In a Pinch
It is just after noon when Duo pushes himself up out of bed. Eyes still blurry with sleep, he stumbles to the bathroom, seeking relief from a demanding bladder. His vacation cut short, he could only hope that Hilde was finding enough to keep her entertained; a lead had broke on the case they'd been working, and he and Heero were called back to work.
He yawns widely, shaking off but stops suddenly. Duo frowns in a sort of puzzled curiosity, his hand reaches up to touch the lacy and elastic thing draped over the stainless steel towel rack. His eyebrows shoot to his hairline and he looks at the partly opened bathroom door. He knows Hilde was planning a trip out of the city, maybe with an overnight, but she left her... clothing.
Tucking away, he watches the brassiere, light pink swirls overlaid with white lace. He washes his hands, and glances down at his own chest. Flat as a board, except for the pecs and the hint of nipple. Women sure have it fucked. Duo shrugs but finds his eyes darting to the garment again. Hands dry now, he plucks it from the rack.
His fingers squeeze the thickness of the cup, and he tugs on either end of the band, stretching it as far as the elastic can go. He's smiling, thinking it'd make a great slingshot – a double baller, even. In the back of his mind, a design is being drawn and tactical uses are being mapped out. He thinks he should replace the bra, and maybe go back to bed or hunt up something to eat. Instead, Duo wonders just how a bra feels.
He's standing in front of the mirror, bra hanging by both straps from his arms, and Duo's nearly turning circles trying to reach the catches in back. His fingers keep slipping and the elastic pulls the hooks and eyes from his grasp. Success! Duo faces his reflection and frowns again; the cups are rather deflated and concave. But then, he doesn't have breasts.
"There has to be something," he says just loud enough for his ears. In a moment, he's reaching for the toilet tissue, wadding handfuls and cramming it into each cup. His palms molds each into some sort of boob shape, and Duo turns to look at himself again. His profile makes it appear as though he has breasts, but it didn't feel as though he has. And the toilet tissue itched.
Still wearing the brassiere, sans tissue, Duo wandered into the living room, eyes scanning surfaces, looking for just the right items. He is grumbling to himself, thinking of all possible uses. Heero's hand weights catch his eye and he hefts one in the air before looking down at the space to be filled.
"Skin bags," he mumbles to himself. "Plastic sandwich?" He shakes his head and carries the weight to the kitchen. He opens one drawer after another, but Duo shakes his head each time. Leaving the weight behind, he heads for the bathroom, and rummages through the cupboards there. "HA!" He instantly ducks and shoots a look towards Heero's bedroom door. It remains closed, and no sound of the man waking is heard.
Duo rips one plastic square from the string of ten and opens it. He frowns at the elongated shape but shrugs and pulls another one from its packaging. With his find in hand, he wanders back down the hall to the kitchen and contemplates the weight. Sand filled, one end has a rubber stopper wedged tightly to seal. A quick flick of a knife and sand runs from the opening onto the floor.
Tricky business, holding a condom open with one hand and tipping a weight with the other. Somehow, Duo has accomplished the goal. And without poking holes into the thin latex either. Maneuvering his ad hoc implant carefully, Duo works it into a cup. He adjusts its weight a little more evenly, and grins as the pink swirls and white lace perk out in a pleasing shape. He works quickly to fashion the other side and rushes back to the bathroom mirror for a look.
His boxers look so wrong with the silky lace. Meeting his own eyes in the mirror, Duo grins again. He knows just the thing.
Less than five minutes later, Duo is standing back in front of the mirror. White cotton with a little pink bow strains with the half-hardening bulge. Duo is nodding, pleased with his appearance. One of his palms cups up under a silk and lace covered sand condom; the fingers of his other hand graze cotton, outlining his cock.
Whipping about, Duo is flushing a deep red, his palm no long cupping, but trying to hide what he's wearing. "It's not what you think, Heero!" his voice sounds desperate to his own ears.
Heero blinks and he leans a shoulder against the door jam. His eyes cover Duo twice before he speaks. "The pink silk goes better than the cotton." He shoves off from the doorway and steps closer, his grin not quite a leer. "Next time you rummage through my drawers, wake me up and I'll help you."