he stood there panting as if he'd run a race. Heero's arms moved forward, his hands went to Duo's shoulders, his touch hesitant.

"I am sorry for saying something where and when I did," Heero said quietly. "But I'm not sorry for what I said - I meant it." Duo's head dropped forward, landing on Heero's chest, and Heero's hands slid around Duo's back. "I still mean it."

Quatre nearly sagged against the door. He was smiling softly, watching his friends. It was only then he realized Trowa had come in with Heero. Trowa was by his side, his mouth curved into a slight smile as well.

"How about if we go find something to drink," Trowa said. He inclined his head to two still close together, whispering to each other. "Give them a chance to talk."

Nodding, Quatre opened the door behind him, and reached for Trowa's hand, assured things would work themselves out, now.

|| clare asked for something GW, but would love something with voyeurism involved. well, i have to admit i sort of cheated. this is an idea i had last year for a mmdd story (04/21), and never got around to writing. i just changed it a tad to more fit her request than the original idea.

Quatre woke with a start, his heart thudding and eyes wide. It was the stealthiest of noises that prodded his consciousness to awareness, and he held himself still, waiting for additional clues. At once, he knew he'd fallen asleep on the library sofa, and the butler must have come by, shutting off the reading lights. That it was late, he felt almost instinctively - well past midnight, but dawn was still hours away.

"It's on the right," a low whisper reached Quatre's ears, and he relaxed in sudden relieve. Duo.

The track lighting lining the ceiling by the bookshelves flared to life, casting his side of the library more in shadow, but illuminating each title on each shelf. Quatre opened his mouth to speak, making to rise when he caught sight of a nearly naked Heero. His mouth snapped shut and his eyes followed. Heero hadn't seen him, had been looking down the wall toward the shelving, standing at the switch like some young god. Quatre didn't reopen his eyes until he heard Heero's voice murmuring softly by the books.

"His library is extensive. I'm sure he has one," Heero was saying.

"Would it be filed under 'S' for sexual positions, or 'G' for Gay Sex?" Duo said in a musing fashion. Still hiding behind the high back of his sofa, Quatre was blushing. As if he'd leave those books out for just anyone to read!

"How would I know?" Heero asked mildly. Quatre heard the creak of the ladder. "It's not under G."

"Not under 'S' either," Duo responded from the other side of the shelving unit. "Little pervert probably keeps them in his room." Quatre shot up, looked over the back of the couch, and dove back down again. Duo was naked! "Think he'd mind if we woke up him?"

"We don't need a damn book to show us how to do that." The ladder creaked again. "We do have some experience..." whatever else Heero was going to say was lost in a gasp. Quatre squirmed, but couldn't help lifting his head cautiously.

The sofa was a modern replica of a Queen Anne style. High-backed with three decorative wood-topped rounds, and deep v scoops. Quatre peered over the back of the middle round, ready to dive back into hiding if needed. Duo was behind Heero, his cock clearly erect and prodding at Heero's backside. Heero was pressed forward into the ladder, his hand gripping the ladder rails, and one foot on the second rung. Quatre closed his eyes, and caught the moan wanting to leave his mouth.

"Like this?" Duo was asking in a harsh voice. The ladder creaked softly. "Feel good?" Heero moaned, and if he said anything, Quatre didn't hear. When Heero groaned, and Duo sighed loud enough for Quatre to hear, he opened his eyes. Duo's fingers were in Heero's ass. Two incongruent thoughts flashed: I shouldn't be watching this! and Where'd he get the lube?

Heero's head dipped back, and Quatre caught his breath. Heero in lust was beautiful - eyes closed, mouth parted, and neck arched. His arms bulged in his grip on the rail, and his foot gave him the leverage to ride Duo's hand.

"Fuck me now, damnit," Heero demanded.

Duo only chuckled, nipped at Heero's earlobe, and swiped his tongue along his ear's edge. "Soon," he said, even though Quatre could see how ready Duo was. Duo's cock jutted and swayed with his fingering motion, light glistened on the tip, dewy with precum. And Quatre bit into the sofa fabric.

He closed his eyes again, listening. Duo was telling Heero how he was going to fuck him, ram his cock inside his ass, and make him scream for wanting more. Quatre's hand moved to stroke his own bulging erection through his pajama bottoms. He couldn't even remember why he'd come to the library other than it was getting lonely in bed by himself.

"Now!" Heero insisted, and Quatre's eyes snapped opened. He watched, not breathing as Duo held one of Heero's hips, and his other hand guided his cock to Heero's ass. Duo was slowly sinking deeper inside, and Heero's mouth was open wide, his arms trembled and the ladder shook with its force. Seated, Duo was pressing open-mouthed kisses to Heero's neck and shoulders, panting hard.

Never had Quatre wanted Trowa so badly as then. His dick cried out for more, and Quatre shoved his pajamas down, his hand circled his cock. He was pumping in time to Duo's strokes, and clutching the back of the sofa. He wanted to keep his eyes closed; he wanted to make noise and share the experience.

The ladder was rocking alarmingly, and Heero barked a crazy laugh. Quatre groaned into the cushioned back; Duo's cock entered Heero, pulled out, and thrust inside once again. In aligned though, Quatre wondered if he looked like that slamming into Trowa; if Trowa made those same sorts of faces fucking him. He bit the cushion again, closed his eyes and brought Trowa's image to mind. His hand slowed, following countersuit to the thrust and creak his ears were registering.

"Trowa," he whispered, knowing it would be lost with the guttural grunts, liquid slaps of flesh, and the ever-increasing creak of the ladder. Trowa's body so tight, hot, and accepting of his cock. Quatre was thrusting hips, driving his cock into his fist, and the head against the sofa cushion. He was gasping quietly, swallowing his moans. So. Fucking. Close.

From the other side of the room, Heero let loose a shuddering groaning moan, and Quatre bit his lip to keep from joining the cry. He peered over the back's edge. Heero was still braced against the ladder, only now both feet were on the third rung, and Duo held his hips with both his hands, thrusting more up as Heero held on just above Duo.

"I'm coming," Duo bit out, his face a grimace. He stiffened, jerked, and his cry was loud, unbidden. And he was through, barely holding himself up off Heero. "Fuck yeah."

"Told you we didn't need a book," Heero's voice was muffled.

Quatre stopped watching. He slipped back down on the sofa, his knees drawn up, and thrusting into his hand. The track lights went out, and he heard Duo's laugh from the main hall. And he was coming, the sudden wave of pleasure, spiking and spiraling up, drawing him from center and out. His eyelids fluttered with its force, his mouth opened in mimicry of Heero's silent scream, and his hand flailed in reaching for an anchor.

And it was done, his come already cooling on his abdomen, his chest heaving, and black dots danced before his eyes. Quatre was grinning. Without bothering to clean up, he rose, straightened his pajamas, and headed off to his room. It wouldn't be quite midnight where Trowa was, and Quatre had a sudden hunger that needed to be fed.

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