Where I Fit
Who am I?
Where do I fit? With the world? With society? With you?
"Just fill out these forms, take a number and someone will be with you shortly," he was informed. The plastic seat uncomfortable and hard, the rows of them crowded too close together. In a glance, he'd sized up the room, and discovered others similar to himself, and some quite different. Whole families gathered in groups of squalling babies, bickering children, angry men and hard, weary-faced women.
His disinterested caseworker quickly scanned the forms he'd spent agonizing minutes over. "You need to provide your registration number and date of birth before I can send you an assignment."
He looked at the blank spots on the form again and held out his hand to take back the papers. Walking through the over-crowded lobby, he crumpled the documents, and tossed them into the trash on his way out the door.
"So this is your boyfriend?" the jovial inebriated voice announced more than asked, his hand slapped the back of his lover.
He struggled not to glare; this was his partner's boss. Holding out his hand instead of giving the response he wanted, he nearly choked on the words, forcing them to be polite. "It's good to meet you, sir."
"Buy your guy a drink, would you. He looks like he needs one!" the man bellowed, turning from them to greet another couple. He lowered his hand; it'd been left hanging in mid-air.
A shared look and the two entered the club.
A man leaned casually against his lover's desk, the two shared a laugh. The scene more intimate than he’d ever witnessed before, caused the familiar cord of fear and uncertainty to resonate. His hand landed on his lover's shoulder, his look menacing, startling them both. The man straightened with an apology, and hurried away.
He flushed at the look he received.
An apology whispered simply in the darkened room. Words said hastily, and quickly regretted.
There was a rustle of blankets as his lover turned over. "It's okay." A hand stroked his face, fingers trailing down his neck to his chest. "I know you didn't mean it." And lips brushed over his own, softly, tenderly. His arms slid around his lover's waist, drawing him closer, and he sank into the warmth, releasing a pent up breath.
"I don't deserve you," he mumbled into the other's hair, his hand making lazy passes over bare skin.
The other's mouth covered his, shutting out the words. The kiss, open lipped, deep in emotion without sexual expectation. When they parted, both panting, his lover commanded, "Never think that. You are part of me, always."
He nuzzled his lover's neck, his lips ghosted along the shoulder. "A part of you, Heero?" he asked softly, mischief in his tone. His hands became playful in their strokes, and his lover's agreement was lost in a gasp.
Does it matter if I have you? Because you are a part of me too.