Wash My Hair
Chapter Nine: Panicking with Frozen Carrots. Is That a Phallic Thing?
It was strangely appropriate. It was kind of like marriage almost. The to have and to hold with the braid wrapped around Heero's arm and the in sickness and in health with Quatre ralfing on us. When I told this to Heero--which happened to be after he'd cleaned up the chunks on the carpet because, quite, frankly, I had to visit the porcelain god myself after Quatre's, um, christening of our love--he gave me that look, the one people give to young children and harmless insane people, and kissed me on the cheek. How rude. I didn't even get an 'I do' out of the deal.
While Heero called Sally for a bit of advice on dealing with drunken cuddle kitty Quatres, I dumped and rinsed out Quat's bottle of two hundred year old scotch, thank god it was mostly full, and refilled it with water. Me? I'da been pissed, but Quatre was a giddy teetotaler so he probably wouldn't know the difference as smashed as he was. If not, I'd blame it on Wufei. You'd be surprised how easy it is to blame pretty much any aberration I run across on Wufei. It's the stick up his ass, you know.
"Hey, Quat, I found that scotch bottle and you're not getting it. You've had enough liquor, you boozehound."
He gave me those big, miserable eyes full of tears and sniffled. "I have not."
I looked at the bottle with a frown, then put it behind my back. "Have too."
He lunged at me, tripping over his own feet. "Have not!"
He yanked the bottle out of my hands and triumphantly crowed, "Have not!" I put on my best fake glower while he drank it all down just to spite me. Took him about twenty damned minutes, too. "That tastes good."
Heero glared at me from his spot on the carpet where he knelt, armed with yellow rubber gloves with red paint where the fingernails are supposed to be, industrial strength carpet cleaner, and a scrub brush. I rolled my eyes and pounced on the gloating blonde huggy bear. "Quatre! You can't drink like that! You could get poisoned or something awful! You can't! You're not allowed to! I won't permit you to drink any more scotch!" I got the empty bottle away from him.
Quatre gave me an owlish look while he thought that over, then frowned. "I will! You're not my sister! Every day of your life is a page of your history!"
And that made no sense whatsoever.
"Though, you do favor Sarai. If you put on a polka dotted dress and piled your hair on your head, you could be her." Quatre apparently thought this was hysterical because he dropped back onto his butt in another fit of giggles. "Sarai the Shinigami. A week out of every month and she would be more terrifying than you. Or even scarier than Wufei after you tricked him into admitting that Treize was an attractive man."
This was so not funny. "What's with you and your little Wufei with King Ozzie fetish anyway?"
Quatre giggled. "I have fantasies."
"If you ever thought about me with anyone weird, don't tell me. I don't want to know."
"Little Duo Riding Hood and the Big Bad Zechs." He grinned. "It's the hair."
"There will be no Little Duo Riding Hood and the Big Bad Zechs," Heero growled. He looked so cute with that you even think about it and I'll omae o korosu you into next Tuesday glare, the pouty bottom lip, and the yellow rubber with hot chick in red latex dragon lady fake nails gloves up to his elbows. The God of Death does not do cute, but the Perfect Soldier does.
"Ooooh, I almost forgot about horny King Duo and his Maganacs of the Round Table." Quatre smirked. "And Queen Auda-vere."
"Oh dear Shinigami, Heero, make it stop!" Heero, lovely little bastard that he is, just smirked at me. I glared back at him. That's it. No nookie for five whole minutes! Not that we had any nookie to begin with, but a guy's got to stick to principles. "You're just making that up 'cause you're drunk as shit, Q."
Quat tried to glare and it didn't quite work. "I'm not drunk!"
"Hah! Give me more scotch and I'll show you drunk!"
"You've had enough." I grinned. "I hid it."
Muttering evilly to himself under his breath, he started sorting through the booze clustered on the coffee table. I nipped off and refilled the scotch bottle with water and left it on the kitchen table. "You'll won't find it there!" I hooted. "I hid it in the kitchen where you'll never find it!"
"Ha!" he crowed. "We'll see about that!" I trailed him back into the kitchen. Quatre brandished the bottle of "scotch" at me, then slugged it back. He grimaced. "It tastes like tap water."
"You just don't know good scotch." Dammit, was he sobering up some?
He frowned and sipped from the bottle. "It tastes like tap water."
"It does not."
He wrinkled his face up. "Does too!"
I crossed my arms over my chest and glared dangerously. "Does too!"
He glared. "Does not!"
"It does too!"
He stuck his tongue out at me, and then tossed the water back. "Does not!"
I grinned. "It does too."
He slugged down some more. "It does not!"
I sighed. "Fine. If that's the way you want it."
"A sense of humor is the pole that adds balance to our steps as we walk the tightrope of life." He grinned and slogged down more water.
Heero, his yellow gloves curling into yellow latex fists, glared his you're fucking up my mission, quit it! glare from the doorway. "Don't let him drink any more, Master."
I winked and pointed my index finger like a gun at him. "Gotcha, babe."
Quat slurped some more. Heero growled something and stomped over and snatched the bottle away. Bastard.
"Noooo!" Quatre howled.
"You've had eno--" Heero's nose twitched, you know, like a glowering blood hound with a homicidal attitude nose might twitch. "This is water."
Quatre did the koi, the fish koi, impression. "But Duo said it's scotch!"
I grinned. "Actually, I said you just don't know good scotch."
"Master," Heero purred with what I'd like to think of as a healthy level of admiration for both my uber sexy hunkiness and my ingenious mental prowess. "Go sit on the couch and wait for me. I'll put Quatre to bed."
Quatre squealed and tottered into Heero. "Ooh! Can I be your master, too? I have...fantasies."
No Quatre could not be Heero's master, too. He could have more fantasies than he had credits all he damned well wanted to, but the real thing was mine, dammit. I'd been a good boy all year and Christmas was coming up! Heero, that perfect soldier ass, wasn't agreeing. He wasn't disagreeing either. I didn't pout, not at all. Shinigami does not pout. Shinigami broods in a mysterious, yet insanely attractive way. Pouting is so not me and I don't do it. I don't care what anyone says. I brooded. And no, my bottom lip was not sticking out. I resent the implication. Just like I resented the fact that Heero didn't just tell Quatre no, he would not be Quat's Dream Sex Kitten Heero because he was already my Dream Sex Kitten Heero and he was quite happy to be so, thank you very much. "Unless you want your butt to get Quatre christened, too, I wouldn't recommend a fireman's carry."
Heero just peeled off his yellow cleaning gloves with the fake red fingernails and gave me a look. This one was new. It was the kind you find on commercials for coffee or expensive diamond engagement rings during the soap operas. It was the look you'd see on the face of a boy when his dog comes running toward him after it had traveled thousands and thousands of kilometers through forests filled with dangerous predators, deadly whitewater rapids, and Relena's bedroom done up in precious pink. The God of Death may not pout, but he sure as hell melts like warm, gooey, head over heels in love chocolate. It didn't even bother me when Quatre started in on his Sultan Q and his g-boy Harem fantasy on the way to the bedroom.
I couldn't stop grinning like a jackass eating saw briars. Heero loved me! I felt like doing a large dance number complete with chorus girls and the can-can. Well, maybe I merengued my way around Q's apartment a little bit, but can you blame me? Heero, my Dream Sex Kitten, said he loved me! And then he gave me a perfume ad look! Duo Maxwell had died and gone to Heero Loves Duo Heaven.
Hee-ee-ee-ro loves me! Step step step back back kick! Hee-ee-ee-ro loves me! Boom boom boom boom boom bam! Hee-ee--ee-ro loves me! Da da da da da da! Hee-ee-ee--
"Duo? What are you doing?"
I grinned sheepishly and dropped my arms back down. Dammit, my hip was cocked way out to the left and my butt was sticking out. I looked like a complete idiot. "Uhm, a one man conga line?"
"Have you called Wufei, Master?"
"That was the direction I was heading."
"Doing this conga line thing."
"Your hips were...." His hands spread about Duo-butt width apart and he shimmied them.
"That's about how you do the conga."
"I wanted to?"
Heero had the nerve to look amused. "Was that a guess or an answer, Master?"
I grinned wider. "I feel good, 'Ro. I dance when I feel good."
He leaned against the arm of the couch and crossed his arms over his chest. "Keep dancing."
"I can't now!"
He smiled. "Why not?"
"I like to see you feel good."
I couldn't help but smile at that. "Then dance with me!"
Now he frowned. I swear, sometimes the stick up his ass was about as big as the stick up Wu's ass.
"C'mon, Heero, please? Pretty pretty please?"
"I don't dance, Master."
"No problem! I'll teach ya. Howard taught me to do the conga, the merengue, the rhumba, the tango, the macarena, the salsa, the hula, and country line dancing." I stuck my tongue out of the side of my mouth, tapped my finger on my cheek, and smirked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Mmm, the conga is the easiest and I'll get to put my hands on your fine butt, however, the tango is easy and a lot of fun, too."
Heero's expression morphed into something that was a cross between his old let's go and blow up a few Ozzie bases tonight ninmu ryoukai expression and a gleam of pure blue eyed mischief that only kittens and Quatres can get. "No." He smirked. "Master."
Master, huh. I smirked back. "Fine then slave Dream Sex Kitten Heero, dance with me!"
The smirk only got more devilish. Heero...devilish. Uh. "No, Master."
I pouted. Okay, so technically I'm the God of Death and as such, I don't pout, but I have been occasionally known to delve into the very masculine and super manly realm of pouting dangerously. Trust me, children and small dogs run yipping when they see it. "I said dance with me."
"If you don't, I'll whine." I gave him a stern, I mean business glare. "A lot."
"You already whine a lot, Master." Was it just me or was that damned smirk getting more and more annoying?
I stomped over and poked him in the chest. "You don't want to piss me off, Yuy."
"What was it you told me, Master? Oh yes, better to be pissed off than pissed on."
Aargh! "That's it. You're in trouble now, mister."
He arched an eyebrow and purred, "Do tell."
I'm the God of Death, dammit! I'm intimidating! "Okay. You're grounded. No laptop for a week."
He laughed in my face. Heero Yuy laughed in my face. "I'm terrified, Master." I suppose it would have actually sounded true if he'd managed not to snicker when he said it.
"Don't mess me with me, Yuy."
He couldn't look more unintimidated if he friggin tried. "Or what?"
I gave him my best no one sees Shinigami and lives glare. "I'll... I'll..." Gimme a minute, I'll think of something.
He looked even more unimpressed, if that was possible. "You'll what? Spank me?" Then he gave me one of those patronizing little chuckles that might as well have been a pat on the behind and a request to come back in a few years when you've grown up a bit more. Bastard!
He rolled his eyes and all but said yeah, as if. That did it.
"That's it, you're getting it! Turn around and put your hands on the arm of the couch!" Right. Like he'd do it just because I said to. He wouldn't even dance with me--holy hell. He did it! That bastard did it! He pivoted, stuck his hands on the couch like I said and stuck his ass out. Of course, he had to go and ruin it by giving me this you're too much of a wimp to follow through look. "Drop your pants!" I barked like a total idiot who completely forgot that you just don't dare Heero Yuy to do anything because he'll call your bluff if you're not careful. How do I know this? Because the very next instant I was looking at bare Heero buns. Bare. As in naked. As in nothing covering them but a smooth layer of pretty golden expanse of naked Heero skin. It's official. Drooling is a studly occupation.
He smirked at me over his shoulder. "Let me know when you're finished."
I went from sweetheart to bitch in point zero one seconds--I saw that on a bumper sticker. Damn, where in the hell is Dorothy's hot chick in red latex dungeon of hell box when I need something to tan that butt with?
"That's what I thought," Heero said. Then he yawned. Yawned!! That bastard!
I lined up at the plate and let fly with the flat of my hand. I caught him hard across the right butt cheek, toward the bottom curve. He grunted and rocked forward. My hand hurt like a son of a bitch. Buns of steel my ass! Heero's are made of fucking gundanium! Owwww! I wanted to stick my whole hand in my mouth and suck the pain--holy shit. Oh my God! Oh my God! "Oh my God!"
There, on his perfect gundanium butt cheek, was a huge ass angry red welting up Duo's palm sized hand print. I could already see it starting to swell and turn funny shades of purple and green and yellow and blue until the busted capillaries rotted and he had to have surgery to have it removed and forever marred that beautiful, wonderful absolutely perfect butt cheek. Oh my God!
"Oh my God! Oh my God!" I ran screaming for the kitchen and flung all the doors on Q's industrial sized fridge open. There was ice in trays and a bin. No time. There was no time. I grabbed a bag of frozen carrots and dove for the under sink cabinet where Q kept his first aid kit. My Heero was surely in agony even worse than that time he set his own leg. The pain of a broken femur was nothing compared to the gangrene ridden crippling injury I'd just dealt him.
"Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!"
Breathe. Breathe. Mustn't panic. Okay. First aid for emergencies. First, apply ice to get the swelling down so it doesn't swell up so much it puts pressure on the tailbone which is a part of his spine and oh my God! He could be paralyzed! He hadn't moved from his spot. My Heero was agony! I slapped the frozen carrots on his butt and dumped the entire contents first aid kit on the couch cushion in front of him. Anti-bacterial ointment, burn cream, hand sanitizer, condoms? What in the hell did Quatre need condoms in a first aid kit for? No time for that. No anti-paralysis bruise ointment. The anti-bacterial stuff would have to do. It would stop gangrene from setting in, right?
Heero yanked the carrots off of his ass and glared at them. "Duo? What in the hell are you doing?"
"Put those carrots back on your butt before you get paralyzed! We got to keep the swelling down goddammit!"
He gave me a wonder filled look so he must have been shocked at the amount of loving concern I felt for him. Or maybe he just objected to the carrots. Honestly, what kind of objection could he have to frozen carrots? They're saving his life, dammit!
"I can get peas instead. Q has frozen peas and some frozen broccoli if you don't like the carrots."
"Have you lost your mind?"
I blinked, ready to squirt antibacterial ointment on his butt. "What?"
"Baka. Look at my butt."
"I'm trying very hard not to."
I blushed. "It would be very rude to pop a woody while you're in mortal agony."
"Baka." Heero whimpered an agonized whimper that sounded a lot like a chuckle. "I'm fine. It stung a little, that was it. No agony. No swelling."
"But there's this big handprint!"
He rolled his eyes. "You spanked me with your hand, what did you expect?" He pulled up his britches, shoved all the first aid stuff off the couch, and sat. On his poor, wounded backside even. I let him tug me into his lap without letting go of the ointment. "I'm a gundam pilot. I've self-destructed twice. I've broken bones. I've been tortured. What makes you think I can't handle a little slap?"
Well, since he put it that way, it did sound kinda stupid. "Um...."
"You turn me on when you go Shinigami."
I don't care. I put my hand on his cheek and blinked up at his face. "I don't want to hurt you."
He gave me a small, soft smile. "It's okay, Master, I wanted you to."
"But it's no--" Wait a minute. Back the truck up, sister. "You wanted me to spank you?"
He blushed. Sort of.
Somewhere along the way there had been a little too much kittens and Quatres in Heero's face. Just a little too much evil, slimey, manipulative bastardy gleaming going on in those eyes that generally only gleamed homicidally. Two and two floated together in my brain and came up to four. I may not have the brightest beam cannon on my gundam, but I'm still no slouch with a thermal scythe. "You tricked me! You bastard!"
Bastard didn't even look even a little bit contrite. Remorse? Oh hell no. He was the very picture of grinning smugness, only without the actual grin.
Spank hell, I was gonna kill him! I was gonna show him exactly what omae o korosu means in real life! News flash, buddy boy! Omae o korosu is not how you say I love you! I'm fucking Shinigami, I should fucking know! "You made me hit you!"
"You didn't hit me, Master. You spanked me." Then he pouted. Heero fucking Yuy pouted. "And it wasn't a very good one either. One little spank and you're panicking with frozen carrots. Is that a phallic thing? Duo, your penis is the perfect size."
"No it's not and they're sliced carrots. I don't want to slice my pen--" No. I'm not gonna get into my widdle winky and the rest of my myriad sexual dysfunctionality. "God dammit, Heero! Enough about the fucking carrots! You tricked me into hitting you! What the hell for?"
He glared. "I like your penis."
"Like you've ever seen it! Back to this making me assault your butt with my hand. What the hell for?"
He blushed, a dull, angry red. "I've seen your penis several times, Master. One memorable occasion occurred our last night at St. Gabriel's. You thought I was asleep."
Heero wasn't the only one blushing. I tell you what.
"It was an interesting performance, Master."
"Hello! Trick spankings ring a bell?"
He grunted. Bastard. "You have a very nice handful, though it was too dark to see skin color and venous patterns."
"We're talking about that spanking you engineered, not my penis." It's my personal opinion that Heero's growling has nothing on mine when I'm PO'd.
"Since we were in our early adolescence at the time, I imagine you've gotten more pubic hair since. Again, I didn't get to see hair color or note the texture."
Heero Yuy is talking about the color of my pubic hair. Heero Yuy is talking about my pubic hair. Well slap me and call me Betty.
"I was able to note the color later." He smirked. "There is something to be said for communal showers in a locker room."
I know my mouth was moving. I could feel my lips and tongue going through the motions, but nothing was coming out 'cause I couldn't hear it and that was probably a good thing because God only knows what I would have said other than it wouldn't have shown off my facility of intellect at all.
"Unfortunately, you were not aroused so I was unable to verify other pertinent details." He grunted in annoyance. "At that time, I did not have the necessary intelligence on your sexual proclivities to change that. I had heard that teenaged boys were prone to erections every time the wind changed. Fanning you with a towel did not produce the desired result, though I did learn how to use a towel as a whip."
I remembered that. I'd been annoyed because Heero had been glaring at me like I'd done something dumb, like tell the Wonder Princess where he was or take Wing out for a test drive without permission. And then he started waving that towel around like some kind of loon and I'd honestly thought he was trying to towel fight when he whacked me with it. He was a perv! Heero Yuy was a perv! "That's what you were doing? You were trying to give me a hard on by waving a towel around?"
He turned red and nodded.
"Jeez, 'Ro. All you to do was bend over in front of me. I'd've had a boner a cat couldn't scratch for a week."
"I was somewhat ignorant of biological functions." He narrowed his eyes. "Does that still work?"
"Yeah." Wait a minute. No way he was gonna distract me, dammit. "Back to the original question. Why'd you make me spank you? You know I don't like to hurt people, especially you!"
He was back to glaring. "I'd rather talk about your penis."
"And I'd rather talk about your Catalonia like impulse to instigate a hand to butt battle."
He gave me a don't be stupid look. He wasn't going to fall for it like Quatre did. Dammit. "I want to see you naked."
I grunted my best Heero Yuy grunt of disdain and dismissal. "Spanking. Talk. Now."
"Fine," he snapped. Never let it be said that Heero ever gave in with anything approaching grace. He did it more like a hippo with a toothache facing a lunch full of artichokes and bean curd. "I wanted to make sure you knew that you are in charge. You're the master." He glared at me like he used to back when we were hiding out in school during the war and I was too busy carving dirty limericks into the desktops to pay any attention to the teachers. "I will set up a tutoring schedule for you with Dorothy Catalonia so next time you spank me, you'll do it properly, Master."
"Doro? Aw hell, can't I just get a self-help book and some psycho perv porn or something? I mean, damn, the 'Net is loaded with this stuff."
"No. You have always learned more efficiently when you've been able to ask questions. You will learn from Dorothy."
I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at the carpet. I should stress that I most certainly was not pouting. "God, fine. Dotty De Sade prolly knows more about a good spanking than leather porn anyway." Hand to butt, skip the frozen carrots. How hard could it be? A couple minutes of blushing, tops, blow her off on the nearest big-nosed victim, and I'd be good to go.
He grunted his I just unloaded a pound of whoop ass on some unsuspecting Ozzies and damn, I feel good grunt. "Good. If you have any questions about sex, ask me. I've studied it extensively. For example, I will never overlook the sensitivity of your anus in favor of your--"
Oh. My. God. Heero was giving me a mission briefing on anal sex.
"--prostate. Manual and oral stimulation of the anus can be very pleasurable if given sufficient atten--"
A mission briefing. We will proceed to the anal area of insertion via a standard two by two infiltration pattern from the left flank. Rimming will commence at 0430 hours. Oh my fucking God. He was talking about manual and oral stimulation of the anus. My anus. His manual and oral. Heero. Rimming. And me. All together at the same time. Holy fuck.
You ever see the Preventers: Black Ops vid where Mike Stallion has to make a dangerous escape through a posh penthouse hotel suite from killer ex-Ozzies? Yeah, I had trouble with putting "dangerous escape" and "posh penthouse hotel suite" in the same sentence without laughing like a loon, too. Lemme tell you, Agent Magnum had nothing on Agent Shinigami Runs and Hides and I Ain't Tellin' a Lie. I bypassed the bathtub in favor of the linen closet. Quatre doesn't keep his porno in his linen closet, just towels and sheets and junk. He must be sharing fashion tips with Hilde. Just to be safe, I covered my head with one of those towels.
Overlook the sensitivity of your anus. Holy shit. He might as well have been listing the gear calibrations for the individual servos on Wing's left pinky. Okay, so it might not have been so bad if Heero Junior hadn't started prodding me in the thigh, if you know what I mean. Fuck. I can be shy if I want. I'm a virgin. I'm kinda allowed to freak out. Who the hell wouldn't? Even Her Pink Majesticness would be cowering in the back of Quat's linen closet with a towel on her head.
The closet door opened and Heero squatted down. I could see the muscles in his thighs flexing and bunching under those painted on jeans he was wearing. The convenient thing about wearing a towel on your head is the immediacy of drool wipeage.
"Duo," he sighed. "Don't you think you're taking this run and hide thing of yours a bit far?"
I yanked the towel down farther until all I could see were his knees. "I'm not Duo. I'm a towel."
He sat down, his back to the door jamb, and incidentally cut off any routes of escape except through drywall. "What set you off this time? Does the idea of sex with me make you nervous?"
Sex. With Heero. My dick was doing a victory dance. My stomach was lurching like a rowboat in a hurricane. "Me? Nervous?" I forced a nonchalant laugh.
"You sound like an asphyxiating rabbit."
Okay, so maybe my skills at nonchalant were somewhat non-existent at the moment. I curled around my knees. "Okay, maybe I'm just a little bit nervous. I emphasize the word little."
"Duo, your penis is not little."
"Argh! What is it with you and your fixation on the size of my penis?"
"Well, it is going to be inside of me." He was purring. And smirking, too. But purring. I was squeaking, but we won't get into that. "I like your penis, Master."
"And quit calling me master!"
Was it just me or was he gnashing his teeth? "You are my master."
I grabbed my braid with both hands and pulled just to feel the tug on my scalp. It was about the only thing that was going to keep me from screaming in frustration which would wake up Quatre who would probably do something unhelpful, like spout his fantasies about Treize and Wufei. "No you're not. You're not anyone's slave and I'm not anyone's master. I'm just Duo and you're just Heero and that's just what we are. No masters and no slaves. Got it? Just two people. Equal people."
He tried to pry my fingers from my braid. "You're my master." He grabbed my head before I could whack it on the wall a few times to make myself feel better. He tugged my hand, braid and all, to his chest, pressing it against his sternum. "Here."
And Wu says I make no sense. Humph. I lifted the towel up enough to peek up at his face. "Huh?"
"My heart. It's, it belongs to you. I want to make you smile. Happy." He glared at me fiercely. Ninmu ryoukai to tenth power. "Whatever it takes. You tell me and I'll do it, Master."
"Quit calling me master."
Can you blame for screaming like a girl?
"Do you understand, Master?"
"Understand? You want to make me happy, but you still keep calling me master. That's what I understand."
He grunted his I'm getting seriously annoyed because you're fucking up my mission and you'd better stop it grunt. Either that or he was getting a cramp. "You are my master."
I grunted my own annoyed grunt and yanked the towel back down over my face. He pulled at it and I refused to let go. After a brief, make that embarrassingly brief tug-of-war, he threw the towel into the bathroom. "Dammit, Heero!"
"You're my master," he said as if those very words would prevent war for eternity.
Since it was obviously really important to him, I scrunched my face up and thought about that really hard. It didn't work; I still didn't get it. "Repeat that, only use different words."
He gave me the glare that made me want to wrap myself around him and tell him everything was going to be okay.
"I get the feeling you're trying to tell me something important and I'm just not getting it."
He grunted again, frowning. "I love you." It took everything I had not to get up and do the mambo, but I'm pretty sure I was noticeably thrumming in ecstasy because his frown softened. "My mission is to make you happy. You're the one who knows what makes you happy. Therefore, you define the mission parameters. You are my master." If he said like J, I'd pinch his butt cheek and so not in a good way either. He cocked his head to look at me sidelong, like a cocker spaniel puppy plotting to take over the world. "You're my master because I want you to be."
I guess that kind of made really warped sense. Relationships that weren't defined by a chain of command were pretty much outside of his experience, right? I could work with that. I loved him and he said he loved me. All I had to do was teach him that making me happy wasn't a mission to accomplish, but something he did just by sticking with me. Easy.
Convince Heero Yuy that his mission wasn't a mission was going to be easy? Riiiiiight. Dream the hell on Maxwell.