Title: A Reason For Me
Author: Prynesque
Genre: Yaoi/slash, romance, angst
Pairing: 1x2
Rated: R
Warnings: Potential (though unintended) OOC, some swearing, lime/lemon, alternating POV, possible Australian-isms.
Feedback: Hell yeah? What I'm trying to say is that if you feel the urge to review, please indulge it. I don't even care what you say. Good, bad, it's all the same to me – just so long as I get to hear from you.
Disclaimer: Duo, Heero, Gundam Wing… they are copywrited to someone else. They are being used without permission and no money is being made. I reiterate: they aren't mine (and if you think they are you should probably take this opportunity to get your head checked). However, this story is mine and mine alone, and if you so much as think of nicking any part of it, I'll hunt you down and set my demon kitty cat on you (be afraid, be very afraid).
Notes: This story is AU. It's set in modern-day Chicago and I think it's safe to say that that means there will be no mentions of Gundams, colonies or any other various fantastical science fiction-related entities. This story is also slash (or yaoi or whatever you want to call it), so if you don't like that… well, bugger off and come back when you have some taste!

Author's Notes: My GOD, how long has it been since I updated? It's ridiculous! I'm so sorry, folks bad Pryn, bad Pryn Please feel free to be nasty. I can take it. There are so many excuses I could make, but I'm sure you're not interested. Let's just blame Real Life and be done with it.

This chapter, well, I'm not happy with it… but right now, I feel like I'll scream and then spontaneously combust if I ever see it again. If it feels a bit choppy, it's because it was written over a really long period of time, with scandalously long gaps in between. I promise I'll try and make up for any average-ness in the next chapter. The first part is a bit black (it was written after a very close family friend passed away) but it picks up at the end.

So yeah, read it and you know the deal, review and all that. Seriously, think about it because I could really use the motivation right now.

Part Two – Chapter Eight:

Duo

I didn't mean to come here, I swear I didn't, but some times my feet just have other plans. I never used to be like this, but now… now it happens all the time; late at night, cold and wet and hungry and lonely, I instruct my body to take me home and it brings me here to Heero without a second thought. It's only when I'm standing on the street outside the building that I realise where I am and by then it's too late… I have to go in…

Still, I really thought I could manage four days on my own. Fuck, I'm weaker than I thought. I lived for years without needing Heero, without needing anyone, but now I can barely last an hour without thinking about him… can't even manage a few days without needing to see him.

I'm like an addict suffering withdrawal. It's funny… only it's not. When I was first on the streets I swore that drugs would never be my thing; I would never be one those twitching wrecks you see in dark corners, craving a fix, completely and utterly dependant and lost.

But I am lost, I know it and sure it's not crack or anything like that, but it's just as potent, more so even. I depend on Heero to keep me warm, to keep me sane, to keep me alive…

I swore I'd never rely on anything but myself, that I'd always be the one in control… and yet the compulsion still takes me over and I come here craving my fix. I wonder how I'll ever be able to survive if it's taken away from me.

I must sound like a raving lunatic. God knows, I probably am. I'm must be more depressed than I thought… nights like these do that to you; make you think that there is nothing but blackness in this world. Even here, standing in Heero's pristine, shining white bathroom, there is still blackness… I think it might be me.

I force my eyes to meet my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I can't help but wince. My hair is damp and messy from the wind and snow and my make-up is smudged. My skin is deathly pale, a sharp contrast to the dark lines of my fishnet stockings crisscrossing up and down my legs.

I look thoroughly shagged and not in the good way… no, I look wretched and tired and used… I should never have come; I should have had the self-control to stay away.

I laugh a bitter laugh that sounds most unlike me. I try to dredge up a smile but it turns into a grimace, teeth bared, scary and miserable. I want to fling that bathroom door open and run into Heero's arms and let him chase away the darkness. I don't care about all that dependency shit now, I just want to be with him.

But I can't… they're probably still out there… Heero's friends. I strain my ears, trying to hear what they're saying. But there is silence in the other room. Maybe they've all left…

I wonder what they think of me. That I'm trash, probably; everything about me screams it, like a giant fucking neon sign. Or maybe I'm worse than trash… maybe they think I'm nothing, nothing at all…

Sure, they shook my hand and smiled at me and did all that polite society shit, and for a moment I believed it… but it had to be fake. People like that don't accept people like me. I'm sure behind their smiles and their manners they were thinking what all normal people think when they see me. And I wouldn't blame them one bit.

You'd think I wouldn't give a shit what they think of me. Hell, I've been called pretty much everything under the sun, no skin off my nose, I know what I am. But I do, I do care. I don't want them to think I'm nothing because if they think that, then maybe they're right. And I'm scared. Not for myself, but for Heero. What must they think of him for… I don't know, consorting with a… with someone like me. He doesn't deserve to be tarred black and dirty with the same brush as I am.

I force my gaze upwards once more. The Duo in the mirror stares back at me. I wonder if that's really me. The mirror is mocking me, laughing at me, taunting me; I want to smash the blasted thing, if only so I don't have to stare at that pitiful image any more.

I tear at my clothes, ripping them off me as though they are on fire. Flimsy layers of black litter the white tiles and I huddle naked in the corner, staring at them.

Suddenly it's all very clear. Before, when I was with Heero… I felt almost normal, I could almost forget that I wasn't… it was just the two of us and when we were together I could be the person that always I wanted to be, that I thought still existed somewhere deep inside.

But now… now that's all changed. I've seen the others – Quatre, Wufei, Trowa, Sally – those are the people that Heero deserves to be with; people that aren't black and rotten on the inside.

Walking out of this apartment and never coming back seems like the only logical thing to do. Heero would be better off without me, I'm sure. Only I'm selfish… deep down, I am. I don't think I can go; I have to stay, be near him for just a little bit longer.

God, I'm so fucked up. I feel like I'm being suffocated by my own black thoughts. I wish I hadn't come here tonight. I wish Heero's friends had never come at all. I wish it was just the two of us again. I wish a lot of things. Do wishes ever come true?

I bundle myself into the shower and sit on the cold tiled floor. The water drenches me, beating down on my shoulders and back, punishingly hard. I'm not sure if I'm trying to cleanse myself or drown myself.

For what seems like forever, I sit there, unmoving beneath the steaming torrent. I watch the water gurgle down the drain and I can almost feel my self-pity being washed away with it. The blackness ebbs away like so much dirt and make-up, and I feel more like myself. The hot water breathes life back into me; I can feel the blood pumping beneath my skin, colour and warmth return to me and I'm alive and safe… the wonders of a nice, long, hot shower. I wish everything was this easy.

Eventually, I haul myself to my feet, wobbling unsteadily on stiff legs. I wash my hair slowly, weaving my hands through the long, wet strands; soapy suds trickle down my body in long, white foamy streams before swirling in the drain beneath my feet. The water is beginning to cool by the time I finish and I let it rain down on my face, icy cold like the weather outside.

When I finally shut off the water, I'm shivering. But it's not the bad kind… the kind that overcomes you after you've been standing in the snow for five hours; that comes after you lose feeling in all your limbs. It's better than that because I know that I'm just two clicks away from a soft, plush towel, from the dry warmth of Heero's clothes and the comfort of his bed.

I reach for the towel, folding it around my body. Almost instantly, the shivers start to abate. I meet my reflection's gaze once more; it's a relief to see that the man staring back at me is no longer a ghost, a shadow.

With the rushing roar of the shower gone, the silence is all the more evident. I pause and then shuffle closer to the door, pressing my ear against it. There is still no noise in the other room; I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

Staring down at my neglected rags, I shiver violently once more in the cool air and pull the towel tighter around my body, snuggling into the plush warmth. If I were a stronger man, I'd put those clothes back on and I'd walk out of Heero's life forever, but I'm not and so I stumble into Heero's bedroom and then into his clothes. Weak, I know… I can't even run away anymore.

Heero's clothes are still too big for me – I suspect they always will be – but I think I have put on a little weight. I stare at myself critically in Heero's mirror. Yes, I've fleshed out a little, there are no more painfully sharp corners and no sunken hollows. I look half-way human, though maybe it's just the threads.

I feel safe when I'm wearing these clothes. When I close my eyes, I swear they still smell like Heero… it's almost like I'm being permanently hugged by him.

I think Heero's friends have gone… they must have; there's still no sound from the next room. But I don't quite have the courage yet to check. I sit on the edge of his bed and braid my hair, long wet strands winding over each other as I try to work up the guts to leave this room.

It takes me several moments to actually open the bedroom door and face whatever is on the other side; my hand lingers on the door handle in indecision, for what feels like hours. But I finally do it, and it's thankfully anticlimactic.

The living room is empty, save for Heero, who is sitting on the couch, staring into the fire; the glow from the fake flames bathes his face in orange. His hands are folded in his lap, long fingers overlapping seamlessly.

For a moment I just stand in the doorway watching him… I can't bear to break the serenity of the scene. He doesn't look up when I finally enter; in fact, he's so lost in thought that he doesn't even realise I'm there. He looks so still and pensive, like a Roman statue. I wonder what he's thinking, and some where in the back of my mind, a little voice hopes that he's thinking about me.

"They've gone." My voice, croaky and nervous, shatters the quiet hanging in the air. Heero's head jolts up and he stares at me; his eyes bore into mine, a strange, incomprehensible look on his face.

"Yes," he says, gaze still locked with mine. Blue eyes, so very blue… They were the first thing I noticed about him and I still notice them. "I'm sorry that was so awkward. I should have told them before…" he trails off, standing up, hesitantly. He seems almost… nervous?

"Nah, it was my fault," I say. "I shouldn't have just turned up like that." My tone is deliberately light, but inside, I'm crumbling.

"I'm glad you did," he confesses and then flushes. "I mean, I'm glad you came, that you didn't stay away."

"But I embarrassed you," I mumble before I can stop myself. Self-pity wells up again, threatening to engulf me.

"I could never be embarrassed of you." Suddenly he's standing right in front of me and I wonder how he managed to move without my noticing. And he's so very close. His body radiates warms and I soak it up, using every inch of my restraint to stop myself from falling into him.

"I drove them away," I say, indicating the empty room, and my voice cracks slightly. "They must think I'm some kind of… some kind of…" I break off; there are a multitude of words that could complete that sentence.

He catches my hand in his and it's warm and comforting. He squeezes gently, the pad of his thumb drawing little circles on the back of my hand. I squeeze back, glad of the contact. "They were leaving anyway. And whatever black thoughts you've been thinking, don't. They'll be fine, they understand. They're nice people. Give them a chance, you'll see." That firm, tenor voice washes over me and I find myself believing him. Maybe I was wrong, maybe all that polite society, 'nice-to-meet-you' stuff was real.

"Are you sure?" My voice is so soft, I barely catch my words, but Heero does and smiles, lacing his fingers through mine.

"Yes," he whispers back. He's so close. This almost feels like a repeat of Christmas Eve. I feel myself rock forwards onto the balls of my feet ever so slightly, leaning in towards him. I'm holding my breath, waiting for him to kiss me.

He opens his mouth, on the verge of saying something... but then he doesn't. Suddenly his fingers untwine from mine and he moves away, clearing his throat. "It's late; we should go to bed," is all he says. A miserable churning feeling swirls in my stomach… bitter disappointment.

Hours later, lying on my back in his bed, I stare up at the dark ceiling above. I can feel him next to me. We're not even touching or anything… but I can feel him there. Would I have let him kiss me if he'd tried? Probably. Do I wish he had tried? Definitely.

I roll over and stare at him; I can just see his outline through the dim gloom, chest rising and falling, deep and even. I shuffle closer across the mattress, stopping just mere inches from him. There are no lines on his face when he's asleep; when he's awake, even if he's relaxed, there is still this stiffness to him, like he's continually checking himself. But tonight he is… serene. He looks much younger too, innocent even. I wonder if I look like that when I'm asleep. Probably not… I've seen too much blackness, been too much blackness to ever be innocent again.

A lump forms in my throat and I shuffle closer still, resting my cheek against his solid shoulder. An arm snakes around me, pulling me nearer so I settle comfortably against his side. Behind me, a soft meow sounds and then four paws take a flying leap, landing with a slight thump on the mattress. Cat curls into the small of my back; I can feel his rhythmic purring against my spine.

I'm surrounded by warmth and suddenly the black depression that engulfed me earlier in the bathroom feels a million miles away. Being here with Heero has the unique ability to make the rest of the world fade in obscurity.

I'm overwhelmingly glad that I didn't run away. I don't know what'll happen tomorrow or the next day… whether I'll have the strength to face his friends again. But in this moment, none of that matters… it's just him and me and Cat. I smile into his shoulder and then sleep claims me.

Heero's in the shower when I wake; the dull roar of rushing water greets my sleep-addled brain. The blurry red numbers of the bedside clock inform me that it's a quarter to seven. I stretch languidly, curling my toes and arching my back off the bed. I roll over onto Heero's side of the bed; it's still warm and his scent lingers. I bury my face in his pillow. Behind me, Cat stretches as well, pushing soft paws into my back. My eyes flicker closed again.

When I open them for a second time, the shower has stopped running. I blink at the clock, blearily. It's nearly seven. I yawn, rolling onto my side. A moment later the bathroom door opens and a thick block of light creeps across the room to where I'm lying. I lift my eyelids enough to peer sleepily in the light's direction.

Suddenly Heero is standing there, towel around his waist, still dripping water; cool, clear rivulets trickle down his chest, following the hard curve of muscle. All of a sudden my mouth is very dry and I'm suddenly very, very awake.

The man is a walking wet dream… Hilde once said that to me about a John she'd had the luck to nab. I just murmured a vague agreement, not really understanding what she meant. But now I get it… now it's blindingly clear. A walking wet dream… and then some.

I feign unconsciousness, secretly watching him from beneath barely open eyelids. The bathroom door swings shut again, plunging the room back into semi-gloom. But I can still make out Heero as he moves quietly about the room, gliding through the shadows. All that pale brown skin and sleek muscle… I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from panting.

I'm embarrassed to realise that I'm actually getting hard… how pathetically voyeuristic is that? But I can't bring myself to tear my eyes away, it's just so… God, I don't even know if there is a word for this… he's just so incredible.

And he loses the towel and I'm allowed a brief glimpse of the curves of his arse as he bends over to get dressed. I didn't think a man's body could be like that. I'm fairly sure my moan is audible. He turns to stare at me, zipping up his fly. I mumble something incomprehensible, rolling back over onto my stomach in my pretend sleep. My erection is pressed against the mattress, uncomfortably constrained but I don't have the guts to move again until I hear the bedroom door open and then close.

I flop over onto my back, eyes closed, trying to savour the mental image of naked Heero. Even just the memory of it is enough to send tingles through my body and my hand to my arousal. I make a dive for the bathroom and the moment the water is running I'm stroking myself with a fierce passion that I didn't even know I was capable of.

I don't touch myself very often – horny perverts paw at me often enough that I've rather come to associate the whole thing with something not very pleasant. But the water pours down over me, clean and fresh, and in my mind the hand moving over me is Heero's and it's his name that I gasp, strangled, as I reach my peak.

I feel vaguely ashamed when I'm done. I bet Heero never does this. He probably has far too much restraint. In the bathroom mirror, my reflection blushes, simultaneously satisfied and guilty.

I blush again when I finally emerge from the bathroom. Heero is in the kitchen, bent over the toaster, waiting impatiently for it to pop. The crisp, clean lines of his suit seem to wink at me as though daring me to remember what lies beneath. He looks up when he hears my approach, smiling at me, reflected in the smooth, shiny silver of the toaster; I find myself unable to do anything but smile back. Mental pictures assault me again and I try to reign in my hormones.

"You look very smart today," I say, wincing at my lameness, but simultaneously congratulating myself for managing not to say that I also thinking he looks much better minus the threads.

"Thanks," he says wryly, catching his toast on a plate as it comes shooting out of the toaster. "I have a meeting with a client. Relena says I should make an effort to look smart to make up for my lack of social skills."

He laughs but I burn with jealousy. Relena… I'd forgotten about her. I wonder if they have lunch together, if they chat happily about life and the universe over their fancy coffees. Well, OK, they probably don't actually chat… Heero's not really one for small talk. But still…

I roll my eyes at myself mentally; I'm getting possessive and Heero and I aren't even in a relationship. He seems to notice my strained silence because he casts me a worried look as he passes me the Fruit Loops. I flash him an automatic grin and start shoveling multicoloured cereal into my mouth to distract myself from that this Relena-woman gets kidnapped by terrorists. Heero just shakes his head and butters his toast.

I'm halfway through my third bowl when Heero has to leave. I follow him to the door, feeling like the wife in a 50s family comedy. He smiles at me and I shiver unexpectedly. Damn, he's good.

"Stay as long as you like," he says, searching my eyes. He turns away, briefcase in hand, and then turns back. "Will you… come back tonight?" It's an unexpected question. We never discuss when or if I'll stay with him. It's just one of those topics that we both avoid. I wonder if he realizes he's broken this unwritten rule.

I know I shouldn't but those eyes… they're almost pleading. "I'll try," I croak, berating myself for my weakness. Last night's worries about dependency come back to me but then he smiles – one of those brilliant smiles that he only displays every so often – and suddenly dependency is the least of my worries, and coming back, regardless of whomever else might be here, is the only thing I can think of.

He leaves and I spent a good five minutes staring at the door, trying to figure out when and where I misplaced my balls. Still unenlightened I trudge back to the kitchen and finish my soggy Fruit Loops.

The room is bathed in the soft glow emanating from the bedside lamp. The carpet beneath my feet is a thick woollen weave, warm but slightly coarse. Heat is pouring in from the air-conditioning vents, toasty warm, while outside it's snowing again. The steady dusting of snow rains down on the other side of the window, collecting in a soft pale mound on the window ledge; crisp icy shards cling to the window, framing the glass in white.

It's a beautifully romantic settling, the sort of scene that inspires alternatively wicked and loving thoughts. Or it would be if the man reclining on the bed was Heero.

But it's not. I close my eyes briefly, pretending that I'm home… I listen for the low rumble of Heero's voice or the soft cry of Cat's mews. But there is nothing but harsh breathing and the dull roar of the heating system.

I open my eyes again and he's still there. Early-50s, I'd say, with slightly graying hair, pale hazel eyes and an arrogantly rakish smirk. As Johns go, he's been a fairly decent one.

The past few nights it's been hard and rough… pushed up against a cold brick wall, cramped and claustrophobic in the back of a beat-up Volvo, on my knees in the snow. But not tonight. He's not like that. He likes things slow and gentle, like a tentative, tempting dance. He wants to seduce me, dazzle me and I let him. But in the end, it's still the same as it is with every other man… there is still the innocuous pile of cash winking in the corner of my eyesight, and there is still that lingering sense of shame. And when it's all over, his false romance is stripped away and all I'm left with is his rough breathing and sleepily sated smile… and the desperate wish that I were at home with Heero.

"You're very beautiful, mon petit," he purrs from the bed. That voice ripples down my spine. He thinks it's sexy and alluring and I'm sure that in a dark, smoky bar after a few drinks, to most people it would be… but I'm not most people and to me, it's just too smooth.

Still, I blush at his words, although he's not the first man to tell me that. I shrug his words off, turning away as I continue dressing. I can feel his gaze on me, mentally removing every item of clothing as I put it on.

"And all that stunning hair… It reminds me of my daughter… she used to wear hers in a braid like that. Are you sure you won't let me touch it?"

OK, he just successfully crossed the line between smooth and creepy. I try not to picture his daughter. Do I look like her? Have I just been participating in some sick incestuous, pedophilic fantasy? Oh God, I hope not.

"Nobody touches my hair," I repeat my standard line for him. It's only as I'm pulling on my jacket that I realise that that's not strictly the truth… a lie even. Heero touched my hair… that night after the break-in, just that once. But that was the first time in probably ten years that I'd let anyone lay their hands on my hair. Figures that it would be Heero.

"Hmm, pity…" he says from the other side of the room. I can still feel his eyes on me, raking across my body, not hungry and greedy like his earlier looks were, just leisurely and satiated.

"How much would it cost for you to stay the night with me?" he asks and suddenly he's right behind me, his breath ghosting across the back of my neck. It's unsettling that I didn't even register his movement and I'm caught off guard by his closeness.

I try not to look at him, to not see all that expanse of still naked flesh. "Too much," I whisper, eying the door.

"I don't mind," his voice is equally hushed and he brushes pale fingers down my arm as he speaks.

"What about your daughter?" I ask, forcing myself to meet his gaze. I fancy his eyes are hollow… not endlessly deep like Heero's.

He laughs. "She's all grown up now. Gone off to college," he tells me. "Come on, stay with me tonight." He moves away from me, reaching for his wallet. Within a moment, the pile of cash on the bureau has doubled. "I'll make it worth your while." I eye the money, feeling that instinctive pull… sitting there, innocently, is more than I would probably make in two nights. "I'm not looking for another round, I just want someone to share that big, empty bed with," he implores me, raising one eyebrow in what he probably assumes is a devilishly charming enticement.

I dither. In my mind, Heero's voice echoes… will you… come back tonight? And I want nothing more than to go there and curl into bed behind him and pretend that nothing else exists.

But then there's the money. It smirks at me, tempting me… its seductive call echoes in my mind. I do the calculations in my head. If I take his offer, his money, I think I could afford to have tomorrow night off altogether. And there is my decision made for me right there. A few hours of near-sleep next to this man in return for a whole evening spent with Heero.

"Alright, I'll stay," I say aloud, silently offering an apology to Heero for my absence.

My John smiles sleepily at me, moving back to the bed and reclining decadently. He pats the mattress beside him. The look he gives me tells me that he knew I'd cave. I sigh and quietly undress again.

It's nearly 8am by the time I get out, cash in hand; I don't take his watch or the rest of his money. Normally I would, it's just too tempting, too obtainable. Maybe I'm trying to make up for leaving Heero alone last night… I don't know.

He's still in the shower when I make my escape; his off-key humming from the bathroom follows me out of the room, lingering in my ears like his touch lingers on my skin. I shut the door as quietly as I can and for a moment I allow the blessed silence of the corridor to seep into me.

Smokey and Joe are waiting for me on the footpath. They look cold and grouchy… not a good combination. Joe is sullenly quiet, arms folded against the cold and dark eyebrows frowning at me. But Smokey seems to be spoiling for a fight. His eyes flit dangerously up and down the street; that wild stare challenges every passerby, daring one of them to take him on. They hurry away, eyes downcast, fixed on their polished leather shoes or the cracked concrete beneath them.

Smokey stubs his cigarette out on the bonnet of Joe's truck. "You been a while," he growls. "He pay up alright?" There is hope in his voice, practically begging me to give him an excuse to go up there and ruffle a few feathers.

For a moment I'm tempted to say no… not really out of spite towards my John but more out of spite towards my general situation in life. I don't suppose that's really a good enough reason for having the shit beaten out of someone. I wonder what my John would do, faced with 90 kilos of wiry strength and murderous inclination. I feel guilty at the thought. I wonder what his daughter would do if he was found dead in a hotel room. I try not to wonder what she would think if she knew what he'd been doing in that room just hours early.

"Yeah, it was fine," I mumble belatedly to Smokey. The disappointment in those dull black eyes is unmistakable.

I ignore it and reach into my pocket for Roly's share of the cash. Joe plucks it from my fingers with a lazy grin. I feel a tinge of resentment. I earned that money and it'll go straight into the wallet of a fat man who sits behind a desk all day and pretends to run a legitimate business. But really, I'd probably be willing to pay him twice that rather than work these streets without Smokey and Joe. I just hope Roly never finds that out.

Joe leafs through the notes, fat, stubby fingers peeling back the layers of green. "This all? You were up there half the night!" The tone is accusatory. "You shoulda asked extra for that."

A biting retort lingers on my lips… I know my job and what it's worth, and I don't appreciate people treating me like I'm some wet thirteen year old… but I don't say it; it'd probably go straight over Joe's head anyway. "He'd didn't have that much on him," I lie, the extra cash hot and heavy in my back pocket.

"Then why'd you stay?" Joe asks as he wrenches the truck door open. It groans a low, pained metallic groan.

"Central heating and a comfy bed," I smirk. Joe glares at me and then at the cold, hard cracked leather seats of the truck where he spent the night. "And better company," I add, just for the Hell of it.

"Yeah, funny Duo," Joe mutters to the steering wheel. Thick fingers curl around it, knuckles white.

"Ah, shut it, both of you," Smokey snarls. "It's freezing; let's get the fuck outta here."

"I'll walk," I say.

Smokey gives me a sharp look. Shit, that was too quick, too eager. "You been walking an awful lot, lately," he says. He raises one pointed eyebrow. "You got a rich sugar daddy, you ain't telling us about?" His question is deceptively light, only just betrayed by the icy hardness in his tone.

"Yeah, I wish," I retort, proud of the conviction in my voice. Joe snickers, a mean sound that says 'Because who'd be interested in you' without a single word. Smokey merely eyes me again; it almost feels like those tiny black orbs are penetrating my very skin. I shuffle uncomfortably on the dirty sidewalk.

Finally he seems satisfied. "Yeah, sure, whatever," he says gruffly, rounding the hood of the car to the passenger door.

I exhale in relief. I try not to think what Smokey would do to Heero if he found out about him. I shouldn't spend so much time with him. It'd be safer all round. Even as I think that, I know it'll never happen.

"Pick you up at 7?" Joe asks, leaning out the window.

I try to look nonchalant. "Nah, don't worry about it. Repeat customer," I say, jerking my thumb back towards the hotel. "I can make my own way back." I'm relieved when they buy my lie. I keep excepting them to see right through me, as though I've got Heero's name tattooed across my chest.

"Fine, later," Joe says, waving at me as he pulls away from the curl. Smokey just grunts and lights another cigarette.

As I watch the car disappear in a cloak of black exhaust fumes, I allow myself a little smile. I pull my jacket tight around myself and hurry away. If I'm lucky, I'll just catch Heero before he goes to work.

Earl the doorman smiles at me as I enter the building at just after half past eight. "Mornin' Duo," he says. "Rough night?" His tone is sympathetic but not quite pitying. I don't snap at him because he really is making an effort; usually he just ignores what I am and what I've just been doing.

"Not too bad," I tell him as I head towards the lift.

It dings just as I reach it and the doors glide effortlessly open in one smooth mechanical motion. An elderly lady comes out. Her face is faintly familiar and I struggle to place it. Then it comes to me. She's Heero's neighbour… Mrs. Something-or-other. She's regarding me in the same manor. She thinks she knows me but the clothes and the memory just aren't adding up.

"You're Duo, aren't you?" she asks, stepping forwards out of the elevator. "Heero's friend." I nod and her eyes light up. "Ah, yes, I remember. You must come and have tea with me. Heero never has tea with me any more. You bring him along some time." Again I nod, wondering how she can just ignore what I obviously am. Maybe it's an old lady, selective blindness thing… maybe she's just so lonely that she'll accept any kind of company, even mine.

"Good, good," she murmurs. And then she's patting my arm and walking away. I only just catch the lift before it disappears again.

I let myself into Heero's flat. I still feel that gentle glow of giddiness at having my own key. Meh, pathetic or whatever.

Cat comes hurtling out of the kitchen, the little bell on his collar jangling like a dozen sleighs. He does a delighted tour of my legs and then allows me to scoop him up, cuddling him close to my chest. He tolerates the indignity of this with relative humour. His warm, skinny little body starts to thaw my frozen hands.

"Good morning, Duo," says a deep, unfamiliar voice.

I jump what feels like a good foot into the air. In my shock, I drop Cat. He lands on his paws and wobbles ungainly, yowling in protest. He stalks away, clearly miffed at my treatment.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," says the voice.

For a moment I hesitate. Years of instinct scream at me to just high-tail it, but a newer, softer voice pipes up, telling me that this is Heero's place, a sanctuary regardless of strange deep voices.

I turn slightly, gingerly even. And that's when I see him. Trowa. He's seated against the wall by the dining room table; his legs are twisted in a very awkward looking position, half crossed and half twisted. It looks exceedingly uncomfortable and yet, he's got the most serene expression on his face. He stares up at me with his one visible eye, a glowing green colour amid a curtain of chestnut brown.

"Hi," I croak. I can just feel the blush rising in my cheeks, turning my face a horrible shade of pink. "I'm sorry… I didn't know you were here… I just… um…" I trail off, picking awkwardly at my skimpy outfit and feeling like the worst kind of nothing. I swear I can feel the fingerprints of my John on my skin, his mark.

"You just missed Heero. He left for work not fifteen minutes ago," Trowa tells me from his twisted seat. God, he sounds so articulate after my pathetic mumblings.

"Right… I'll just… um… go then." And I turn to leave but suddenly Trowa is rising, more graceful than anything I've ever seen. He's tall, I realise, as he approaches… He reminds me of a swan gliding across the surface of a smooth, glassy lake. He has that kind of elegance that you just have to wonder at… it's almost unearthly.

"No, please stay. I'm sure Heero would want you to. I promise I won't get in your way." He smiles a funny little half smile, that one green eye twinkling.

I blush again. "Are the others… um, here?" I ask, staring down at Cat who is weaving through my legs; he's either forgiven me for dropping him or merely forgotten about it.

"Just Quatre… though he is still in bed. I fear we had rather too much red wine last night. Heero was kind enough to let us stay. I hope the couch wasn't too uncomfortable for him."

I feel a disappointed twist in my stomach. It takes me a moment to identify the cause… If Heero gave his bed to Trowa and Quatre, then he must have suspected all along that I wouldn't come. Does he have that little faith in me?

I nod belatedly, aware of those green eyes still on me. "I'll just… have a shower," I mumble to the floor. I wonder if Trowa can see those fingerprints, if he can sense the man I was just with. I have to wash it off, the feeling of him.

"That sounds like a good idea. You look cold," Trowa says. I fancy there's a hint of amusement in his voice and my head snaps up.

"Very diplomatic of you," I mutter.

"It's reassuring to know that Quatre is starting to rub off on me." I'm not sure whether that's supposed to be an innuendo or not. "But I was being perfectly serious. You're shivering. Thus, you must be cold."

I feel like a right dick now. Why is it that I automatically try to find the bad in people? I guess because I'm so used to them finding the bad in me. "Sorry," I mumble to the floor. And then, "I'm an idiot… please ignore me."

He laughs and this time it's clear that he's not mocking me. "I would never ignore someone that Heero cares so much about," he says thoughtfully. He says that with so much confidence. I feel a little glow inside that is possibly my inner child jumping up and down like a lunatic, squealing 'he cares about me!' I try to ignore it before I do something stupid like giggle.

For a moment I think Trowa's going to speak again but then he just smiles again. I smile tentatively back. He sinks back down into his twisted position, folding his legs over each other. My smile develops into a grin and I quietly remove myself to the bathroom.

The first thing I see is my clothes – well, Heero's clothes – neatly folded and sitting on the toilet cistern. That little glow is back as is my faith in Heero. He was expecting me, after all… waiting for me. And then of course the guilt sets in. I wonder what he felt when I didn't turn up… if he was very disappointed… someone that Heero cares so much about… Trowa's voice rings loud in my head. I feel that same warm glow again but the guilt is still there.

I shower efficiently, aware of Quatre still sleeping in the next room. I try not to remember what I was doing the last time I was in this shower. There is a brief moment when it threatens to happen again but just doesn't. I'm glad, because doing that with Heero's friends just mere metres away… well, it feels like it would be all kinds of wrong.

When I emerge again, feeling warm and distinctly more alive that I did when I arrived, Trowa is still in the Dining Room, resting in Upward Dog. Slowly and sinuously, he pushes back into Downward Dog and then completes his Salute to the Sun.

I'm fairly sure my mouth is hanging open as I watch. I always thought that Heero was the epitome of graceful but Trowa is in a whole other league… if indeed he's even playing the same game. He's fluid like water, elegant like a dancer and yet strangely powerful as well. There is so much barely restrained strength beneath his movements. It's entrancing.

He straightens up and opens his eyes, catching me staring. "Sun Salutation," he explains.

"Yeah, I know. Heero's been teaching me. But he's not as good as you." I blush, feeling oddly unfaithful at saying that.

Trowa just smiles. "I've been practicing Yoga for many years. And I have the added advantage of gymnastics training as well." He cocks his head to the left slightly, revealing the long, lean line of his neck. "Would you like to join me?"

"Oh, I couldn't… I'd look like a hippo next to you."

"You'd be surprised how graceful a hippo can be," Trowa comments, smiling to himself.

I fall into line beside him and slowly we begin our dance. At first, I'm horribly self-conscious, overwhelmingly aware of every mistake I make. But after a few rounds, I relax and I even forget that Trowa is there beside me. The movements just take me over, flowing from one to the next in time with my breath.

Finally I straighten up and that's when I feel the sensation of being watched. I let my eyes flicker open. Trowa is gazing at me, an odd little half smile on his face.

"You have a natural affinity for Yoga," he tells me.

I blush. "Yeah, right."

"No, I mean it. You have good flexibility and an innate sense of the essence of Yoga. I was watching you. The room just fades away when you're doing it, doesn't it? And there is nothing but you and your steady breathing and the dance of the Salute."

I grin because I didn't think it was possible to translate my feelings into such eloquent words. "Yeah," I confirm, though that hardly does it justice.

Trowa smiles. "Then I hope you'll continue with it." He pauses and the pale sunshine trickling in through the window highlights the red in his hair. "What else has Heero shown you?"

I think, trying to remember. Slowly glimpses of memory come back to me… Heero's strong confident stance… the feeling of his hands shifting my body into the right position. "Just a few of the Warrior positions," I mumble.

"Ah, yes… Heero is very fond of standing strength exercises… very good for muscle tone. Would you like me to show you some new moves?"

I remember Hilde once saying that to me, though of course, she had very different moves in mind. I nod. "What was that pretzel thing you were doing before?"

"I was meditating in Lotus position. It can be quite difficult. Heero, for example, finds it very hard to switch off his thought processes. And you need to be very flexible to manage Lotus. But I'll show you, if you like…"

I consider the offer, but I really don't think I'm up to the pretzel just yet. "Maybe something easier to start with?"

He smiles and inclines his head in a gently nod. "How are you at balancing?"

Terrible, it turns out. I wobble something dreadful and my Dancer's pose resembles a stumbling drunk more than anything else.

I can feel myself starting to sweat as I fight my body for control; regardless of what my brain is saying, it seems determined to pitch forwards into a messy heap on the hardwood floor.

"Don't try so hard, Duo," Trowa's smooth voice echoes behind me.

I drop my leg back to the floor and my arms back to my sides. "What?" I ask, frustration just bubbling beneath the surface.

"You're working too hard." I raise an eyebrow at him and he smiles. "Fix your gaze on a spot in the distance. Focus all your energy on that single point… your body will do the rest."

The expression on my face must be one of complete disbelief because Trowa laughs. "Trust me, it does work."

I heave an exaggerated sigh and look for my spot. I finally settle on a pigeon. It's sitting on the balcony rail of the apartment opposite Heero's. Slowly I move into Dancer's pose, gripping my left ankle in my left hand and stretching my right arm out away from me. Imagine you're a bow and arrow, Trowa had told me. I wonder if I look like one. That simple thought is all it takes and suddenly, I'm wobbling dangerously. Trowa's hands find my waist, steadying me. "Focus on your spot," he murmurs.

And so I stare at the pigeon, concentrating all my energy there. I feel completely ridiculous. It's just a pigeon… a rat of the sky, filthy and annoying and ever-present… I wobble again. "Focus," is the whispered command.

I stare at it again. I'm surprised it can't feel the strength of my gaze… I feel like I'm trying to burn a hole right through it. But it's sleeping, its beak tucked beneath one wing, and completely unaware of my attention. The pale winter sunshine highlights the greenish tinge of the feathers and a couple of them are ruffled, quivering slightly; there must be a light breeze blowing outside, I conclude.

And suddenly I realise that I'm doing it. My body has just fallen into Dancer's pose without me even realizing it. "I'm doing it," I exclaim excitedly. Suddenly my concentration crumbles, like a tower of blocks crashing down to the ground. I follow a moment later. Even Trowa's quick reflexes aren't enough to stop me from hitting the floor with a dull thud.

I groan, staring up at him. He gives me a commiserating look. "I was doing it."

He laughs. "That you were. The more you practice, the better you will become."

"Do you mind if I practice some other time… when I've regained feeling in my arse?"

He chuckles, a low deep rumbling sound that makes Cat perk up from his seat on the back of the sofa. "Of course." He regards me for a moment. "Do you like omelette?" he asks abruptly.

"Huh?" is my articulate response.

"Omelettes. Do you like them?"

"Um… yeah, I guess," I reply, wondering where on earth he's going with this.

"Good. I think I'll make omelettes for breakfast." He holds his hand out to me and when I take it, he pulls me effortlessly to my feet.

Cat and I follow him into the kitchen. He bends gracefully at the waist as he rummages through Heero's cupboards and then the fridge. He hands me a carton of eggs. "How are you at beating?" he asks.

"It's not my area of expertise," I answer before I can stop myself. I flush as soon as I realise what I've said. Trowa is silent for a moment. The stark reminder of what I am hangs between us. I want to shove those words back down my throat but I can't. It's too late.

"I'm sure the eggs won't mind," Trowa finally responds, starling me out of my self-induced embarrassment.

I nod dumbly and take the offered carton. As I'm cracking the eggs, one of Trowa's pointed elbows jostles me innocently. When I look up, he offers me a gentle smile. I hug it close to my chest, storing it there with the memories I have of Heero.

Quatre finally surfaces around ten. He doesn't seem surprised to see me. In fact, he merely smiles and greets me with, "Good morning, Duo," as though I'm an old friend.

I relax into his friendly demeanor. He's the sort of person that can put you instantly at ease. It's a nice feeling. Unconditional acceptance maybe… although I'm not entirely sure such a thing really exists.

I watch Quatre and Trowa out of the corner of my eye all morning. I watch the way they interact and the easy, loving relationship that they share. When Trowa bends down to kiss Quatre, that blonde head tilts up automatically to meet him… they can finish each other's sentences like they do in movies and sometimes they seem to communicate without words at all… they are more in-synch with each other than anything I've ever witnessed.

It's fascinating and it takes more than a while to work out why. It's because I've never seen two men together like that. That probably sounds stupid coming from someone like me who has probably seen everything that it is possible for two men do together…. but never this… never just being together, being in love.

Maybe I didn't even think it was possible. I've always rather associated being gay with what I do every night… with the sad, depressed men who come to me, ashamed of what they feel for their own sex… or with the dark secrecy of those who try to hide their golden wedding bands and the guilt they feel when they think of their wives… or the wannabe playboys, like my John from last night, who like to play seduction but just use me the same as everyone else.

But Trowa and Quatre aren't like that. They're… normal, I guess, and yet not because I don't think a relationship like theirs could ever be truly normal; I don't think such a beautiful thing occurs often enough to be normal.

I feel an angry stab of jealously. It comes out of no where and lodges itself in my chest, just below my breast-plate. God, more than anything in this world, I want that with Heero.

I stand on the balcony. The air is cold but pale sun above is shining a wan smile down on me. I've noticed that when he's thinking, that deep, consuming sort of thinking, Heero likes to stand out here, looking out over the city. I can see why. It's peaceful and strangely removed; me up here and everyone else way down there, plodding along through their normal little lives.

I wonder what he's doing right now. Maybe he's having lunch with the Blonde… I picture her perfect smile. My fingers curl around the balcony-rail painfully tight. Suddenly the smooth, cold metal becomes her neck. I jolt my hands away like I've been burnt. I resolve not to think about her at all… such murderous thoughts can't be good for the soul.

A pigeon flashes past me, a blur of green and grey. I wonder if it was the one from earlier. It glides through the cold air, up to the darkening cloudy sky. It's going to snow again, I predict. The sky is heavy with the promise. I feel a warm glow of relief when I remember that I don't have to go out there tonight… that I can just stay here with Heero all night, his warmth seeping into me across the mattress.

"What are you thinking about?" Quatre asks me unexpectedly. He's just emerged from the shower; his blonde hair curls around his ears in damp tendrils.

For a moment I consider brushing him off with a flippant answer; I'm good at those… good at hiding behind my defenses. But there is a frankness in his eyes that I can't seem to resist.

"I guess I was thinking about you and Trowa. I've not seen two guys be together like you're together… like, you know, in love and all." There is a brief silence between us that is only cut by the gentle splashing of Trowa doing the washing-up in the kitchen.

"I didn't think being gay could be like that. Stupid because I'm… and Heero's…" And I stop suddenly because I don't know for sure that Heero is actually gay and he and I certainly don't have a relationship on the level of Quatre and Trowa's.

Quatre chooses to ignore my blunder, though I fancy there is a ghost of a smile on his face. "I didn't believe it either, in the beginning… until I met Trowa," he says with a smile. He comes up to stand beside me, resting pale hands on the metal bar that was just Relena Peacecraft's neck. "But then I realised that heterosexuality doesn't have the monopoly on love and monogamous relationships."

"Just on marriage," I respond, more glib than I had intended.

"Hmmm, yes…" Quatre's murmur is slightly sad. "But I still have hope." There is a pause and then, "As should we all."

Somehow I get the feeling that he's referring to more than gay marriage. I don't know what it is and I'm too afraid to ask. He gives me a funny little smile. "Come on, it's cold out here." He slides his arm through mine and leads me back inside.

Quatre and Trowa leave mid-afternoon. I'm not entirely sure I want them to go. They're nothing like I thought they would be. And I like who I am when they're around… I like feeling like a normal person with normal friends. I don't tell them, of course. That would be way to embarrassing. They're probably just humouring me anyway.

"Heero's having dinner with us tonight. We'd very much like it if you came," Quatre says as he reaches for the doorknob; his hand lands on the smooth, shiny brass, but he turns back to look at me.

I feel a lump in my throat. I don't think I've ever been out for dinner before. It's always been something that was too sophisticated, too adult, and too expensive for me. I try to imagine what it would be like… a nightmare probably. People like me just don't know how to mix with people Quatre.

"I'm sure I wouldn't know what to do," I mumble, embarrassed. I fix my gaze on the floorboards beneath my feet, hoping Quatre will just leave it at that.

"It's not that complicated, really. Once you master the whole knife and fork thing, the rest is easy," he jokes, trying to catch my eye.

I let him; he draws my gaze up from the floor until we're level. "I don't have anything to wear." I'm confident in my second excuse. I can't go out in Heero's old sweats, and my clothes… well, I doubt they'd even let me in the restaurant if I wore those.

"Borrow something from Heero. Despite his relative lack of style, I'm sure you'll be able to find something in that wardrobe of his." Quatre's really pushing for this. I feel the urge to just give in and say yes.

"Why would you want to have dinner with someone like me?" I finally ask, laying all my fears right out on the table for them to pick at.

"Because anyone that is important to Heero, is important to us," is Quatre's simple response. For several moments, we stare at each other, eyes warring.

Finally, it's Trowa who resolves the issue. "The table's booked for seven thirty. We'll see you there, Duo." There is such easy confidence in his voice that I find myself nodding before I can stop myself. And then they're gone and I'm left with a bunch of nerves and a dinner date. And for some reason, I can't stop smiling.

Author's Notes: Yeah, so that's it. Sorry if the end was a bit abrupt. The Dinner with Heero and co. was supposed to be in this chapter but then I figured… if I made you wait until I'd managed to get that written… well, you could have been waiting a very long time… that is, an even longer time than you had to wait anyway.

OK, shut up Pryn (you know you were thinking that too). I'm going to have a couple of weeks off (in which I will desperately try to stay on top of my uni workload) and then I will come back, hopefully refreshed and renewed, and ready to write the next chapter. But cross your fingers, just in case.

Thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed during my abysmally long hiatus. I swear, just when I was ready to declare this story permanently incomplete, your comments spurred me on and kept this baby alive. So yeah, THANKS!